"I’m afraid not; it's probably going to be a long slog, but we’re going to have to dig a lot deeper into Bradley’s life and learn something about everyone he knew. Remember, the one saving grace in a murder investigation is the vast majority of victims knew their killer.” Deep in thought, Eddie folded his cocktail napkin in half and then added, “We have no evidence of a break-in. Warren's place was neat as a pin. Bradley didn’t own much outside of his fancy cookware and utensils, and none of his possessions appear to be missing. We found his wallet in the top drawer of his bedroom dresser with one hundred and twenty dollars inside. And there was an old but rather pricey watch sitting next to it.”
“Nothing of value was taken? How about his hands?” Holly chirped.
“Yes, the hands,” Eddie said. He looked as if he was about to say something more, but stopped.
Silence sat uncomfortably between the three friends.
Rob and Holly looked at each other, then asked in unison: “And the hands?”
Eddie shrugged. “It may have been a diversion. Whoever killed Warren wanted to make some kind of statement. Propping him up on that back porch swing was part of that statement.”
“Or maybe,” Rob said slowly, “it was a warning.”
“Warning?” Holly asked. “About what?”
He shook his head. “I don't know, maybe a mob thing like, 'Keep your hands to yourself,' or something?”
Holly frowned. "What do you think he did, stole a box of family recipes from some mob guy?"
“As long as I have you two master sleuths here, I want to bring up something else,” Eddie said as he leaned in closer.
“We’re all ears,” Holly said as she and Rob inched their chairs in even closer.
“One of the items we took from Bradley’s place was his laptop.”
“Do the cops usually do that?” Holly asked.
“It’s pretty standard, given that people keep so much information on their computers. We would have looked at his smartphone, too, if he’d had one, to check his calendar. All he had was an ancient flip phone. Anyway, we hoped he kept a calendar on his computer. The program was there, but he never used it. His cell phone had only two numbers that we could not identify. Both of those calls were made from pay phones in Sausalito. We got his home phone’s records as well. All the numbers in and out have been identified and cleared. You guys wouldn’t believe how many calls went back and forth between Alma Samuels and Bradley, not to mention some of the others in her clique—Bea Snyder, Robin Mitchell—all the usual suspects.”
“It was pretty obvious that Warren was their errand boy,” Holly said with a chuckle. “I imagine that’s where he got a good part of the gossip that found its way into his cell phone.”
“What about the pay phone calls he received?” Rob asked.
“One was from that small grocery store at the south end of Caledonia Street. The other came from the Bridgeway Café. There are only a handful of those old pay phones left in town. It’s merely guesswork at this time, but I think there’s a reasonable chance that the killer made both of those calls. One of them was made to Warren’s cell early on the afternoon of the day he was killed. The other call came in one week earlier.”
“That’s interesting,” Holly said hanging on Eddie’s every word.
“Warren planned a dinner for two the night he was killed. It appears that the killer did not attempt to remove the evidence that he had a guest that evening. The dishes had all been washed and put in the drainer. Unless Bradley used two wine glasses, two plates, two forks and so on, Warren was not alone for his last supper.”
“Does it add up to anything?” Rob asked, desperately hoping for a story angle.
“Not yet, Rob. But it helps us construct some interesting theories, such as the killer was probably not an amateur—and at the very least, no dummy, either. Murders that are the result of, say, an argument, are never as methodical as this. Crimes of passion are pretty sloppy. If the killer used a pay phone, my guess is that he or she knew that after Bradley turned up dead, checking phone records would be one of the first things an investigator was certain to do.”
“Maybe the killer’s cell wasn’t working. If so, a pay phone was the only alternative,” Holly suggested.
“Sure, that’s possible. But, most phones today can go months, or even years, without receiving a call from a public pay phone. Bradley got two a week apart—and one of those two calls hours before his murder.”
“Why would that matter?” Rob asked.
“If we're correct and Warren knew his killer, and since both pay phone calls originated in Sausalito, the killer probably lives, works, or both, somewhere near here.”
“This is all speculation,” Holly said, looking disappointedly at her now-empty glass.
“Absolutely," Eddie said. "Unless you have a killer who staples a business card to their victim’s sleeve, that’s where you need to begin. In the absence of actionable evidence—like prints, tissue samples under a victim’s fingernails, DNA left on tossed paper napkins or tissues, and so on—educated guesswork is where the investigative process begins.”
“What about the laptop? What did you find there?” Rob asked.
“Remember when you told me that Bradley left a phone message about his column being late, but he was confident he’d have it to you well before the next day’s deadline? Well, here it is,” Eddie said as he pulled a folded sheet of paper from his inside jacket pocket.
Rob’s eyes widened as he opened Warren’s final “Heard About Town” column.
“Oh, my God! I’ve got to see this!” Holly said as she jumped up and ran behind Rob to look over his shoulder.
Both of them read the column in silent amazement:
“In the past two weeks, much has been said about the behavior of Sausalito Fine Arts Commission chair, Grant Randolph. His arrest by police, on suspicion of spousal abuse, has
