Stacey climbed the two little steps in front of the door and knocked. After a certain amount of fuss, it was opened to them. Gregor wondered irritably why they didn’t just establish a ritual—Halt! Who goes there?—and be done with it.
The door opened onto a back hall, all white walls and shiny fixtures. There was a stainless steel water fountain along one wall. There were also too many people here for a Sunday afternoon, and way too many people in suits.
“Security for the governor,” Stacey said, waving at the men as they passed.
Gregor let himself be led into a small room with a large table in it—a small conference room, maybe, or a place to eat lunch. The two men sitting at the table rose when he entered. One of them was as young as Stacey Spratz, but far less raw. The other was middle-aged and in a bad mood.
“Mark Cashman,” Stacey Spratz said, pointing to the young one. He turned to the other and said, “Tom Royce. This is Gregor Demarkian. Our consultant.”
“Glad to meet you.” Mark Cashman held out his hand.
Gregor took it. Mark released him and sat down again. Tom Royce didn’t offer a hand, and didn’t look like he wanted to sit down. Instead, he gestured at the pile of papers in the middle of the table and shrugged.
“Did anybody tell Mr. Demarkian that we don’t actually have anything yet? Anything conclusive, that is? Is there a point to this charade beyond getting our esteemed governor’s face in the papers right before the election?”
“I’ll tell you what the point is,” Mark Cashman said. “The point is that I don’t want to be left out to hang on this by myself, that’s what the point is. I don’t have the firepower and I don’t have the authority.”
“Any police detective has the authority,” Tom Royce said.
“You weren’t here yesterday afternoon when those lawyers descended. Jesus God. It was like something out of a John Grisham novel. It was worse.”
“What lawyers?” Gregor asked, in as neutral a tone as he could manage.
Mark Cashman got out of his chair again. “Her lawyers. Kayla Anson’s. From some big firm in New York. They handle her money.”
“And they were out here?” Gregor asked.
“You bet.”
“Why?”
“They closed her accounts at the banks and those places,” Mark Cashman said. “They just came in and shut it all down. The ones at the local banks, I mean. She had this checking account at Webster.”
“They could do that on a Saturday?”
“Well, they did it. That’s the thing, isn’t it? They did all kinds of things, on a Saturday, that maybe you and I couldn’t do. And they don’t talk worth a damn.”
Gregor considered this. “Did they say they were interested in anything else? Besides closing her accounts? Besides the money?”
“They asked to be kept informed on the progress of the investigation.” Mark Cashman’s voice was dry. “I thought the whole time that they’d do better just bribing the hell out of somebody to feed them the news, and maybe they did. They were certainly well-heeled enough to manage that kind of thing.”
Gregor sat down at the table. The papers in the middle of it, unlike the ones on Stacey’s table in Caldwell, were actually in use. Gregor saw several black-and-white photographs of what he was sure was the body of Kayla Anson, spilling out of her car. He pulled one of them toward him and looked at it. She had been alive when she had been strangled. If she hadn’t been, her eyes would not have protruded in that characteristic way.
“Those don’t amount to much,” Tom Royce said. “We’ll have better ones coming in a day or two. Those were—just to be going on with.”
“Tom wanted to have a little show-and-tell with the governor,” Mark Cashman said.
“Well, you’d think he’d take an interest, wouldn’t you? Even him. This is going to be an enormous case. As big as JonBenet Ramsey. You’d think he’d at least pay attention.”
“He’ll talk to Dr. Lee when Dr. Lee gets back,” Mark Cashman said. Then he turned to Gregor and explained, “That’s Dr. Henry Lee. The state medical examiner. Big wheel. Testified in the O. J. trial. He’s on vacation in Colorado. He’s flying back tonight.”
Gregor had heard of Dr. Henry Lee. Now he put the photograph of Kayla Anson back on the table and said, “She was alive when she was strangled.”
Tom Royce shook his head. “That’s my guess, too, but it’s still a guess until we’re finished running all the tests. And until Dr. Lee has had a chance to check over the work. This one isn’t going out of the office without his personal say-so.”