Chapter 5

After they finished breakfast, and Charlie had reassured his father for the fourth and fifth times that he was fine, Don and Charlie walked to their cars.

"Why don't you ride with me?" Don asked.

"I need to stop at my office first." Charlie pressed the button on his key fob to unlock his car. He noticed Don's hesitation. "I'll be fine. Besides," he added, grinning, "there is no way I am going to wait around for you to give me a ride home."

Don rolled his eyes. "Okay. Just be careful, okay? Keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Don't walk by yourself..."

"And don't make eye contact with strangers." Charlie chuckled. "If it makes you feel better, I'll call you while I'm walking to and from my office. This was a fluke. A one-time thing. Dad has accepted the fact that I will be fine."

"Yeah, because he believes I'm going to be with you. He's watching through the curtains right now, and if you take one more step toward your car, he's going to come flying through that front door."

Charlie looked toward the window, scowling. "He's not there. I'm getting into my car, driving to campus and going into my office. If you want to follow me, you're welcome to." He grabbed the door handle and glanced at the house. "Come on. Move that behemoth so I can get out of here," he called as he got into the car.

Don got into his SUV, and grinned as he saw the curtains move. He waved at Alan as he backed out of the driveway. "Chuck," he murmured, "you are going to be dead meat when you get home."

"Sorry I'm late," Don said as he entered the bullpen.

Liz looked past Don and then smiled at him. "What? You couldn't wake up your brother?"

"He's on his way. Is Davis here?"

"Yeah. David's talking to him now."

"Thanks," Don started toward the interrogation room, then stopped. "Hey, Liz, listen. Charlie should be here in a few minutes. He looks like he walked into a wall. Or a fist. One of his students attacked him when he left his office last night."

"Is he okay?"

"He says he's fine. In fact, he insisted on stopping by his office on the way over here."

"Getting back on the horse, so to speak."

"Yeah. Let's hope he doesn't fall off again. I'm gonna go meet Mr. Davis."

"Don, I don't know if you'll get anything worthwhile from him. David's trying to calm him down. We had to tell him his wife was dead. We brought him by the morgue so he could identify her. He's pretty much a basket case right now."

Don nodded. "That's understandable." He opened the door and entered the interrogation room. David sat beside a small, round man. "Mr. Davis?"

The man looked up. His face was red and tear-stained. He stood and extended his hand. "I'm Ed Davis."

"I'm Special Agent Eppes. I'm lead on this case."

"Which case?" Ed asked. "The theft or my wife's murder?"

"We believe they're the same case, Mr. Davis."

"Call me Ed. I already told your agents that there's no way Ellen was involved in stealing that painting." Before Don could object, Ed held up his hand. "I know she was seen removing the painting. I know she tasered some guy. But Ellen was a sweet, loving person. She taught little kids. She never even broke the speed limit, for God's sake." Ed glanced down at his hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Mr. Davis. We are sorry for your loss..."

"Is that what they teach you to say when you're interrogating grieving loved ones? 'I'm sorry for your loss?' That sounds as full of thought and emotion as, 'Have a nice day.'"

Don sat and put his hand gently on Ed's shoulder. "Listen, I really am sorry. I can't pretend to know what you're going through right now. I have lost people in my life. A close friend – a woman I used to date – was murdered a little over a year ago. It's not quite the same as your situation, but..."

Ed sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry I unloaded on you. I ... I can't imagine what it must be like, dealing with this crap every day. What can I do to help you catch whoever did this to her?"

"Thank you. Would you like some coffee? It's not great, but it's drinkable, especially early in the day."

"No, thanks."

"When did you last see your wife?" Don asked gently.

"Yesterday morning, when she left for work. I'm an insurance agent, and have an office in our home."

"Looking back, was there anything unusual yesterday morning?"

Ed shook his head. "I've been thinking about it since your agents told me about the painting. I can't think of anything out of the ordinary." He blinked back tears. "I'm glad we didn't argue, you know? The last time I saw her, we had breakfast together. We laughed. We made plans to go out to dinner. I ... I kissed her goodbye. I always hear about people who wish their last moment with a loved one was ... was like the moment I had with Ellen."

"Recently, say in the last month or so, have you noticed any change in her routine?"

Ed sharted to shake his head, then stopped. "She got stuck helping out with some after school group on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so she stayed late those days. It was a little odd because it started in the middle of the semester."

"What kind of group?"

"She said it was a career planning group. Kind of like Junior Achievement. I guess the adviser had trouble keeping the kids under control. She said he's a little flaky; very enthusiastic about his subject matter, but not good at maintaining discipline."

"Do you remember his name?"

