Page 64 of 3rd Tango
I ignore the fact he’s anxious to leave. “You ever have any disagreements over cases? Any doubts about his actions on the job?”
The tightening around the corners of his eyes is so slight, it’s barely noticeable. “Sure, we disagreed sometimes. Don’t all partners?” This is the truth. “But Al was an outstanding agent. Best close rate in the business. Loyal to a fault.”
That’s the party line.
If I’m gonna get anything worthwhile out of this guy, I need to keep him off balance. I switch gears. “Did you enjoy being an agent?”
The smile grows, but I can see he’s trying to figure out why I’m asking all these questions. “I loved it.”
Another truth. “You retired shortly after Al, is that correct?”
The corner of his right eye twitches ever so slightly. “Wasn’t the same without him. Knew there’d never be anyone who watched out for me the way he did.” Truth.
He glances toward the door again, returns to me. “I tell you, Dr. Schock, once Al is your friend, you never worry about whose got your back.”
I feel the same way regarding my sister. She’d cover for me, no matter what I did, even if I broke the law. She’d break it for me without blinking an eye. Take a bullet for me.
And I would for her.
“Doanythingfor you,” I emphasize, repeating his earlier words. Would Al cover for him if he was involved in illegal activities? I itch to ask, but I know that’d send him out the door before my next breath.
He glances at his watch—a Rolex similar to JJ’s. “Sorry,” he says. “I really have to run.”
He’s not getting away from me that easily. “Do you remember Chris Svenson and the London Fog Gang?”
He pulls up short. Glances out the window as if wishing he were anywhere but here. “Vaguely.”
A notorious bank robbery gang he killed several members of and that’s his answer? Haley shoots me a look, suggesting she’s listening intently to every word and doubts his sincerity as much as I do.
I lean on her desk and cross my ankles. “My team uncovered the identity of a woman left in the Virginia woods near Whitetop Mountain. Turns out to be Sven’s longtime girlfriend, Evelyn Jacoby.”
Wariness crosses his face. “Is that so? Good for you.” He gives me a nod and reaches for the handle.
“I looked up the first robbery Svenson committed, back in his hometown. It was just him then. He didn’t have a gang.”
Grenado has the door cracked open, ready to make his escape. Hot air rushes in, pooling around my pumps. His right eye twitches again when he glances at me.
Gotcha. “Eyewitnesses saw him leave the bank and jump in a stolen blue Celica,” I continue, combing my memory for details. “They found the car a couple weeks later at a rock quarry, right? No one could identify the driver at the scene of the robbery, but one of the folks who went to church with Svenson’s parents mentioned Chris and a buddy were always together. Chris’s friend, what was his name? Jan, wasn’t it?”
The fact it was an ambiguous name like Gayle is actually what caught my attention late last night when I couldn’t sleep and reread the stacks of notes on my table once more. “The kid had an alibi that weekend— he was in college forty miles away. Ring any bells?” I ask. “Funny though, Jan apparently dropped out shortly after Sven disappeared, never showed up again.”
Grenado shrugs, not releasing his hold. “So?”
In the back of my mind, I’m annoyed he’s wasting our precious cool air. Haley is too—she adjusts her fan with obvious motions. “Who was the driver for the London Fog Gang?”
He turns slightly toward his escape. “They took turns, I guess.”
This is a lie; I see it in his posture. “Four guys with varying skill sets from hacking and security evasion to lock picking, and they didn’t have a designated driver?”
His expression is a forced blank. He doesn’t answer, but releases the door and it closes with a softsnick.
“Did you check into that angle?” I ask, casual as can be.
His posture becomes defensive, hands clenching into fists before sinking into his pockets. He throws his chest out. All classic signs he’s hiding something. “Al did and came up dry.”
I tap the slips against my leg and appear perplexed. “Huh. I spoke to him yesterday when he was at my house and he claimedyoudid but found nothing.”
Two can play the lying game, but he doesn’t know I’m bluffing. The phone rings and Haley reaches for it like a lifeline. “Schock Investigations,” she says in her professional voice.
