Pyramid Deception (6 page)

Hannibal led her back into the townhouse. No more to do here. “Did you like her?”

“Oh, I hated her at first. Seemed like she was using him just to take care of her urges while she was married to an older guy. But she made Jason happy. And then he hinted that she was talking about leaving her man for him. And then she came up with the offer to push Jason to a new financial level.”

“Yeah, and taking you along with him.” Hannibal held the front door for Cindy and closed it behind them. “She had the look of a trophy wife, but I'm sure there are lots of people just like you who will say they're not surprised Jason and Irene would run off together. Especially if they've met Monroe and got a feel for how he treated her.”

Back in Hannibal's car, Cindy let out a long sigh. “They won't look very hard, will they?”

“Depends on how much pressure they get. Do his folks have connections?”

“Jason lost his parents in a terrible accident the year he graduated law school.” Cindy shook her head, eyes clenched. “No brothers or sisters either. Jason just doesn't have any family to prod police to keep searching. Oh, Hannibal, what can we do?”

“I might have an idea, but I need to make a stop first.”

Hannibal pulled his black Volvo to the curb near the street lamp directly across the street from his building. Very soon after he moved there, the neighborhood seemed to reach an unspoken agreement that this parking space belonged to him. It was an odd expression of respect in Southeast D.C., and he took it very seriously. Beside him, Cindy sat silent and motionless. He figured she was still processing all they learned at Jason's house. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“Why don't you wait here, babe. I won't be but a minute.”

Hannibal hurried across the street and up the red sandstone steps leading to the front door of his red brick, three-story building. The main door was only locked at night, so he pushed it open and stepped into the dark hallway. The pine scent told him that one of his neighbors had mopped the main hall for him. Hannibal appreciated the gesture. After all, it was Hannibal's responsibility since he rented the entire first floor.

He faced the central staircase but instead of turning right to the apartment that served as his office he moved to his left toward his residence. He walked back to the fourth door, which
was his apartment's front door. For the hundredth time he told himself that eventually he would drywall over those other doors, which were remnants of the days when the five rooms of his flat were rented separately.

He unlocked his door and, once inside, keyed the pass numbers into his alarm system to shut it off. Then he sprinted to his bedroom hoping to complete his mission before anyone noticed he was in the building. As much as he liked the other men who lived in his building, he really didn't want to stop to chat with anyone.

Laying a suit bag out on the bed he grabbed a couple of almost identical black suits, white dress shirts and dark ties. A couple of casual choices, underclothes and personal care items, and he was ready for a few days away. After a quick glance out the window at his girl, still waiting in the car, he turned toward the door.

He found himself staring into Ray Santiago's concerned face.

“Hey, Hannibal, what's going on man?” Ray asked around the stub of a cigar. “You rushing out again?”

Reynaldo Santiago was short and bulky, with that dark yet light complexion that seemed exclusive to those who had immigrated from Cuba. All his remaining hair clung to sides and back of his head. The toughest little cab driver in the District, Ray had helped Hannibal chase the drug addicts out of the building, and then moved upstairs when Hannibal moved in on the first floor. He was one of Hannibal's closest friends. Usually that fact was not at all affected by his also being Cindy's father.

“Yeah, Ray, I'm on a case. Can't stop to talk.”

“Uh-huh.” Ray stretched out a hand to stop Hannibal's forward motion. “What's going on with my Cintia? She hasn't answered my calls.”

The use of her full name told Hannibal that Ray knew something wasn't right. “I think she's going through some stuff right now Ray.”

“What kind of stuff?” Ray asked, crossing his arms. “Stuff she's keeping to herself? Or stuff she tells you about but not her poppy?”

“I think maybe stuff she's not ready to tell you yet,” Hannibal said, edging toward the door. “I'm sorry Ray, but I don't think it's my place to tell you her business if she hasn't.”

