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“I do and so does my director of security, Kent Crawford.”
“We’ll interview him as well,” Connor said. “Does your assistant have access? Lily Watson?”
Evans shook her head with affectionate exasperation. “I inherited Lily and I’m keeping her on only until she retires next month. She doesn’t do computers. At all. Archie and I do all the things I’d normally ask her to do. My life will be much easier once she retires and I’ve hired a new assistant.”
Kit and Connor had met the assistant on their way in, and Kit found Evans’s assessment of her assistant’s skills to be believable. The woman’s desk blotter was a big calendar that was literally covered in scribbles and white-out. Kit would bet that the assistant never used scheduling software.
“Where is the security system housed?” Kit asked.
Miss Evans pointed to the door behind her. “In there. I have a key, as does Archie. The head of security has a master key. No one else has a key.”
Kit fired off a quick text to Ryland, asking him to send a CSU tech to process the server room, then opened her secure notes app. “Have you been in there this morning?”
“Yes. When Mr. Flynn’s body was found, the police took over that entire floor upstairs. I came back to my desk and checked the cameras. When I saw that the feed in that hallway wasn’t working, I went into the server room to see if the camera was on. It didn’t appear to be. I checked the other camera feeds and saw that they were functioning. That’s when I closed the door and called Archie.”
“Where is your head of security?” Connor asked. “Kent Crawford.”
“He’s not here today. He messaged me that he was sick on Friday and today, as well. I can call him and ask if he can come in, if I need to.”
That the only person with a master key was out sick was also far too convenient. “Give us his address,” Connor said, and from the tone of his voice, it seemed he was thinking the same thing. “We’ll go to him.”
“And his master key?” Kit asked. “Where is that kept?”
Miss Evans looked a bit uncomfortable. “He keeps it with him. Look, I know what you’re thinking, but he’s a decorated army veteran. He’s been working here for nearly ten years with no complaints.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kit said mildly, because things didn’t look so good for Mr. Crawford.
“What can you tell us about Mr. Flynn’s family?” Connor asked, abruptly changing the subject.
Miss Evans grimaced. “Mr. Flynn has one son, Gerald, but he and Mr. Flynn were estranged and, apparently, have been for decades. I informed him of Mr. Flynn’s passing, that he was killed, and he said he didn’t care. He said that the only call he wanted to take was from his father’s lawyer with regard to the reading of Mr. Flynn’s will.”
Connor frowned. “I asked you not to inform the next of kin. That’s our job, ma’am.”
Evans’s cheeks flushed, whether from anger or embarrassment, Kit wasn’t sure. “I’d already done it,” the director confessed. “I wasn’t thinking that I was supposed to leave that to the police. I’m used to informing the next of kin when one of our residents passes and…” She exhaled. “I’ve never had a murder at any facility I’ve managed, and I was shaken. I’m sorry.”
Well, there was nothing to be done about it now.
Connor’s nod was curt. “Please do not have further communication with the deceased’s family.”
“I won’t,” Evans promised.
Kit hoped they could trust her discretion. She also wondered what had happened to cause the father-and-son estrangement but needed another question answered first. “There was an inheritance?”
“Oh yes. Mr. Flynn was a very wealthy man.”
That was a surprise. Usually, retired cops were not even remotely wealthy. Money was often a motive for murder, though, and stabbing was an intimate, personal crime.
The kind of crime an angry, estranged son might commit.
“From what I understand, the money came from his late husband,” Miss Evans went on to explain. “Mr. Ryan Flynn was a software designer. He sold one of his programs for millions of dollars back in the nineties during the rise of the dot-coms. Apparently, he invested well and he and Mr. Frankie were able to realize a dream. They owned an antique shop in San Francisco for years until they came here to live. Mr. Ryan died about four and a half years ago, leaving his entire estate to Mr. Frankie.” She lifted a hand. “And no, I don’t know the exact amount. But the rumor mill—and his son’s interest in his will—indicates that it was quite a lot.”
So quite a lot of motive.
Kit glanced at her phone, reviewing the list she’d made of all the people they needed to talk to. There were the victim’s friends, Benny and Georgia, who still waited in interview rooms. Then Archie Adler, the IT guy; Kent Crawford, the head of security; Lily Watson, the assistant; and Gerald, the victim’s son.
She wondered if Navarro had known about the son. He’d said that they hadn’t known that Frank had remarried. “What about Mr. Flynn’s ex-wife? Is she still living?”
Miss Evans shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. I didn’t know that he was married before Mr. Ryan. Mr. Frankie never spoke of a previous marriage and I never asked. All I know is that there are no other names listed in his file as a next of kin.”
