Episode 3: The Condo
We lived six miles from Brianne and Alex in one of Seattle’s premier neighborhoods, Magnolia. Brianne who had been a successful real estate agent sold us the home five years ago upon the arrival of our second child. Prior to that we lived in the same condo building as Alex and Brianne, the one made famous by the book 50 Shades of Grey.
Woods asked us to meet him at the condo building.
As we were let up to Alex and Brianne's west facing unit Harry the concierge who we had known when we lived there never said hello to us and looked down at his feet. Very unlike Harry who is often on the forefront of building gossip. When the elevator opened a wisp of fingerprint dust coated the air. Woods approached us with boot coverings and gloves.
“Put these on, this is an active crime scene,” Woods demanded.
“Crime scene?!” Katie and I countered. WTF is going on.
“We are hoping you would tell us Mr. Levine,”
Woods was dead serious.
“I don’t know what to think Mr. Woods,” I said with Katie standing behind me.
Walking into the Rushs’ kitchen there was an ominous composition journal sitting on the table. Next to it was crime scene number 11 tag. The condo was being photographed top to bottom.
Woods explains, “We found Alex’s journal. And he doesn’t seem to be too fond of you Mr. Levine. That you would ply him with alcohol and made a pass at his wife on occasion?”
“Fucking impossible,” I yelled back at Woods. Katie stepped around my side to look at me.
“I’m going to have to take you downtown for questioning Mr. Levine,” Woods demanded.
“No, call our lawyer,” Katie shrieked.
“No, no, no, relax, we did nothing, we have nothing to hide. You go meet the kids I’ll be home for dinner,” I quickly rationalized for Katie.
“This case is getting weirder and weirder by the second.. The bikes mangled at the top of 200 foot plus ravine tire tracks with no one at the scene and now almost a week later - no body?” Woods wondered out loud.
Before walking out of the condo I peered around the open space noticing the half opened bedroom doors with pillows thrown about. Additionally several cabinets were left open, the kind with kitchenware - all absent. On the wall used to hang a picture of the four of us which was gone. The condo that held so many fun memories felt heavy and frankly staged.
—
Woods drove me to the Downtown Seattle precinct on Pine Street and 12th.
In the small investigation room I sat across from Woods who was joined by an FBI investigator named Landon Cardosa.
“What’s the FBI doing here,” I asked out loud.
“Your friend Mr. Rush, he took something that wasn’t his. Cardosa explained. Alex Rush was under investigation for insider trading and theft..."
“And what?!” I countered.
“Mr. Rush and presumptively Mrs. Rush are being accused of stealing several priceless art pieces from Seattle’s old money elites including real estate magnet Bernie Eversol, grocery pharmacy chain mogul Bruce McCabe and telecom magnate Marsha Bacon,” Cardosa shared.
“When, how, what does this have to do with me,” I countered.
“Two fold, Woods chimed back in. Right now we are investigating you as a person of interest. So the way I see it...you help us find the Rushs’ or we pin this disappearance on you. It's either on your terms or ours.”
I thought about all the things you think about - my kids, wife, loyalty to friends, family, job. Suddenly, I remembered the backpack.
“Yes, I’ll cooperate with the investigation into finding the Rushs,” I said sternly.