"Yeah."
"You'd already figured that out?"
He shrugged. "Look at his hand."
"If you mean because he shot himself in the left temple, that's not a mistake. Aldrich was left-handed. Whoever killed him knew that."
"Look closer. Hand. Sleeve."
Now I saw what he meant. The white sleeve of Aldrich's pullover was clean.
"No back spatter," I said. "That's a pretty good indication. It's not foolproof, but it's better than my explanation, which is just that there's not a chance in hell he wrote that." I pointed at the note. "Even if he's changed, he's not going to collapse with guilt after seeing me, kill himself, and admit to a crime he was acquitted of. When the friend left, he was talking, but I never heard Aldrich's reply. The guy was faking a conversation in case a neighbor was listening in."
I stepped back from the body and surveyed the scene. "Aldrich knew the guy. He'd called him after he saw me. He must know what Aldrich did and has a damn good reason to shut Aldrich up, fast. But why?"
"Not important. Gotta--"
I turned sharply. "Yes, it is important, Jack. If you're in hiding, you don't go telling new friends about your old identities, and you sure as hell don't tell them about your past crimes. If this guy knew, then he--"
"Probably committed some crimes himself. Besides this." Jack waved at the body. "Saying it's not important now. Gotta finish searching. Then get out."
"Place was already searched," Jack said as we climbed to the second story. "I was coming to tell you that."
"You mean because it's a mess?" I shook my head. "I've met plenty of guys whose apartments always look like they were ransacked."
"Not that." He waved into the office. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said, peering in again. "I was here earlier. This room is actually the cleanest--" I stopped. "Right. That's the problem people make when they break in. They tidy up after themselves. The trick is to leave it how you found it."
"Yeah. Searched here. Bedroom, too."
I followed him in. While the bedroom certainly couldn't be called tidy--it looked like a laundry hamper exploded and dirty dishes were stacked on various surfaces--every drawer was closed, every book stacked neatly. Even the porn magazines had been straightened.
We still searched, but found nothing.
"Maybe after being caught a few times, Aldrich got rid of whatever souvenirs he had."
Jack shook his head. "Guys like that? Take shit. Write it down. Something."
Which was true, though I hardly
expected it to be an area of expertise for Jack. I was the one who wanted to understand how criminals thought. When I commented, though, he just shrugged and said, "Read stuff."
We messed up the areas that had been tidied, so when Aldrich's body was found, there'd be nothing out of the ordinary. We took one last look around. I stopped in the middle of the hall.
"Do we know where he took his victims?" I asked.
"Hmmm?"
"He wouldn't bring teen girls back here, even if they were with him consensually. So he must have had places. Was there anything about that in the other investigations?"
"Yeah. Never changed his MO. Liked cabins." He looked back at the office. "Bet he has one. Maybe paperwork for it here?"
I shook my head. "If he's following his old pattern, he's not buying. He's finding an abandoned or unused cabin. Which is probably where he kept any mementos. But if he didn't own the place, we'll never locate it."
"Check the truck," Jack said. "Maps. Gas receipts."
I nodded and left.