Crawford’s expression turned dubious. “Real sweet. You have subpoenas out, I take it?”

“I do for Kerry’s info,” I said, “but I’ll be shocked if I get the return back in less than a week.” I couldn’t help but scowl, even though I respected the privacy issues that delayed the release of information. “However, Roger went down to the bank and gave them permission to give me full access to his accounts. I’m going down to the bank in the morning to pick up copies. I’ll also send out subpoenas for Taylor’s financials.” Ugh. I was going to be drowning in boring paperwork soon.

“Sounds like you have it covered. And with the bad checks there’s a link between Taylor and Kerry,” he said.

“Right, but I still have to determine if that link had anything to do with their deaths. I’d like to get a search warrant for Mr. Taylor’s house.”

“Do it,” he agreed. He looked to Ryan. “Would you mind staying here with me while Kara takes care of that?”

“Not at all,” Ryan replied. “Do you mind if Agent Garner accompanies Kara on the search warrant?”

“Not at all,” Crawford replied.

I turned to leave, then stopped. Crap. I pivoted back and caught Crawford’s eye, then gave him a narrow-eyed shake of my head.

He responded with a perplexed look. I scowled and gave my head a slight jerk in Ryan’s direction, then shook my head again.

Crawford merely looked even more baffled. I rolled my eyes, then marched up to Crawford and took him by the arm to pull him a short distance away from Ryan. “Do not say anything about what happened out at the City Towers building to Ryan,” I said in a low voice. “Please,” I added belatedly.

Crawford made a sour noise. “Go do your damn search warrant.”

I gave him a pleading look. “Sarge ...”

He scowled at me. “I won’t say anything. Now would you please get the hell out of here?”

I smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Sarge!” I jerked my head at a bemused Zack. “C’mon, Surfer Boy,” I said. “We’re being kicked out.”

Ryan turned to Crawford as I walked past. “How long has she been insane?”

“As long as I’ve known her, Agent Kristoff,” Crawford replied with a dramatic sigh.

“I heard that!” I yelled.

The laughter of the two men followed me out.

This was the kind of search warrant that I preferred. Nobody home, no forced entry, and plenty of time to do what we needed to do.

Adam lived on the edge of town, in a bland little subdivision with only about fifty houses in it, all built from what looked to be a wide variety of four different house plans. There were no trees anywhere in the neighborhood, except for some scrawny twigs that had been stuck in the front yard of each house—one per residence. I assumed they were meant to someday grow into trees, but the tallest one I saw was only four feet high. It would be a long time before this subdivision saw anything resembling shade.

Adam’s house was a single-story ranch, with brick on the front and vinyl siding on the back and sides. There were no cars in the cracked driveway, and the only concession to landscaping was a raggedly mown lawn and the aforementioned twig.

We’d snagged Adam’s keys before heading out to get the search warrant, which meant that we didn’t have to break any windows to get in. I drew my gun, then unlocked the door and pushed it open a couple of feet.

“Beaulac Police Department,” I called into the silent house. “We’re making entry on a search warrant.” I was almost positive that Adam lived alone, however that didn’t necessarily mean that the house was unoccupied.

The only response was the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

I flicked on the lights, then Zack and I went through the house with guns drawn to be absolutely sure there was nothing lurking. The interior looked about as exciting as the outside of the house. The living room held a dull beige sectional sofa and a flat screen television. The kitchen had dishes in the sink—remnants from breakfast it looked like—but the rest was generally tidy and neat. The bedroom had an overflowing laundry hamper and an unmade bed, but the carpet looked as if it had been vacuumed within the last day or so. There were no surprises waiting for us—no bodies splayed out on the kitchen floor or monsters leaping out of corners. We returned to the foyer and holstered our guns.

“You take the bedroom, I’ll take the office?” I suggested.

Zack nodded. “Deal.”

Compared to the rest of the house, the office was practically opulent. It looked like a record executive’s office ought to look, with pictures of celebrities and framed CD covers on the walls. One of the largest pictures was of Adam and the members of Ether Madhouse standing on the Mississippi River levee with the muddy water behind them. All were grinning, with their arms linked around each other, and I had the feeling it had been taken shortly after they’d landed the deal with Levee 9 Records.

A lovely and large dark oak desk dominated the room, pristine except for one neat stack of papers atop it. There were two leather chairs in front of the desk and a luxuriously padded black leather executive chair behind it. I sat in the executive chair and ran my finger along the desk, then peered at the papers. Pursing my lips in thought, I tugged the middle drawer open.

Well, well ... “Yo, Zack,” I called. “Found something interesting.” I pulled the papers out of the drawer and set them on top of the desk.

Zack came into the room. “What’s up?”

I pushed the top paper to him. He picked it up and frowned, then glanced over the other items I’d pulled out.

“Sooo,” he drawled, “according to this, Taylor not only posted the threats on the band’s website, but also paid some guy named Alvin five hundred dollars to dress all in black and grab Lida off the stage.”

“It sure looks that way,” I said. “Wow. That was easy. Case closed!”

Zack sat on the edge of the desk. “Awfully careless of him to leave it where it could be so easily found.”

I let out a snort. “No shit. Especially in an office that he didn’t use very often.”

His gaze raked the room. “Right. His laptop is in his bedroom, as well as paperwork concerning gigs for the band. He probably only used this room if he had to meet with a potential client or some such thing.”

I set my hands on the arms of the chair. “You wanna hear my theory?”

He grinned. “Do I have a choice?”

“Nope. You’re a captive audience,” I said with a laugh. “So here’s the thing: I do think Adam knew that Lida was going to get grabbed off the stage, because after she was pulled out of the river, he said, ‘I never thought it would go this far.’ ”

Zack nodded. “But obviously someone else was involved too. Someone who wanted to make it look like it was all Adam’s idea. And then Adam has an unfortunate tumble down the stairs.”

I leaned back in the chair, frowning. “Well, yeah. Someone else was definitely involved since I doubt Adam sicced the thing on himself and then drove it away from the studio. But I’m still wondering if the fact that Adam wrote some bad checks to Vic Kerry has anything to do with either murder.” I chewed my lip in thought.

Zack skimmed the paper in his hand again. “If not for your ability to sense the golem, we wouldn’t know that there was any possibility of a connection between the two murders.” A frown furrowed his brow. “But why not stage Adam’s death as a suicide?”

“I don’t think the golem is sophisticated enough to do what that would entail. No windows to throw him out of at the studio. Maybe they were hoping it would look like an accident.” Damn, but this chair was comfy. I needed to get something like this for my own office.

“Ah. That makes sense. All right, well let’s say that the attack on Lida went too far. So maybe Adam started to get cold feet, and the golem was sent after him to keep him quiet.”