He checked in with the officer guarding her apartment and started to look around. He glanced across at the broken window, the blood on the couch and carpet. That told a story he already knew.
Katz had mysterious backers, offshore shell companies funneling the money for her myriad projects in little old Burlington, Ohio. What was the attraction?
It did make one wonder.
And then there was the American Grill. There were thousands of places just like it all over the country. Thick piled-high burgers, mammoth mounds of fries, chicken wings, pitchers of beer, large-screen TVs for sports. There would always be a clientele for that, but no one was getting rich off it, like Katz had told Mars.
He had done another search of her apartment and came away not knowing any more than he had on entering the place.
They would just have to wait until she woke up.
This was a frustrating case because he could not seem to make traction on any lead. He could not make Mitzi Gardiner talk. And he had nothing to charge her with. There was absolutely not enough evidence. He knew that she had worked to frame her father, but he couldn’t prove it. She had been amply rewarded, with a new life. And yet as he’d left her home, he’d also left behind a woman who was clearly racked by guilt.
But that meant nothing in building a case. He would have to find a road to the legal truth somewhere else. It would not apparently go through Mitzi Gardiner.
He sat down on a chair in the kitchen and studied his possibilities. There weren’t many, so they didn’t take him long. He quickly settled on one.
Sally Brimmer.
She’d been killed for a reason. He had to find out what that reason was.
And he could start in one of two places.
He picked one, called Lancaster to meet him there, and set off.