Page 67 of Wild Wolf
"Ifound a synthetic hair fiber on the second victim," Brenda said. "I tracked the manufacturer and dye lot down. It's a custom-made fiber specifically for high-end prop shops in Los Angeles. This particular fiber was a custom color ordered by Hollywood Magic FX Unlimited.”
"So we’re dealing with a guy in a suit," I said.
"Don't tell me you bought into that nonsense, did you?”
"No. Of course not.”
"I called the company and asked about the hair. They don't sell to the public. They typically use everything they order, but they will resell overstock to other prop shops and costume companies in Los Angeles and New York. The guy I talked to told me theydidmake a sale to a prop shop in Florida. Want to guess where?”
"Right here in Coconut Key. And I think I know who owns it.”
"It was sold to an LLC which happens to be owned by?—“
“A guy named Oren.”
"How did you know that?”
"I ran into him last night."
"Well, I thought I finally got one up on you, but apparently not. I thought you'd be proud of my detective work.”
"I am proud of you. You did a fantastic job.”
"I usually leave that kind of thing up to you, but I couldn't stop investigating this.”
“Brenda, you’re the best.”
With a smile in her voice, she said, “I do have my moments.”
I thanked her again, pulled myself out of bed, and hustled down to the main deck. I banged on the hatch to JD’s stateroom. "Get up. We've got a lead to run down!”
He grunted and groaned but made noise like he was getting up.
I grilled up a quick breakfast and put a pot of coffee on.
JD staggered out of his stateroom a few moments later with tousled hair and bleary eyes, wiping away the sleep.
I filled him in on the situation, and we chowed down, then pulled ourselves together for the day.
The synthetic fiber alone wasn't enough to get a search warrant. The same fiber had been used by the prop shop in LA on a few of their builds, and a batch was sold to a prop shop in New York as well. We needed a little something more to connect Oren to the crime, but I figured a knock and talk might spook him and force an error. People getsloppy when they're panicked. Of course, there was the possibility he made the suit for a client.
He lived in the Pelican Arms apartments a few blocks off campus. It was another one of those hives designed for twenty-somethings. Most of the people living in the place were still on their parents’ dime.
Jack parked at the curb. We hopped out and found a pedestrian gate. As usual, I buzzed random numbers until somebody let us in. We followed the walkway through the complex to unit C202. I figured Oren had a busy night last night. There was a good chance we'd catch him sleeping in. I put a heavy fist against the door and waited.
A few moments went by, and I knocked again.
I kept that up to the point of annoyance. Finally, footsteps traipsed across the living room. The peephole flickered as Oren peered through. After a moment’s hesitation, he unlatched the deadbolt and pulled open the door. He looked at us with sleepy eyes, but he was wide awake. The adrenaline of having two cops at your door had sent his pulse skyrocketing.
"Sorry to disturb you at this hour," I said.
"No problem. What's going on?”
"After our conversation last night, I thought you might be able to offer some help?” I said it just to put him at ease.
"Sure, what kind of help?”
"I don't know if you're aware, but there was another werewolf attack last night.”
