for it anyway."
"Okay," I said.
Watched her .
~ * ~
I spent a half hour downtown shopping until I found what I needed, then called Lowell.
"What's that noise?" he asked.
"A Suburban with a bad transmission in the left lane."
"So you finally bought a cell phone. Keep a set of fresh batteries on you. I've got a feeling you're going to be on that thing a lot."
"It's a rechargeable."
"You buy two. Keep one always charged so when the other starts going you just switch them."
"Oh."
"Give me the number."
I gave it to him. I also gave him the doubts that had been stacking up like firewood in my mind. "Listen, this might sound stupidâ"
"Hell, when you admit it yourself, I know it's going to be bad."
"âbut are you sure it was Teddy?"
He sighed heavily and there was a long pause that kept lengthening until I thought he might have gotten into his car and was about to drive up behind me. "You're dogging my steps, Jonny Kendrick."
I couldn't argue, and waited until he decided whether he'd threaten me, give me a lecture, or let it roll. We'd played it every way in the past. The cell phone had clear sound, and I could hear his slow, regular breathing while he ran it through his mind and wondered if I'd trip him up on this. He'd stand for a lot, but never that.
I thought I might have stepped over the line this time, as the silence thickened, but eventually Lowell said, "Cause of death, about what you'd expect. Multiple blunt trauma to the head. We matched fingerprints from the victim to Teddy's passport."
"Dental records?"
"No dental records on Theodore Harnes , Jr. that we could find. They spent most of their time in Asia, Africa, South America, and the Netherlands. The kid didn't put in a single grade in our school system. Harnes had private tutors, he's a certified tutor himself, and taught Teddy at home when they were in the country, which wasn't often over the past twenty years. Teddy was born in Roggeveldberge , Cape Province, South Africa. He'd never been in jail or the service, never been printed outside of his passport."
"You matched him to latent prints found in the house? In Teddy's room?"
"Hey, 'latent prints,' you been reading Ed McBain novels again, Jonny? You even know what 'latent' means? The mansion has six maids from Burma who can't speak English and have nothing to do all morning and night except cook, scrub, dust, vacuum, and do little things like pluck hairs out of brushes. Entire place gleamed like a sheet of ice, and smelled of four daily coats of furniture polish. They're teenage girls, and not one of them can so much as raise her chin high enough to look a person in the eye. More than likely, they're also Harnes ' personal harem and he uses them to keep business associates happy."
"Jesus."
" Harnes probably bought them from their starving families for twenty bucks total. The man makes his fortune off slave labor." Lowell's tone didn't waver. "Not everybody is lucky enough to grow up in Felicity Grove."
It sounded like sarcasm, but he meant it sincerely.
"Okay," I said.
"Teddy wasn't murdered in his bedroom, there was no legal impetus to perform a full forensic investigation there once we established his identity. Sheriff Broghin was satisfied with the passport match. Why wouldn't he be?"
"And you?" I asked.
"I got Harnes ' permission to inspect Teddy's room, but there were no grounds to bring in the lab boys and start dusting and pulling hair samples. I searched around, but didn't find much. Kid lived like monk in a cloister. Just a few books and some clothes. No posters, videos, or CDs. No love letters from Alice Conway, none of the usual stuff you'd expect from your average twenty-year-old."
''Art supplies?"
"No, though Alice and Harnes both mentioned that Teddy enjoyed painting. He didn't have any brushes or easels in his room or anywhere else I looked in the house."
"What about his driver's license?"
"Didn't have one."
"A kid rich enough to own a fleet of Lamborghinis, and
"Okay," I said.
Watched her .
~ * ~
I spent a half hour downtown shopping until I found what I needed, then called Lowell.
"What's that noise?" he asked.
"A Suburban with a bad transmission in the left lane."
"So you finally bought a cell phone. Keep a set of fresh batteries on you. I've got a feeling you're going to be on that thing a lot."
"It's a rechargeable."
"You buy two. Keep one always charged so when the other starts going you just switch them."
"Oh."
"Give me the number."
I gave it to him. I also gave him the doubts that had been stacking up like firewood in my mind. "Listen, this might sound stupidâ"
"Hell, when you admit it yourself, I know it's going to be bad."
"âbut are you sure it was Teddy?"
He sighed heavily and there was a long pause that kept lengthening until I thought he might have gotten into his car and was about to drive up behind me. "You're dogging my steps, Jonny Kendrick."
I couldn't argue, and waited until he decided whether he'd threaten me, give me a lecture, or let it roll. We'd played it every way in the past. The cell phone had clear sound, and I could hear his slow, regular breathing while he ran it through his mind and wondered if I'd trip him up on this. He'd stand for a lot, but never that.
I thought I might have stepped over the line this time, as the silence thickened, but eventually Lowell said, "Cause of death, about what you'd expect. Multiple blunt trauma to the head. We matched fingerprints from the victim to Teddy's passport."
"Dental records?"
"No dental records on Theodore Harnes , Jr. that we could find. They spent most of their time in Asia, Africa, South America, and the Netherlands. The kid didn't put in a single grade in our school system. Harnes had private tutors, he's a certified tutor himself, and taught Teddy at home when they were in the country, which wasn't often over the past twenty years. Teddy was born in Roggeveldberge , Cape Province, South Africa. He'd never been in jail or the service, never been printed outside of his passport."
"You matched him to latent prints found in the house? In Teddy's room?"
"Hey, 'latent prints,' you been reading Ed McBain novels again, Jonny? You even know what 'latent' means? The mansion has six maids from Burma who can't speak English and have nothing to do all morning and night except cook, scrub, dust, vacuum, and do little things like pluck hairs out of brushes. Entire place gleamed like a sheet of ice, and smelled of four daily coats of furniture polish. They're teenage girls, and not one of them can so much as raise her chin high enough to look a person in the eye. More than likely, they're also Harnes ' personal harem and he uses them to keep business associates happy."
"Jesus."
" Harnes probably bought them from their starving families for twenty bucks total. The man makes his fortune off slave labor." Lowell's tone didn't waver. "Not everybody is lucky enough to grow up in Felicity Grove."
It sounded like sarcasm, but he meant it sincerely.
"Okay," I said.
"Teddy wasn't murdered in his bedroom, there was no legal impetus to perform a full forensic investigation there once we established his identity. Sheriff Broghin was satisfied with the passport match. Why wouldn't he be?"
"And you?" I asked.
"I got Harnes ' permission to inspect Teddy's room, but there were no grounds to bring in the lab boys and start dusting and pulling hair samples. I searched around, but didn't find much. Kid lived like monk in a cloister. Just a few books and some clothes. No posters, videos, or CDs. No love letters from Alice Conway, none of the usual stuff you'd expect from your average twenty-year-old."
''Art supplies?"
"No, though Alice and Harnes both mentioned that Teddy enjoyed painting. He didn't have any brushes or easels in his room or anywhere else I looked in the house."
"What about his driver's license?"
"Didn't have one."
"A kid rich enough to own a fleet of Lamborghinis, and
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