Free All Sales Fatal by Laura Disilverio Page A

Unless…” She trained a suddenly suspicious gaze on Aggie. “Maybe you’d better come in,” she said to the policeman, her eyes never leaving Aggie.
    “Are you implying—” Aggie began.
    I took that as my cue to leave, sidling past Woskowicz’s former wives and the patrol officer as he stepped reluctantly into the mini foyer. I didn’t blame him for looking wary.“Let me know if either of you hear anything from Woskowicz,” I said. “You know where to reach me.”
    Midway through the next morning I stood in front of the camera screens in the security office, watching as the views changed. The system was timed to show ten seconds of footage from each operational camera before automatically jumping to the next view. With each screen divided to show views from four cameras at a time, it made for a busy display. I watched as a gaggle of little girls—a birthday party, I’d bet—streamed out of the Make-a-Manatee store, each clutching a new stuffie. Behind them, a woman emerged from Nailed It, flapping her hands to make her manicure dry faster.
    “What are you looking at?” Joel asked, peering over my shoulder.
    “Let’s look at Wednesday’s footage and see if we can at least figure out when Captain W left the mall,” I said. He’d been missing more than forty-eight hours now, and I was actually feeling a bit concerned. It took Joel a few minutes to find the files and load them on his computer screen; when he had them up, I sat down to watch them, Joel hovering behind me.
    Apparently, Woskowicz had spent most of the day holed up in his office, because he didn’t show up anywhere until early afternoon when the cameras caught him stalking through the halls to disappear into the cameraless wing. That was probably when he found me canvassing the merchants with Celio Arriaga’s photo. He reappeared moments later, talking on his cell phone. Setting up a date with one of his ex-wives, I thought wryly. He stopped to buy a coffee at Lola’s and chatted with Jay Callahan. Then he returned to the office and didn’t appear again until quitting time.
    Strangely enough, he turned down the same corridor again. Hm.
    “What’s he doing?” Joel asked from behind me.
    “He was probably parked out there,” I said.
    “Or maybe he had a lead on the Arriaga murder,” Joel offered. “He was following up on it and… and…” He stumbled to a halt, unable to flesh out his theory.
    “And what? The murderer, probably a gangbanger, kidnapped him? And how would he have stumbled over a clue when he spent virtually the whole day in his office?”
    Joel exhaled on a noisy sigh. “Okay. Look!” His finger stabbed at the screen, and I watched as Captain W appeared in the main corridor, easily recognizable in his uniform despite the grainy black-and-white images, and strode toward the security office. He seemed to be carrying a shopping bag, but I couldn’t make out a logo or even estimate the size since his body hid it from the camera. We lost him when he left the field of view of operational cameras, but caught a glimpse of him near the security office hall. Eight minutes later, a camera showed him turning into the Dillard’s wing and heading straight for the anchor store. Switching to a parking lot cam, we watched a black Chevy Tahoe that might have been Woskowicz’s drive toward the exit. Halting the images, I sat back, thinking. I finally had to admit I had nothing. Captain W spent the day in his office and then left. He could’ve been headed to the gym, to the grocery store, anywhere. I pushed back from the desk, frustrated.
    “Were you here when Woskowicz came back on Wednesday afternoon?” I asked Joel.
    Doubt and apology creased his face. “Probably. But I was on the phone a lot. I don’t remember noticing him. Oh. You know what? That was the day I left early to help my brother move into his new apartment, so I wasn’t here.” He looked slightly happier. “Harold was doing dispatch. Maybe the boss said