My stomach grumbled. “Zach, were you planning to eat dinner any time soon?”
“It’s nowhere near time to eat.”
“Look at your watch.”
He glanced at it, then he said, “Sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was getting. I thought I’d just send out for a sandwich.”
“Wow, could we make it two, or do we have to split yours?”
“Savannah, you know how I get when I’m trying to get my hooks into a case. If you’d like to go out to Morton’s yourself, you have my blessing.”
“I’d rather split a sandwich with you than have a steak by myself,” I said. “Let me grab a phone book and I’ll make the call.”
“Fine,” he said absently, but I could tell that I’d already lost him. There was something about one of the photographs on the wall that he was fixated on, and I knew I could stand on the table in front of him and spout the Gettysburg Address and he wouldn’t even notice. I found a sandwich shop that delivered, placed our order, and then started looking through some of the paperwork spread out on tables. The first murder victim had been a man in his thirties named Hank Tristan. He’d been discovered in his bed with a single stab wound to the heart, and the police had determined that he’d been at the Black-Tie Ball the night before. The ball had been a fundraiser for Charity At Home, a group that raised money to help underprivileged children in the most rural areas of North Carolina. It had been hosted by Jerry Drake, one of the minority partners of the Charlotte Bobcats basketball team, a man who wasn’t afraid to use the clout of his connections to solicit donations for his favorite causes. Hank’s date had left the party early with a migraine headache, and he had stayed behind to dance with as many women as he could convince to join him on the floor. Nobody saw him leave, or even if he was alone at the time, and when he didn’t show up at his investment firm the next morning, his executive assistant, Julian King, had gone by the house to collect him.
Evidently Hank enjoyed his partying, and had made it a duty of his aide to wake him if it was needed, help him into a cold shower, and get him ready for work. I didn’t know how much Julian made, but I couldn’t imagine that it was worth what he had to do. When the photo showed up, wrapped in Hank’s black bow tie, things elevated to an entirely different level. It was clear that whoever had committed the murder was now taunting the police with their crime. The interview list of everyone the police had talked to read like a Who’s Who of Charlotte society, and I wasn’t surprised to see the names of several of my friends there, including my breakfast date for the next day, Lorna Gaither. I wondered if it was possible that she’d seen something. As I flipped through the interviews, I found the one with Lorna, and after a few seconds, I realized that it wasn’t likely. She’d been attending the ball with Peter Colt, a man rich enough to own his very own mountain. Not just the peak, the entire thing. Lorna had danced once with Hank, and then she and Peter had left early when he had complained of being bored; neither of them had seen anything of note. I glanced through more interviews and found Grady’s name. His interview was a little more interesting. It appeared that he and Hank Tristan had had a disagreement, and there had been the threat of a physical confrontation when calmer heads stepped in and stopped them.
“Did you see this?” I asked Zach as I held out the report.
“I haven’t gotten to that stack yet. What is it?”
He took the interview sheets from me and quickly scanned them. “Funny, Grady’s usually pretty good about controlling his temper.”
“Unless there’s sangria around,” I said. “Remember the time at the Jackson barbeque he had two drinks and was ready to take on the world?”
“There’s a reason some people shouldn’t drink. I wonder if he had a cocktail that night.”
“It doesn’t say.” I saw my husband watching me. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re not the only one in our family who notices things. That’s the first thing that came into my mind, too.”
“This is bad.”
As Zach reached for his telephone, I asked, “Who are you calling?”
“I want to see what Grady has to say about this.”
“Hang on a second. You’re not actually thinking that our friend had anything to do with this, do you?”
Zach gave me a noncommittal shrug. “I’m just gathering information right now.”
“Don’t try to brush me off; you should know better than that by now. Do you honestly think Grady is capable of killing anyone?”
He lowered the telephone. “Savannah, if he weren’t our friend and the mayor of Charlotte, wouldn’t he be at the top of our suspect list? I had no idea until just now that he had a fight with the first victim the night he died. I already knew that the woman he was dating was the second victim. I’m worried, and I’m not afraid to say it. We need to consider the possibility that Grady could be faking the latest threats himself.”
“He wouldn’t kill anybody. He’s too nice a person to do that.”
“Remember when I first became a cop? I had to arrest a grandmother of seven for killing her best friend because she beat her in a gardening show. Just because she baked cookies for blood drives didn’t mean she wasn’t a murderer. Until I’m sure that Grady wasn’t involved with either murder, I’m treating him as my prime suspect.”
I knew better than to try to talk my husband out of anything. What was worse, I could see the logic of what he was saying. Was that why Davis had brought Zach in? Arresting the mayor, or even thinking that he could be guilty of multiple murders, could end his career if he was wrong. Hiring my husband was a good way to diffuse the blame if he was mistaken. Davis would bear watching. He might just be sneakier than I’d ever given him credit for.
Zach made his call, and I listened in on his end of the conversation. He’d been curt and formal with Grady, and the mayor had agreed to come by the police station in half an hour.
When our sandwiches arrived, I paid for them, though neither one of us felt much like eating. Zach was right; Grady belonged at the top of his suspect list, but I didn’t have to like it.
As I nibbled at my sandwich, my husband said, “You need to make yourself scarce when Grady gets here.”
