Death in the Sunshine (Retired Detectives Club, #1)(51)

‘I can’t let you do that.’ He’s shaking his head. ‘It’s against the rules.’

Moira fixes him with a hard stare. ‘I’d guess hiding away and not keeping eyes on the entrance is also against the rules.’

He looks down, avoiding eye contact. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘So if you’d want your supervisor to hear about it . . .’

‘I need to use the restroom,’ says the young guard. ‘The logs are on the computer filed by year. The password is password.’

‘Thanks,’ says Moira.

The guard says nothing. Then shuffles across the room towards the door at the back that Moira assumes must be the loo.

Once he’s gone, she gets to work. Sitting down at the computer, she jiggles the mouse to interrupt the bouncing The Homestead logo screensaver, and the password prompt appears. She types in password and the computer unlocks. It doesn’t take her long to find this year’s log. Double-clicking to open it, she finds the search function and types ‘beige station wagon’. The results come back almost immediately: no matches.

Damn.

Moira thinks for a moment. Then she remembers. Before she’d left Lizzie and Philip’s place last night she’d taken a picture of their makeshift murder board on the patio doors – worried that a freak rainstorm might erase it overnight and they’d have to start again. At the time she’d thought she was probably being over-cautious. Now she’s pleased that she was. Pulling out her phone she finds the picture, and enlarges it until she’s able to read the car registration plate they’d got for the station wagon. Reading it off her phone, she types it into the computer.

The new results appear – one match. Better than nothing. She clicks the link to take her to that page of the log. The record is from over a month ago. It shows that the station wagon entered The Homestead Ocean Mist community at 9.32 that evening. The spaces for the driver’s name and the person in Ocean Mist they’re visiting are blank.

Moira blows out hard, frustrated. The record doesn’t give her much. All it tells her is that the beige station wagon had been here at least one more time than they previously knew about, and a few weeks earlier than they’d originally thought.

Behind her, she hears a click as the door to the restroom is unlocked. Swivelling round in the chair, she sees the lanky security guard emerge, wiping his damp hands on his uniform.

Moira points to the screen. ‘Why are these fields blank?’

The young guard crosses the room and peers over her shoulder. ‘I guess this one was picked up on the automated plate reader, rather than the guard entering it manually.’

Moira cocks her head to the side. ‘How so?’

‘If a guard is in the john, rather than the visitor having to wait, they can switch the system to auto. That means if a visitor shows up, the electronic plate reader over the gate will register the car and open the barrier, rather than them having to wait until the guard has finished their business.’

‘But you miss out on the key information.’

‘We’re working solo here after 9 p.m. until 9 a.m. You have to use the restroom sometime.’

Moira thinks about the fuss made by the sales team over the high level of security at The Homestead – how they knew about every vehicle, and every person, within the complex at any one time. She shakes her head. ‘So, what, protocol doesn’t matter between 9 p.m. and 9 a.m.?’

The guy raises his hands. ‘I just work here. I don’t make the rules.’

‘It’s not good enough.’ Moira holds his gaze until his cheeks blush and he looks away. Good. He should be embarrassed. The sales bullshit is one issue, but the slapdash way they’re running security means there’s no way of building a fully accurate picture of who has entered the community.

The guy runs a hand through his hair. ‘Look, I’m sorry, okay. I’m not—’

‘There’s only one entry for the station wagon,’ says Moira. ‘But I know it’s visited Ocean Mist at least two more times. How’s it not on the log?’

‘If they drove in through the exit the registration plate wouldn’t have been recorded,’ says the security guard.

‘And you think they could have done that a couple of times without being noticed?’

He looks a bit shifty. ‘Well, sure, if they came after nine in the evening and when the guard was using the restroom.’

Moira clenches her fists. Tries to hold her temper – she can’t afford to have a go at this guy or he might clam up completely, but damn, these security people are seriously crap. ‘And so he could have been here a lot of nights, and slipped in and out unnoticed?’

‘I guess so.’

Moira curses under her breath. The killer could easily have exploited the system to enter and exit unseen and unrecorded. There’s little merit to be gained from the logs, aside from knowing the driver of the beige station wagon had started coming here at least a month before the murder. She thinks for a moment, then pulls out her phone and makes a note of the date the wagon was recorded entering – from memory it seems to be around the time the burglaries started. She’ll check that with the others later.

‘Is there anything else I can help with?’ The young guard is looking twitchy. He keeps glancing out through the viewing window towards the entry lanes.