He scrolled forward, frame by frame. The man’s hand inched downward, first touching the stack of blue booklets, then picking one up and slipping it in his pocket.
Jake stared at the screen, no longer seeing the image it held.
He knew this still didn’t prove a damn thing. Dozens of people must have taken matchbooks from that bowl every day. That, and the fact Jake’s interest in the man was based on no more than a
That was it. There was something about them that set them off from others. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what that difference was, but he knew it was there.
He finished watching the men exit the hotel. There were no more causes to pause, no more what-the-hell moments.
He checked his watch and was surprised to see he only had a half hour to get to the substation. Where had all the time gone?
He was about to thank Parker and tell him he was done when he remembered the man who’d entered the elevator on the third floor. He knew his sense about this man was even weaker than his feelings about the other two, but it was best to play it safe.
He found the appropriate footage of the man exiting the building a few minutes before the other two did, and paused the picture. The guy was probably in his early forties, in decent shape, and had a bit of a scowl on his face.
He looked at Parker. “Can I get a print of this, too?”
As Jake walked back through the lobby, he considered stopping at reception. He knew there was a very high likelihood that the men had been guests at the hotel, and if one of the women at the desk could ID them, then Jake would have names. The thing that stopped him was the promise he’d made Conway about not asking for any guest information without the proper warrants. If he reneged on that, he’d once more open the possibility of his superiors finding out about his visit.
There was a less official way he could at least get some basic information, though.
As he reached the exit, a different doorman than earlier pulled it open for him.
“Thanks,” Jake said as he passed through.
“No problem at all. You have a good day.”
Jake slowed. “Say, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
Jake unrolled the picture he’d been given of the two men. “Do you recall seeing either of these men?”
“Sure. That’s Mr. Redmond,” he said, pointing at the light-haired man. He moved his finger to the other guy. “And that’s…Mr. Walters.”
“They’re guests here?”
“They were. Left this morning, I believe.”
“Did they have their own cars or…”
“No cars. Taxis. They both seemed to enjoy walking, too. I’ve seen both head out on foot.”
Which could have meant they had a car they weren’t parking at the hotel, Jake thought.
He showed him the other picture.
“Yeah,” the doorman said. “Saw him a few times, but don’t know his name.”
“Also a guest?”
“Not sure.”
Jake rolled the pictures back up. He had last names now, at least for two of them. It was something, but not much. “Thanks,” he said.
“You got it.”
10
Jake was up early the next morning. Patrol the night before had been uneventful, and both he and Haywood had finished on time. Jake had spent most of the shift as they drove around thinking about the men in the pictures. Could it possibly be that they were connected with the murder? Should he tell someone about them?
He still had no answer for the first question, and his immediate response to the second was no. No one would believe such a tenuous connection. A
Around 11 p.m., while Haywood had been doing his flirting thing with Maria the waitress, Jake had called Berit and asked if she wanted to grab breakfast the next morning.
“Breakfast? You mean get out of bed before ten?” she said.
“I was thinking eight-thirty? At Di’s?”
“Eight-thirty? Ugh! Why?”
“I’ve…I’ve got something I need to talk about.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Fine. Eight-thirty. You owe me.”
Back at the academy, when they’d both realized they were different than most of the recruits, they’d made an agreement to always be there for each other. A sounding board, a pressure release, whatever the other one required.
This was definitely one of those times.
Jake arrived at Di’s fifteen minutes early, took a booth by the window, and contented himself with coffee until Berit arrived. As was her habit, she was right on time. The way she was dressed — a pale green button shirt and blue jeans — people would have been hard-pressed to guess her profession. She just didn’t give off that police vibe. But Jake knew her kind eyes and disarming smile were deceiving. It was like she had a thin layer of sweet covering a solid don’t-fuck-with-me body.
Like Jake, she was a voracious reader, a habit that led them into conversations about such subjects as microbiology, Middle East history, computer programming, and the future of paper money. They could go on for hours about almost anything. It was like being in college without actually enrolling anywhere.
As Berit slipped into the other side of the booth, their waitress walked over.
“Something to drink?” the woman asked.
“Coffee, please,” Berit said.
“Sure thing.” The waitress retreated to the counter.
Berit stared at Jake for a moment, then said, “Four and a half hours.”
“I’m sorry?” he said.
“Four and a half hours. That’s how much sleep I got. I should still be in bed, but I’m not. You owe me three and a half hours of sleep.”
“You get eight every night?”
The waitress returned with the coffee before Berit could respond, and set it on the table.
“You guys ready to order?” she asked.
“Oatmeal,” Jake said.
“All right. And you, ma’am?”
Berit was holding the coffee to her lips and blowing across the surface. “It’s too early to eat.”
“So, one oatmeal? That’s it?”
“Make it two,” Jake said. “She’ll get hungry.”
The waitress made a quick note on her pad, then left them again.
Berit rolled her head around in a circle a couple of times, and said, “I swear to God this better not be girl trouble. I will
Problems with the opposite sex were another thing they would discuss now and then, though it was more about the men who kept asking Berit out than the few dates Jake went on. It was interesting. They were the best