The two men locked eyes for a few long seconds. Then Ray took a step back, allowing Hannibal to pass. As Hannibal set one foot past the threshold Ray's hand settled on his shoulder for a moment.

“You take care of my little girl, Paco.”

Hannibal nodded and hustled outside. He tossed his bag into the trunk and got into the driver's seat without looking back. He didn't want to know if Ray had followed him and saw Cindy in the car.

“That was quick,” Cindy said as he started the car.

“Not as quick as I hoped.”

“So what now?” Cindy asked. “I still don't see how we're going to find the people who took Jason away.”

“Our best hope is that Irene's killers tried too hard and left some evidence of their crimes,” he said, pulling away from the curb. “They left quite the trail of breadcrumbs to lead detectives to the conclusions they wanted, but it's damned difficult to make it perfect. So we pick at the clues and try to pull them apart. We found some things that didn't look right at Jason's house. And according to Rissik, left Jason's car at the Alexandria train station. Let's go see what might not look right there.”

In the life of a private detective, things are seldom as simple as they should be. Hannibal reflected on that idea while he and Cindy wandered the Alexandria Union Station, the city's historic train station. From the small parking area of the tiny way station, built just after 1900, they looked up at the Masonic Washington Monument at the Western end of Alexandria's Old Town. It took less than a minute to ascertain that Jason's silver Toyota Prius was not parked in the little lot. They explored the nearest
restaurant parking lot. They even walked the streets a block in each direction before accepting that it was nowhere in the area.

Hannibal could not rule out the idea that Carlton, or even some members of the Fairfax County police, were part of the Irene Monroe conspiracy, but he didn't see any good reason for them to lie about Jason's car. He knew lots of way to try to find out what had happened but he always favored trying the easy things first. So, he let his eyes wander to the three people waiting on the benches outside the train station.

The young guy at the far end of the nearest bench was only outside to get a smoke. Probably not there for very long. The Latin man on the middle bench had rough hands and wore working clothes. He was very likely illegal. He would not see anything and would not want to answer any questions. The older black woman at the far end wore mules over nylon knee highs that ended just below the hem of her black skirt. She was travelling with a shopping bag full of stuff. She was outside because there was nothing to look at inside. He waved to Cindy to follow and walked over to her.

“Excuse me ma'am. Could you help us? We can't seem to find our car.”

“Well I didn't take it.”

Hannibal chuckled a little. “No, I'm sure you didn't. My friend borrowed the car to drive to the train station and said he'd leave it parked in this lot. It's not worth stealing, it's a little thing, a silver Prius
.”

“That little silver thing?” the woman asked. “Child, they towed it away almost an hour ago. You going to have to pay to get it back. You better get on your friend for that money.”

“Towed it?” Hannibal looked shocked. “Oh no. How am I going to find it? Did you notice the name of the company?”

“Nope. But there was a police car here at the same time, and the cop was kind of directing them. Was your friend dealing drugs or something? I figured there must have been something important in the car.”

Hannibal looked at Cindy in horror, thanked the woman, and rushed into the train station. Once inside his expression returned to its usual calm acceptance.

“You really got into character for that one,” Cindy said.

“That was only half faked. It sounds like the county towed Jason's car. I didn't think the detective I talked to was that smart.”

“I don't get it,” Cindy said. “Why would they tow Jason's car away if they think he took the train to disappear.”

“That's just it, babe. They wouldn't. The only reason to pull in his car is to go over it for clues. And they'd only do that if someone suspected foul play. And I think I know who that someone is.”

“Then we need to go find where the car is, right?”

“No,” Hannibal said. “Time is short. The cops are already working on whatever the car will give up. All that forensic stuff. We need to do what they're not doing. Cover the path they might have missed.”

“Okay, like what?”

Hannibal did a slow pan across the terminal. Half a dozen benches lined up across the floor and sunlight from a skylight above gave the room the feel of a small church, despite the peeling green paint and older, stained floor tiles. Anxious children seemed mismatched with bored or frustrated adults who would be at an airport if they could afford it. The kids occasionally ran through the open spaces in random patterns, causing the adults to hold their luggage close. A human circus without a ringmaster, he thought. No ringmaster, but this human hell did have a gatekeeper.

