Neither of these incongruities was entirely dissuasive of suicide, and neither alone implied murder. Taken together, however, they raised doubts, and doubts are like termites; ignore them at your own peril.
I was about to ask Tim another question when I heard footsteps. I turned around in time to see Major Bian Tran, accompanied by a tall, lanky black gentleman in a tweed blazer, walk through the doorway into the bedroom. The gentleman looked amazingly like that actor who played Alex Cross in Along Came a Spider, down to the pockmarked face, high cheekbones, salt-and-pepper hair, and thoughtful brown eyes. Weird.
The gentleman was staring at me with a pissed-off expression. Major Tran, also with an eye on me, had an amused squint.
CHAPTER THREE
The gentleman marched straight up to me and asked two direct questions I did not want to hear: "Who the hell are you? And what in the fuck are you doing at my crime scene?"
I withdrew my creds and flashed them in his face. "Special Agent Drummond."
He snapped the creds out of my hand and studied them for a moment. I had the impression he knew I was full of shit.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Detective Sergeant Barry Enders. This is my investigation."
I shifted my attention to Major Tran. She was apparently preoccupied, because she avoided my eyes.
Enders pocketed my creds and said, "Look, Drummond-if that's your real name-you logged into a crime scene using a phony federal ID, you entered the premises, and lied to my investigators. Let's see, that's"-he began drawing down fingers-"impersonating a federal officer… trespassing… interfering with a police investigation, and… give me a minute-I'll think of three or four additional charges."
He reached down to his belt and whipped out a pair of metal cuffs, apparently not needing another minute.