As Chase was leaving, White walked over to Decker. “The cops turned up nothing on the two guys from last night. They were long gone and left behind no clues.”
“Not surprising.”
White looked in the direction of Chase. “What did she want?”
“To tell me she’s not marrying Langley, and she has no idea how long he was gone the night Cummins was killed. But it was at least an hour. So that puts Langley right back onto the suspect list for Cummins’s murder.”
“The motive? I mean, he was seeing Chase. They were planning to get married. She was loaded. She was his ticket out. So why would he kill the judge?”
“It doesn’t have to be about money. Cummins rejected him. With a guy like Langley, I doubt he took it well. So with what he thought was an ironclad alibi, he probably figured he could kill Cummins and he’d just argue he couldn’t be in two places at the same time and Chase would back him up. And even if she didn’t, once they were married, her lips would be legally sealed.”
“So now you thinkhe’sgood for the murder?”
Decker said, “Well, we know he is capable of violence.”
“Yeah, and he’s also a jerk.”
Chapter82
A?S THEY WERE HEADING OUTWhite got a call. It was the officer from Miami’s Cold Case Squad.
“Didn’t expect to ever hear back from you in my lifetime,” said White.
“Yeah, I surprised myself. But even though you didn’t have a name, you had a specific date. I ran it through our missing persons database for the day after, and got one hit that matched your physical description. Her name is Wanda Monroe, African American, age twenty-three. She was reported missing by her roommate. According to her rap sheet, Monroe was a known prostitute who worked the strip back then, including the Fontainebleau.”
“Can you send me a photo?”
“Soon as I hang up.”
“I assume she was never found?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, thanks a lot.”
A minute later the photo dropped into her inbox. They looked at the young woman with long dark hair, a fetching smile, and lovely features.
“What a damn waste,” said White.
“Yeah, it is. Send that photo to Deidre Fellows and see if she recognizes it as the woman in her father’s hotel room.”
“It was over forty years ago, Decker.”
“Sometimes a memory like that gets seared into your head.”
“Is that how all your memories are?” she said curiously.
“For better or worse, yeah.”
She sent the email off. “Now what?”
“I was thinking there was one thing we didn’t check.”
“What’s that?”
“Where did the killers get all that old Slovakian money to stuff down Draymont’s and Lancer’s throats?”
White shot him a glance. “I just assumed—”