Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

point.
    Yet.
    “Kirby had the kind of training that would get him into that community,” Sam said. “Right?”
    “Sizemore didn’t,” Kennedy said flatly. “He went into the Bureau right out of university. You’re wasting my time.”
    Sam kept talking. “Kirby, and the pal he hung with, White, were part of Sizemore’s crime task force, the one that took down the South Americans.”
    Kennedy’s eyes narrowed. “So what?” He stubbed out his cigarette. “So were a lot of men.”
    “The Bureau is tracing them now,” Sam said. “We came up with one other guy—Stan Fortune—who’s living in L.A. near Kirby. He was army, special ops, ten years after Kirby. Discharged because of injury. Bitter about it. Joined the DEA, went undercover in Florida, and made people nervous. They gave him a desk job. He quit.”
    “It happens,” Kennedy said. He fiddled with another cigarette but didn’t light it.
    “He was one of Sizemore’s informants on the famous task force. Kirby found him for that job.”
    Kennedy grimaced. He wanted to get up and leave, but he couldn’t. Damn it, Ted. What the hell happened?
    There was no answer but the sound of Sam’s voice telling everyone what Kennedy didn’t want to know.
    “So far, every unhappy loner we’ve traced from the good old crime task force leads back to Kirby,” Sam said relentlessly, “who worked with Sizemore, who has information of the kind that would be valuable to mutts wanting to knock over couriers.”
    “Ted didn’t know about the McCloud sapphires,” Kennedy said flatly. “He had no way of knowing. It was a Mandel Inc. job all the way—father, daughter, brother.”
    “Lee’s lover was Norm Gallagher, whose brother works for Sizemore’s company in the home office,” Kate said. “Sizemore easily could have known.”
    Kennedy’s fingers gripped the lighter so hard his knuckles went white. With an impatient snap, he lit up the cigarette and sucked hard. “Circumstantial.”
    “It’s one more straw—the one that broke the camel’s back,” Sam said. “I’m asking for a warrant to go through Sizemore’s computers and a forensic accountant for the company books. Do I have to go over you?”
    Kennedy closed his eyes. When he opened them, he hit the intercom switch on the phone and said without inflection, “Send him in.”
    A moment later the door opened and Ted Sizemore stepped into the office. One look at his face told Sam that the other man had overheard every word that was said in Kennedy’s office. But it wasn’t anger Sam saw on Sizemore’s face, it was confusion.
    And fear.
    Sizemore went straight to Kennedy. “I swear I didn’t do it. You have to believe me.” Tears leaked from his eyes. “I swear it! Hook me up to a machine, you’ll see. I’m innocent! Groves is framing me!”
    “If it isn’t you, who is it?” Sam said. “Someone at your firm?”
    “I—I—no,” Sizemore said. “It can’t be.”
    “Why?” Kate asked. “You were ready to accuse my whole family.”
    Sizemore just shook his head.
    “Ted,” Kennedy said quietly, “at this point it looks like your firm is the only source of information that accounts for the high-tech and nonviolent—until Mandel—courier heists. Help me out on this.”
    “I can’t,” Sizemore whispered. “I don’t understand—” His voice broke. “Any of this. I just don’t. Give me a lie test. I swear—” Sizemore’s voice broke. He didn’t try to say anything again. He just shook his head.
    “Doug will take care of the paperwork you need for warrants and such,” Kennedy said to Sam. “It will go through highest priority. Satisfied?”
    Sam looked at Sizemore. All swagger was gone. There was nothing left but an old man with tears on his face.
    Not very satisfying at all.
    “Put some more men on White,” Sam said. “Maybe he can tell ussomething useful. And if Sizemore doesn’t object, I’d like to see the background checks and personnel files of everyone in his company with access to sensitive information.”
    Sizemore said, “Go ahead. I’d help you, but you don’t trust me.”
    “In my shoes, would you?”
    Sizemore flinched. “No. God help me, no.” He grabbed a piece of paper from Kennedy’s desk and scrawled a string of numbers and letters. “This is my entry code to the company computer. You can access it from your own laptop.” Sizemore handed the sheet over and said bitterly, “Have fun.”

Chapter 65
    Glendale
    Sunday
    11:40 P.M