It was after midnight when Gurney got home from White River. He parked by the side door. The thought occurred to him, as it had done on many previous occasions, that it would make sense to add a garage to the house. It was something Madeleine had mentioned from time to time, and it was the sort of thing they could work on together. After the case was wrapped up he’d have to give the project some serious thought.
Before going into the house he stood for a while next to the Outback in the moonlight, inhaling the sweet, earthy spring air—an antidote to the odor of death he had experienced earlier. However, the nights were a lot chillier up in the hills around Walnut Crossing than down in White River, and it wasn’t long before a shiver persuaded him to go inside.
Despite feeling wired from the intense evening, he decided to lie down, close his eyes, and try to get some rest. Madeleine was asleep, but when he got into bed she woke up enough to murmur, “You’re home.”
“Yes.”
“Everything all right?”
“More or less.”
It took a moment for that to register.
“What’s the ‘less’ part?”
“The White River thing keeps getting crazier. How was your political action meeting?”
“Stupid. Tell you about it in the morning.”
“Okay. G’night.”
“G’night.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
A minute later the soft rhythm of her breathing told him she was asleep.
As he lay staring out the open window at the shapes of the trees, just visible in the silvery moonlight, his thoughts centered on the relationship between Dell Beckert and Blaze Jackson. He wondered if she might have been the unnamed informant referred to more than once in the critical-situation-management team meetings. Did Beckert have something on her that forced her cooperation, or had the initiative been hers? Was the bag of money in the drawer a onetime transaction, or was it part of an ongoing arrangement? Was it a payment for value received, or money extorted in return for silence? Given Jackson’s physical attractiveness and reputed sexual appetite, might her connection to Beckert have included that element? Or was it purely a business relationship?
And what about the Rick Loomis connection? If Beckert and Turlock were behind the Poulter Street attempt on Loomis’s life, then presumably they were also behind the fatal attack in the hospital. Did Beckert and Jackson enlist Chalise Creel and show her how to drive that ice pick into the man’s brain stem?
The thought of Poulter Street reminded Gurney of a question he’d asked Torres to pursue: Had the real estate agent who’d arranged for the leases on the two sniper sites actually met with Jordan, whose name was on the leases, or had the transaction been handled by an intermediary?
Torres had told Gurney the information would be available as soon as the agent returned from vacation. Gurney’s eagerness to pursue the matter, along with the impossibility of doing so at two o’clock in the morning, kept him spinning what-if scenarios until he finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.
When he awoke at nine the next morning the sky was blue, and through the open windows he could hear Madeleine out mowing. His first thought was to get in touch with Acme Realty.
He called Mark Torres for the agent’s name, which had slipped his mind.
“Laura Conway,” said Torres. “I have a reminder on my phone to check with her this morning. I’m on my way into Kline’s office to brief him on the Jackson-Creel homicides. By the way, we’ve confirmed that Blaze and Chalise are sisters. And it seems that Chalise has a pretty extensive mental health history, which we’re trying to get access to. As for Laura Conway, if you want to talk to her yourself—”
“I do. Can you give me the number?”
Three minutes later, Laura Conway was telling him what he’d half expected to hear.
“It was all handled by Blaze Jackson. I believe she was Mr. Jordan’s business manager, or something like that. She chose the apartment on Bridge Street and the house over on Poulter.”
“But both of those leases were signed by Marcel Jordan?”
“That’s correct. As I remember, Ms. Jackson took the physical documents to him and brought them back to our office.”
“Were you aware of her prominent role in the Black Defense Alliance?”
“I have no interest in politics. I avoid watching the news. It’s too upsetting.”
“So you never met Marcel Jordan?”
“No.”
“Or spoke to him?”
“No.”
“Did he provide you with any financial references?”
“No.”
“You didn’t require assurances that he could afford those rentals?”
“We didn’t consider it necessary.”
“Isn’t that unusual?”
“It’s not the normal thing. But neither was the arrangement.”
“Meaning?”
“Both rentals were paid for in advance. For the entire year. In cash.”
“Did that concern you?”
“Some people like cash transactions. I don’t question things like that.”
“Did it cross your mind that Mr. Jordan might not know that his name was on that lease?”
“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t he know?”
