“But we get back to the same issue. How would the killer know a custodian found the body the next morning? And if he didn’t know that, how could the person who sent me the email know about it?”

  She looked around the space. “So this guy Myers found her. Why did he come into the storage room in the first place?”

  “To get a printer cartridge that someone on the floor told him they—”

  Devine stopped and looked around at the supplies on the shelving units before glancing at Montgomery.

  She said, “Only you just told me there was no one on this floor on Friday. Then who told Myers to get a printer cartridge?”

  “Let’s go ask him.”

  CHAPTER

  77

  DEVINE GOT MYERS’S HOME ADDRESS from the company database he had previously hacked into. He lived on Staten Island. They cabbed over, and Devine had the driver drop them off about a block from the house. It was situated in a neighborhood of working-class homes.

  “He’s got a new ride,” said Devine, eyeing the silver Ford F-150 pickup truck in the driveway with temporary tags. “Wonder where he got the money for that?”

  “I doubt he’ll volunteer it,” said Montgomery.

  “I can be persuasive.”

  They knocked on the door, but no one answered. They looked in the small backyard. It was empty except for an old pickup truck up on cinder blocks. There was a one-car garage, but the doors were locked. Devine peered in the window but didn’t see anything helpful.

  “Maybe he has another car,” said Montgomery.

  “Maybe, but I doubt it. He’s not married and lives alone, the security guard at Cowl told me.”

  “Can I help you?” the voice said.

  They looked around to see a woman standing on the front porch of the house next door. She had on leggings and a long T-shirt. She was in her twenties with a baby riding on one hip.

  “We were looking for Jerry,” said Devine. “We were supposed to meet for a beer, but he didn’t show.”

  She gazed over at the house. “It’s funny. He was supposed to help my husband with a project we’re doing in the backyard. When he didn’t show up this morning we called and went over there, but it’s all locked up and Jerry didn’t answer his phone.”

  “Does he have another car?”

  “No, he bought that new Ford. It’s a beauty. A King Ranch model with lots of bells and whistles. My husband Barry says it musta cost around sixty thousand.”

  “Wow,” said Devine.

  “Yeah. He works at some big muckety-muck company in the city. Jerry said they gave out big bonuses to everybody.”

  “But if this is his only ride, he must be inside. Do you think he’s sick or something?”

  A large, beefy man came out onto the front porch.

  The woman said, “Barry, these people were supposed to meet Jerry for a beer. But no one answered. Now I’m getting worried.”

  Barry looked over at Myers’s house and the truck. He eyed Devine. “Should we call the cops?”

  “Maybe we should check first. If he’s in there sleeping off a bender the cops will not be happy with us.”

  “Good point. Jerry likes his beer for sure.”

  He and Devine went up on Myers’s front porch, and Devine studied the door and the glass side panel.

  “This is the easiest way.” He put his elbow through the glass, cleared out the shards, reached through, and undid the lock.

  Barry opened the door and they stepped through.

  “Hey, Jer, it’s Barry from next door. You okay—” Barry sucked in a breath and blanched.

  “What the hell is that smell?”

  Devine knew exactly what it was. “Go call the cops, Barry.”

  “What?”

  “The cops. Call them. We have a situation.”

  “What situation?”

  Devine peered around a corner and into the small kitchen. “A dead-body situation.”

  Jerry Myers will never get to enjoy his new pickup truck.

  * * *

  Two hours later the house was swarming with police and a forensic scrub team. Devine had thought to call Detective Shoemaker. He was off today, but he and Ekman showed up anyway. They met up outside the house.

  “The dead guy is Jerry Myers, the custodian at Cowl who found Sara Ewes’s body,” explained Devine while Montgomery leaned against a patrol car. “Looks like somebody killed him.”

  The detectives went into the house and came back out thirty minutes later.

  Shoemaker said, “The prelim from the ME is some sort of poison. Frothing on the lips, color of the skin. He was on the kitchen floor. There was an open bottle of whisky on the counter and some in a glass. We’re having it all analyzed.”

  “What’s the TOD?” asked Devine.

  “Prelim is about six thirty last night.”

  “Did anybody see anything?” asked Montgomery.

  “Not so far.”

  “But why kill the janitor?” asked Ekman.

  Devine said, “Because I think Myers killed Sara Ewes late on Thursday night. Then, on Friday morning, he ‘finds’ the body, which makes him pretty much above suspicion.”

  “Jesus,” exclaimed Shoemaker. “We never thought about that angle.”

  “I wouldn’t have either, except for her,” said Devine, motioning to Montgomery.

  Ekman eyed Montgomery suspiciously. “And how do you figure into this?”

  “I was Brad Cowl’s girlfriend.”

  “Oh, you were, were you?”

  Devine said, “She’s working with us on this. And we came out here because something Myers told me didn’t add up.”

  “Like what?” asked Shoemaker.

  Devine told him Myers said he had gone into the storage closet because someone had requested a printer cartridge.

  “But there was no one on the floor that morning because of a seminar at the Ritz. So there was no one to ask Myers to get anything. I think they knew about the seminar and picked that day because of it. That way there would be no one on the floor who might find the body. Myers also probably wanted a second chance to go over the crime scene to make sure there was nothing incriminating left there.”

