“Ah, now we’re getting down to business.”

“It was a direct question,” Kendra said. “Care to give us a direct answer.”

“Sure. I was here.”

“And is there anyone that could confirm that?”

“Like an alibi? Hell no. The woman I usually live with left me three weeks ago. She can’t stand my guts right now.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Lynch said.

“Is that attitude really necessary, man? Just so you know, I haven’t left this place in two-and-a-half days. I’ve been on a major creative roll and haven’t wanted to disrupt the flow. Which is exactly what the two of you are doing to me right now.”

“What about last Friday night?” Kendra asked.

“Same story. Like I said, I have a show coming up. These canvases don’t paint themselves.” He thought for a moment. “The last time I was anyplace where people could speak up for me was a week ago Wednesday. My friend’s band was playing at The Casbah. Otherwise, I can’t help you.”

“Maybe you should think about helping yourself,” Lynch said.

Kendra leaned forward toward him. “And here’s a thought … You can also stop lying to us.”

Deer in the headlights time. “Lying? About what?”

“You were on the other side of town late Friday night. Around La Mesa. What were you doing over there?”

His face flushed with anger. “Have I been under surveillance?”

“Please answer the question.”

“Yeah, I went there for a little while … to see somebody.”

“You bought some weed.”

“Shit,” he said under his breath.

“And two women joined you here last night. At least for a couple hours. Friends of yours?”

He nodded.

“What time were they here?”

“Ask those snoop cops you had staking out my building,” he said bitterly.

“She’s asking you,” Lynch’s voice was steely. “And I suggest you tell her.”

Kendra tried to hide her smile. It was always nice to have a sledgehammer handy.

“Fine,” Warren spit out. “The girls were here maybe between eleven and one last night.”

Kendra nodded. “Too bad. If it was a little later, they could have helped you.”

“That’s why I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“Don’t lie to us anymore,” Kendra said wearily. “You aren’t good enough at it.”

He glared at her. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“We’re almost done here. Have you ever spoken to Colby by phone?” Kendra asked.

Warren considered the question, then admitted reluctantly, “Yeah. Twice. The first time was to remind me to send the Kendra Michaels pictures. The second time was just a couple weeks ago. Believe it or not, he offered me one of the family seats to witness his execution.”

“He did?” Kendra couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Yeah. He didn’t want his own family there, so he asked if I wanted to go. He thought it might give me something to paint.”

“Are you going?” Lynch asked.

“I thought about it. I’ve never seen a man die before, especially like that. An artist needs to open himself up to new experiences, you know?” Warren shook his head. “But in the end, I said no. I’d already gotten what I needed from him. Why in the hell would I put myself through that?”

Lynch handed him a card. “Just so you know, we may be following up with your friends and associates. If you have anything you’d like to tell us, now is the time to speak up.”

He shook his head. “No, nothing. Do what you have to do. I don’t give a damn.”

“That’s my number on the card, along with the number of the FBI field office. If you think of anything, just call.”

“I hear you.” Warren turned toward Kendra, who was looking at his still-drying painting of her. “Pretty sweet, huh?”

She nodded. “I have to admit it’s amazing. Especially since I know how quickly you did it.”

“I tried painting you a few other times, but they never came out right. But this is the first time I painted you with your eyes closed. For some reason, that makes the whole picture work.” He shrugged. “If I decide to do anything with it, I’ll let you know.”

CHAPTER

11

“INTERESTING TECHNIQUE,” Lynch said, as they exited the building and walked down the sidewalk to his car. “Bust him on some little stuff, create anxiety, then move in for the kill.”

“Spoken like the true puppetmaster you are.”

“So how did you know about his Friday evening drive to La Mesa?”

“The pizza box on the counter. The box itself was generic, but the laser-printed label on the side told me it was D’Agostino’s Italian restaurant. The label also had David Warren’s name and phone number and showed that it was a pickup order phoned in at 10:37 P.M. Friday. D’Agostino’s is just a few blocks from one of the most notorious drug neighborhoods in the city. Since I had already smelled three distinct types of weed in that apartment, it wasn’t a stretch to think that he had gone over there for a late-night fortification run. It would also explain why he hadn’t wanted to tell us about it.”

“And what about his guests last night?”

She shrugged. “There were two drinking glasses in the sink, and they each had slightly different shades of lipstick on their rims. The glass top of the coffee table showed fresh rings that matched the size and contours of those two drinking glasses, but no others I could see. Clearly, the women sat on the couch, and Warren sat in the chair facing the two of them.”

Lynch smiled. “Clearly.”

“The couch reeked of weed, enough that I figured they were there drinking and smoking for a couple hours.”

“Even I could smell that. But how do you know it was last night and not today?”

“Because the stench wasn’t on Warren. Not on his clothes or hair, meaning he had changed and showered between then and now. That tipped the odds in favor of last night. Also, the lipstick on the drinking-glass rims was dry and cracking. It probably wouldn’t look that way after only a couple of hours.”

“Dazzling as usual.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“No, I wouldn’t presume. I’ve always known exactly what your capabilities are. However, you still manage to occasionally surprise me. But all this still doesn’t place him at or away from the murder scenes.”

“You’re right, but it did allow me to exert pressure and get more from him than we might have otherwise. All I know for sure is that he’s not the man I saw at Corrine Harvey’s house. That still doesn’t eliminate him as having played a part. Griffin should have his people flash Warren’s picture around at the club.”

“I’ll make sure he does.”

Lynch’s phone vibrated, and a second later the text chime sounded on Kendra’s. She glanced at her screen.

CONTACT GRIFFIN ASAP.

She showed it to Lynch. “You too?”

Lynch showed her his phone with the identical message. He punched Griffin’s number, and it was answered immediately. “Lynch, is Kendra there?”

“Yes, right next to me. I’m on speaker.”

“Good. Kendra, we just hit the jackpot on those numbers you picked up from the envelope in Colby’s cell.”

“It was a usage account?”

“Yes. It was a five-hundred-minute talk time refill from Lightwire Communication, a regional mobile carrier that sells disposable mobile phones and pay-as-you-go account cards. You usually see them at discount stores, price clubs, and gas stations. The card was activated in a mobile phone about three weeks ago.”

“We need to subpoena those records,” Lynch said. “I have a contact in the Justice Department who can help push that through in a hurry. If you give me the—”

“It’s already done, Lynch.” Griffin sounded annoyed. “I don’t need your contacts. Believe it or not, my position comes with a fair amount of influence.”

“Of course. Just trying to help.”

“Anyway, within the hour, we should have information on everyone who was called by this phone.”

Kendra’s hand tightened on the phone as excitement gripped her. “And there’s a good chance one of them is Myatt.”