name for the trip to San Francisco.”
“And you got Adams running after our guys on the airport surveillance
video.”
“Think Lockhart tried to give him the slip?”
“Ticket agent said Adams didn’t come up to the counter until after
Lockhart had purchased the tickets. And the video shows Adams leading
her back from the vicinity of the San Francisco gate.”
“So maybe an involuntary partnership of sorts,” Reynolds said. She had
a sudden thought as she looked at Connie. Like ours, perhaps? “You
know what I’d really like?” Reynolds said. Connie raised his
eyebrows.
“I’d like to return Mr. Adams’s boots. We have his home address?”
“North Arlington. Twenty minutes from here, tops.” Reynolds rose.
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 24
WHILE CONNIE PARKED THE CAR AT THE CURB, Reynolds stared up at the old
brownstone. “Adams must do pretty well. This isn’t a cheap area.”
Connie looked around and said, “Maybe I should sell my house and buy an
apartment around here. Stroll around the street, sit in the park,
enjoy life.”
“Thoughts of retirement creeping in?”
“Seeing Ken in a body bag isn’t making me want to do this forever.”
They walked up to the front door. Each of them noted the video camera,
and then Connie rang the door buzzer.
“Who is it?” a voice fiercely demanded.
“FBI,” Reynolds said. “Agents Reynolds and Constantinople.” The door
didn’t buzz open as they had expected.
“Show me your badges,” the elderly voice proclaimed. “Hold them up to
the camera.”
The two agents looked at each other.
Reynolds smiled. “Let’s play nice and do as were told, Connie.”
The pair held up their credentials, or “creds,” to the camera. They
both carried them the same way: gold badge pinned to the outside of the
ID case, so you got the shield first and the picture ID card last. It
was intended to be intimidating. And it was. A minute later they
heard a door open from inside the building and a woman’s face appeared
at the glass of the old-fashioned double doors.
“Let me see them again,” she said. “My eyes aren’t all that good
anymore.”
“Ma’am-” Connie began hotly until Reynolds elbowed him. They held up
their creds again.
The woman scrutinized them and then opened the door.
“I’m sorry,” she said as they came in. “But after all the goings-on
this morning, I’m about ready to pack my bags and leave for good. And
this has been my home for twenty years.”
“What goings-on?” Reynolds asked sharply.
The woman eyed her warily. “Who did you come here to see?”
“Lee Adams,” Reynolds said.
“I thought so. Well, he’s not here.”
“Any idea where he might be, Ms. ?”
“Carter. Angie Carter. And no, I don’t have any idea where he’s got
to. Left this morning and I haven’t seen him since.”
“So what happened this morning?” Connie said. “It was this morning,
right?”
Carter nodded. “Fairly early. Just having my coffee when Lee called
down and said he wanted me to watch Max because he was going away.”
They looked at her curiously. “Max is Lee’s German shepherd.” Her
mouth quivered for a moment. “Poor animal.”
Reynolds said, “What happened to the dog?”
“They hit him. He’ll be okay, but they hurt him.” Connie edged closer
to the old woman. “Who hurt him?”
“Ms. Carter, why don’t we go into your apartment and sit down?”
Reynolds suggested.
The apartment contained old, comfortable furniture, tiny shelves with
odd knickknacks placed just so and the aroma of burnt kale and
onions.
After they were seated, Reynolds said, “Maybe it would be better if you
just started at the beginning, and we’ll ask questions along the
way.”
Carter told of how she had agreed to keep Lee’s dog. “I do it a lot,
Lee’s gone a lot. He’s a private investigator, you know.”
“We know. So he didn’t say where he was going? Nothing at all?”
Connie prompted.
“Never does. Private investigator is just what it means, and Lee was a
stickler for that.”
“Does he have a separate office somewhere?”
“No, he uses his spare bedroom for an office. He also looks after the
building. He’s the one who put in the camera outside, sturdy locks on