  “And any forensics of his found there would seem innocent since he went in there and found the body,” added Ekman.

  “Right.”

  “Pretty slick plan,” said Shoemaker. “But why kill Ewes? Were they having an affair? Was he a jealous stalker who wanted to be with Ewes and she rebuffed him? Is it just the old story of a rejected guy?”

  “I might think so except for that.” Devine pointed at the brand-new F-150.

  “That was his payoff,” said Montgomery.

  “And the fact that he was poisoned shows he was working with someone and that someone decided to get rid of that loose end,” opined Ekman.

  “That the guy ran out and bought a new truck was probably not a good thing. The person who hired him might have been afraid the cops would take a second look at Myers, and he’d fall apart and start pointing fingers,” said Devine.

  Shoemaker nodded. “We did check on the guy, always do when it’s the person who finds the body. You don’t need a security card to get in during regular business hours if you come through the front doors. Now, you need your security card at all times if you come in the rear. He said he came in the front doors at eight and left at five the same way, and took the ferry to Staten Island. The guard doesn’t remember specifically seeing him that day, but he did confirm that Myers always came and went by the front entrance. We had no reason to suspect him. Myers had no motive or opportunity, at least that we thought.”

  “What about the building’s security cameras showing people coming and leaving?”

  “Inconclusive. We checked the footage for that time, but there was a large group of people leaving around five and we couldn’t ID everybody, including him.”

  “I can tell you from experience, Detective, that that footage isn’t worth the pixels it’s built on.”

  CHAPTER

  78

  DEVINE AND MONTGOMERY TOOK THEIR leave from the detectives, and Staten Island.

  As they cabbed it back to Manhattan, Montgomery said, “So, Myers killed four people in exchange for a new pickup truck?”

  He glanced at her. “I’ve seen people do it for a lot less than that, Michelle.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence.

  Devine took the train back out to his house after dropping off Montgomery at her hotel, and walked home from there.

  Valentine wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen filling his belly. Overhead, Devine could hear Tapshaw tap-tapping away on her computer, happy as a clam. Helen Speers stood in her doorway and stared at him as he came up the stairs.

  “Busy day?” she said.

  “Another dead body found.”

  “Who was it this time?” she asked calmly.

  “You’re not surprised?”

  “What’s one more?”

  He stood in front of her and shook his head. “I really don’t get you.”

  “You don’t have to. Just like I don’t have to get you. Where’s your friend Michelle?”

  “In a safe place. So, you like the Glock over the Sig?”

  “And you like the Sig Sauer over the Glock, good Army man that you are. But diversity makes the world go round. I’m living proof of that.”

  She closed the door.

  He knocked on Valentine’s door but there was no answer. He tried the knob. It turned and he poked his head in. “Will, you in here eating pizza under the bedcovers?”

  But Valentine wasn’t there. He’d never been in Valentine’s room before. What was astonishing to him was how neat and clean it was. Bed made, desk tidy. Monster computer screens that rivaled Tapshaw’s. Some books in Russian were on a shelf. Shoes lined up against one wall. He looked in the closet and saw that the clothes were neatly hung and separated by pants and shirts. His dresser was just as organized.

  He had gotten adept at doing searches like this back in the Army. Out on patrols, they would frequently have to work their way through the homes of suspected Taliban and Al-Qaeda allies and informants. And those guys really knew how to hide stuff, he had discovered.

  He looked over the desk and saw some Post-it notes affixed to the screen. They were all in Cyrillic. He smiled. Nice little piece of security there. In one desk drawer were some framed photos. They looked to be about twenty years old or so, judging by the clothes the people wore. A man and a woman were holding a baby with a girl around six next to them. Maybe that was Valentine’s family back in Mother Russia. He might be the baby boy.

  He heard a noise downstairs. Devine put the photo back, closed the door, and left the room. He knocked on Tapshaw’s door just as Valentine came up the stairs.

  His expression was serious, focused, Devine thought, until he saw Devine. Then Valentine smiled, and said, “Dude.”

  Yeah, dude. “Hey, Will, how goes it?”

  Tapshaw opened her door in her fluffy bunny slippers and capri pants with a white top. “Hey, guys. Is this a party or what?”

  Speers opened her door and looked out. She eyed everyone and said, “All we do is pass each other every day and night. How about we go out for some beer and chips, roomies? And actually get to know each other?”

  They crammed into Tapshaw’s Mini Cooper and made the short drive to downtown Mount Kisco.

  The pub was rocking, but they found an empty table outside and ordered their beers and food. Valentine also had a vodka tonic and a slice of meatball pizza.

  Tapshaw took a sip of her beer and said, “I think the Taiwanese are going to invest. Not the full amount I was initially looking for, but at least half.”

  “That’s great, Jill,” said Devine. He didn’t know if she had heard about Chilton’s murder, and he was not going to bring it up.

  Speers looked at her and said, “How did you get into the online dating space? I know your background because I googled you. You could be working for NASA or NSA.”

