The sound of an electric drill and a loud radio playing heavy metal music poured out of the large open garage. She saw the shadowy figures of the mechanics working on the cars lifted high on hydraulics inside.
A UPS truck pulled up in front of the office, prompting a man in blue oil-stained coveralls to step out of the garage to collect the package.
“Excuse me,” Sawyer shouted over the din, but no one heard her. In her haste to get the mechanic’s attention, she tripped in a pothole, but managed to catch herself before doing a face-plant. Weaving her way around the UPS truck, she followed the man in coveralls into a small office. A vending machine and two plastic chairs were pushed up against a window overlooking the outside area. A large oscillating fan blew a welcome blast of air over her as she waited for him to do whatever he was doing with the package. His fingernails were rimmed with black grease. She wondered how difficult it would be to get the grime out of his nails. When he finally looked up, his eyes bore into hers.
“Ahh,” he said. “You must be the chick Felix called me about.” He shook his head. “You’re wasting your time, trying to warn the Boys’ Club. Whatever bullying took place happened a long time ago. People have moved on. Nick’s and Bruce’s deaths are nothing but a coincidence, a one-off, a once-in-a-million happening. Nobody on this planet is going to be able to take me out, or Felix, for that matter.”
“Maybe you can tell me about the other guys in your club?”
He smiled. “Not going to happen. Sorry, lady.” He tipped his head toward the side door leading to the garage. “I’ve got work to do. Good luck with your search.”
Thanks to Emily, she had all the names she needed. But she’d wanted to test Aston. See if he would cooperate. She raised a hand as a goodbye before turning back toward the exit. She walked past two mechanics yelling at each other, trying to be heard over idling engines and hydraulic equipment.
Before she climbed into her car, she felt the ground rumble beneath her feet. She stood still, waiting for the train she knew was coming. The blast of the horn made her smile. She didn’t know why. When the train passed by, she watched in awe as the powerful machine took her mind off everything else, at least for a few minutes.
Back at work in her cubicle, Sawyer had just hung up the phone and was looking at her notes when a noise from behind prompted her to swivel around in her chair. “Hey,” she said.
Derek smiled. He had on a blue button-down shirt and nicely cut trousers. Casual dress looked good on him. When she first started working at the Sacramento Independent, Derek had often worn a suit and tie. The shift away from formal wear for men seemed to be happening much slower than it did for women’s fashion. This newer, more relaxed dress code suited Derek well.
“Good thing we work in the same building,” he said, “because otherwise we’d hardly ever see each other.”
“Why don’t you come over for dinner this week? I’ll make you my famous tacos.”
“I thought you said you didn’t cook.”
“Did I say that?”
“Pretty sure.”
She batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated attempt to play coy. “I guess I don’t like to play all my cards right up front.”
He laughed, and then Lexi showed up and ruined the moment. A common occurrence of late.
Lexi crossed her arms. “You two lovebirds just can’t get enough of each other, can you?”
“It’s true,” Derek said. “We can’t.” Before he walked away, he glanced at Sawyer and said, “I’ll call you later.”
Sawyer fixed her gaze on Lexi and waited for her to speak. It didn’t take long.
“I just got off the phone with John Hughes. He wouldn’t confirm, but he did suggest that Bruce Ward’s wife, Sandra, is a suspect.”
Sawyer was dumbfounded. “That would mean they believe Sandra is the person Trudy Carriger saw wearing a black wig and red lipstick leaving the scene of the crime.” She shook her head. “Trudy knows Sandra. They’re neighbors. She would have recognized Sandra.”
Lexi crossed her arms. “Sandra lied to the police. She didn’t go to the spa like she originally told them.”
“Interesting, but still not enough, in my opinion, to make her a suspect.”
“According to Sandra’s son, Bruce’s stepson, his mom and stepdad never got along. In his words, ‘Everyone hates Bruce.’”
Sawyer grimaced. “So where did Sandra go if she didn’t go to the spa?”
“To a hotel, where she met up with her boss, a well-to-do older man, who also happens to be married.”
“Well, there you go,” Sawyer said. “If she met up with her boss, then she has an alibi, right?”
Lexi shrugged. “Sandra is at the police station as we speak, and the police are doing a search at her house, most likely hoping to find a wig or two.”
“It’s not Sandra,” Sawyer said with a shake of her head.
“Oh, okay.” Lexi crossed her arms. “Why don’t you call Detective Hughes and let him know. It could save him and his team a lot of time.”
“The witness—”
“Trudy Carriger, the hundred-year-old woman?” Lexi asked.
“Yes. Trudy Carriger. She’s probably in her eighties, and she’s a very with-it older woman. She can see just fine. The person wearing the wig and seen leaving Bruce Ward’s house was at least five foot eight, and Sandra is shorter than me.”
“It’s really just a process of elimination at this point,” Lexi said.
“If resources and budgets are so damn tight, I just think their time would be better spent focusing on what the witness saw. Besides, if Sandra killed Bruce, then who killed Nick Calderon?”
Lexi had stopped listening, but she lit up when she saw Sawyer’s notes. “Tracy Rutherford. She’s the one who took Myles Davenport to court ten years ago.”
“That’s right. I’ve been meaning to enter her name in the database, but I keep getting sidetracked.”
“I looked her up,” Lexi said. “She used to work for Antiva, an antivirus computer company. I talked to the head guy at the company, and he said Tracy was one of their best employees.”
“That’s great,” Sawyer said. “I need to talk to her.”
“She’s gone. Disappeared a few days before Myles Davenport was found dead.”
Sawyer frowned. “How do you know for sure?”
“I talked to her landlord. Her apartment was month to month. She had paid in full and left a note saying she wouldn’t be back. Friends and family haven’t seen or heard from her in over a week. Nothing on social media. It’s almost as if she never existed.”
“Well, that’s odd,” Sawyer said, making a note next to Tracy’s name, wondering if she was part of the Black Wigs, along with Christina Farro and a woman named Li.
“Earth to Sawyer,” Lexi said. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing, really.” Sawyer checked the time. “I made reservations at the Blue Fox for lunch at twelve thirty. Want to come along?”
“That’s the restaurant Brad Vicente mentioned, correct?”