Jamie Brodie 02 - Hoarded to Death

comparison. I went to my bedside table and found my own phone.
    Pete pulled his head out from under the pillow and mumbled, “What?”
    “I’ll tell you in the morning. Go back to sleep.” I left the bedroom, closing the door behind me softly, and went into the guest room. I hated to wake Kevin, but I figured he wouldn’t want me to wait.
    Kevin’s phone rang three times, then a gravelly voice said, “What?”
    “Wake up. I just got a call on the phone Eckhoff gave me. From Paulo. Brashier’s assistant.”
    “No shit .” He was wide awake now, and I heard his feet thump onto the floor. “What did he say?”
    “He said he was in the back room and heard the whole thing, and the killer had an Australian accent.”
    “ No . Your buddy? What was his name?”
    “Kendall McEwen. Who else could it be?”
    “He was sure it was Australian?”
    “Yep. Said he sounded just like the Crocodile Hunter.”
    “Is he coming in?”
    “He refused to come to the police station, and refused to meet you without me. So I told him to meet us at 8:00 in the morning at Wilson Plaza on campus.”
    “Eight o’clock this morning? As in five hours from now?”
    Jeez . “Yeah, five hours from now. Can you be there?”
    “I’ll be there at 7:45.”
    “Okay, me too. See you then.”
    He hung up. I clicked the phone off and sat there for a minute.
    Kendall.
    Holy shit .
    When the alarm went off at 5:30, I groaned. It was my turn to stuff my head under a pillow. Pete got up and went into the bathroom, then came back out and swatted me on the ass with his pillow. "C'mon. We're going for a run this morning."
    I groaned again and pushed the pillow off my face. "Okay, okay." I struggled into the bathroom, but by the time I was downstairs lacing up my running shoes, I was coming to life a little more.
    It was low tide, so we ran down to the beach and then south, well past the pier and back. Enough exercise to shake out the cobwebs, and enough time to tell Pete about my late night phone conversations. I got showered, ate a quick breakfast of cereal and banana, and headed out. I decided to drive to campus, since it was early and I was in kind of a hurry. I got parked without too much hassle and walked over to Wilson Plaza to meet Kevin.
    We got there about the same time. He looked the way I felt – tired. He was wearing jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt under his sportcoat. He had his badge attached to his waistband, and wasn't making any particular effort to hide his holster. He waved at me and we both went to a concrete bench and sat.
    I said, "You look tired."
    Kevin rolled his eyes at me. "Yeah, well, that's because somebody woke me up at 3:00 in the morning."
    "But you wouldn't have been happy if I'd waited."
    "No, I wouldn't." He scanned the plaza, which was filling up with students. "There’s Eckhoff. I figured he’d want to be here too."
    Jon spotted us and headed in our direction. I saw Paulo approaching from the other direction, and waved to him.
    Paulo scurried over. He wasn't quite as well put together as he had been the day we'd visited the shop. He was wearing tight jeans, but they were old, and a less form-fitting blue t-shirt. He'd done without the mascara and hair gel, and he looked about fifteen. He started to sit on the opposite side of me from Kevin, but I slid over so he had to sit between us. He looked panicky, and scooted as far away from Kevin as possible. He looked up at Jon, then to me. “What’s he doing here?”
    “He’s a detective too, Paulo.”
    Paulo looked accusingly at Jon. “You were in the shop that day, too. You lied .”
    Jon shrugged. “I was undercover.”
    I had to know. "Paulo, how old are you?"
    He looked at me and bit his lip. "I turned eighteen in October."
    So he'd been barely legal when he went to work for Brashier. I just shook my head.
    Kevin said gently, "Paulo, I'm a homicide detective with LAPD. My name's Kevin Brodie. I’m Dr. Brodie’s brother. Tell me what you heard last night."
    Paulo sniffed. "Like I told Dr. Brodie, I was in the back. Quentin asked me to find his spare glasses. The ones he had on were bothering him. His desk is a mess, so it took me a while to find them. I heard the bell ring on the door, so I knew someone had come in, but I didn't hear anything until they raised their voices and started arguing. I found the glasses, but I didn't want to walk out into the shop in the middle of an argument. So I stayed behind the door and listened."
    Kevin was taking