  “I got offers from both while I was at MIT. But while NASA does many wonderful things, I’d rather focus on this planet. And the NSA? I don’t want to spy on people. I want to help them be happy.”

  Valentine finished his vodka tonic in one impressive gulp. “But people can be happy alone. I am example of this. I do not need nobody to be, as you say, happy. I am happy with me.”

  “Come on, Will, everyone needs somebody,” countered Tapshaw.

  Devine eyed him. “How’d you end up in Mount Kisco doing what you do?”

  “I can do what I do from anywhere. This is nice place. I move around a lot before, but this is nice place. I stay here.”

  “Where were you before?” asked Speers.

  “In big city of New York. But I did not like it. Too many people. Remind me of Moscow, only in Moscow people either stay home or go to bar. They do not, how you say, wander around. You wander around there, you get shot or arrested.”

  Tapshaw said, “Well, I like it here, too. But I also like to travel. I did that to learn about what people wanted from each other. That helped me put my platform together. Other sites ask you all these questions to build a profile so they can match you with a person of like interests. And we do some of that, too—but what about the old saying, ‘Opposites attract’? A great relationship doesn’t mean that the people are carbon copies of each other. Then it’s like you’re staring in a mirror every day. What about two very different people getting together and learning from each other? Changing what they like and dislike because they have someone who lets them see another slice of life?”

  “Me?” said Valentine. “I want another slice of pizza. Then I am happy man.”

  Tapshaw tittered at this, but Devine didn’t join in. Speers had eyed Valentine in a way that Devine didn’t like. A thought suddenly hit him.

  Did these two know each other before? But if they did, why was she searching his room?

  Then he thought about the picture in Valentine’s room. And the girl.

  “Hey, Will, do you have family back in Russia? Brother? Sister?”

  Valentine finished his beer before answering. “I have nobody, dude. Nobody. Way I like it.”

  CHAPTER

  79

  IT WAS NEARLY FOUR A.M. when Devine rolled over in his bed and coughed. Then he coughed again, harder. The next moment he couldn’t catch his breath.

  In his murky mind he thought, Am I having a heart attack?

  He sat up in bed and his head felt like it was underwater. What the hell was going on? He’d had two beers, not ten.

  Then he inhaled and the smell answered all his questions.

  Shit!

  He jumped out of bed and almost crashed against the wall. He ripped open the door and gagged. He pulled his T-shirt up over his nose and mouth, went down to his knees, and scuttled across the hall to Speers’s room. He tried the knob. It was locked. He rose and put his shoulder to it. It flew open and he saw Speers in the bed. She didn’t react to his crashing into her room, which was not a good sign.

  He stumbled over and tried to wake her. He checked her pulse. Still there. Barely.

  He lifted her up and carried her down the stairs and out the front door. He set her down in the grass and ran back in. He checked Tapshaw’s room next. Her door was not locked. She was unconscious on the floor. He confirmed that she was still breathing and carried her outside and set her next to Speers.

  He ran back inside and knocked open Valentine’s locked door. He wasn’t in there. Devine looked wildly around and even checked under the bed, in the closet, and also the bathroom. The man wasn’t there.

  After grabbing his phone, he ran back outside and called 911 and then the gas company’s emergency number. There was a garden hose next to the front door. He turned it on and sprinkled water over the women. Then he patted their faces, turned them on their sides, and applied pressure to their backs to help their lungs expand. Their breaths started getting deeper, and their color finally started returning; Speers even managed to sit up. She looked at Devine.

  “Wh-what is . . . what is . . . ?”

  “Gas in the house. You’re okay now. I called the ambulance. But I can’t find Will.”

  She plopped back down in the grass and threw up.

  Tapshaw briefly came to, and Devine told her the same thing.

  Then he turned and ran back into the house. He threw open windows everywhere and also the back door. He searched every inch of the space for Valentine, but the Russian was not there.

  A minute later two ambulances pulled up. The EMTs jumped out and administered oxygen to both the women and Devine, too. They ran fluids into the women as well, but Devine declined, telling them that he was fine.

  “What about the town houses on either side of you?” said one of the EMTs. “The gas might have seeped into them, too, or originated from there.”

  “They’re both empty,” said Devine.

  After triaging the ladies, the EMTs decided to take them both to the hospital. The ambulances pulled out about the time the gas company showed up. Two men quickly climbed out of the truck, and Devine told them what had happened.

  Thirty minutes later they came back out of the house.

  “Somebody did it on purpose,” said one of the men. “Fiddled with the line going into your town house and then opened up the pilot on the fireplace in the living room. We got safety features for that now, but this is an old house and nobody upgraded it.”

  “I told the EMTs the homes next door were empty. But they’re being renovated and guys might be showing up to work there today. Some of the gas might have gone in there.”

  “We’ll put up signs for them to stay out. Then we’ll contact the owner and get the places checked and cleared out if need be.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Lucky escape for you,” said the other man. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Is it safe to go in now?”

  “Yeah, it’s all aired out, but don’t turn on any electrical switches for a while, just to be sure. I’ll have a crew out here in an hour to check everything seven ways from Sunday.”