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Harris broke off the call as Payne approached. McCrory, his hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver he held to his ear, glanced up. Seeing Payne, he hung up the phone.
“Didn’t need to stop what you were doing on my account,” Payne said.
“Not a problem, Matt,” McCrory said. “I’d been on hold for at least ten minutes. I think the secretary just parked my call and left me to suffer that gawd-awful country music they listen to down there.”
“You feeling okay?” Harris said. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine, damn it,” Payne snapped, heard what he had said, and added, “Sorry. I’m annoyed. Nothing personal. Just came up the damn steps.”
Harris nodded in understanding.
Payne looked at McCrory, and said, “Who’s ignoring you?”
“John Austin’s people. That was the third time I’ve called his office in Houston and asked how to find him. Each time they said that because of the shooting, they had been directed not to give out any information—”
“Did you tell them that his life’s still in danger?” Payne interrupted, his tone impatient.
“Yeah, of course I did, but they said they were just doing what they were told, and took my name and number and said they would pass it along. Except this last time, when they put me on hold hell.”
Payne shook his head. “They’d ‘pass it along’? Damn nice of them.”
“Yeah. Mary, Joseph, and all the fookin’ saints, huh?”
Payne looked at Harris.
“Hank still sitting on Austin’s hotel room?”
“After he got hotel security to do a safety check of the room and they found Austin gone but his suitcase and stuff still there, Hank posted a blue shirt at the door. He went back to working on the follow-up interviews while waiting to hear if Austin showed.”
“Good. You’re right about people feeling more at ease talking to a detective in a suit, not to a uniform. Tell me about who you said had gone up to Camilla Rose’s condo.
“From interviews and reviewing security camera video,” Harris said, gesturing toward his notebook computer, “we cobbled together a short list of people—some known, some unknown—who left the bar and shortly thereafter appeared at the condo’s elevator bank. Most were residents—who security ID’d for us—and their guests, and they all stated that they went home to their condos, not to Camilla Rose’s. That left three others, a male and two females, none of whom security recognized, who went up the elevator with Camilla Rose. We were able to track down the male from the credit card he used in the bar.”
“Who is he?”
He tapped the computer keyboard, and read, “Arthur Marx, white male, thirty-three. A dentist from King of Prussia.” He looked up at Payne, and said, “Marx claimed he had just met the women in the bar last night. He knew them only as Keri and Pamela. They told him they were celebrating Keri’s birthday.”
“You talk with the women?”
“No. If he has their full names and/or phone numbers, he’s not admitting it. He ran up a big tab, but not half as big as Camilla Rose did, and the women didn’t use a credit card for us to run down.”
Payne sighed. “Why do I get the feeling we may have trouble finding a solid stone to look under, never mind a stone under the stone?”
“Because you’re right,” Harris said. “Camilla Rose went off her balcony at oh-four-thirty . . .”
“Yeah. And?”
“And the condo’s lobby security cameras clearly show these three going up with her. Then, just before oh-four-hundred, the cameras show the four coming off the elevators.”
“Staggering off,” McCrory put in.
“Yeah,” Harris said, “they damn sure were feeling no pain. Anyway, Marx said there had been no one else in her condo. And the lobby cameras showed no activity after they left until oh-four-twenty-five, when one of the bellhops pushed a baggage cart by stacked with newspapers to deliver floor to floor. Finally, there’s a bunch of activity at oh-four-forty-two when the security guys ran through the lobby, headed up to Camilla Rose’s condo.”
“You’re saying nobody got off the elevator after oh-four-thirty?”
“Only the security guys. After they found her condo open and no one in it.”
McCrory, picking up the thought, said, “So, all we know from video is that the three went up with the Morgan woman after the bar closed, stayed two hours, then left. But we don’t know if other parties unknown were already up there.”
