When he’d exited the stockroom, Falco said, “That leaves us with only Lucky Vandiver.”
They had saved him for last. Mostly to make him sweat. McGill had stated that the young man and newest employee of Leo’s was a coke user. He had a couple of public intoxications on his record. One public disturbance. Clearly the man had issues, including a temper.
“Let’s find out what he has to say,” Kerri said.
Falco walked to the door that separated the stockroom from the retail shop. He opened it and stuck his head out. “Yo! Vandiver, you’re up.”
Her partner waited at the door until Vandiver swaggered in, then he closed it with a firm thud.
Vandiver took a seat across the table from Kerri. Falco leaned against the wall a few feet away. Kerri allowed a moment to visually assess the twenty-three-year-old. Shaggy blond hair. Bloodshot blue eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. The Rag & Bone Henley—she’d spotted the logo on the hem—paired with the probably equally expensive jeans looked as if he’d slept in them for a couple of days already. Daddy made him work, but Kerri doubted Lucky had bought his wardrobe on his minimum wage salary.
“Mr. Vandiver,” Kerri began, “thank you for coming in today.”
One shoulder rose, then fell with a careless shrug. “It’s not like I could say no.”
This was mostly true. “Are you certain you don’t want an attorney present?”
Kerri asked this question of everyone they’d interviewed as part of the preliminary prep before moving into the more relevant questions. With this guy, she felt the question was particularly important for setting the tone. She would wager every cent in her bank account that he hadn’t told his father about this command performance. Whenever a person hid something like this, there was a reason—a motive. In a murder case, every motive had to be analyzed.
Even those that might turn out to be irrelevant.
Lucky shook his head. “Don’t need one.”
Which meant he didn’t want to tell his father, because then he’d have to face his interrogation. Kerri had a feeling Lucky—Lucas Lorenzo Vandiver, actually—would rather face a firing squad than his father.
“All right. Why don’t you tell me about Sunday night?”
He stared at Kerri. “Where do you want me to start?”
“When you arrived at work.”
“I came in at six. I bused tables and loaded and unloaded the dishwashers. Around nine I started the cleanup. I left a little after ten. Same time as Tara.”
“Was there anyone else here besides Leo when you left?”
He shook his head. “He was alone in his office. I know because I asked him for an advance on my pay.”
“Why did you need an advance? You just got paid on Friday, right?”
Lucky shifted in his chair and stared at Falco. “The usual reason. I was broke. You never got paid on Friday and was broke by Sunday?”
Falco didn’t bother responding.
“Did anyone else hear this exchange?” Kerri asked, drawing his attention back to her. Tara hadn’t mentioned it.
He shrugged again. “I don’t know. Ask Tara. She’s always nosing around.”
“You needed to score some blow?” Falco asked.
Vandiver’s eyes widened. “What? No, man. I don’t do that shit.”
“That’s not what we heard,” Falco argued. “We heard you’re a regular cokehead. Daddy probably doesn’t know that.”
Vandiver made a sound of disbelief. “Don’t believe everything that bitch Tara tells you,” he warned. “She’s crazy.”
“Why would you think Tara would suggest such a thing or that she’s crazy?” Kerri asked. “Obviously Mr. Kurtz trusted her, since he made her an assistant manager.”
Vandiver snorted. “Did you ask her how she got that position? I’m guessing she was on her knees at the time.”
Falco walked to the table and flattened his hands there, leaning toward Vandiver. “What’re you saying?”
Vandiver turned his face up to Falco’s and laughed. “I’m saying she would do anything to get ahead, including say shit about me. She’s like that. How do you think she got the job and not George?”
“Mr. Caldwell turned down the offer,” Falco said. “He didn’t want the added responsibility.”
“Yeah, he would say that,” Vandiver scoffed. “A guy’s gotta save face.”
Kerri could see how others might think as much if Caldwell hadn’t chosen to share his health issues.
“So, you don’t like Tara,” Falco said as he straightened away from the table. “Is that it? She’s in with the boss and maybe she wouldn’t do you any favors.”
“Like I said, she’s a bitch. If you really knew her, you’d get it.”
“Did Mr. Kurtz give you the advance?” Kerri asked.
Vandiver’s attention shifted back to her. “Sure. He was nice like that. He gave me a hundred bucks.”
“What did you do with the money?” Falco tossed out, leaning toward him again.
Vandiver smiled up at him. “That’s none of your business, man.”
“We both know you probably rushed out to meet up with your favorite supplier,” Falco pressed. “Why didn’t you just get what you needed from Leo?”
“Are you fucking kidding?” Vandiver stared at Falco as if his head had done a three sixty right there on his shoulders. “Leo wasn’t into drugs, man. He would have canned me on the spot if he’d known . . . fuck.” The guy snapped his mouth shut.
“Your father and Mr. Kurtz were friends,” Kerri stated.
Vandiver blinked. “Yeah. He knew my old man’s an overbearing asshole.”
“Did Mr. Kurtz ever mention any concerns he had in his own life?” Kerri asked. “Maybe he seemed distracted or worried lately.” She opted to throw in Caldwell’s comments for a reaction.
“As far as I know, he didn’t have any. Leo was cool like that. He didn’t let shit get to him. He just rolled with it, you know?”
“Had you ever seen Asher Walsh in the shop before?” Falco asked.
They had asked each employee this question as part of the preliminaries, and none had seen Birmingham’s new DDA before. It was possible Kurtz and Walsh conducted their meetings after hours or away from the shop.
Vandiver cut Falco an annoyed look. He appeared to still be pissed that Falco had suggested his former boss would sell drugs. “No. Never. The only time I ever saw him was at that big party my mom had for my dad’s birthday last month. Leo was there too.”
Kerri looked from Vandiver to Falco and back. “Walsh was a friend of your father’s?”
Another of those lackluster shrugs. “I don’t know if they were friends. But my dad knows everyone who’s anyone. Hell, the mayor and every other boss in town was at his party.”
“Thank you, Mr. Vandiver. If we have other questions, we may need to speak with you again.” Kerri passed him a card. “Please feel free to call us if you think of anything else you want to tell us.”
Vandiver took the card and looked it over. “Can do. If you call me, just be sure you call my cell phone and not the house. My dad is not a nice guy.”