Easy Prey

outside.”
    “You can’t just pull it shut?”
    “No. Nope. Gotta lock it with a key from the outside, or with the knob from inside,” the maintenance man said.
    They walked down the basement stairs, then along a dark corridor to a loading dock. Lucas stepped over to the access door. The door was metal, with a small window with inset wire mesh. He said, “Don’t touch the lock. . . . You got any lights?”
    “Yeah.”
    The maintenance man found a wall switch and turned the lights on. They both looked at the lock, and Lucas said, “The bolt’s open.”
    “Aw, man.”
    Lucas looked around the dock and asked, “Did Rodriguez ever get anything here?”
    “His furniture, probably.”
    “You ever see him here otherwise?”
    “No. Nobody comes down here, except for deliveries. Unless there’s something wrong with the plant.”
    “Hmph. Better go talk to St. Paul,” Lucas said.
     
 
“WHAT’D ST.PAUL say?” Del asked.
    “First they said it was all bullshit, it didn’t make any difference. There was no indication that there was anyone else in the building. Then they started pissing on each other,” Lucas said.
    “Over here, we’d be shooting at each other.”
    “That’s a kinder, gentler city,” Lucas said. They were walking across town, Lucas with a large-sized manila envelope in one gloved hand. The day was even colder than it had been early in the week, and though the sky had turned blue, a gusty wind was cutting along the streets. Shoppers were bundled in long coats, and businessmen snarled into the wind.
    “If you don’t tell me what’s in the envelope, I’m gonna be pretty embarrassed when we get there,” Del said.
    “Pretend like you knew all along.”
    “You’re just bustin’ my balls because you got up crabby.”
    “Nope. I’m actually pretty cheerful,” Lucas said.
    “And that surprises me,” Del said. “I figure you’ve either solved the case or you’re fuckin’ Jael Corbeau.”
    “Why couldn’t it be both?” Lucas asked cheerfully.
    “Nobody’s that’s lucky,” Del said. “So what’s in the envelope?”
    “Let India tell you,” Lucas said. “When we get to Brown’s.”
     
 
INDIA, PHILIP THE manager, and the other woman who’d looked at Rodriguez’s picture were waiting at the desk when Lucas and Del arrived at Brown’s Hotel. Lucas slipped a photograph out of the envelope and passed it across; the photograph had been taken that morning with a digital camera, and had been printed out only a half hour earlier. “Do you know this guy?”
    Del tried to edge sideways to get a look, but Lucas cheerfully blocked him off.
    “That’s him,” India said. The other woman nodded, and Philip, looking down his nose at the photo, said, “Yes, I’ve seen him.”
    “Did he know Derrick Deal?”
    “He may have,” Philip said. “He probably did. I think I saw the three of them talking once. At least once. So maybe . . .”
    “He was definitely around here,” India said.
    Del reached out, took the picture, glanced at it, and said, “It’s like I been telling you since the start, Lucas. It’s that fuckin’ Spooner.”
     
 
“YOU’VE GOT TO be kidding,” Rose Marie Roux said. She was leaning back as far as she could in her office chair, hands covering her eyes as if to block out the horror of it all. “We’ve already started taking credit on Rodriguez.”
    “He was murdered,” Lucas said. “It kept me up half the night, thinking about it. And remember how we decided that if Angela Harris could make an accurate prediction about the murders of the Olsons, then we’d have to pay close attention?”
    “I remember.”
    “So I was awake half the night, working this out. And when I got done, I made two predictions. First, that I’d find a way the killer could have gotten out of Rodriguez’s building. And second, that the people at Brown’s would recognize Spooner. I’m also making a third prediction. We know we only got about half the people at the party—Frank’s got his people running pictures of Spooner around to the party people we interviewed. I’m predicting that somebody will put him at the party.”
    “Ah, mother. Run it down for me,” Rose Marie said.
    Lucas ticked the points off:
    • “We had a guy who came out of the slums of Detroit with no education—and two years later, is setting up a Miami corporation to buy legitimate apartments, which he uses to wash his drug money. That’s a little too sophisticated.
    • “If