Aloud he said, “Like checking if anyone can confirm what the cops were told last night.”

A small trapezoid boxed off in a corner of the station held the modern day Cerebus in place. She was somewhere between thirty and fifty years old, wearing deep blonde in a smart, short style, lipstick that was too bright for her pale complexion and a permanently furrowed brow. No one could pass through to the
train platform without first paying her their respects. She wore her official status like a cloak, as if it was power. Hannibal put on his official expression too, stepped up to the narrow window of the ticket counter and pressed his credentials against the side of her glass prison.

“Hello, Miss Stone,” he said, reading the unlikely name on her metal nametag. I'm working a missing person's case and could use your help. Were you on duty last night?”

She nodded but stayed silent. So this was how it was going to go, he thought.

“Ma'am, do you remember a young couple that bought tickets for Canada last night? The man would have been very thin and pale, neatly dressed with brown hair and eyes. The woman was attractive, tall, blonde and blue-eyed, with an Alabama accent.”

Stone nodded again. “I don't remember any accent, and I would have noticed,” she said, displaying her own honeyed Georgia tones. “But it sounds like the same couple the police asked me about. They were the last tickets I sold yesterday, around five o'clock.”

Cindy squeezed her eyes shut. She had already stopped, right where the police would, but for Hannibal the interview was incomplete.

“Did they seem nervous to you? In a hurry?”

Stone shrugged. “He was maybe.”

“Do you remember anything else about them? Anything at all? Their luggage or their clothes perhaps?”

Stone leaned closer to the window, her clear hazel eyes suddenly more alert. “There's more to this, isn't there?”

Hannibal also leaned closer and lowered his voice. “What's your first name?”

“Lane,” she said, dropping her grim demeanor. She did have a winning smile.

“Well, Lane, they may have met with… foul play. It could be a kidnapping. There might be a reward.” Hannibal slid his card
through the slot. “I'd be willing to split it if there is. Do you remember anything else?”

Stone's hand fell on the card, her fingers touching Hannibal's. Her eyes closed and rolled upward as if she was searching her mental attic. Her brow furrowed more deeply, and her mouth dropped open a couple of seconds before she began to speak.

“You know, the tat seemed out of place.”

Hannibal glanced at Cindy, whose eyes popped open at Stone's comment. “A tattoo?”

“Yeah,” Stone said. “I mean, here's this guy in a nice suit and tie and all, hair cut nice and neat, and there's this tat sticking up out of his collar, like a flame or something. I mean I'm looking at him and it's like, what's wrong with this picture?”

Hannibal stared at Cindy who clenched her lips together so tightly that her lower lip poked out and shook her left to right.

“You've been a big help, Miss Stone,” Hannibal said.

“It's Lane,” she said.

“Well, Lane, I'll be in touch about that reward if this pans out.”

“Hey, just call when you know something, okay?” she said. “Usually people just blow by. Sometimes I make up stories about where they're going and what they'll do when they get there. I'd just kind of like to know what happened to them.”

Hannibal promised to keep her informed, Cindy thanked her, and they headed back to the car. As soon as they were outside again Hannibal said, “I don't remember Jason having a tattoo that showed over his collar.”

“I remember us talking in law school about how things like tattoos or piercings could hurt your career. Believe me, he'd never consider it. So now we talk to the police, right? We've got solid evidence that it wasn't them that got on the train yesterday. At least, it wasn't Jason.”

“No, it's still too soon,” Hannibal said, opening the door for Cindy and watching her perfect legs swivel up and into place in
the car. He closed her door and walked around to get behind the wheel.

“So what else can we do?” Cindy asked as he started the Volvo. “I don't see how we can know who the imposters were who got on the train yesterday, and by now they could be anywhere.”