McKenna took a long drag on his cigarette and looked up at the few stars visible in the sky. “So he’s got motive and, by his own admission, opportunity. I checked him out. He’s got a dip-shit law practice in Richmond, defending the scum of the earth. Guy never even went to law school. He’s third-rate at best. Unmarried, no kids, lives in a shithole. A real loner. Oh, and he left the Richmond police force under a somewhat dark cloud.”
“How do you mean?” Chandler asked sharply.
“Let’s just say that there was a shooting incident that was never fully explained other than the fact a civilian and another police officer were dead as a result.”
Chandler looked shaken, but recovered. “So why does he come up and offer his assistance in the investigation?”
“Again, a cover. Fiske’s position would be, ‘How could I have pulled the trigger? I’m up here working my butt off to find the person who murdered my brother.’ ”
“How does that explain Wright’s death?”
“Who says it has to? Like you said, the two murders could be unrelated. If they are, then if I were Fiske I’d jump on it and argue that they are connected. See, he’s got an alibi for Wright’s murder.”
Evans again, Chandler thought.
McKenna continued, “So if we believe they’re connected, he’s home free.”
“And Sara Evans? Remember? She said she saw the guy running out of Michael Fiske’s apartment building. You say she’s lying too?” McKenna stopped walking and so did Chandler. McKenna took a last puff of his cigarette and then crushed it out on the sidewalk with several twists of his foot. “Sara Evans too,” McKenna repeated Chandler’s words, eyeing the detective closely.
Chandler shook his head. “Come on, McKenna.”
“I’m not saying she’s in on the whole thing. I’m saying maybe she has a thing for Fiske and she’s doing what he tells her to.”
“They just met.”
“Is that right? You know that for sure?”
“Actually, no.”
“Okay, he convinces her he’s done nothing wrong, but some people might try to frame him.”
“Why do you have such a thing against Fiske?”
Now McKenna erupted. “He’s got a smart mouth. He comes off as holier than thou, the defender of his brother’s memory, only they seemed to have no contact recently. He and Evans spent the night at her house doing who knows what the day after his brother’s body is found. He’s got a shotgun for some reason. He’s nosed his way into the investigation, which means he knows just about everything we do. He’s got no alibi for the night of the murder and five minutes ago we found out he’s a half million bucks richer because his brother is dead. What the hell am I supposed to think? Are you saying your cop radar’s not even tingling over this?”
“Okay, you’ve made your point. Maybe I have been too lax with him. Rule number one: Don’t trust anybody.”
“Good rule to live by.” McKenna paused and then added, “Or die by.” He walked off leaving a very shaken Chandler staring after him.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
* * *
Fiske knocked on Rider’s office door. He squinted through the glass. “Dark inside.”
“He’s probably at home. We need to find out where that is.”
“Well, the guy also might be eating dinner out, or out of town on business. He might even be on vacation. Or — ”
“Or something could have happened to him,” Sara said.
“Don’t get overly dramatic.” Fiske clasped the doorknob and it turned easily. He and Sara exchanged a significant glance. Fiske looked up and down the hallway. That’s when he saw the cleaning cart and relaxed slightly. “Cleaning crew?”
“And they’re cleaning in the pitch-dark because . . .?” Sara responded.
“That’s just what I was thinking.” He pulled Sara away from the door and over to the cart. He rummaged around, before pulling out a pair of Vise-Grips from a toolbox.
Whispering, he said, “Go down near the exit stairs. If you hear anything, run to the car and call the cops.”
She grabbed his arm and whispered back, “I have a much better idea. Let’s go call the police together right now and report a burglary.”