Signature Wounds (A Paul Grale Thriller #1)

“Why would a casino rat have any information relevant to this investigation? I’m sure you’ve wondered if he strung Jane along and is dodging you because he lied to her. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to come up with something credible. After that, we’ll sit down again with the ASAC and talk about moving you onto one of the teams.”


Venuti left, and when Shah returned I told her we had two days. It was melodramatic, but I figured she may as well know. I also showed her a new report analyzing the build of the man videotaped switching out the wine refrigerator in Bar Alagara. It put his height at six foot two. He wore overalls that covered his arms and legs. He wore steel-toed boots—we’d identified their maker. He wore reflective sunglasses and Beats headphones over a bandanna and under a billed cap. Not much of his skin showed, but some people wear sweaters in summer and don’t get hot. He was Anglo. Little could be said about hair color. A computer program had read his body as if he were unclothed and put his weight at 185 pounds.

We talked through that and as Lacey turned to her computer screen, I called Detective Perth and left the message, “We’ve got a match. It is Menderes’s body. I just forwarded you the e-mail and am mailing a paper copy. Let’s talk.”

Then I hurried downstairs to watch the latest Omar Smith interview, though as it turned out there was no rush. Smith’s lawyer was on his feet making a statement and a threat. Treasury and the Secret Service had yet to respond on the impounded cash. If Smith lost his business due to inability to make the payment, they would sue.

The agents ready to interview Smith commiserated. They were just as interested in the money as Smith and his lawyer, though for different reasons. One got up to ostensibly make a call to check with the Secret Service. He probably used the bathroom then checked his messages instead. He came back with no new news. The interview started with Smith frustrated and angry.

“Mr. Smith, we want to revisit the Fourth of July. With as much detail as you can give us, take us from when you awakened on July 4 in Houston until our agents arrived at your house after the bombing.”

“With as much detail as I can give you?”

“Yes.”

“Everything I remember?”

“Yes.”

“Is this not a waste of everyone’s time?”

“Please proceed.”

As he did, his anger crystalized. He recalled waking, yawning, using a toilet, shaving, brushing his teeth, showering, choosing the clothes he would wear, then dressing and eating breakfast of yogurt, tea, and fruit. So it went, item by item. He talked about checking out of the hotel, gave details of the cab and the black mole on the cab driver’s right temple, and the number of stoplights on the way to the airport as he left Houston. He detailed people in the airport security line and names on the badges of the TSA security officers. He described the sink with the faulty handle in the restroom and where he sat to wait for the plane. He demonstrated a remarkable memory, and did it aggressively.

A half hour passed and his plane wasn’t even in the air yet. He continued with even greater detail, pausing occasionally to let them interrupt him and end the interview. Agents watching the feed got restless, but in the interview room they rode him out. They waited. The more detail, the better. When he was done, Omar Smith would own the timeline.

He grew hoarse as he told how he took a seat in 3A on the flight home. The plane was twenty-two minutes late taking off. He declined alcohol and drank water, and now started into the people who had sat next to him on the plane. He described a chicken salad lunch and the color and taste of the things he ate and drank. The agent next to me tapped my arm and said, “The guy’s making me hungry. I’ve got to go get something. Think you could text me when his plane lands?”

“Sure, but maybe you want to wait until he picks up his luggage.”

Finally the plane landed, and he retrieved his luggage. He hadn’t been able to carry anything on, so we were off to carousel 7B, where he described each piece that came up on the conveyor belt ahead of his bag, and then wheeled his luggage out of McCarran Airport.

Then came the late afternoon and his stop at the Alagara. Videotape from an adjacent camera put him in the area of the Alagara at 5:13 p.m. on the Fourth of July. Smith said the Alagara stop happened at 5:27 and lasted less than ten minutes. But no one interrupted as he detailed his drive to the Alagara and his brief stop there. Only after Smith’s recounting moved on did the agents interrupt to bring him back.

“What else did you do inside the Alagara?”

“I looked in the restrooms at the repairs. I wanted to see everything was clean and ready for the party.”

“Describe the tile repairs.”

He described the seventeen pieces of tile installed and his issues with the grouting. He described flaws in the caulking around the urinal.

“Were you alone there?”

“Yes.”

“When you entered the Alagara what door did you enter through?”

“The back door.”

He started to say something more and stopped. He stared at the agents.

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