CHAPTER EIGHTBack at the Torrington Tower apartment, Lindsey hung his suit carefully along with Cletus Berry’s. He washed up and pulled on a set of sweats and athletic socks and slippers.
He checked his watch. Even allowing for time zones, it was after normal office hours in Denver, but Desmond Richelieu was in the habit of working late. If nothing else, Lindsey could leave a message on Richelieu’s voicemail, or send him an e-message from his laptop.
Or from Cletus Berry’s desktop.
The police had checked the contents of Berry’s computer, Sokolov had told Lindsey, and found nothing out of the ordinary. But they didn’t know Berry even as well as Lindsey did. And more to the point, they didn’t know International Surety procedure in general or SPUDS in particular. They didn’t know SPUDS at
