She shrugged. “He might have. I didn’t know all his friends. Lizzie...or Elizabeth. Not an unusual name. I know several.”
“Thank you,” Aidan said. “I hope you get some sleep.”
She still looked confused by the strip club question. She hadn’t moved when they reached the door. “Come and lock this,” Aidan told her gently.
She rose like a sleepwalker. When they were out in the hallway, Aidan heard the bolt slide home.
“Muscles, Mischief and Magic next?” Van Camp asked.
“No, let’s do Richard’s room,” Aidan said.
Van Camp opened the door to the suite.
It was larger than Branch’s with a huge living area, a conference table that would seat twelve, a good-size kitchenette and a bedroom. Richard had been almost OCD neat; the outer rooms could be described as Spartan. Aidan headed into the bedroom. “See what you find out here,” Aidan told Van Camp and Voorhaven.
Richard’s clothing had been neatly hung and his shoes were lined up in the closet. His computer was gone. Aidan knew it was at the police lab so they could search for anything that might give them a clue.
There was a notepad by the phone. It was blank.
But Aidan picked it up and held it to the light. He could see where a pen had pressed into the paper.
He didn’t have a pencil to run over the slight indentations on the page. But he studied it for a minute, trying to make out the words.
They said Lizzie grave.
Aidan had the strange feeling that Richard had idly written the same words over and over again.
Because they were always at the back of his mind?
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