‘Trip, what did you find at Voss’s house?’ Adam asked.
‘His body,’ Trip said. ‘We got into his safe, found a little cash, legal papers, normal stuff. Prenup with Mrs Voss, results of a DNA test proving Penny is his daughter, so he obviously had some doubt at some point. Hard to say if he had good reason or because he assumed that Mrs Voss was cattin’ around because he was. We found his little black book in which he rated wines, movies, and hookers.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ Adam said, wondering why he continued to be surprised.
Trip shook his head. ‘Nope. He gave Jolee’ – he pointed at the woman’s Facebook photo on the whiteboard – ‘a solid seven out of ten.’ His jaw tightened. ‘He had several scores for Linnie. They started high, sevens and eights, then began to decline. He wrote that he wanted his money back after the last entry because she was too bony. His first “grade” for Linnea was six months ago.’
‘Voss was a piece of work,’ Scarlett said. ‘I can’t say that I’m sorry he’s dead.’
‘Neither was Mrs Voss,’ Trip added. ‘Scarlett and I did the notification.’
‘Shit, Trip,’ Adam said, wincing. The guy had been destroyed after notifying Kyle Davis of Tiffany’s murder. ‘Two in twenty-four? That sucks.’
Trip shrugged, the look he gave Adam unhappy. ‘Mrs Voss was . . . glad he was dead and I understand why, because the man did horrible things. He assaulted her and endangered her child. But it was almost easier dealing with Kyle’s grief.’
Hanson cleared his throat. ‘What was the final count on the money in the safe?’
‘Three hundred euros,’ Scarlett said. ‘I expected more.’
‘We didn’t find any bank records, though,’ Nash added. ‘We’ve requested the records from the bank. They’ve promised them by morning.’
‘Would be nice to have them sooner,’ Adam said. ‘Can you push them?’
‘I’ll try,’ Nash said with a shrug.
‘Thanks. Voss’s time of death was between eleven last night and seven this morning, meaning he couldn’t have committed any of the murders we’re investigating. We already knew he had an alibi for the time of Andy Gold’s death. If he did pay someone, it was before the fact.’
Dissatisfaction rippled through the group. Everyone but Isenberg and Deacon was hearing this for the first time. Adam and Deacon had informed their bosses.
‘How long have you known that?’ Scarlett asked.
‘Carrie called right before we went to talk to Kate,’ Adam told her. ‘So forty minutes, tops. Sorry. We were interviewing Kate. It seemed easier to tell you all together.’
Scarlett waved a no-problem hand. ‘You were right. And Isenberg did text to tell us that we were looking at cops or friends of cops, which let out Voss anyway. I don’t think he considered cops his friends.’
‘True enough,’ Trip muttered.
Nash frowned. ‘What time did you put surveillance outside Voss’s house?’
Adam gave him a nod. ‘Four detectives, watching front and back, were in place by nine p.m. So, assuming Voss did not inject himself with two to three times his normal hit and that he didn’t turn the heat up . . . How did his killer get past the guard?’
‘I can answer that,’ Isenberg said. ‘One of the detectives sitting at the front gate was taking a nap while the other watched. The one awake was approached by a uniform-wearing “cop.”’ She used air quotes. ‘The cop gave the detective a cup of coffee, said he’d been sent by me. Which, of course, he was not.’
Adam blinked at her. ‘He believed that?’
Isenberg shrugged. ‘The detective questioned it because I’m clearly not known for my hospitality,’ she said acidly. ‘The cop informed him that even “the bitch has a heart,” and didn’t want the detective to freeze. The detective was cold and took the coffee and the next thing he knew his partner was waking him up.’
‘The coffee was drugged,’ Deacon murmured.
Isenberg nodded. ‘Yep. The detective swears he was only asleep for a few minutes. His partner couldn’t speculate because he had been asleep too. The detective swore that fake cop’s badge said Swenson, but the only Swenson on the force was documented to be somewhere else that night. The detective says the fake cop approached him at midnight.’
Nash pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Right after a power outage cut out all the security cameras.’
‘You’re shitting me,’ Hanson said, clearly angry.
‘Wish I was,’ Nash replied.
‘If we knew who’d killed him,’ Hanson said, vibrating with the effort of keeping his cool, ‘we could crack open this case. Voss had at least two dozen working girls listed in that little black book. And he was obviously buying a lot of drugs, so now we’ve also lost a tip on the dealers’ identities. Are you sure there’s no video?’
Nash’s lips thinned. ‘I said there wasn’t.’
Isenberg tapped the table to get their attention. ‘Gentlemen? It must have been a very localized power outage. The gate still opened when you all arrived.’
Hanson frowned. ‘Your point, Lieutenant?’ he asked, far more politely.
‘That it wasn’t a full outage,’ Isenberg said with a patience that not-so-thinly veiled her annoyance. ‘Do we know if the cameras ever came back online?’
Nash considered it. ‘The DVRs never did. But I don’t know about the cameras.’
‘I’m still missing the point,’ Hanson declared.
‘The point,’ Nash said with a little grin of excitement, ‘is that it depends what was on the circuit that blew. If it was on the DVR only, we wouldn’t have saved video but the cameras may still have been streaming to an offsite server. Thank you, Lieutenant.’
Isenberg nodded soberly. ‘It might be nothing.’
‘But we might get something.’ Nash tapped the table nervously, a sure sign that his mind was galloping ahead. ‘How did the killer know the code?’
‘I wondered that too,’ Trip said. ‘There was no sign of forced entry. Hell, we would have needed an armored car to break down those gates.’
‘Maybe Voss was killed by someone who knew him well enough to know his codes,’ Adam said. ‘The front was 0713 and the back was 0915.’
Hanson pulled out his phone and flipped through some photos. ‘Yeah, I thought I remembered the first one. I took photos of the documents we pulled from the safe. Here’s a certificate he received the day his company went IPO. September, 2015.’ He swiped through his photos. ‘And . . . July 1, 2013 is the date his company debuted.’
Scarlett got up from her chair to look over Hanson’s shoulder. ‘That’s worse than my mother’s passcodes. At least she picks dates nobody else would know. Anybody with Google could figure out Voss’s passcodes.’
Which is probably how Diesel was able to break into his system so easily, Adam thought. And from the look on Trip’s face, he was thinking the same thing.
Isenberg’s expression grew dark. ‘So we’ve narrowed the suspect pool to anyone with Google. Fabulous. Agent Taylor, did you find any fingerprints that would be helpful?’
Quincy shook his head. ‘We found hundreds of prints. It’s going to take Latent days to run them all. The man had parties and meetings and hosted company dinners at his home. A seedy hotel room would have fewer prints. But,’ he added quickly, ‘we do have the rifle now and the SUV, and I think those two things will make a difference.’
‘Say more,’ Adam requested, relieved when Isenberg settled back to listen.
‘Ballistics is finished with the rifle that Kate got from the SUV,’ Quincy said. ‘It fired the bullet that killed Andy Gold, the bullets that hit your van and Agent Troy, and the bullet that ended Bruiser. And bullets fired during a robbery thirty years ago.’
‘Any luck in getting the rifle’s serial number?’ Adam asked him.