"Fred something. Agincourt maybe? The school will know. I assume you've contacted the school."

"Not yet, but we will. We'll get the information about this club from them."

"You really think this is important?"

Don shrugged. "At this point in a case, any little thing could turn out to be important."

"So you're just grasping at straws now?"

David glanced at Don and said, "I know it seems that way, Mr. Davis. We've got teams retrieving and examining the physical evidence too."

Ed rubbed his face again and gave Don a pleading look. "I'm sorry I'm not being much help. But my mind is just a mess right now. Could we continue this another time? I've got to call our family and let them know what happened. I need to make funeral arrangements... God, I've never done this before. I don't even know where to start."

"Do you attend a church or synagogue?" Don asked.

Ed nodded. "Yeah, we're members of a Baptist church around the corner from our house."

"Why don't you start by calling your pastor?" David said softly. "He'll know what to do."

"I'll do that. Do you mind if I leave now?"

Don handed Davis a business card. "I know it's another cliché, but call me if you think of anything, okay? Do you need a ride home?"

"No. I'll take a cab."

"Get a receipt, okay?" Don said, "I'll see that you get reimbursed." He stood as Ed stood. "You can call for a cab from my desk, and then I'll walk you down to the lobby."

"Thank you, Agent Eppes."

Don escorted Ed Davis back to the lobby. As they were parting, Charlie came in, carrying his laptop case. "Hey, Don. Oh, sorry," he said noticing Ed. "I'm interrupting."

"Not at all. We're just finishing up. Ed Davis, this is my brother, Professor Charlie Eppes. Charlie, Ed is Ellen Davis' husband."

Charlie's face clouded in sympathy. "Mr. Davis, I was so sorry to hear about your wife."

Ed shook Charlie's hand and blinked back tears. "Thank you." He turned to Don. "Let me know if you find out anything. Please?"

"I will. Thank you for coming in."

Don and Charlie watched Ed leave the building, then Don rubbed his face. "That was awkward. Liz and David were the ones who broke the news to him about his wife – when they stopped to pick him up for questioning."

"But if they picked him up, how's he getting home?"

"Can't get anything past you, Chuck. I offered him a ride, but he said he'd rather take a cab. We're going to reimburse him."

As they walked toward the elevator, Charlie said, "Well, did you get anything worthwhile from him?"

"Not really. He's pretty shaken up. I'll give him some time and we'll question him again if we need him. So, did you have any brilliant ideas since I saw you last?"

Charlie grinned, "Well, I did have some inspiration for my cognitive emergence work, but I'm really going to need more data on this case before I can contribute anything."

"I'm beginning to wonder if Ellen Davis was forced to do this."

"Like that woman who tried to steal the diamonds a couple of years ago?"

"Yeah. Her husband said she's been staying after school Tuesdays and Thursdays. We're going to check on that. But I wonder if you could try to figure out how on earth a sweet elementary school teacher ends up stealing a Van Gogh."

"Too bad Megan isn't here. You need a profiler."

"Yeah, I know. We're just going to have to make do with a mathematician this time around."

As they entered the elevator, Don said, "Is everything okay at school?"

"Yeah. I got what I needed and didn't run into anybody."

"Hey, you said yesterday that you were going to try to compare this crime to other crimes with similar elements. Any luck with that yet?"

Charlie leaned against the wall, eyes closed, and shook his head slowly. "Not really. I need more data."

"How did I know you were going to say that?" Don said with a chuckle. "You okay, Buddy?"

Charlie shrugged. "Just a little tired."

Don squeezed Charlie's shoulder. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? I'm sorry I dragged you down here."

Charlie pushed away from the wall. "I'm fine, really. I want to help you catch these people."

"And when we finish this, we'll find the kid who attacked you. I need to have a word with him."

"That 'word' wouldn't involve rubber hoses and brass knuckles, would it?"

"I like that idea, Buddy. Nothing but the best for someone who picks on my kid brother."

Charlie snorted as the elevator door opened. "I'm not a kid."

Don ruffled Charlie's hair. "You always will be to me."

"Stop it!" Charlie slapped Don's hand away, but he was laughing. "I'll tell Dad."

Liz looked up as they arrived. She winced as she caught sight of Charlie's face. "Oh, Charlie! Please tell me that doesn't feel as bad as it looks."

"It really doesn't feel that bad," he said said with a smile. "Thanks for asking. Have you got any more information for me?"

"What? You haven't solved the case yet? I'm disappointed."

Charlie dropped down onto the corner of her desk. "Well, Liz, if you'd gotten me those files I asked for..."

"Files?"

