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  “Well, they all looked like they’d seen a ghost.”

  “And you didn’t ask them what was bothering them?”

  “No. I just figured it was either drugs or Julie was back in foster care or it was something to do with the Broomes. Look, I’m a waitress at a crummy diner, okay? If people want to talk, I’ll listen, but I’m not into poking around things that don’t concern me. I have enough of my own problems. If that makes me a bad person, then I’m a bad person.”

  “You’re not a bad person, Cheryl,” said Robie. But he was also thinking something else. “You got any time off coming up?”

  She was clearly surprised by this question. “Got a week of vacation left.”

  “You have family out of town?”

  “In Tallahassee.”

  “I’d go see your family in Tallahassee.”

  Kosmann stared at him as Robie’s meaning sank in.

  “Do you, do you think that I’m…?”

  “Just take the vacation, Cheryl. Take it now.”

  Robie laid a twenty down for the coffee, rose, and left.

  CHAPTER

  42

  ROBIE CLIMBED BACK in the car and slid out his earwig and power pack, stashing them in the console between the front seats. He looked over at Julie, who gazed straight ahead.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m okay.” She stared over at the diner. “That place was almost more of a home for me than my real home. Certainly more than any of the foster places.”

  “I can see that,” replied Robie.

  “I liked to do my homework there. My mom would get me pie and let me drink coffee. I felt really grown-up.”

  “And I guess it was nice being with her.”

  “I liked to watch her work. She was good at it. Juggled all these orders. And she never wrote anything down. She had a great memory.”

  “Maybe your brains are genetic.”

  “Maybe they are.”

  “The night your parents were killed they left the diner at around six. But they didn’t show up at their house until hours later, and with the gunman. I wonder where they were in the meantime?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, how about the Broomes?”

  “They live in an apartment in northeast.”

  Robie put the car in drive. “What can you tell me about them?”

  Before she could answer, Robie’s phone buzzed. He put it up to his ear. “Robie.”

  “Where the hell are you?”

  It was Vance.

  “Doing some digging, like I told you.”

  “You need to get over here.”

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “First, I’ve got the press all over my ass. Second, I’ve got MPD, a joint terrorist team, and Homeland Security trying to tell me how to run my investigation. Third, I’m just pissed.”

  “Okay. Give me an hour and I’ll be there.”

  “Is that really the best you can do?”

  “It really is.”

  He clicked off and hung a left, working his way over to Union Station. He abruptly pulled off, parked, and undid his seat belt.

  “What are you doing?” asked Julie.

  “Give me a minute.”

  Robie stepped outside and shut the door behind him. He made the call.

  The office of Blue Man answered. He was patched directly through.

  Robie told him what Vance had told him. “You might want to pull some strings at DHS, the joint terrorist squad, and MPD to get them off her back,” he said. “Otherwise this might get even more complicated real fast.”

  “Consider it done,” said Blue Man.

  Robie slid back in the car and started it up.

  “Top-secret stuff?” said Julie, looking at him with an unfriendly gaze.

  “No, I was just checking on my dry cleaning.”

  “So have you slept with her?” asked Julie.

  Robie kept his eyes straight ahead. “I already told you. No! Not that it’s any of your business who I sleep with.”

  “Well, she wants to have sex with you.”

  He shot her a glance. “How the hell do you figure that?”

  “She’s pissed off at you now. I heard her voice over the phone. She wouldn’t get that upset unless she had a thing for you.”

  “She’s FBI. She’s probably reamed lots of guys who give her trouble.”

  “Maybe, but this is different. I can just tell. It’s a woman thing. Guys wouldn’t understand.”

  “You’re fourteen. You shouldn’t know about woman things.”

  “Will, what century are you living in? Five girls in my old school are pregnant. And none of them are older than me.”

  “I guess I’m just old-fashioned.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could be old-fashioned too. But that’s not the world I live in.”

  “So, the Broomes?” asked Robie again.

  “My parents have known them for years. Like Cheryl said, Ida works in a hair salon. I’ve gone there with my mom. Ida would cut my hair for free and my mom would bake stuff for her. My mom is a good cook.” She paused. “Was a good cook.”

  “And her husband?” Robie said quickly, hoping to move her off this thought. “Cheryl said he had some job with the city.”

  “Not sure about that,” answered Julie.

  “Anything unusual about them?”

  “They seemed pretty normal to me, but I didn’t know them all that well.”

  “Then I’ll guess we’ll just have to ask them.” If they’re still alive, he thought. “How did they meet your parents?”

  “I think Mr. Broome was a friend of Dad’s. I’m not sure what the exact connection was.”

  “You think they could have anything to do with what happened to your parents?”

  “I wouldn’t think so. I mean, she works in a hair salon and they eat in crummy diners. It’s not like they’re international spies or anything.”

  “Not that you know.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Spies don’t usually look like spies. That’s sort of the point.”

  “You look like a spy.”

  “That’s good, because I’m not.”

  “So you say.”

  They drove in silence for a few seconds.

  “So are you sleeping with her?” she asked again.

  “Why the hell do you care?”

  “I’m just naturally curious.”

  “Yeah, that I get. But even if I were sleeping with her I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “Why?”

  “Something called being a gentleman.”

  “Now you really sound old.”

  “Compared to you I’m ancient,” replied Robie.

