Murder on Sagebrush Lane (14 page)

40

As DJ drove through traffic on his way to Sandia National Laboratories, he thought about what he and Harrie had discussed on their trip to the grocery store. He supposed he would eventually need to speak with Winnie Devlin himself. If she turned out to be as big a nut as Harrie seemed to think, perhaps they should give more serious consideration to her possible role in the murder.

In his mind, he leaned more heavily toward Bonnie Bellows or John Smith, aka, Colin Crider. But there was still much to learn, and they shouldn’t make the mistake of trying to make things fit around a particular suspect. A solid investigation would eventually tell them the identity of the murderer.

He brought his attention back to Al Murray. He did not relish his upcoming meeting with this man, the Tech Area supervisor of Cybersecurity at Sandia Labs. When DJ called and made the appointment, Murray seemed distant and uncooperative. Of course, he couldn’t know for sure on the telephone, and perhaps Murray was just upset about Rinaldi’s death.

Ever since 9/11, Kirtland Air Force Base, the location of Sandia, had been locked down tight. It was a common problem in any city with a large group of federal buildings, but Albuquerque and other places in New Mexico with large government facilities dealt with these issues all the time. He didn’t worry about himself. His credentials would get him in without problems, but if a long line of people who didn’t have that advantage waited at the gate, it could drag on and make him late.

He was in luck. Only one car was ahead of him, and he passed through the gate quickly.

Al Murray’s secretary, a large-boned woman with short brown hair, sensible shoes, and a no-nonsense air about her, seemed to function as the gatekeeper. An engraved nameplate announced the desk occupant as one “Frieda Gump.” How appropriate. Ms. Gump explained that her boss was on the phone, and asked DJ to have a seat. While he waited, he looked around the area, noting the building itself was probably at least sixty years old. He picked up a pamphlet lying on the table beside his chair. He opened it to see a typical brochure, created by companies who needed to hand out PR material. He thumbed through it.

“Sandia National Laboratories has its roots in World War II and the Manhattan Project. Many months before the detonation of the first atomic bomb at White Sands, New Mexico, J. Robert Oppenheimer, Director of Los Alamos Laboratory, instituted a search for a new site convenient to Los Alamos. He envisioned the need for a continuation of weapons development, especially the non-nuclear aspects, and felt a separate location would serve this purpose. Property containing an old airfield on the southeastern edge of Albuquerque was selected.”

DJ glanced at his watch. It was now five minutes past his appointment time with Al Murray. He looked around for the secretary, but she was not in sight. Just as he thought he’d have to reschedule, the door to Murray’s office opened, and a man about six feet tall stepped out. He wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, wrinkled khakis and a loosened tie. His build was stocky, and he looked uncomfortable in his own skin.

“Agent Scott?” The man ran a beefy hand over his balding head. His face was drawn and pale, and his eyes looked tired behind wire-rimmed glasses.

“Yes. And you’re Mr. Murray?”

The two met in the middle and shook hands. DJ displayed his credentials; Murray nodded, and gestured toward his office. He indicated DJ should sit in one of the two chairs facing his desk.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He took one look at his cluttered desktop, shook his head, and seated himself in the chair next to DJ.

“I understand the big boss called in the FBI about Michael’s death.”

DJ took out his notebook and pen. “Yes, he did. He was concerned about a possible security breach because of it. Do you have any idea why?”

Murray removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I think I do.” He stopped and shook his head, “It’s hard to believe, but they think one of my employees is a spy.”

DJ looked up from his notes. “And you suspect it’s connected with Rinaldi’s death?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t. But the timing is certainly odd.”

“And why is that?”

Murray got up and paced around his desk. “Six months ago, we discovered a breach in our computer security. We found a Trojan horse, but we got on it right away and things went back to normal. It was a sloppily written program, and it appeared to be one of those weird kids trying to hack into the system. Our team cleaned it up, and everything seemed okay. So we moved on and gave it no further thought.”

Murray paused, and DJ looked up from his notebook. “What happened to change things?”

