21st Birthday by Patterson, James (mystery books to read txt) 📗

eats. We processed the last three months of Burke’s credit-card statements, including his gas and supermarket cards, and found no red flags. He banks at SunTrust and B of A. No big transfers of money occurred, just car payments and mortgage and day-to-day expenses. He may have another bank or cash on hand, but his personal finances look clean.”

Chi stood, shot his cuffs, lined up index cards on the table; his talking points. Then, he recapped the interview with Alex Conroy.

“Conroy’s stated whereabouts have been confirmed with receipts and video and selfies and corroboration from two hotel desk managers. I sent photos. They verified that Conroy and Burke checked out per their statements. We can’t find any holes in her story. I’m not going to lie. If Burke’s a killer, he’s neat. Too neat. This worries the hell outta me.”

Clapper walked in and said to Chi, “What in particular worries you?”

“That Burke is either a high-genius psycho or that someone else, a different high-genius psycho, is manipulating this case.”

“If you had to pick A or B?” said Clapper.

“I’d flip a coin,” said Chi.

Clapper sighed and leaned up against the wall.

Brady said, “Boxer. Flip the coin.”

I folded my hands on the table and boiled down my impressions of Burke today; his appearance, attitude, fury over Fogarty’s death, and his willingness to cooperate.

“He says he’s being framed. If he’s acting, he’s unbelievable. Outraged. Crying and spitting mad. And we don’t have one damned fingerprint. He’s not in custody, but Red Dog is sitting on him —”

Yuki laughed and several people couldn’t help but join in. Parisi weighs three hundred pounds.

But the laughter faded fast under Clapper’s cold eyes.

I picked up where I’d left off.

“Say Burke did it. What’s his motive? Why kill his own child? How does Wendy Franks fit in? Why bury people in his own backyard? Where’s Tara? Is she behind all of this? How? Why? When I flip the coin, it comes up tails. Burke’s being framed.”

Clapper said, “My coin comes up tails, too. As my father used to say, ‘With one arse, you can’t be at two weddings.’ If Burke was in Carmel, he didn’t kill Fogarty. But I’m betting that Fogarty’s killer, that evil shit, is on video.

“Hallows, over to you.”

CHAPTER 44

BRADY CUT THE LIGHTS and closed the blinds.

Gene Hallows said, “Here we go, pards, this is Sunset Park Prep’s parking lot last night before the incident.”

As expected, the quality of the video was poor; it was grainy, badly lit, and due to the long, dark distance from the camera to the closest of the buildings, unfocused.

Two cars were parked within the grid of painted yellow lines on the asphalt, the license plates barely legible. Chain-link fencing surrounded the lot. The school’s field house stood in the middle distance, one large tree just outside the fence on the lot’s east side.

Hallows said, “I watched seven hours of this video on fast forward. The camera is mounted on a light pole with a ninety-degree angle centered on the footpath that leads from the south end of the lot to the field house. By four o’clock, school had let out and apart from those two cars, the lot was deserted. No one got into or out of those cars. I made a clip that runs from just before Misty arrives four hours later, at five to eight, until ten minutes after.

“You’ll note when Misty arrives, she had an electronic gizmo that opens the school lot’s gate.

“I did find another camera aimed at the gate, but it’s broken and has been for a long time.

“Now, all registered drivers at Sunset Park Prep have an electronic key to that gate behind the camera. Mostly, the key holders are teachers, but also some members of the senior class. Most people park as close as possible to the footpath entrance to the campus. The exception to that is Misty Fogarty. She parks barely within camera range on the east side, under this tree.”

I said, “Misty wanted privacy. She planned to break up with Burke.”

“Okay, so that was the plan, right?” said Hallows. “Okay, here she comes. She opens the gate, now she is inside and circling the lot, first going straight in the direction of the field house, turning, giving us a good look at her license plate. That is her car and her plate.”

“Midnight blue Outback,” said Conklin. “I know this car inside and out.”

“Okay, then,” said Hallows. “Here, Misty parks under the tree, turns off her lights, gets out of the car. Paces a little bit. Looks at her iPhone, and we know she sends a text at eight on the nose.”

“We’re about to watch her final moments. That makes me sick,” I said.

“Take deep breaths,” said Brady.

Hallows said, “Hold your horses, friends. It’s going to get worse. Here, Misty is looking toward the main gate. The person she’s waiting for is approaching on foot from that direction. There is no sign of a vehicle.”

“Silver Audi would be nice,” said Cappy.

Alvarez said, “Could he have jumped the fence?”

Hallows said, “Some of you could get over it, some couldn’t.” He paused the video and pointed at the screen.

“No car,” Hallows said. “But here’s the psycho killer. Looks to be a male dressed all in black, sports jacket over a black T-shirt and black jeans, black shoes. A knit cap covers his ears. He walks along the fence where we just about can see him, but no matter how I fiddled with the software, I cannot make out his face. He keeps his head down. He knows about the camera. Given the height of the chain-link fence, this guy is approximately five eleven. That’s all I can glean.”

Hallows restarted the video. “The killer and Misty are having a discussion, looks like,” Hallows said, “but she doesn’t act like she wants anything to do with him.”

“Know how it looks to me? She was waiting for someone else,” said Brady. “She was