The Heart of Brody McQuade. Mallory Kane
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a relationship or not.
“No.”
The word was curt.
Brody started to ask where the guy was, when suddenly Victoria stiffened and a hand flew to her mouth.
“Dear heavens, that’s it!”
Brody’s pulse jumped. “What’s it?” He reached for her. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry, I’m fine. I just remembered something. He was wearing cologne. Expensive cologne.” Her face was transformed. “I should have recognized it right away. It’s called Torture. It’s a top brand in Europe. My ex used it. I think because he liked the name.”
Brody frowned. “You’re saying the perp smelled like this expensive cologne? So what kind of expensive are we talking about? Expensive as in I’m worth it or expensive as in if you have to ask?”
If Victoria Kirkland thought it was expensive, it must be made from unicorn blood or something.
Her mouth quirked up. “Expensive as in nobody’s worth that. It’s over two hundred dollars an ounce for the cologne. I bought my ex a bottle one Christmas.”
“So I guess he was worth it.”
“Like I said, nobody’s worth that.”
Brody took a small notebook out of his jacket pocket and jotted down the name of the cologne. Beside it he made a note to check with the other break-in victims to see if they remembered the scent. It was a long shot. The scent could easily have faded before the victims got home. The only two who could verify that the perp was wearing expensive cologne were dead.
“So what kind of ex was he? Husband?”
That question was totally irrelevant and Victoria’s face told Brody she knew it. So he tried to make it relevant. “Could it have been your ex who attacked you? Maybe he still has a key?”
The storm clouds were back in her eyes. “What kind of question is that? There have been seven break-ins—eight now. Two of my friends have been killed. And you’re trying to turn this into a lovers’ spat? I can assure you it wasn’t my ex-fiancé.”
“What’s his name?”
“It wasn’t him.” Her voice was harsh.
Brody met her gaze.
To her credit and his surprise she didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin. “Rayburn Andrews.”
Brody’s eyebrows shot up. “The heir to the cosmetics fortune? I thought he died.”
Victoria’s eyes closed briefly. “He went down in his private plane on a trip to Cancun.”
“Sorry,” he said automatically. Her words conjured up unwelcome memories of his parents. Was her ex a jet-setting thrill-seeker like they were? Was she?
“So we’ve got a perp who can get past security alarms and into a secure penthouse, and who wears super-expensive cologne.”
He thought about his long list of suspects. “Who else do you know who wears—” he glanced at his notepad “—Torture?”
“Unfortunately, I’ve noticed it a lot of places. It’s become ridiculously popular, probably because it’s so expensive.”
Brody raised his brows.
“It’s a distinctive scent, but it smells horrible if someone uses too much. I’ve noticed it, but I’m not sure I can say for sure on who. I really don’t pay attention.”
“Well, if you notice anybody, tell me.” He glanced around the spacious penthouse. “You need to beef up your personal-security system, have them take that damn fifteen-second delay off the alarm.”
“So you really think he’ll try again?”
“He’s extremely organized—one break-in a month, one fatality every third month. You threw a wrench into the works—upset his schedule. We have no idea what he’s going to do next. But I want you prepared.”
Her gaze met his. “You think you know who it is, don’t you?”
Brody shook his head. “No. Not yet. But I think the man who killed Briggs and Zelke and who tried to kill you is one of your neighbors.”
Chapter Four
The sound of a card triggering the door lock didn’t surprise Brody. He’d been expecting Hayes Keller, the third Ranger working with him on the Cantara Gardens murders. He finished writing the last name on the whiteboard as the door opened.
“So where have you been?” he asked, glancing at his watch. It was after ten.
“Drinking beer and watching strippers.”
Brody shot Hayes one of his patented silencer looks.
“Hey—” Hayes tossed his Stetson onto a chair and held up his hands, palms out “—I was finishing up a case. Twenty-four/seven, we never sleep. That’s our motto, right?”
Brody allowed himself a tiny smile. It was an old joke. “Nope. The Ranger motto is One riot, one Ranger.”
“That, too.” Hayes stepped over to the whiteboard. “What’s all this?”
“The printout on the table lists every tenant of Cantara Gardens who used their access cards on the night of Victoria’s attack.” Brody pointed toward two thin manila folders. “Those are Briggs’s and Zelke’s case files with printouts of card use on the night each died. I’m comparing the lists.”
Hayes looked at the board. “Lotta names.” He pointed. “Do all these show up on all three nights? Damn busy place, those condos.”
“Tell me about it. I spent all day today talking to the tenants. There are forty units. All are occupied. Fifty-two tenants total. The manager’s records list seventy-eight active cards.”
“Whoa! So I take it the manager isn’t too careful about controlling card access. You got the breakdown of who’s where?”
“Twenty-nine are singles. Eleven couples, and one couple has her mother living with them. Twenty-nine plus twenty-three accounts for the fifty-two official tenants. Who knows how many of the singles have live-in friends.”
Hayes looked at the board. “He’s got seventy-eight active cards for fifty-two tenants? That’s twenty-six cards unaccounted for. You think there are that many freeloaders?”
Brody shook his head. “I’m hoping most of the cards are lost or destroyed, but there’s no record. The manager apparently gave ’em out like Halloween candy. I don’t think the man ever saw a request for a card he didn’t grant.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m calling a special meeting of the Cantara Hills Homeowners’ Association to talk about changing out the condos’ security system. If I had my way, I’d change out the manager, too. I’ve got an SAPD officer meeting with each tenant to round up duplicate cards. That’ll narrow the field a little bit.” Brody arched his neck and massaged the tight tendons of his shoulders.
Hayes yawned and headed for the kitchen. “Want a beer?”
“Nah. Just water.” Brody stared at the grid he’d drawn on the whiteboard. He had three columns, headed Briggs, Zelke and Victoria. Under each he’d listed every card access recorded by the security-system computer from noon until 2:00 a.m. starting on the date of each attack.
He rubbed a hand over his face and sat down. All the numbers were beginning to run together.
Hayes tossed him a bottle of water and sat on the other side of the table. Brody turned up the bottle and drank half of it in one gulp.
“That’s