“Yeah. About last weekend at the lake. Did you put me in the room Cal and his brunette used?”
“I don’t know which room they used. I assume they used the downstairs bedroom.” In other words, Bernadette’s room. Mackenzie grinned at Rook and said, “I put you in the room that gets the bats.”
After T.J. and Rook left, Mackenzie returned to the lobby of Cal’s building, where the doorman, who had to be at least seventy, gave a low whistle. “You better take a few minutes and cool off.”
“I’m red?”
“Tomato-red.”
She made a face, although she wasn’t surprised. During training, she was known for getting red and splotchy during physical exertion. No matter how fit she was, heat had a way of turning her red. “It’s about a million degrees out there.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He seemed untroubled. “Need some water?”
“I’ve got some in the car.” She opened up the sketch and smoothed it out on the desk in front of him. “Any chance you’ve seen this man?”
He studied the drawing. “I don’t think so. Maybe.”
“Take your time,” Mac said.
“Does he live here?”
“You tell me.”
But the doorman frowned, straightening. “Are you a cop?”
“I’m a federal agent.” She showed him her credentials and gave him her name. “You’re…”
“Charlie. Charlie West, ma’am.” He glanced back at the sketch, rubbing his chin with one hand. “What’d he do?”
“He knifed two women in New Hampshire.”
His hand dropped from his chin. “We don’t have anyone like that around here, Agent Stewart.”
“Deputy Stewart, sir. Just focus on the face. Is it familiar?”
“I don’t know.” He held up the paper. “Mind if I keep this?”
“Not at all. But if you see this man, don’t approach him. Call the police. You should consider him armed and dangerous.” She handed him her card. “If you have any questions or think of anything, call me, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am, I will.”
“Do you know why Cal Benton insisted on meeting me in the sweltering courtyard instead of up in his condo?”
The doorman grinned, but quickly turned serious. “He had painters coming this morning, but he canceled them. I was supposed to let them into his place. They were on my list.”
“When did he cancel them?”
“I found out this morning – early. Right after I got in at seven.”
“He called you?”
“He came down here.”
“Was he alone?” Mackenzie asked.
“Yes, ma’am, he was alone.”
She thanked Charlie West for his time and headed out into the heat, just as thunder cracked and lightning flashed over the river. She ducked into her car, leaving the door open to the breeze, and dialed Joe Delvecchio’s number. When he answered, she told him everything that had transpired since her arrival at the condominium complex, leaving out only her exchange with Rook about the room with the bats.
“I figured I’d call you first,” she said.
“You didn’t call me first, Stewart. You called me last. You’ve already talked to Benton, Rook, Kowalski and the damn doorman.”
“I haven’t talked to Detective Mooney in New Hampshire yet.”
“Don’t let me hold you up,” he said.
She ignored his sarcasm. “Someone should show the sketch to other people in Cal’s building, just in case the doorman did recognize him but isn’t sure. Another worker or resident might be more certain, one way or another. I’d do it, but I’m personally involved.”
“You think?” He sighed. “I’m on it.”
“For the record, Cal Benton’s flings might not have anything at all to do with the attack on me.”
“Deputy, don’t second-guess yourself. The more pieces we have, the better. They won’t all have a place in the puzzle. That’s nothing new. Are you on your way back here?”
“Give me an hour,” she said, fastening her seat belt.
“It’s a ten-minute drive.”
“Traffic.”
One beat, two beats.
Mackenzie pulled her car door shut. “I need to make a stop. It’s personal.”
“It was personal when you went to see Benton, too.” But Delvechhio relented. “All right. An hour.”
She didn’t know if his modest acquiescence was a sign of trust or if he was just giving her enough rope to hang herself. Either way, she was committed now. She started her car, cranked up the air-conditioning and headed toward Massachusetts Avenue just as a fat raindrop hit her windshield.
Twenty-Five
Mackenzie had her own key to Bernadette’s house off Embassy Row. She’d had it since college, when Bernadette had given it to her before setting off on a six-week trip to Asia. “Come when you want. Just no wild parties.” As if bookish Mackenzie were known for wild parties.
When no one answered the door, she let herself in, announcing her presence. “Hello – anyone home? It’s Mackenzie.”
Thunder rumbled, and with the darkened sky, the light in the house was more like dusk than late morning. Before she’d left for the lake, Bernadette had obviously turned down the air-conditioning. Never mind Cal, Mackenzie thought. Of course, he could always turn it up, but he’d notice the gesture – the reminder that it wasn’t his house and he was no longer welcome there.
As generous as Bernadette was, she was not a pushover.
Mackenzie made her way to the guest suite on the first floor. The door was unlocked and the drapes were still shut. “Cal?” she called, just in case.
The covers were pulled back and half on the floor, as if he’d passed a bad night. She checked the bathroom. Towels on the floor, shaving materials scattered around the sink. The mirror was splattered with dried soap. Would he clean up before he moved out? Or just leave the place a mess as a final thumb-in-the-eye for Bernadette?
The two of them, Mackenzie thought. Bernadette was a role model in so many ways, but not so much when it came to relationships. She volleyed between being too forgiving and too unforgiving, confusing herself and the men in her life. She’d never found anyone who really understood her – her keen intelligence, her drive, her generosity, her contradictory nature. But she never expected to, either.
Mackenzie saw nothing in Cal’s room that suggested he was the victim or perpetrator of blackmail, or knew where Harris Mayer or her attacker were. Nothing that suggested he was in any trouble at all. From his living quarters, Mackenzie could see a man in a hurry, perhaps. And agitated. He was a busy attorney in the midst of moving, and he had her on his case about his brunette at the lake.
She ventured into Bernadette’s study. Forbidden territory. Bernadette hated anyone trespassing in her space, but not so much that she kept the door locked. Files, yes. Her computer was password protected, but Mackenzie checked just to be sure. No sensitive files related to Bernadette’s work as a U.S. district court judge were out in the open.
Was she a victim of blackmail?
Not a perpetrator, Mackenzie thought. That was beyond the realm of possibility. Bernadette was in the position to know other people’s secrets, but she didn’t have the temperament – or the skill – to act on them for her own profit.
And what would she have to hide?
Her friendship with Harris was out in the open. She’d had little to do with him in the five years since his public disgrace, but she hadn’t abandoned him entirely. Since he’d gone to the FBI, the blackmail, extortion, fraud and whatever else he’d been whispering about to Rook had a federal interest. Harris was a former judge. He would know. He wouldn’t need Bernadette’s advice. But he would want it anyway.
“Breaking and entering, Mac?”
She spun around at Rook’s voice. He was leaning in the study door, as if he’d been there awhile, his dark eyes leveled on her. She shrugged. “I’m here to feed the cat.”