Signature Wounds (A Paul Grale Thriller #1)

That and Smith’s insistence it be installed on the Fourth made him suspect. It was what the agents interviewing the plumber were circling. This because Smith had also e-mailed the plumber’s boss asking that he have his plumber help get the refrigerator into its slot if Smith was able to find a different refrigerator rather than the delayed one. When asked about this, Smith said it was exactly what it sounded like. Told he couldn’t have the wine refrigerator he’d ordered installed on time, he’d tried to find a replacement. Alagara had another rental scheduled for the night of the fifth where the client wanted to chill white wines ahead of the party. Smith said he tried hard but wasn’t able to find another refrigerator, and yet, the plumbing company had received a follow-up e-mail from Smith late the night of the third saying he’d found one after all. It would be delivered during the afternoon of July 4.

Agents had interviewed the client who wanted to chill wines for her party on the July 5, and she backed Smith’s story, but none of that lessened suspicion of Smith—in part because Smith had wanted the plumber’s help only as far as getting it into the cabinet slot and texting him that it had arrived. He would personally do the rest of the install, cut away the wrapping, and plug it in. That was too unusual a request to pass over. Then there was this: the final e-mail to the plumbing company owner from Smith, saying that he’d found one after all and it would be delivered on July 4, was an e-mail Smith claimed he didn’t send. Yet he was very happy to walk in on the holiday and find a new wine refrigerator installed.

Our computer techs backed Smith’s claim that someone had access to his computer. They didn’t say he was hacked but agreed it was possible someone with access to his computer sent the final e-mail confirming delivery and installation of a new wine refrigerator the afternoon of the Fourth. That’s where it got spooky. All of the refrigerator talk had started less than three weeks prior to the Fourth. Notice of the delay was just a few days before. If Smith was telling the truth, the bombers conceived and executed the wine-refrigerator-bomb concept in a very short time. That implied a high level of sophistication and coordination. It supported the theory of a capable sleeper cell in the Vegas area. It was also hard to believe the bomber didn’t have prior knowledge of the refrigerator’s size.

A complicated story, I know, and after all the questioning we probably now had three or four agents who could install wine refrigerators in their sleep. But this recalcitrant plumber in for a reinterview could have information that mattered. While I watched, the plumber, Rick Alpert, changed his story.

“I talked to the guy who brought it in and told him I would help him if he needed it.”

“In the last interview you said you didn’t talk with him,” an agent of ours named Korb answered.

“Well, yeah, because he didn’t say anything to me when I said that. I offered and he just sort of fucking nodded.”

“Did you try to talk to him again?”

“Naw, I went back to work.”

“Why didn’t you tell us that last time?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“Why don’t you just tell us exactly what happened, and we’ll decide what matters. Since we last talked, we recovered videotape we’re going to show you. We’d like you to tell us what you were doing. These are short takes. Here’s the first one.”

In the first one, he squatted down in front of the refrigerator after the installer left. One of the agents interviewing asked, “What are you doing there?”

“I was trying to look inside.”

“Why, if it was wrapped in plastic?”

“My wife wants a wine refrigerator. I was thinking about cutting the wrapping off.”

They had him pictured from another angle, and that did seem to be all he was doing. He’d jerked on the door several times.

Korb, the agent questioning, had a face and head like a Marine sergeant and didn’t cut him any slack.

“How do we know you weren’t arming a bomb?”

“Ask my wife.”

“Did you just say, ask your wife? I’m asking you. Here’s the next clip. What are you doing in this one?”

What he was doing was fixing himself a drink behind the bar. He rejected ice cubes for the drink until he found three he liked, and that had gotten some needed laughs in the office. He also chose the most expensive bourbon. When the plumber didn’t respond, Korb asked, “Were you testing bourbons for your wife?”

Outside the room that got laughs. Inside, the plumber’s brow knotted up.

“I was working the holiday. I figured the owner would be okay with me having a drink.”

“Rick, are you saying you stole liquor from the bar and thought the owner would approve of that?”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“You have a problem with the truth?”

“None.”

“Did you steal liquor from the bar?”

“I had one drink.”

“Why don’t you just say, ‘I stole a drink of high-end bourbon’?”

The plumber didn’t answer.

“We need to know that we can trust your testimony. Can’t you just call it what it is?”

“I have.”

“‘I stole a drink of high-end bourbon from Bar Alagara.’ Is that so hard?”

“I don’t steal.”

The agent alongside Korb shifted in her chair. This was making her nervous. The plumber was a piece of work, but so what? We didn’t view him as a suspect, and we needed him as we put our case together. Still, I knew Korb wasn’t doing this for entertainment or to humiliate. He was calling him on his bullshit as a kind of reality check to bring him around.

“If you didn’t pay for it, you stole it.”

“The owner was supposed to have met me. He didn’t show up and I figured it was a trade.”

Korb rolled with that.

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