dejection, he stopped chewing, swallowed, and said, “What?”
“The video doesn’t help us, but I’ll show it to you anyway.” Locke opened the laptop and turned it around so Drex and Talia could see the freeze-framed shot. “This is the guy we were curious about.”
The form Locke pointed out to them was draped in a plastic souvenir-shop rain poncho and looked like a ghostly blob. Only a portion of his face was visible. Drex said, “I don’t even recognize Gif in this shot.”
“Here’s Gif. We had to zoom to find him.”
The individual in question was walking toward Gif.
“His body type is wrong,” Talia said. “He’s too tall and thin. I don’t believe it’s Jasper.”
“It isn’t,” Locke said glumly. “The witness we talked to last night picked him out of this freeze-frame early this morning. He recognized the poncho. Turns out that the poncho man was picked up on several cameras, not just two. One on a nearby parking lot showed him with his wife and three kids climbing into an SUV. Car tag was clear as a bell. Menundez followed up.”
The younger detective picked up from there. “We got a home address from his car registration. A couple of uniforms were dispatched to screen him. He admitted to being in that mob. He’d gotten separated from his family as they disembarked the tour boat. He was anxious to catch up with them. Except for those few minutes when they were separated, he was with his family all evening on an outing planned weeks ago.”
Drex pushed his half-eaten sandwich aside. “So he really was just a man in a hurry.”
“Looks like,” Locke said. “Which leaves us with pretty much nothing.”
“The search of our house yesterday must have yielded Jasper’s fingerprints,” Talia said.
“But we don’t have those of Daniel Knolls or any of his previous personas,” Drex said. “There’s nothing to match.” After a short silence, he asked if Rudkowski had been told about their went-nowhere lead on the poncho man.
Locke nodded with unconcealed distaste.
“His reaction?” Drex asked.
Menundez was at the ready to tell him. “He called you delusional and paranoid, and said that you’d made Jasper Ford a suspect only so you could get a shot at his wife.” The young detective glanced in Talia’s general direction. “Sorry.”
“No apology necessary,” she said. “I couldn’t care less about that horrid man’s opinion.”
Drex didn’t comment except to murmur an epithet directed at Rudkowski.
“There’s something else,” Locke said.
Drex sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Let’s have it.”
“This morning some guys fishing just off shore hauled in a man’s shoe.” Locke looked at Talia. “It matches the description you gave us of what your husband was wearing when you last saw him. Size ten, brown loafer with tassel.” Going back to Drex, he added, “Rescue teams, including the Coast Guard, are inclined to think that’s all they’ll find of him.”
“Sort of shoots down my theory that he’s still alive, doesn’t it?”
“If nothing else turns up by dark tonight, they’re calling off the search.”
“Shouldn’t his wife have been notified of that?” Talia said.
“Attempts have been made. No one has been able to reach you,” Locke reminded her, sliding a look toward Drex. He let that settle, then said, “There’s more.”
“Jesus,” Drex said. “I don’t know how much more good news I can stand.”
Locke gave him a grim smile. “Both Elaine Conner’s and Ms. Shafer’s financial portfolios are—”
“Let me guess,” Drex interrupted. “Intact. No recent activity. No sizeable withdrawals. Every cent accounted for.”
Locke shrugged. “I guess if he’s playing dead, he can’t be cleaning out bank accounts. Either he’s prepared to wait for things to blow over before he cashes in, or he’s sacrificing the money altogether in order to avoid capture.”
“Priceless.” Drex laughed, but without humor. “You’re right, of course, but he also knew that I would look to see if money was missing. That’s why he left it alone.”
Leaning forward again, he addressed the other three earnestly. “Don’t you see? Jasper knew what I would allege, because that’s been his MO. He made certain that I would be proved wrong. More than anything he wants me discredited and humiliated.”
He caught the two detectives exchanging a telling look and groaned, “What else?”
“We saved the best for last.” Locke withdrew a sheet of folded paper from the breast pocket of his sport jacket and laid it, still folded, on the table. “It’s a warrant for your arrest.”
“What?” Talia exclaimed.
“The deputy in Key West ratted you out for calling him this morning. Rudkowski wasted no time. He insisted.