Murray sat back down in the chair beside DJ. “Late last week, we were doing a routine file check against usage records. We discovered that multiple top-secret files had been accessed and downloaded. The transactions didn’t conform to the use log. That’s when we realized the Trojan horse was just a diversion so that the trace to the downloaded files wouldn’t be discovered—at least not until the next routine check.”

“Could you tell what was in those files?”

Murray tugged at his tie. Tiny beads of sweat slid down his temples.

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

DJ studied the man closely. He had a ballpoint pen in his hand, which he had been repeatedly clicking open and shut. He held it tightly, as if it were a lifeline.

“Do you, or does anyone else here, know why these particular files were breached?”

Murray’s grip on the pen slipped, and it shot out of his hand, landing on the pile of papers and files on his desk

“I . . . ” When he turned toward DJ, his face was ashen. “Please, Agent Scott. I must ask you to take this up with the head of the Division.”

DJ closed his notebook. “All right. But answer one more question for me. Was Michael Rinaldi involved in this routine file check?”

Murray chewed on his lower lip and looked down at the floor. He studied his shoes for a long moment, then looked back up at DJ. When he spoke, it was barely audible.

“Yes. He was the team leader.”

41

When he finished his report on the interview with Al Murray, DJ looked it over and blew out a long breath. He wasn’t particularly happy with it. Murray had been so guarded in the interview that very little actual information had been given. At first, DJ thought Michael Rinaldi’s death had caused Murray’s behavior. But the more he thought about it, the more he began to think there was probably something else going on.

He made the required copies and placed them in both the case file and his own work file. SAC Williams was out of the office at the moment, so DJ jotted a note to him, attached it to the case file, and left it with Williams’ secretary. The SAC might prefer to have another agent—one more experienced in computer forensics—speak to the department head that Al Murray mentioned in his interview.

Meanwhile, he wanted to touch base with Lieutenant Swanson and compare notes. He was anxious to hear if they’d identified the mysterious man from this morning’s stakeout. And by now, perhaps there was news about the credibility of Bonnie Bellows.

He was almost out the door when his cell phone chirped. It was Swannie.

“We need to talk,” he said without preliminaries.

DJ said, “I was just about to call you. Do you want me to come to your office?”

“No, I’d like to talk to both you and Harrie. I assume she’s still at your mom’s house. Can we meet there?”

“Sure, but why do you need Harrie in on this?”

“We have a couple of good photos you should both see. I’d also like to have Steve, Ginger, and your mom take a look. Maybe one of them saw this man hanging around your house or Southwest Editorial Services. He must have been watching you guys.”

DJ hesitated. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem for you to talk with both Harrie and my mom, but I’ll have to call Steve to see if he can get away. I know he had a busy schedule today. Perhaps Ginger can come, though. I’ll call her after I talk to Steve.”

“There’s another thing we need to discuss.”

“Uh, oh. I don’t like the sound of that. What’s up?”

“I had a visit from the charming Bonnie Bellows this afternoon.”

DJ groaned. “Oh, brother. I wish she’d just leave us alone until we get things resolved.”

“Fat chance.” Swannie chuckled. “She is one persistent broad, and becoming even less pleasant than she was when we interviewed her.”

“All right,” DJ said. He looked at his watch. It was now almost 4:30 p.m. “What time do you want to meet us?”

“I’ll wrap things up here within the next half hour. Of course at this time of day, I’ll be lucky to get up to your neighborhood by 5:30. Why don’t we say 6:00?”

DJ grinned. “I think you kinda like having family dinners with this crowd of people.”

“Oh, no,” Swannie’s voice took on a note of alarm. “I didn’t intend to invite myself to dinner. I’ll make it quick and leave you guys in peace.”

“I’m razzing you, Swannie. Don’t sweat it. I’ll alert Mom to our plan, then check to see how many will be there. She has probably already planned a meal large enough to serve a crowd. Having enough people there to eat it will please her. The woman never gets a chance to entertain anymore, and she loves to cook and fuss over people. You wouldn’t deny her that pleasure, would you?”

