Langston didn’t say anything for a few seconds as he slowly slid his finger down the side of his glass. “Agents don’t like when other agents get involved in their cases. Since I know Connie, they might see it as me trying to take over.”
“That’s crazy. You guys are a team.” Trace thought about those he’d served with while in the navy. He had no doubt if he needed any of them, for anything, all it would take was a phone call. They all understood the importance of being there for each other.
“Some Federal agents see each other as team members. Others? Not so much. Their main goal is getting to the top by any means. They aren’t trying to be friends. Nor do they want to take the chance that another agent will make them look bad. Those individuals see other agents as competition.”
Trace had a feeling there was a story there, but knew his brother probably wouldn’t share it.
“Is that why you’ve been thinking more about us moving the timeline up on starting our private investigation business?”
He and Langston had been discussing going into business together for years. Since they were problem solvers by nature and enjoyed helping people, PI work would be a natural fit.
“Yeah, partly. Mainly, I’m ready for a career change, and I’m looking forward to us building something of our own. I was thinking that we should talk to Trinity. There might be a way for us to do some type of partnership, since both businesses would complement the other.”
“I think that’s a great idea. Knowing her, she’d be all for some type of collaboration.”
Langston slammed back the rest of his drink. “It’s four thirty in the morning. I need to get some sleep, but what’s next as it relates to Connie and the fire? You sounded positive that the model had something to do with it.”
“I don’t know for sure. It’s just a gut feeling. That reminds me.” Trace dug into the front pocket of his tuxedo pants and pulled out his cell phone. “Can I use the computer in your office? I want to watch the restaurant video again. I’ll be able to see it better on a bigger device.”
“Go ahead.”
They headed down the hall to Langston’s home office that played double duty as an art studio. Growing up, he could always be found sketching or doing paintings. Now he was as good as a professional artist. Trace didn’t know why his brother didn’t want to sell any of his work.
After Langston logged in to the computer, he moved and let Trace sit at the desk. Minutes later, Trace had pulled up the copy of the video that Nancy had given him.
“What are we looking for?” Langston asked as he watched the video from over Trace’s shoulder.
“I’m not sure yet, but days after we were at the restaurant, Connie realized her wallet was missing. I have a hunch.”
They watched the video footage, and the second time through it, Trace stopped it midway.
“Did you see that?” he asked his brother and pointed at the gray-eyed man. “Her purse strap is sliding down her shoulder and the bag itself is kind of sitting on the floor next to her.”
“Looks like dude actually bumped into her. He’s close enough to reach inside her bag.” Langston tapped Trace’s shoulder. “Move and let me try something.”
Trace switched places with him and watched as his brother opened another program on the computer.
“I might be able to reduce the video speed.” Langston typed in a couple of commands. Within minutes, they were watching the footage in slow motion.
A few minutes in, Trace had his answer. “Son of... I guess we know what happened to her wallet.” The guy was smooth in slipping his hand in and out of her purse. If Langston hadn’t slowed down the video, they would’ve missed it again. “That means he could’ve easily gotten her address from her driver’s license.”
Langston nodded. “Now all you need is his name.”
“Yeah, that’s where Indie comes in at. I texted her, but haven’t heard back yet. If I don’t hear from her soon, then I’ll contact the fashion-show organizers to see what they know about our mystery man. Once I have his name, then I’ll forward it to Maxwell. Not sure if he can do much, but the cops can take him in for questioning regarding the fire, if nothing else.”
“True, and be sure to send the info to the agents on the robbery case,” Langston added.
“I will.”
Langston stretched his arms out and yawned. “All right, man. If there’s nothing else, I’m calling it a—”
“Wait. Before you shut your computer down, do you have access to a database that contains pictures of prison and gang tattoos? Max gave me a copy of the sketch that Connie helped with.” Trace dug the piece of paper out of his wallet.
“You don’t think the agents on the case already looked through the catalog for a match?” Langston asked as he opened the software.
“I don’t know, but I’d feel better if I went through it myself. Actually, I’m thinking maybe you and I both should look through it. This’ll be good practice for when we start our PI business.”
“I guess, but I’m going to need coffee. Lots of coffee. Want some?”
“Sure.”
Two hours later, the sun was peeking through the blinds, signaling that it was officially morning. They were still camped out in the office, and Trace was glad they’d finally made progress.
“It’s safe to say it’s a gang tattoo.”
Trace was impressed that Connie had been able to give enough details to the sketch artist. The partial drawing wasn’t exact, but the little they had was close enough for them to tell that it could be a match.
“More specifically, it’s the One-Seven Crew tattoo. They’re one of the most dangerous gangs on the West Coast. They mostly reside in Los Angeles, and as far as I know, there’s been no activity here
