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Chapter 95
Pushing my rentedPrius to its limits, I had a few minutes to think about what I was doing. I couldn’t believe I was contemplating one of the most bush-league, unethical moves of my career. Basically, I was going to commit burglary.
I had already called my new best friend William, the tech wizard, on his cell phone, because I needed an exact location, and the public records aggregators I’d been accessing over the past two weeks don’t cut it when it comes to federal law-enforcement personnel. No questions asked, the young man was thrilled to tiptoe into some less-than-public data on the fly as I headed across the Potomac. It took him about thirty seconds. Five minutes later I was pulling up in front of a big, modern apartment building on Patrick Street, not far from Alexandria’s historic district.
The city itself was basically a nice suburb for federal workers to live. It was trying to hang on to the old Southern town feel with trees lining many of the streets and older homes preserved. Its fake veneer felt to me like a Disney-run community.
I wasted no time once I parked outside Bobby’s building. It was a nice place, if not particularly secure. I didn’t run across any security cameras or personnel as I hustled through the lobby and up the stairs. Thank God I had his keys.
It was a typical single guy’s apartment. A few groceries and three six-packs of beer in the refrigerator. I don’t even know why I checked. Just curious, I guess.
The place was clean, and I noticed three photos on a shelf near the bedroom. All three were Bobby, his sister, and his parents. The Patels were a good-looking family. Each photo had been taken in a different vacation spot. One looked like Disney World when Bobby was about twenty.
There were a few photos on the wall of Bobby in his judo gi. One looked like a big-time tournament. Bobby must be pretty good at it.
I was prepared for a thorough tossing of the entire apartment. I also knew I had limited time so I might have to compromise. I had started right at the front door with a quick sweep of the area. Nothing unusual. Circuit box hidden by a Georgetown banner. Nothing behind any of the hanging photos.
Bobby was bright. He might have a wall safe. Although I doubted apartment management would allow that kind of reinforced wall for a really secure home safe.
I looked at the giant fish tank that sat in a nook next to the kitchen. There were a couple of clown fish and a weird-looking sea anemone floating around. There was also a model of a pirate ship with a treasure chest. A mermaid sat on a rock with a tail that waved in the water.
As much as I didn’t want to, I slipped off my jacket and rolled up my shirtsleeve. That’s right, even with a college degree and years of homicide experience, I still have to do shit like this. I reached down and opened the treasure chest. Nothing. Just a tiny, fake, plastic pile of gold.
I’d seen things hidden in fish tanks on TV and thought I had a chance. As I pulled my hand out of the tank, I made a quick decision to check the mermaid. Her tail continued to flutter in the water. I pulled her off her rock. Then I froze. Stuck to her bottom was a key held in place by a piece of gum. No way.
I pulled the mermaid out of the water and inspected it. The key came off easily. It wasn’t a safe deposit key. My guess was the small, plain key belonged to some kind of safe. But I had been unable to find one in the apartment. Where would an FBI agent hide a safe? I wandered through the apartment, checking behind furniture. Nothing.
I sat on the bed, thinking. When I looked up, I noticed Bobby’s closet. One of the bifold doors was open. The closet was filled with suits. Four of them looked the same color to me. Bobby loved suits. The view drew me toward the closet. I pushed the suits apart. There, in the gap, hanging on the drywall, was a diagram of the building showing the emergency exits. It was a typical old xeroxed diagram mounted in a frame. Stained and yellowed. I wondered why it was in the closet, where no one would see it. What was it hiding? My heart pounded in my chest.
I moved the poorly framed diagram. Just brushed it so it swung on its nail. Nothing.
My heart sank. This was going nowhere.
Then, just as I was about to turn away, I noticed a line in the drywall. I took a closer look, wedging myself between the suits. It was a straight cut in the wall. I traced it with my fingers. It lined up with the diagram. The top line was covered by the closet shelf.
I worked at the edges of the square. The drywall came loose. It covered a dark hole in the wall. I could see from the bedroom light there was something inside. It was a portable safe like the ones sold at Office Depot. It used a key.
I pulled out the eighteen-inch-square safe. It was heavier than I had expected. I plopped it onto the bed. I hesitated as I held up the key I’d taken from the fish tank.
My first thought was Why hide a safe andhide the key? Then I remembered I was dealing with a slightly OCD FBI agent. It was his idea of intrigue.
There wasn’t much in the safe. Some cash, a few papers. I moved them, then froze. My legs got a little shaky, so I sat again on the nicely made bed.
I looked back into the safe. Inside was a cell phone and a ring. I was pretty sure the cell phone was Emily’s. It had a turquoise silicone case with a dolphin design. And I was certain the little ring with the green gemstone was Emily’s. It was exactly as I remembered it, and how her mother had described it. Bobby’s obsession with Emily must have screwed up any common sense and investigative training he had. Why would he keep any of this stuff? I just stared at it a moment longer.
Then I realized I had been hoping I was mistaken. I had wanted to find something that would exonerate Bobby. Or at least explain some of the things I had learned. All I had done was confirm what I had suspected.
Bobby Patel was a murderer.