“Oh, Jeeze, are you sure? This is embarrassing.”

“Trust me, it won’t be a problem. Just take your time. We want you all in one piece when you get there.”

Swannie groaned. “Okay, if you’re sure. I must admit I really enjoyed last night. Your mom is a great lady. I’ll see you around 6:00.”

DJ reached Steve first. He had just finished dictating a report, and was more than ready to call it a day. “So what happened this morning? Did the guy show up?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when we see you tonight. Do you want me to call Ginger?”

“If you don’t mind. Tell her I’ll meet her at home, and we’ll come on over together.”

The next call went to Caroline. “Mom, can you stand having the same crowd for dinner again tonight?”

She sounded very pleased at the prospect and assured him she had a lovely dinner in the oven that would feed at least a dozen people.

Ginger also agreed to the plan and said she’d go home to wait for Steve.

He worked on a couple more reports since he didn’t need to be home until 6:00. The next time he looked at his watch, he was shocked to see it was a quarter past five. It was time to hit the dusty trail.

Coming out of the FBI employee lot, he glanced at northbound I-25 and saw that it was backed up. Not unusual for this time of day, but annoying all the same. He decided to take a different route home, and headed southeast through the winding side streets that would take him to Comanche Road. From there he could head east and choose whichever northbound arterial seemed to be moving the best.

When he reached Comanche Road, it was time for the 5:30 p.m. news broadcast. He half listened to the reporting of national events for the day. The local newscaster followed with updates in and around Albuquerque. It was then that the announcer caught his attention.

“This just in. The murder of a local man has become national news. The body of Michael Rinaldi was discovered yesterday morning in his home on Sagebrush Lane in northeast Albuquerque. Sources tell us the murder might be connected to a top-secret project currently underway at Sandia National Laboratories. A man who gave his name as ‘Mr. Smith’ said he had information indicating that Rinaldi’s murder might be involved with the theft of government secrets. Local police did not respond to our request for information. Stay tuned for updates in this breaking story.”

42

DJ pulled into Caroline’s driveway at 5:45 p.m. and used the spare garage door opener he had in his car. Harrie and Caroline were putting the finishing touches on dinner, and Katie sat at the kitchen table dressed in blue pajamas. Her coloring book and crayons occupied her attention, and her stuffed bear sat beside her.

“I really appreciate this, Mom.” DJ kissed Harrie and hugged his mother.

“Oh, Honey, this is such fun. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve given a dinner party? And now I get two in one week. I think it’s great.” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled.

“Well it’s above and beyond what anybody should have to do, and I’m grateful for the help. We have so much to talk about tonight.” He leaned in to Harrie and spoke in a low voice. “How long will the c-h-i-l-d be up? I don’t think she should hear any of this.”

Harrie smiled at him. “Don’t worry. She’s pretty tired. We’ve had a busy afternoon, and I think we wore her down. I want her to stay up until Ginger gets here. She wants to see her.”

DJ headed for the bedroom to hang up his suit jacket and put away his briefcase. The doorbell rang as he finished. “I’ll get it,” he called to Caroline and Harrie.

He opened the door to see Swannie, Steve and Ginger standing on the front porch.

“Did you guys ride over together?”

Ginger entered first. “No, silly. We’re all just very prompt.”

The guys followed her inside, and after the usual bantering and joking, joined Caroline and Harrie in the kitchen.

“Mrs. Johnson, you are so kind to welcome me into your home again. I hope it’s not an imposition.” Swannie smiled and handed Caroline a bottle of Gruet Chenin Blanc. “I hope this will go with the dinner you’ve prepared.”

“Why thank you, Lieutenant. But please, call me Caroline.”

Swannie actually blushed. “Okay . . . Caroline. But only if you’ll call me Swannie.”

Harrie hugged the nervous lieutenant. “You’re very thoughtful, Swannie. It’ll be great with dinner. Caroline’s made her special Green Chili Chicken and Broccoli Bake.”

