“You again?”
“Me again. I heard about Warren Keating.”
“Are you still in Key West?”
“Yes. News travels fast in this modern age.”
“I want to know how you heard about it. The media don’t know yet.”
“Keating’s lawyer called a lawyer I know, who called the lawyer I’m down here with. I am not a suspect.”
“You are until I say you aren’t.”
“All I know is that he was shot in the head. Was it a suicide?”
“If it was, he managed to hide the gun after he was dead. Oh, and he removed a pane from the kitchen window so he could shoot himself through it without scattering glass everywhere and making a lot of noise. A very neat fellow, Mr. Keating. Quick on his feet, too.”
“So the shooter removed the window and popped him from outside?”
“From the azalea bed behind the house. We found some impressions, but nothing so good as to give us a usable footprint. He cleaned up his brass, too, though it was only one shell. Clean shot to the left temple.”
“Anybody hear a gunshot?”
“No, and it was dinnertime, so somebody in the neighborhood should have noticed. My guess is a silencer was used.”
18 8
L o i t e r i n g w i t h I n t e n t
“Any other evidence?”
“Some tire tracks at a lot next door that was otherwise pretty clean, since a bulldozer had scraped it for a building site. Pirelli 210 snow tires that can be driven year round—expensive. The nearest Mercedes dealer is the only place anywhere around here who stocks them.”
“Dan, this is a little off the wall, but we had a shooter like that in Key West who took a shot at somebody who was pretending to be Warren Keating’s son. Didn’t kill him, though; that’s another story. The shooter left town in a bright red Cessna 182, headed north. You might check the local airports for an airplane like that.” Dino gave him the tail number.
“Okay, I’ll get it on the radio.”
Dino gave him his cell number. “I’d appreciate hearing about anything else you come up with,” he said. “Did you ever know Tommy Sculley, from the NYPD?”
“Yeah, I talked to him a couple of times.”
“He’s the lead detective on the investigation down here, so you might coordinate with him.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Oh, by the way, did you find a slug?”
“We did, embedded in the drywall behind where Keating was sitting. It’s in Hartford for ballistics tests.”
“I’m sure Tommy would appreciate it if you faxed him the report for comparison.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks, Dan.” Dino hung up.
“It’s going to be from the same rifle,” Stone said. “The one in Vernon’s duffel.”
“You know what this sounds like?” Dino asked.