Mrs. Lakeland nodded, pausing as she turned. “You’ll find who did this to sweet Albert, won’t you?”
“I’m sure going to try. I promise.” Lex kept silent until the women disappeared around Mrs. Lakeland’s home before turning to Bernie. “Two large men, huh?”
“Interesting.” Bernie glanced back down at the corpse, sympathy lightening his eyes. “How much of the drug do you think they gave him to result in this much damage?”
She shook her head. “Way too much. The feeling of it going in must’ve been excruciating.”
“Duck’s screaming must’ve been what woke Mrs. Lakeland.” Bernie straightened as a statuesque redhead strode toward them in very nice leather boots. He lifted his chin. “Out for a late night, August?”
August Summerling, Seattle prosecutor, scowled down at the body while slapping a piece of paper into Bernie’s hand. “I thought I’d bring down the warrant myself.”
Bernie lifted a bushy eyebrow. “We have e-mails on our phones now, you know.”
August smiled, showing even white teeth. “I know, but I’d like to take a look at Duck’s house, too. When this shithole of a case goes to trial, I want a full picture.”
Bernie met her grin. “How much ribbing you get from your name, anyway?”
August sighed. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Lex hadn’t had a case with August yet, but the woman had a stellar reputation, and she was willing to go on a little faith. “Your parents were hippies?”
“No. No father, and Mom is a new-age, crystal-wearing, tarot-reading, one-with-the-universe woman in natural fabrics. Love her, so I could never change the name.” August eyed Bernie top to bottom and then wiggled her brows. “What’s your last name, Detective? I’m always looking for a new one.”
Bernie blushed beet red from his jowls to his hairline. “Knock it off. Geez. I’m old enough to be your father.”
Lex elbowed him. “And you’re married.”
Bernie somehow turned even redder. “Oh yeah. Yeah. I’m married.” He held out his left hand to show his gold band. “Forty years. Forty wonderful, excellent, she’s gonna kill me if we keep talking, years.”
August chuckled. “I’m just messing with you. Sorry.”
The prosecutor went up about ten notches in Lex’s book, and that meant something. She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s go through Duck’s white-picket fence of a house.”
“You don’t suppose we’ll get lucky enough that this will be a stash house, do ya?” Bernie muttered, avoiding the hydrangea bush to clomp up the front porch.
Anticipation hurried Lex’s movements. “It’s entirely possible.” What better place to stash drugs and weapons than a pretty subdivision down a nicely treed street? “We’ve done searches on property owned by Fire and its members, and this didn’t come up.”
“It’s owned by a corporation called NewBerry, Inc.,” August said, waiting for Lex to precede her into the house. “My office is doing a deeper search now to find the connection, but a cursory glance shows the company being a front for property owned by Titans of Fire.” She shrugged. “Not unusual, actually.”
The house smelled like lemon cleanser and featured a quaint living room with matching couch and loveseat, a stark but clean kitchen, and one bedroom off to the side. Small but somehow sweet.
Lex headed instantly for the kitchen and started tapping on walls.
August leaned over her shoulder. “Hidden rooms?”
“Here’s hoping,” Lex agreed, continuing to tap. In the living room, other cops began the arduous process of searching for contraband.
“Eureka,” Bernie bellowed from the bedroom.
Excitement roared through Lex’s veins, and she all but ran into the bedroom, where Bernie had opened a false back in the closet to reveal a shitload of weapons. AK-47s, pistols, even sawed-off shotguns. Her shoulders hunched. All known weapons. Nothing that could throw fire.
She turned and yanked the white quilt off the bed. “Let’s get going. We have an entire house to search. There have to be more weapons somewhere.” She’d tear the entire house down to find the fire-throwing weapons along with the Apollo drug. She was getting closer; she could just feel it.
Who the hell had murdered Duck and why?
Chapter 11
Dawn hadn’t yet begun to arrive, and darkness shrouded the area like an omen of things to come. Bad things. The rain had ebbed, but a hint of another storm hung in the damp air, chilling right through cotton and leather. Lex sighed at her empty, stinky apartment, her limbs weary and her gut churning.
Seven foil packets of meth and several more pistols had been found at Duck’s, but no fire-throwing weapons, and no Apollo. His home had been a stash house, but not for the right stuff.
She’d headed home for a few hours of sleep, and Bernie had, very annoyingly, insisted upon following her and then checking out her crappy apartment for any more intruders.