Page 88 of Sharp Force
“None here,” he replies.
“I’m assuming Georgine keeps her patients’ records in Yorktown.Maybe she made a mention of someone she was having trouble with. A patient, for example.” I explain what I’m thinking. “Maybe we can get a better idea of her relationship with Zain Willard. I’d like to take a look at her medical notes before the feds haul them away.”
“Lucy and Benton are the feds. I’m sure they can make that happen,” Marino says.
Moving closer to the coffee table, I look at the laptop computer, the books on machine language, robotics and blockchain technology. I pick up one of them as Marino watches. There’s no name inside, but many sections are underlined, a lot of comments in the margins.
“Zain’s got several computers in his room on the third floor,” Marino says. “Based on what I saw on his desk, he’s also into gaming, and, like I mentioned, he’s got a robot dog. Not a real dog he has to take care of and pay attention to. That tells me something about him.”
As I flip through the book on robotics, a check falls out. Signed by Calvin Willard, it’s made out to Georgine Duvall in the amount of $18,000 and dated yesterday.Tax Freeis typed on the memo line.
“Holy shit,” Marino says. “He must have been paying her for something. I doubt he was giving her that kind of money for no reason.”
“You might be right that she was Zain’s personal shrink,” I decide.
The living area opens into a kitchen of modern stainless-steel appliances, an art glass chandelier hanging over a table in front of a window, the shade down.
I notice the clean dishes in the drain rack, the bread and bakerygoods on the counter near a black leather Gucci pocketbook that looks old. Next to it is a set of keys on a keychain that’s attached by a ring to a holstered pepper spray. I wouldn’t expect Georgine to own much less carry such a thing.
“Looks like she’d gotten security conscious when she didn’t used to be,” I comment, the odor of bleach making my eyes water.
“I would hope so considering where this place is located,” Marino says.
“That didn’t used to be a concern for her,” I reply. “She didn’t worry about who she let in her house, for that matter. And I remember her commenting that her husband insisted on setting the alarm at night. Otherwise, she wouldn’t bother.”
“Nothing appears to be stolen,” Marino informs me. “She’s got four hundred and ninety dollars in her wallet. And a bunch of credit cards. But in the other Slasher murders, nothing was missing either.”
“Burglary isn’t what motivates him,” I reply. “In the other cases, it doesn’t appear he rifled through anything. He came in to kill. And then left.”
“Maybe it’s not on his agenda because he doesn’t need money,” Marino says. “Maybe because he’s got a rich uncle who’s always going to take care of him.”
On top of the kitchen garbage can is a large pizza box, and I ask if it’s from last night.
“I’ve looked at the receipt,” Marino says.
“Of course you did.”
“A meat lover’s large ordered from Donato’s Pizzeria at around six p.m.,” he says.
“Delivered or picked up?”
“Delivered. Took about an hour, probably because of the weather.”
“How does that work when someone shows up at the hospital’s front gate with a food delivery?” I wonder.
“An intercom.” Marino points out the speaker box next to light switches. “You talk to whoever you’re expecting. You can push a button to open the front gate remotely. All the homes here have the same thing, Crowley told me.”
“Do we know if hospital security officers were patrolling last night?” I ask. “Do we know if they patrol at all?”
I’m looking inside the pantry. Cans of soup, tuna fish, cases of water and other basic supplies. Also bottles of liquor and beer. A mop, a broom, a dustpan. A few miscellaneous tools, a plastic tray filled with screws and nails.
“Crowley says that all of them were working the Christmas party,” Marino says. “They weren’t driving around in the storm.”
“How many isall of them?”
“Supposedly a total of three were on duty, and it’s not their job to patrol the residences because they’re privately owned,” Marino explains. “No security back here in other words.”
“Did Zain Willard order the pizza?” I open the refrigerator. “Who paid for it?”