  CHAPTER

  43

  THE APARTMENT BUILDING had been built in the sixties but had been rehabbed. Robie could tell this from the new awning out front, the cleansed brick, and the fresh paint on the trim. As he watched from the car with Julie, a man opened the door by touching a plastic key card against an electronic receiver housed next to the entrance. The door clicked open and he walked inside. The door clicked shut behind him.

  Julie glanced at Robie.

  “What now?”

  “You know the apartment number?”

  “No, I just passed the place one time with my mom. She told me the Broomes lived there. I’ve never been to their apartment.”

  “Okay. Give me a sec.”

  He slipped out of the car and hustled across the street to beat some oncoming traffic. He gazed at a call box set in the wall next to the door and pushed the button.

  A voice came on. “Yes?”

  “I’m here to see Leo and Ida Broome.”

  “Hold on.”

  The voice came back on about twenty seconds later. “Called their apartment. No answer.”

  “You sure you called the right apartment? Number 305?”

  “No, it’s 410.”

  “Oh, okay, thanks.”

  Robie look
ed around to see if there was a surveillance camera, but saw none.

  A couple was approaching him. Elderly. The woman had a scarf and a cane. In her free hand was a plastic grocery bag. The man was skimming along with the use of a walker that had tennis balls stuck on the ends of the front poles.

  Robie watched as the woman pulled out a key card.

  “You need any help, ma’am?” asked Robie.

  She looked at him suspiciously. “No, we’re just fine by ourselves.”

  “Okay.” Robie stepped back, waiting for her to open the door with the card.

  She stopped and stared at him. “Can I help you, young man?”

  Robie started to say something when he heard her voice.

  “Dad, I told you to wait for me.”

  Robie turned and watched Julie run up to him. She had her knapsack slung over her shoulder. She looked at the elderly couple and smiled.

  “Hi, I’m Julie. Do you live in this building? My dad and I are thinking about moving here. We came to see one of the apartments. My mom’s supposed to meet us here.” She turned to Robie. “But she called and said she’s running late. And she has the key card the rental agent gave her. We’ll just have to wait outside.” She turned back to the couple. “This’ll be the first time I’ll have a bathroom to myself. You promised, right, Dad?”

  Robie nodded. “Anything for my little girl.”

  The old man smiled. “Nice to have some young blood in the place. I’m feeling old.”

  “You are old,” said the woman. “Really old.” She looked at Julie kindly. “Where are you moving here from, honey?”

  “Jersey,” said Julie promptly. “I hear it’s warmer down here.”

  “What part of Jersey?” asked the woman. ‘That’s where we’re from.”

  “Wayne,” said Julie. “It’s nice there, but my dad got transferred.”

  “Wayne is very nice,” said the woman.

  Julie looked at Robie. “Mom said about forty-five minutes. She’s stuck in traffic.”

  “Everybody’s stuck in traffic in this area,” said the old man. “Hell, you can be a pedestrian in this town and get stuck in traffic.”

  “Come on, we’ll let you in,” said the woman. “No sense you standing around out here.”

  Robie took the woman’s bag of groceries and they rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, where they left the old couple. The woman gave Julie a cookie from the bag and pinched her cheek.

  “You look just like my great-granddaughter. Hope we see a lot of you if you move in here.”

  Robie and Julie rode the elevator back down to the fourth floor and got off.

  “Nice work back there,” said Robie. “They might have tripped you up, though, being from Jersey too.”

  “I’ve been to Wayne. First rule, don’t say you’re from someplace you’ve never been.”

  “Good rule.”

  They found Apartment 410. It was at the end of a hall with no other door facing it. Robie scanned the hall for a surveillance camera but found none. He knocked on 410 three times without an answer.

  ‘Turn around and face out into the hall,” he told Julie.

  “Are you going to pick the lock?”

  “Just turn around.”

  It took Robie all of five seconds. The lock was not a deadbolt. One slender piece of metal did the trick as opposed to two.

  They stepped inside and he closed the door behind them.

  “I guess this makes us felons,” said Julie.

  “It might.”

  The place smelled of fried foods. It was furnished sparingly, the rooms were few, and there was no one there. They stood in the middle of the living room. Robie surveyed the area.

  “It’s a little too clean, don’t you think?” he said.

  “Maybe they’re neatniks.”

  He shook his head. “This place has been scrubbed.”

  Julie looked up at him. “You mean?”

  “I don’t know if anything happened to the Broomes, Julie. Maybe they’re okay. But someone has wiped this place down, and whoever did it knew what he was doing.”

  Julie gazed around the space. “Should we check for prints or something?”

  “Waste of time. We need to find out what Leo Broome did.”

  “We can go to the hair salon and ask around.”

  “I have a better idea. You can go to the hair salon and ask around. I don’t want to tip anyone off to what we’re doing. Folks are less likely to suspect a kid.”

  “I’m not a kid. I’m practically old enough to drive.”

  “But they’ll open up to you. They know you, right?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been there lots of times.”

  They left the building and drove off in the Volvo.

  “You think the Broomes are dead, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Based on what happened to your parents and the condition of the Broomes’ apartment, yeah, I think they’re probably dead. But then again, if Ida Broome is at the hair salon, I’ll be proved wrong.”

  “I hope you’re wrong, Will.”

  “Me too.”