Chapter 16
Week 06

If you live in Washington DC and you are even remotely serious about the game of chess eventually you make your way to Dupont Circle. There virtuosos of the game from all over the world gather in casual competition.

It didn't take long for people to recognize Reid's picture. They showed it to everyone they found there, and slowly were funneled toward a young Asian man with a skateboard under his seat who was just finishing a game. "Eric Lee?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, who wants to know?" He showed him his badge. He almost immediately looked slightly guilty. "I know someone I can call…"

"Spencer Reid?" The young man nodded. "He's missing. That's why we're here." He settled in across from him. "Tell me about him."

"No wonder he hasn't been around. He's probably the best technical player we have out here. If you're not a grandmaster slumming you better be in it for the learning experience."

"Is that why you played against him a lot?"

"Yeah. Losing against him made me a better player."

"Has he been acting weird lately?"

"Define weird, and define lately."

"Say, the past year."

"You mean since Mrs. Robinson died?" He said that with contempt. "Yeah, he stayed away for months. Didn't come back until the spring, and even then he was off his game. Not aggressive enough. Granted, he's been getting better."

"Mrs. Robinson? Maeve Donovan? I take it he told you about her?"

"Yeah he told me. I accidentally interrupted one of those phone calls of his one day. Man, that whole relationship was fucked up."

"Why do you say that?"

"The chick would only let him call her once a week, had to go to a different pay phone every time. He said that she didn't want her crazy stalker coming after him."

"So?"

"So? He's frikken FBI! I had a crazy stalker on my ass I'd have Reid camping out in my living room. And that bullshit about once a week and a pay phone, my ass the FBI doesn't hand out scrambled phones to their agents; else every reporter in the country would be listening in on every case. No, she was just manipulating his ass or something, trying to make him act like he was some horny teen-ager. Must have been some kind of turn-on for her."

"Did he agree with you?"

"I pointed that out to him after, like a lot after, when he'd had time to get over it some. You know. I told him he needed a woman who saw him as a man, not like all misogynist and shit but one that at least treated him like a grown-up and trusted him to do his job. That Maeve didn't trust him worth crap."

"What did he say?"

"He saw it, but he said he didn't know where he would find one. He said it was kind of a fluke thing, her writing to him just when he wanted to talk to someone with her background about those headaches of his."

"Headaches?"

"Yeah, back when that chick in his unit died, only she didn't or some such shit, right around then. He had to go in and get tested for, like, brain cancer or something. Didn't tell me until it was over, man that was fucked up. I told him I would have helped him out like when I helped him move but he said he didn't want to bother anyone."

"When did he move?"

"Um, a couple of years ago. Right around the time that chick from his unit turned zombie."

"Zombie?"

"Eric grinned at him. "Yeah man, came back from the dead."

"Did anyone from his unit come to help?"

Eric shook his head. "Nah, just him and me and he hired some guys from Georgetown."

"Did he say why he moved?'

"He said some creepy guys had been hanging around, he was living under someone house, he didn't want to bring them trouble."

"Have you seen any strangers around here?"

"Dude, there's always strangers around here."

Mike pulled out the two sketches they had. "This one's supposed to be tall and skinny, this one real fat in the belly."

Eric considered. "I've seen this one." He pointed to the first. "He came around back in the fall a lot. Liked to watch the games. Watched Spencer a lot, even played with him a few times. You know what, hang on." Eric pulled his phone out and started paging through pictures. "Here's the guy." He pointed to one. In the background, behind what must have been Eric's girlfriend du jour was a tall, rangy man in a plaid flannel shirt and cap watching Spencer play another man. Not the best picture, but it fit the description.

"Can we have a copy?"

"Sure." Eric sent it. "You get Reid back; tell him he owes me a game, and a pizza."

"Will do."

They went to Reid's previous address to check. It was one of those row houses with a 'garden' apartment in the basement. The owners confirmed Eric's story. "Did you see the men who were hanging around?" Mike asked.

"Yes, a couple of times." The owner replied. "I'm just sorry Dr. Reid felt like he had to move, he was a fantastic tenant."

"Was this one of them?" Mike showed her the picture from Eric.

She shook her head. "No."

"Hang on." Rossi found some pictures and called them up on his tablet. "How about any of about these?"

"Yes, that one and….um…that one."

Rossi nodded. "Thankfully those are no longer a problem. Unusual question, did you take any pictures before he moved out, maybe for the security deposit?"

"Yes, we did. I can send them to you."

"Please do. And thank you very much for your help."

As they left Mike gave Rossi a questioning look. "Members of Doyle's gang, Valhalla," Rossi told him. "It confirms Eric's story, Reid moved while they were still looking for Doyle's son."

"Look at these pictures." Kelly said when they were on the sidewalk. The pictures of Reid's former home showed the same furniture, but now the mantle, side table, hallway and fridge were crowded with framed family photos. "He shut down after the Doyle case. We need to look at that file."