on his computer?”
“After she killed him, she would not have left without his hard drive. However, if she simply stole it, then she would have left behind a massive clue for the police.”
“She replaced it?”
“That’s my guess. Replaced it with a hard drive that contains nothing useful but is heavily encrypted. The police can’t scratch its surface.”
“So she knew the specs of his desktop.”
“Again, we’re guessing at this point, but my answer would be yes. She and her pal had probably been inside Nelson’s condo. Did he have home security?”
“Yes, there was an alarm system. There was a camera at the front door and another looking at the rear patio. Both were destroyed in the storm. The police think they may have been disabled beforehand.”
“Where is his computer?” she asked.
“Police. They’re supposed to hand it over, along with other personal effects, next week. Polly McCann will meet with them and take possession. I’ve been pushed out of the investigation, which is fine with me.”
“What day next week?”
“Wednesday.”
“I’d like to be there.”
“Come on down. I’ll give you the grand tour.”
“We really need to look at the hard drive. If it’s a dummy left behind by the killer, that’s a clue, though I’m not sure what we can do with it. If it’s the real hard drive, then it could be a treasure trove of information.”
“Assuming it can be accessed.”
“Yes, but didn’t you say in your notes that his sister has the passcode for the thumb drive?”
“She does.”
Lindsey flashed a knowing smile and said, “That’s all we need. Our guys can get in with that.”
“I’m drowning here. This is way over my head.”
“Mine too. We’ll let the experts worry about it.”
“So you’ll need the thumb drive?”
“Of course. I want to read the novel, and we’ll use it to try to penetrate Nelson’s hard drive.”
“I’ll bet you don’t find much. He was secretive and didn’t trust the Internet, hated the cloud, refused to shop online, said nothing important in emails, ignored all social media, paid cash for most of his purchases. I doubt if Nelson left too many footprints behind.”
“And the condo is on the market?”
“Oh, yes. It’s been scrubbed, painted, emptied, as good as new. The police released it three weeks ago. The market is very soft, though.”
“And you can arrange a meeting with Polly McCann?”
“I’d be delighted. I have nothing else to do. No one’s buying books on the island and I’m bored to death.”
4.
The middle-aged man had the jaded and shaggy look of a veteran reporter. He stopped by the bookstore, found Bruce bored at his desk, and helped himself to a chair. He said he was a freelancer for Newsweek and tossed over a card that was supposed to verify this. Bruce examined the card. Donald Oester. Washington address.
Oester was sniffing around trying to put together a story about the death of bestselling author Nelson Kerr. He had done the legwork that one would expect. He had examined the file in probate court but found little. The inventory of assets and liabilities wasn’t due for several months. He had pestered Carl Logan, Santa Rosa’s police chief, but got nowhere. He had made contact with Captain Wes Butler of the state police, but was told that there was nothing to discuss because it was an ongoing investigation.
“Aren’t all homicide investigations ongoing until they find the killer?” Oester asked with a laugh.
Bruce talked, cautiously, about Nelson and his time on the island, and his books, but he was careful not to say anything about the crime scene or anything else. Several days after Nelson died, there were brief stories in a few newspapers about his death during the hurricane. An online publishing magazine mentioned the police involvement but revealed nothing. The Jacksonville daily ran a short