Part 19 (2/2)
She hung up, irked. Why would Charlotte claim she'd lied? She hadn't spoken to Charlotte an hour ago. She hadn't spoken to her since their last flight together. How daft, as Charlotte would put it.
She reached the gate. Throwing her shoulders back, she smiled and walked toward the plane.
Jo dropped her satchel on the kitchen table, turned on the coffeepot, and opened the French doors to the patio. It was chilly, but after seeing Ron Gingrich's MRI she wanted fresh air.
She got out her notes and checked e-mail. A message confirmed that Kanan had customs papers on the daggers and sword he'd brought back. They were cla.s.sed as museum pieces, purchased from an antiquities dealer in Jordan, destined for display. Kanan was transporting them on behalf of Chira-Sayf Inc.
Chira-Sayf. Where did that name come from?
Chira wasn't in her dictionary, but chiral was a chemistry term, relating to molecular structure and atomic mirror-imaging. Sayf was the transliterated spelling of the Arabic word for sword. Photos showed ancient scimitars whose blades shone with the l.u.s.ter of the knife Ian Kanan had flashed near her face.
She stared at the screen. Out back on the lawn, black wings fluttered and she heard a sharp caw.
Two crows were pecking at an object on the gra.s.s. She went outside, clapping her hands to shoo the birds away. They bustled into flight, leaving their prey limp and dismembered on the lawn.
She looked at it, puzzled.
They'd been tearing apart a little stuffed animal. It was a floppy emerald-green bear, about eight inches long. Its eyes hung by threads. The fabric was stained and slimy. Jo nudged it with the toe of her shoe. It looked as though it had been probed by aliens, with their most thorough tools and lubricants.
She heard the doorbell. Leaving the bear, she jogged inside to answer it. She opened the door and lowered her gaze six inches. Amy Tang looked like she had bitten into a sour green apple.
She handed Jo a photo. ”From a CCTV camera at the marina.”
It showed a man, sopping wet, unlocking the door of an SUV.
Jo's shoulders tightened. ”It's Kanan.”
”Thank you for the I.D. Now I can apply to a judge for a murder warrant.”
Jo looked up sharply. ”Come in. Tell me.”
”A white male was found floating in the marina beside a yacht called Somebody's Baby. Pa.s.serby saw a slick of b.l.o.o.d.y water, thought it was Jaws, and called in the cavalry. Only the victim didn't have shark bites. He had a major abdominal stab wound.”
Jo led Tang down the hall to the living room. ”What makes you think Kanan is involved?”
”'Involved'? As in, stuck the victim like a pig?”
”Yes. As in.”
”Witness saw a man fitting Kanan's description walking away from the slip, dressed in street clothes, soaking wet. He climbed into a red Navigator and pulled out like his hair was on fire.”
”Fitting Kanan's description?” Jo said.
Tang handed her another photo. It showed Kanan standing at the open door of the SUV, bare-chested, tossing his wet s.h.i.+rt into the vehicle.
”And no,” Tang said, ”I have no proof that Kanan stabbed the victim. But when a man walks away after a knife fight, it generally means he's the winner.”
Jo examined the photo. Kanan looked strong and alert.
Tang glanced around the living room. ”Nice digs.”
”Thanks. I inherited it.”
”Lucky you.”
”Tell it to my in-laws. The house was in Daniel's family for a hundred years.”
Tang panned the room, taking in the red Egyptian rug, the j.a.panese watercolors, and the Sopranos box sets on the bookshelf.
”You have a Mafia fetish?”
”Psychiatrists all watch The Sopranos. It's the shrink's dream show.” Jo continued examining the photos of Kanan.
Tang arched an eyebrow. ”You don't believe Kanan could kill somebody? Want to see the body to compare the wound dimensions with the blade Kanan pulled on you?”
”I don't need to see the body.”
”Right, you don't do blood and guts. You just rip the lid off the psyche and catch the screaming meemies that fly out.”
”Didn't catch these, apparently.”
Tang took the photos back. ”Don't feel morose. You're a doctor. You're trained to see him as a sick man, not a killer.”
Jo didn't feel morose. She felt a liquid silver fear that seemed to roll across her skin like mercury. ”I believe it. But I want to know what's behind it. That might help us pinpoint his targets and shut him down.” She brushed her hair back from her forehead. ”Have you identified the victim?”
Tang took out her notepad. ”Ken Meiring.”
”Who was he?”
”We don't know his connection to Kanan, but he has a record. Fraud, receiving stolen goods, and illegal weapons sales.” Tang's expression was astringent. ”He was a thief and a lowlife thug. And he was Kanan's first target. Shall we connect the dots?”
”Was it his boat?”
”I doubt it. According to the records for the marina, Somebody's Baby is owned by Chira-Sayf Inc.”
”What?”
”Yes. Curiouser and curiouser. It's-” Tang looked out the bay window. ”Isn't that your neighbor?”
On the sidewalk outside, waving at them, stood Ferd.
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