"Right. All of the cases with unusual distractions, or kids in wheelchairs. Don't tell me there hasn't been a single case like that in Los Angeles."

"Oh, those files. Follow me." She led him to the conference room, and waved at the stacks of folders on the table. "I found a couple for you."

"Wonderful!" Charlie said. He caught Liz's skeptical expression. "I'm not kidding, Liz. The more the better."

"Really? But it's like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Really. I know it's counterintuitive. But it's not really like looking for a needle in a haystack. We're looking for things these cases have in common with our case. And the more data we have, the more likely we are to find something that links one of these cases with ours."

"But how are you going to be able to sort through all this?"

"I'll just create an algorithm and input everything," he waved toward the files.

Liz shook her head. "Well, Charlie, I have no clue how you do it, but more power to you." She started to leave the room, but stopped. "You know I really respect what you do, don't you? I don't understand it, but I do respect it."

"I know. I'm sorry I was grumpy yesterday. It was a bad day, and your comments just pushed me over the edge."

"Listen, Charlie, I tend to mouth off when I feel insecure. And when I'm confronted by your amazing brain, I feel stupid, and that makes me insecure, and I say something idiotic."

"So when you make fun of me, I should take it as a compliment?" Charlie said with raised eyebrows.

"It sounds kind of dumb when you put it that way."

"Don't worry. I understand, and I promise to be less sensitive."

"Thanks. And I'll try to hold my tongue. Truce?"

Charlie stepped to the table and picked up a file. "Truce."

Don pushed open the conference room door. "We've got another theft. At the Getty this time. Colby and David are getting the details now. Liz, we need to go."

"I'd like to come along," Charlie said.

Don hesitated, then said, "Okay. Just..."

"I know. Stay out of the way."

As they walked back to the bullpen, Charlie's phone rang. He flipped it open. "Charles Eppes."

"Professor Eppes!" Millie's voice made Charlie wince. "Why didn't you tell me you were attacked by Greg Spencer?"

"Millie," Charlie said soothingly. "I was going to wait until a reasonable hour to call you."

"Well, the head of campus security was not as considerate as you are. Now that I'm awake, tell me what happened."

"Not much to tell. I left my office and was walking toward my car when Greg stopped me. He told me he needed me to stop consulting. I basically told him that wasn't going to happen. It was strange, but he looked afraid. He told me again he really needed me to stop consulting and then he hit me."

"Security tells me you refused to go to the hospital."

"I'm fine, Millie. Call Dad and ask him if you don't believe me."

"I will, smart guy. Is there any way you can put a hold on consulting until the police find Greg? He's acting irrationally, Charlie, and I really don't want you to get hurt. Again."

"I can't. We're in the middle of this case, and we just got a call that there's been another theft. And to make matters worse, the woman who stole the first painting was found murdered. After this case, if they haven't found Greg, I'll consider taking a break."

"You'll do more than consider. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist on it, my friend."

Don tapped on Charlie's shoulder. "We've got to go."

"Listen, Millie, I really have to get going. We'll discuss this later." He flipped the phone shut and closed his eyes. "I can't believe I just told my boss to verify my excuse with my daddy."

David laughed. "I can't believe you told your boss to get lost." He glanced at Don. "I'll have to try that some time."

Charlie grinned, "I wouldn't if I were you. My boss doesn't carry a gun."

"So," Don said, "tell us about the heist."

"Similar M.O.. This time it was a young man pushing a girl in a wheelchair. No skydivers this time. The distraction this time was three individuals having medical emergencies in three separate rooms at the exact same time."

Don grinned at Charlie. "And the odds of that happening are..."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Miniscule. Continue, David."

David consulted his notebook. "We had a young boy trip and fall, hitting his head on a bench. From all accounts, he was screaming loudly enough to wake the dead. There was a young pregnant woman whose water broke. She and the man with her started shrieking and panicking. Third was an elderly man with a heart attack."

Don scowled. "How'd they pull that off?"

"According to LAPD, the pregnant woman and the old guy were faking. They're still at the museum, under arrest. The little boy was taken to Huntington."

"Under arrest, I hope," Liz said.

"Me too," Don said. "Let's go. Colby, why don't you take Liz and see if you two can talk to the kid? We'll probably still be at the museum when you finish, so plan on joining us there."

Colby grinned. "We certainly are getting our culture on this case. You think we should bring the Coles into this case. You can never have too many experts."

Don chuckled. "You wouldn't say that if you had to explain the expenses to the bean counters."

Charlie said, "That's why Don uses me. He knows I don't bill for all the hours I work."

"Yeah," Don said, "if you did, we'd never be able to afford you."