“And what does she seem to be, Alex?”

She hesitated before answering him. “Cold. Emotionless. Deadly serious.” She stopped and thought about it a little more. “And yet … she also seemed angry, and hurt, and — I don’t know.”

Alex didn’t say anything else, and David didn’t ask anymore questions. It was a quiet ride the rest of the way into Baltimore.

*******************************************************

The store they were looking for was called Whitley’s Fine Clothes For Men. It was located on a busy corner in downtown Baltimore, right next to an office supply store. The mannequins in the window at Whitley’s wore handsome dress shirts with dark jackets, and blank expressions.

Before exiting the car, Alex agreed to let David lead the questioning. She followed him into the store, knowing she was too tired to effectively lead any interrogation. If the answers were a little slow in coming, she would probably lose her temper, and they’d never get the answers they wanted. So, she stayed behind David, hanging back as he approached the salesman that had them in his sights.

“Good morning. What can I do for you today?”

It was way too early for such cheer, and Alex wanted to tell the younger man to shove his head up his own tailpipe. Instead she held her tongue, and listened as David asked to speak to the manager.

The manager, Mr. Clymes, was even shorter than Alex, and thin. He greeted them politely, and offered his services.

“Mr. Clymes,” David said as he showed his badge, “could we talk in your office? It’s important.”

“Oh, well,” the small man smiled nervously, and glanced at Alex, who was also holding up her badge. “I suppose that would be best. This way.”

He led them behind a curtain, and through what was obviously a store room, stopping at his office door. “I’m afraid I only have two chairs in the office, Agent — Wu, was it?”

“Yes, and two chairs will be fine.” David motioned at the door, and Mr. Clymes opened it. It was small, but neat, and the smaller man took the chair in front of his computer, while David sat in the smaller seat next to the desk. Alex stood in the doorway, watching the scene in the office, and keeping a covert eye on the other employees present.

“Now, what can I help you with?”

“Mr. Clymes, I believe you carry a line of clothes by a company called Kittredge.”

“Kittredge. Hm.” Clymes leaned back in his executive chair and tapped his chin with his left index finger. “I don’t know the name offhand, Agent Wu. Is that the manufacturer, or the line of clothes?”

“Well, the manufacturer is Kittredge, and they have a signature line out under that name. However, they also use the brand name Klaser. Does that ring a bell?”

“Klaser. You know, I think that’s familiar, but …” he leaned forward suddenly, turning on his computer monitor, and waiting for it to show him the screen clearly. “Yes, there it is, Klaser. And you’re right the manufacturer is Kittredge.” Clymes looked at the FBI agent in his office. “What do you need to know, Agent Wu?”

“Well, for one thing, I’d like a list of anyone who purchased a Kittredge product in the last six months.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

“Mr. Clymes, this is a federal investigation. I’d rather not bother the Justice Department for a warrant this morning, but I will.”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I can’t.”

Alex just couldn’t take it. “Would you explain that please, Mr. Clymes?” She had meant to keep her voice calm, but realized she failed when David gave her a glare.

“It’s simple, Agent — uh, Agent —”

“Reis,” David supplied.

“Agent Reis. We have a specific and unique agreement with Kittredge, for their Klaser clothes line. They send us certain items, that have been prepaid. We charge them a small fee for using us as an outlet, and the item is picked up by someone after they show the proper receipt. There are never any names attached.”

Alex and David looked at each other.

“Do you have this kind of arrangement with many of your suppliers, Mr. Clymes?” Alex almost winced at the irritation obvious in her voice.

“No, Agent Reis, we don’t. Kittredge is unique, and it’s something I don’t exactly approve of. But I inherited the account from the previous manager, and since it’s not a problem for us, I haven’t found a reason to stop or change the arrangement.”

“So, there’s no record of items you’ve received from Kittredge, or who picked each item up?”

“Well, there’s the log book that records each item delivered to the shop, and we also record the day it left. But, no, we’ve never kept the names of the buyers. I’m sure Kittredge would have that information, don’t you think?”

David nodded. “Of course. It looks like we’ll have to go right to the source. Just to make sure, Kittredge Manufacturing is in Alabama, right?”

“Yes, just outside Birmingham. I have the address if you need it.”

“No, I think we have it back at the office. Could you possibly give us a printout of the items from Kittredge?”

“That shouldn’t be hard to do, just a moment.”

Clymes began clicking away at the computer, and David watched him, while Alex gazed around the storage room. There was something she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t think what. Trying to jog her memory, she tried to review the conversation in her mind.

“How long have you worked here, Mr. Clymes?” she finally asked.

Clymes didn’t look up from his computer as he answered, “Three years.”

“Have you been the manager that whole time?”

“Oh, no, I started out a salesman, just like everyone else. I’ve only been the manager for about six months.”

“Really. What happened to the old manager?”

The printer was busy kicking out papers, and Clymes leaned over to stop them from falling to the floor. “Damn, I forgot that paper tray is broken. Here you are, Agent Wu.” He handed the papers to David. “Now, what was that again, Agent Reis?”

“I asked, what happened to the old manager?”

“He quit. Left the owner in a real bind, too. He just called in one day, and told the owner he’d be handing in his keys the next day, and could he please have his check ready. Oh, Mr. Whitley was furious.”

David was glancing through the papers, and noted that several overcoats had been sent out in the last six months. He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a picture.

“Mr. Clymes, I just have one other question. I was wondering if you’d ever seen this man in your shop?”

The manager of the store took the picture and held it, looking it over slowly. “Yes. I think that’s him, anyway.”

“You know him?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I remember he came in for a Kittredge coat, oh, back before I was manager. I remember because because I waited on him, and he left me a very large tip. Yes, I’m sure it’s him.”

“Can you tell us anything about him? His name, or an address for him?”

“No. All I can tell you is that he was always a sharp dresser. And he tipped well.” Clymes frowned. “You know, he hasn’t been around at all since Darryl left.”

Alex’s ears perked up at the name, and she felt an eyebrow rise of its own accord. “Excuse me, Darryl?”

“Yes. Darryl was our old manager. He and this gentleman were very good friends. In fact,” he pointed at the picture, “this man used to pick Darryl up all the time. One of the younger men even had the nerve to ask Darryl if that was his boyfriend.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, he was fired. And when he came in to pick up his paycheck, he had a broken arm and a black eye. Said it was from a car accident, but we had a feeling… ” His voice trailed off.

“What was Darryl’s last name, Mr. Clymes?” Alex steeled herself for the answer. She didn’t know if she wanted to hear the answer. If it was just a coincidence she’d be disappointed, but if it wasn’t, she didn’t know what she’d do.