Best Laid Plans(48)

“Am I? A witness put Elise at the motel at Worthington’s time of death; she then goes to Everett and that’s where we find Worthington’s phone. It’s like someone is dropping breadcrumbs for us to follow. I feel like we’re being led from point A to point B because that’s where someone wants us to go.”

“The evidence hasn’t been that easy to obtain,” Barry countered. “We’re good investigators, and we have access to a lot of information and resources. Plus, young prostitutes aren’t the smartest girls on the street.”

“I know what you’re thinking—Elise took the phone, probably wanted to sell it or get information off it, and accidentally left it in Everett’s room not realizing that tracking the phone would be so easy.” Lucy just didn’t believe it. It felt off to her, and she couldn’t explain why. “It seems too coincidental.”

“Let’s assume that Elise was involved in Worthington’s death,” Barry said.

“That’s an easy assumption.”

“What if she was ordered last-minute to take over Bella’s client?”

“Okay,” Lucy said.

“Okay? You’re giving in too easily.”

“I’m not giving in. I think it’s possible. But that’s why I want to talk to Bella before Mona Hill knows what we want. If this woman is as dangerous as Tia thinks, she may intimidate Bella into silence.”

Lucy looked up Bella’s address from Tia’s records. “Well, dammit,” she said. “Mona Hill owns and lives in a twelve-unit apartment building west of downtown. Bella rents an apartment from her. Bella isn’t going to talk to us, especially at her apartment.”

“Because someone will rat on her.”

Lucy nodded. “Tia might be able to track her down and talk to her off-site. Can I send her a message?”

“You don’t have to ask me.”

Lucy hesitated, then said, “I don’t really know what my role is in this investigation.” There. She’d said it.

“What does that mean?”

“Sometimes, you keep me out of the loop, on a need-to-know basis. Or you get irritated when I ask questions. Or completely dismiss a theory. Then other times, you seem to want a dialogue, or seem surprised when I don’t automatically do something—like email Tia.”

He didn’t say anything and Lucy hit herself for being so damn needy. No, it wasn’t that. It was that she wanted to know exactly where she stood. Was there something wrong in that?

“I’m a rookie, and I took your conversation to heart on Saturday night. I had a wonderful dinner with Sean, we spent all day Sunday doing yard work at St. Catherine’s Boys Home, and I barely thought about the case. I know that I’m obsessive and a workaholic. But I also have an impression that you’re waiting for me to slip up.”

“I’m not,” Barry said. “I’m not used to working with a rookie like you. The last rookie we had on the squad was a guy who never should have been in Violent Crimes. He couldn’t handle half the cases we deal with and had no instincts to speak of—in what he said or did. He left the month before you got here—went into an analysis unit at headquarters, because he should never have been around people—so maybe you’re bearing the brunt of my leftover frustration with him.”

Lucy didn’t think that was the complete story, but it satisfied her for the time being. She turned her attention to her phone and sent Tia a message.

Barry pulled up in front of Mona Hill’s apartment building a few minutes later.

It wasn’t what either of them expected.

While the neighborhood wasn’t particularly nice, the apartment complex was well maintained. Two brick buildings faced each over a tidy green courtyard. Each building had a main entrance, so no one had a door that went directly outside, which helped with security. There were blinds on the windows, not the sheets or newspaper that were often the décor of necessity in some slums.

Barry looked at the address again. “Hill is in unit one, the building on the right.”

They crossed the street and walked through the courtyard. The front door was solid wood with thick, etched glass in the center. Barry rang the bell for Mona Hill’s apartment. Lucy felt eyes on her. She glanced behind her, but didn’t see anyone. All the blinds were closed.

“What can I do for the FBI today?” A voice came out of the speaker.

Barry frowned and glanced at Lucy. Obviously there was a camera, and they must look like federal agents on the surface, though Lucy thought they also could have passed for SAPD detectives.

Barry said, “Mona Hill?”

“Yes?”

“Agents Crawford and Kincaid with the FBI. We have a few questions. It won’t take long.”

“I don’t care to speak to the FBI.”

“You’re not in any trouble, we just—”

“I know I’m not in any trouble, sugar,” Mona said.

“Ma’am, this is an official federal investigation, and if you don’t talk to us here, we’ll need to bring you in for questioning.”

“Really?” Mona said. “After you just told me I’m not in any trouble?” She laughed. The speaker made her voice sound tinny.

Barry was tense and muttered something under his breath that Lucy couldn’t make out.