Best Laid Plans(19)

“A Thelma-and-Louise spree,” Julie suggested.

“That doesn’t feel right. You say he didn’t have sex, that he was fully dressed when he died. No evidence that he hurt the prostitute—the taxi driver didn’t mention the girl was injured, and he doesn’t have any bruises or cuts on his hands. This wasn’t random. He was lured from Dallas for one hour of sex with a prostitute.”

“If,” Barry interjected, “his wife knew about his fetish, she could have hired someone.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “I thought you didn’t believe she had anything to do with this.”

“You got me thinking about the possibility,” he said.

She almost smiled. “How would his death, if it was ruled natural causes, benefit her politically?”

“Sympathy votes.”

“I’d think she’d get more negative press than sympathy,” Lucy said.

“She’d be a widow. Her opponent wouldn’t be able to run any real negative ads against her or her record without being made to look like a jerk. Eventually, the circumstances would fade away, leaving behind only the fact that she lost her husband during the campaign. There could be extenuating circumstances—does she gain financially from his death?” Barry was on a roll. “I’m not saying I think she’s behind it—I don’t know. But it sounds to me like Julie is calling this a homicide.”

“I’m right here,” Julie said, holding up her hands. “And I haven’t made my official determination. I’m calling his death suspicious right now. When I get the lab results on what he was injected with and talk to the ME about my findings, I’ll revise that. But unofficially? Hell yeah, someone killed him. Whether the girl did it on her own or was hired to do it, who knows? That’s where you two come in.”

Barry was thanking Julie when Lucy interrupted. “What did his liver look like?”

“It was a bit enlarged. I took tissue samples, which is standard protocol in a suspicious death like this with no obvious COD.”

Liver tests could take a day or a week, depending. But there was something familiar about Worthington’s death.

“What are you thinking?” Julie asked her.

“I worked a case when I was on vacation last Christmas—”

Julie interrupted. “Why am I not surprised that you worked while on vacation?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Not my choice. I sort of walked into a situation. Anyway, a nurse used a neuromuscular blocker to kill her victims. Reaction time is fast, death usually less than thirty minutes, depending on the dose. Almost impossible to detect unless you know what to test for.”

“I’ll make sure I checked all the boxes,” Julie said. “And give the lab a heads-up.”

“Thank you, Julie,” Lucy said.

“Just doing my job.”





CHAPTER SEVEN



The elegant chain hotel where Worthington’s phone was still transmitting was only a few miles from the White Knight, but a world of difference. Grand entrance off a busy street, elegant furniture set out in intimate groupings, a restaurant to the right with a hostess and white linen tablecloths, a bar to the left with businessmen and businesswomen drinking alone or in small groups.

Barry and Lucy talked first to the concierge, then the manager, and finally the head of security got involved. Andreas Jackson was a tall, broad-shouldered black man dressed in an impeccable dark suit, white shirt, and navy tie. An earpiece with the telltale curling cord curved around the back of his ear and under his collar. He escorted them to the security office upstairs. Two people watched a wall of twelve security monitors. Jackson’s office was in the corner, and he had one-way windows that looked out to the lobby below.

Barry explained again what they needed and gave Jackson the specs of the phone, a BlackBerry P’9983.

“It’s a relatively new model,” Barry added.

“There was no such phone turned in from the public areas in the last twenty-four hours,” Jackson said. “If he was a guest, housekeeping may not have gotten to his room, or he may not have checked out.”

“He wasn’t a guest,” Lucy said.

Barry said, “A person of interest took his phone after our contractor died. The phone is now here.”

Jackson picked up his phone, spoke for a minute, then hung up. “The housekeeping supervisor is checking with her staff and will contact me directly.” He sat down behind his desk and motioned for them to take seats in chairs across from him, which they did. “If the phone is in this hotel, we’ll find it.” He eyed them with interest. “Government secrets? Must be serious if two federal agents are looking for a phone.”

Barry glanced at Lucy, though she didn’t know what he wanted from her. He then turned back to Jackson and said, “The phone was stolen from a deceased government contractor.”

“If you have a GPS log, I can review the security footage from our public areas at the time the phone entered the hotel.”

“That would be helpful,” Barry said. “Thank you.” He wrote down a time frame and tore the page from his notepad. “This is the window we’re looking at.”

Jackson pressed a button on his phone. “Please cut a copy of security feeds from all entrances from twelve thirty A.M. through one A.M.” He turned back to Barry and Lucy. “Only the main entrance is unlocked after ten P.M., but I’ll get you feeds from all the entrances in case the individual in question had a hotel room key.”