Night Watch (Kendra Michaels #4)(22)

“Yes,” Lynch said. “But it’s probably not the correct one. He rented the car under the name of Peter Hollister, but the driver’s license was a phony.”

“That’s the same name he used to rent this house. We’ve already been in touch with the property-management company that handles it. They’ve sent someone over with a key.”

“You haven’t been inside yet?”

“No, we haven’t been here all that long ourselves. I’m guessing you’d like to join the fun?”

“We would,” Kendra said.

Brantley nodded. “Since the FBI and half the police departments in Southern California have instructed us to extend you every courtesy, I guess we can make that happen.” He looked back at the corpse. “We’ll get prints and DNA off the body, and your FBI buddies have already promised to try a facial-recognition match with passport entries. But it would make everybody’s job easier if there was something in that house that could ID him.”

“Something like a passport?” Kendra asked.

“Dare to dream, Dr. Michaels. Let’s go to the front door.”

Kendra, Lynch, Brantley, and two uniformed officers walked around front, where another officer was standing with a middle-aged woman who could only have been the property manager. She wore a pink ski jacket and matching boots over a pair of flannel pajamas. An old lift ticket on the jacket identified her as Stacie Liston.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Brantley said to the woman. “But you really could have taken the time to have gotten dressed.”

“I kinda freaked when I got the call.” Her hand trembled as she handed him the key. “We had someone O.D. in one of our properties once, but never anything like this.”

“Did you ever meet the victim?” Kendra asked.

Stacie shook her head. “No. He arranged the rental a few weeks ago. He paid a month’s rent and a security deposit up front with a cashier’s check.”

“From where?”

“Some English bank…” She thought for a moment. “Barclays. He picked up the key at our after-hours lockbox.”

Brantley unlocked the door and handed the key back to her. “We’ll be here at least until midmorning. We’ll give your office a call when we’re about to leave.”

Stacie made a face. “You don’t think there’s anybody else in there, do you? I mean … like him?”

“You mean dead?”

She nodded.

“Probably not.” Brantley patted her arm. “Go on home. We’ll take care of things here.”

She nodded uncertainly and headed back up the front walk.

Brantley opened the door, and Kendra took a deep whiff. Pinecones, wood varnish, and mint. Nothing that would indicate another corpse inside.

Thank goodness for small favors.

Or perhaps a gigantic favor. She’d been afraid if they found another corpse, it might be Waldridge.

They moved into the front hallway and looked around. Inside, it looked less like a fairy tale and more like a standard-issue ski lodge with an abundance of wood, shag rugs, and more wood. The furniture was heavy and dark, and ski equipment adorned the walls in such a fashion that Kendra couldn’t tell if it was there for storage or decoration.

Lynch glanced around. “There are no personal items here. None.”

Kendra nodded. “You’re right. The only sign that anyone was even here is that half-empty coffee cup on the end table.”

Brantley shrugged. “Maybe upstairs.”

They mounted the stairs, which featured twin banister posts carved in the shape of boy and girl skiers. The steps creaked as they made their way up to the second floor. Kendra looked each way as they reached the top. It was basically a long hallway with doors to three bedrooms and a single bathroom. Small prints of snow scenes hung on the hallway walls, punctuating the gaps between rooms.

Kendra opened the door of the first room they passed and paused, staring into the darkness. “Dr. Waldridge stayed in here.”

Brantley turned on the wall switch and peered inside at the room. “How do you know?”

“Arlington.”

“As in the national cemetery?”

“As in the British-made cologne. Waldridge is the only man I’ve met who uses it. I’m also smelling a spray-on deodorant he uses. It’s called Fogg.” She turned toward Lynch. “I saw both bottles in Waldridge’s hotel room this morning. He sprayed both in this room recently before he went to Santa Monica.”

Brantley stared at her. “How can you possibly—?”

“Long story,” Lynch said. “Let’s look at the other rooms.”

They walked down the hallway to a brightly-colored bedroom with bunk beds.

Brantley turned to Kendra. “Let me guess. The aroma of Play-Doh?”

She shook her head. “Just Ortho Home Defense Max insect spray. I don’t think anyone’s been in here recently.”

The sergeant smiled. “Certainly not any roaches. One room to go.”

The master bedroom at the end of the hallway was more than double the size of the others, and it featured a canopy bed that appeared to have been hand-carved. A flat-screen television was mounted to the opposite wall suspended over a rustic set of dresser drawers. An open suitcase was next to it stuffed with wrinkled clothing.