“Charlie’s right. In a way.” Uncle Victor sat in Anthony’s abandoned spot on the bed beside me. “No matter how inconsequential the interaction, this intern still broke his contract. If we let this slide—”
“Ralph is kind. He’s the only one in this precinct who’s treated me like a person. He shouldn’t be punished for that. Besides, no one other than the four of us knows Ralph and I talked. There’s no way the word will spread that the contract can be violated without consequences.”
“Still, he had no right to—”
“Jesus, Charlie, we just talked,” I snapped. “It’s not like he grabbed my butt. Will you drop it? We have more important things to worry about.” I turned to my uncle, ignoring the choking sounds my brother was making. “You have questions about my theory?”
Uncle Victor bobbed his head in a nod while fishing around in his shirt pocket for his notebook. “I do. Anthony told me what you said before you died, but I’ll need some context to make any sense of it.”
I started from the top. While I talked, Charlie dropped into the rolling chair to sulk. He glared at the tips of his still-wet sneakers, his arms firmly crossed again. I tried to ignore him but my annoyance remained. I didn’t care how scared he was of losing me. He couldn’t keep treating me like this.
By the time I finished talking, Uncle Vic had run out of paper. He tapped his pen against his knee, eyeing the thick folders he’d set aside to take notes. “I think you might be onto something, Jazz. I managed to pull some favors from my friends at Interpol and the FBI. They got their superiors to approve a joint investigation. I emailed them everything we’ve got on the murders of Mr. Ward’s campaign staff and they sent me all the data they’d managed to collect on the Salamander.”
“And?” I asked, my heart skipping with hope.
My uncle abandoned his notebook to leaf through the documents in one of the folders. “He’s tied to several organized crime bosses in China, Thailand, Nepal, and India. His earliest recorded murders were back in the sixties.”
Charlie sat up a little, frowning in confusion.
“Some of the killings—which had witnesses that reported seeing a person in an old Chinese opera mask fleeing the scene of the crime—were done in separate countries at the same time,” our uncle continued, “leaving Interpol to believe that the Salamander isn’t just one person but a group of masked killers who all take on the same name.”
“Like the Dread Pirate Roberts from The Princess Bride,” I said.
“Sure.”
“Wait a minute.” I opened up the journal and started turning pages as quickly as I could without tearing them. “India. Nineteen-sixty. Sounds familiar…” I stopped when I came to the entry I was looking for. Skimming the words was enough to fully refresh my memory. “The mysterious third couple was in New Delhi at that time. It can’t be a coincidence. They must’ve used the Salamander’s skills then.”
“If your theory is true,” my uncle gently reminded me. “Otherwise, it most definitely is a coincidence.”
“We need to get the Wards and the Smiths in an interrogation room,” Charlie said. “It’s the only way to find out everything there is to know about this couple.”
“Not necessarily,” I said, shutting the book again. “Chances are neither of them have spoken to this couple in centuries. They try to steer clear from each other, remember?”
“But your theory—”
“My theory entails one meeting,” I said, holding up a finger, “and a promise never to interfere in one another’s lives again. I doubt the Wards and this other couple have been following each other on Facebook. It would be too detrimental to their reputations if anyone discovered they had even the slightest connection.”
“What do you think we should do then?” my brother muttered. He didn’t sound accusatory or dejected, just tired. Maybe he had dropped the whole Ralph thing.
“I still need to bring the Wards in and formally interrogate them,” Uncle Victor said before I could. “We need to find out for sure whether or not they lied to us and made this secret pact. If they do know anything about this third couple—aliases or whereabouts—I’m sure I can get it out of them by threatening to arrest them for obstruction of justice.” He closed the folder and tapped the end against my comforter, making the documents inside fall neatly into place. “I’ll find the Smiths and tell them they’re free to leave the city since they’re no longer suspects.”
“I’d like to talk to Angela before you do.” I lifted up her journal. “I want to give this back and ask a few questions.”
“Sure thing, Jazz. I’ll track them down for you and drive you over first chance I get.”
“Thanks, Uncle Vic.”
He nodded and stood. Throwing a cool look Charlie’s way, he asked, “Will you be going out again this evening?”
“I was planning on it, yeah,” was the casual response. The hard line of my brother’s jaw gave away his true feelings.
Uncle Victor grunted. “Fine. Finish your homework first.”
“I’m taking Esmer’s homework to her. I was going to do mine while she did hers.” Charlie lowered his eyes. “If it’s okay with you.”
“Yeah. All right. But be back before midnight this time.”
“Will do.”
They nodded at each other and then my uncle retreated to the elevator.
I stared at my brother until he finally looked up.
“What?”
“How’d you get him to talk to you so soon after an argument?” I asked, partially amused, partially mystified.
“I gave a sincere apology.” He shrugged. “It worked.”
“Who knew?” I asked dryly.
Charlie popped his neck with a knuckle to his chin. Rolled his shoulders. Gave a long exhale. “I’m sorry I freaked out about Ralph,” he said in a voice barely above a murmur. “He actually seems like a nice guy. I just—”
“Started thinking worst case scenario due to our unfortunate experiences with stalking paparazzi. I know. I know.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “It still felt like crap to