Caroline spoke up. “Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. Why don’t you all have a seat in the den?”

DJ, Swannie, and Steve adjourned to the den, while Harrie and Ginger took Katie to her room. The small girl yawned and rubbed her eyes as Harrie readied her.

“You look like a pro already,” Ginger said.

“Well if you’ll recall, I babysat during my teenage years. I guess you don’t forget stuff like that.”

Ginger nodded. “True, but you look right at home in the job. You’re gonna be great at this.”

“Don’t jinx it. I’m trying really hard not to act like it’s a done deal.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to get overconfident.”

Harrie put Katie in the crib and the child stood up and reached for the stuffed bear in Ginger’s hand.

“Bayehr,” she said, her little face set in a frown as she reached for the toy.

“Oh, excuse me, Katie. Here’s your bear. What’s his name?”

Katie hugged the bedraggled animal to her face and said, “Bayehr.”

“Of course it is,” Ginger said, and kissed the top of Katie’s curly head.

Harrie gave her a big hug. “Okay, Miss Katie. Time for sleep.” The little girl plopped down on the mattress and turned over with her back to the two women. She hugged the bear to her chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Her eyes drooped and slowly closed. After a few moments, the vigorous thumb sucking ceased, and her breathing became slow and regular. Harrie and Ginger tiptoed out of the room.

“She must have been tired. My boys never went to bed this early.”

Harrie grinned. “We played pretty hard this afternoon. I’m even a little tired myself. We had a rousing game of hide and seek, and she was all over the place.”

They joined Caroline in the kitchen and helped her set dishes of food on the table. The wine had been poured, and all was ready.

Conversation was light and varied while they devoured Caroline’s delicious meal. Harrie cleared the dinner plates, and Caroline brought out an enormous chocolate cheesecake decorated with nuts and whipped cream.

Swannie groaned. “I’ll bet I’ve gained five pounds tonight.”

Steve grinned at his friend. “The way you normally eat, you could stand to have a decent meal occasionally.”

With dessert out of the way, Harrie said, “Okay, Swannie. I’m dying to find out what’s happened since this morning. Come on. Give.”

Swannie reached under his chair and produced a file folder. He had deliberately waited until after dinner to bring up the unpleasant subject of murder. He took out the photos of the suspect from the morning’s stakeout. “I want each of you to study them carefully. Tell me if this guy looks familiar to you.”

Harrie and DJ looked at all the photos, and Harrie shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t recognize him.” She turned to DJ. “How about you?”

“Nope, I can’t say that I do either. There’s nothing about him that stands out to me.”

Steve said, “He looks like a guy I went to high school with, but I know it’s not him. I think he just reminds me of him.” He shook his head. “Sorry. I thought maybe . . . but no, I don’t remember seeing him around here.”

Caroline hadn’t stopped looking at the photos she’d been given. She shuffled from one to another, her brow furrowed. “I can’t be absolutely sure, but I think I’ve seen this guy.”

DJ turned to his mother. “Where?”

Caroline shook her head. “There was a guy who came into the office yesterday morning.” She turned to Ginger. “It was about half an hour after you left to check on Harrie.” She turned back to DJ. “Yes, I’m pretty sure it’s him.”

“What did he want?” Harrie’s hands had become moist, and the skin on her arms tingled.

Caroline frowned at the photo again. “I don’t remember exactly—it was something like did I know what time the card shop opened. I told him I thought it was at 10. He looked around the office as though he wanted to say more, then he just nodded at me and walked out.”

During all this conversation, Ginger had not spoken. When she did, her voice was unusually quiet. “I saw him yesterday afternoon when I returned from buying the car seat for Katie.”

She looked at Harrie. “He was just walking by your house, like he was looking for an address. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. But now I remember a strange thing.”

Harrie became aware that her breathing had slowed. “What?”

“I had parked at the curb, and I had to maneuver that big box out of the trunk. When I finally got it out and closed the lid, I happened to look up. This guy,” she held up one of the photos, “was standing at the end of your block, watching me.”