“But I thought because Mr. Deaver is dead that there’s no longer an investigation to pursue.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you, but that’s not actually the case,” said King politely.
Mason turned to Savannah. “Have you checked with your mother about this?”
King answered, “She took us through it once before, Mason. I can’t imagine she’d have a problem with a second time.”
“I always like to make sure of these things, Sean.”
“You see, because we know Junior didn’t do it and Remmy is now friends with his widow, it’s up to us to find out who did take those things. It’s in Remmy’s interest of course to see that happens. But if you want to call her and bother her while she’s with the probate lawyers, that’s fine. We’ll just wait right here.”
King could see Mason working through all this in his head. Finally, he shrugged. “I can’t see that it will hurt anything. Just try and keep things neat. Mrs. Battle is very particular.”
“Yes, she is,” said King.
Mason left, and they went immediately into Remmy’s closet and accessed the hidden drawer, examining it minutely but finding nothing.
“Maybe you’ll have better luck in Daddy’s room,” said Savannah.
As they were leaving the closet, King stopped to look at some photos on the shelf across from Remmy’s bed. Savannah stood next to him.
“That’s me when I was twelve, fat and ugly. God, I can still feel those braces on my teeth.”
King held up another photo, an old one, with two babies in it.
Savannah pointed as she spoke. “That’s Eddie and Bobby Jr. I never knew him, of course; he died before I was born. No, I’m sorry, that’s Eddie on the left and Bobby Jr. on the right.” She still looked unsure. “Well, that’s embarrassing, not knowing your own flesh and blood.”
“Well, they were twins,” said King, putting the photo back.
They moved to Bobby’s bedroom but had no success there either, at least not at first. But as King went over the drawer inch by inch, he stiffened. “Can you get me a flashlight?” he asked Savannah.
“Mama keeps one in her nightstand in case the power goes out.” Savannah ran and got it.
King shone it in the drawer. “Look at this.” They all peered in.
“It looks like letters,” observed Michelle.
“That’s definitely a k, and either a c or an o.”
Michelle looked more closely. “Then there’s some space, and that’s a p followed by what looks to be either an a or an o.”
King straightened up, looking thoughtful. “It appears something was lying in this drawer, and those letters somehow stained the wood, imprinting it.”
“It might have gotten wet,” suggested Savannah.
King leaned in and took a long whiff of the drawer. He looked at Savannah. “Did Bobby drink in his room?”
“Daddy drink? He has a whole bar in that piece of furniture that looks like a credenza across from his bed. Why?”
“Because it smells like Scotch in the drawer.”
“That might account for the moisture,” said Michelle, who took a whiff. “He was looking at whatever it was, spilled his drink in the drawer, and the letters got transferred from the paper to the bottom of the drawer.”
King went into the bedroom and came back with a pen and paper he’d taken from Battle’s desk. He wrote the words down with the approximate spaces in between.
Kc____________________ pa, Ko____________________ pa, Ko____________________ po
“Kc-pa, Ko-pa, or Ko-po,” he said slowly. “Ring any bells?” Savannah shook her head.
“Obviously, there are letters we’re missing. If we were playing Wheel of Fortune, here’s where I’d ask for a couple of vowels,” said Michelle. “What do you think, Sean?”
He took a moment before answering. “Somehow this may be the whole key right here, if I can just think of what it means.”
Michelle had a sudden inspiration. While Savannah was scrutinizing the letters King had written down, Michelle whispered in her partner’s ear, “Maybe it’s from Battle’s holographic will that Harry thought might exist?”
None of them heard the bedroom door close quietly behind the person who’d been listening in. Nor did they hear the sound of soft footfalls moving down the hall to the stairway.
Chapter 80
Sean King sat straight up in bed like someone had frisked him with a cattle prod.
Seven hours! My God, seven hours! But not really seven hours, more likely longer than that. The seven-hour reference had made him think about Sally’s death. She had died barely seven hours after telling him about Junior. That was one major point. However, the seven-hour time difference had just now made him recognize a startling fact, so startling that with that one revelation everything else started tumbling into place.
He fumbled around and found his watch on the nightstand. It was one o’clock in the morning. He staggered out of his bed, tripped over something Michelle had carelessly left on the guest room floor and fell down grabbing at his big toe. He felt around and found the object. It was a twenty-pound dumbbell.
“For Chrissakes,” he yelled at no one in particular. He got up, rubbing his foot, and limped down the hallway to her bedroom. He was about to burst in when he thought better of it. Surprising Michelle Maxwell like that could earn him a one-way ticket to the morgue.
He rapped on the door. “Are you decent?”
A sleepy voice filtered through the one-inch wood of the door. “What?”
“If you still keep that fifty-caliber machine gun under your pillow, don’t pull it. I come in peace.”
He went inside and flicked on the light. She was sitting up in bed, rubbing at her eyes.
“I like your choice in lingerie,” he said, eyeing her baggy gray sweat suit emblazoned with the acronym WIFLE, which stood for Women in Federal Law Enforcement. “You wear that on your honeymoon, and your hubby will never let you out of bed.”
She looked at him irritably. “Is that why you woke me up, to critique my pajamas?”
He sat next to her. “No, I have something I need you to do while I’m gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“I’ve got some things to look into.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, I need you here. I want you to keep an eye on the Battles.”
“The Battles. Which ones?”
“All of them.”
“How exactly can I do that?”
“I’ll call Remmy and say that you need to ask some more questions. She’ll bring everyone together at her house, and that’ll make it easier for you.”
“What exactly am I supposed to ask them?”
“You’ll think of plenty of things, don’t worry.”
She crossed her arms and looked at him stubbornly. “What the hell is going on?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I really need you to do this.”
“You’re keeping things from me again. You know I hate that.”
“I don’t know anything definite yet. But you’ll be the first to know. I swear.”
“Will you at least tell me what the things are you’re going to check into?”
“All right. I’m going to have a friend of mine look at Bobby’s autopsy results.”
“Why?”
“Next,” he said, ignoring her question, “I’m going over to UVA Hospital and do a little research into certain narcotics. Then I’m going to do a little antiquing.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Antiquing?”
“After that I’m going to visit Bobby Battle’s family physician. I have some questions to ask that might clear up a lot. Last but not least I’m heading to D.C. to purchase a certain device that might assist us greatly.”