Bruiser settled in under the table, his giant head resting on her feet.
“What’ve you got for us, Mack?” Mort asked.
“I examined Buchner’s laptop. His computer at the university, too. Still waiting for the phone company to come up with his cell records. Desk sergeant told me you two were here so I decided to swing by.” She shifted her gaze between the two of them. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay.” De Villa looked at Mort. Then back at Micki. “It’s always okay.”
Mort saw the two women in the living room smile and shake their heads.
“And so I repeat, what did you find?” Mort asked.
Micki flipped open the folder. “Most of the stuff is pretty routine. Lots of drafts of schematics for various electronics. Research articles he’s writing.” She ran her hand down the inventory list. Mort noticed a smudged stamp from a waterfront nightclub just above her thumb and hoped she was developing a life outside the precinct. “Outlines for classes he’s teaching. Student lists. Grades. Typical stuff.”
“How about e-mails?” Mort asked.
Micki shook her head. “Nothing unusual there, either. Mostly business. Lots to his parents. A couple of exchanges with someone named Aubree about a year ago. Sounded like a blind date thing. Finally arranged to meet at a bookstore. One last note from Aubree the next day giving him the brush off.”
“Poor Wally,” De Villa said. “You know I read somewhere that over fifty percent of people meet their true love at work. Makes sense, doesn’t it? Friends first, shared interest, common social circle. That make sense to you, Micki?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Jimmy.” Mort leaned back in his chair. “You want me to see what Disney’s got on? You could watch while the grown-ups get back to work?”
Micki looked down at the file and ate a grin.
“What about the internet?” Mort asked.
“Those searches proved more interesting.” Micki turned to the third sheet of her report.
De Villa’s voice dropped an octave. “Porn? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, Micki. Mort and I can handle anything you got.”
Micki looked at Mort. “How do you put up with this?”
“He only weirds out around you, Mack.” Mort patted his friend’s shoulder. “Most time we can take him out in public. What did you find?”
“Again,” she said. “Pretty typical stuff for someone in Buchner’s position. Academic searches. Links to electronic and audio sites. He does his banking, such as it is, online. Buys his parents gifts over the internet and has them shipped directly.”
De Villa nodded his head. “Saves a lot of hassle. I’m a no hassle guy myself.”
Micki ignored him. “Buchner had Mapquest on his Favorites list. That’s where it got intriguing.”
“How so?” Mort asked.
“Buchner got to the university nearly two years ago. Back then he called for directions around town. Typical newcomer stuff. He must have made himself comfortable because there’s no maps requested for the past fifteen months. Until the last few weeks. Then there’s a little flurry of activity.”
Mort felt something kick inside him. “I’m all ears, Mack.”
“One’s to an idle warehouse down on the pier. I checked. Old import-export business locked up until the dead owner’s estate gets settled. I checked it out and Buchner has no ties to the deceased.”
Mort jotted in his notepad. “What else?”
“Three days before he dies. Two addresses in Olympia.”
Mort snapped his head up. “What’s a Seattle graduate student from Walla Walla looking for in Olympia?”
Micki smiled. “I wondered the same thing. Imagine my chagrin when I did a cross back on the addresses and found they’re listed to the same woman.”
Mort’s pulse quickened. “Who?”
Micki read off her notes. “A Dr. Lydia Corriger. One’s her home, the other’s her office. I looked her up. She’s a psychologist. You think our dead guy needed a shrink and went all the way to Olympia to find one?”
Mort wrote down the two addresses. The earlier playfulness in his voice was gone. “I don’t know. But I’ll look into it.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lydia decided against any disguise for her meeting with Cameron Williams. Whoever wanted the young caterer dead knew who she was and she needed them to see she was proceeding as directed. She sat at a small table in the Queen Anne headquarters of Elegant Edibles and sipped the cup of tea offered her when she arrived fifteen minutes earlier.
She was about to ask the counter worker what was delaying her boss when Cameron emerged from a back room. The caterer was pale. Her blonde hair pulled up in a haphazard grooming attempt. She approached with a leaden walk and forced a smile when she introduced herself, her green eyes bloodshot and flat. She wore blue jeans and a grey work shirt, both streaked with dried batter and berry stains. Cameron laid a large black binder on the table and sat down.
“What did you have in mind, Ms Corriger?” She showed no indication she was interested in Lydia’s answer.
Lydia tried to sound cheerful. “I’d like you to cater a dinner party. The winter’s been so dreary I think we could all use something festive, don’t you?”
Cameron didn’t react. Lydia had the impression she was medicated.
“Do you have a date in mind?” She opened her binder to the calendar section and glanced at several pages. “February’s nearly booked. March has some dates open.”
Lydia watched her closely. “I’m thinking a Saturday.”
Cameron flipped the calendar pages without glancing up. “It looks like the first Saturday I have is March 23 ^ rd. Then April 6 ^ th. After that we’re into wedding season.” She cast a look up at Lydia. “Does it have to be Saturday?”
Lydia smiled. “A mid-week party might be fun. Unexpected.”
Cameron nodded and returned to her calendar. “If you’re willing to host on Tuesday or Wednesday, we have several options.”
“Let me give that some thought. Perhaps we can discuss menu.” Lydia moved her tea cup to the side. “Do you cook at my home or is it done here?”
Cameron flipped to another section of her notebook. “It depends on the menu and the type of kitchen you have. Those are details we can work out later.” She pulled out two heavy vellum pages. “People usually start with a cocktail hour. Here’s our bar list and hors d’ouerve offerings.”
Lydia scanned the menus but kept her focus on Cameron. She watched her lean her head to one side and stare off into the void, completely detached from the customer seated across from her. Lydia moved the menus to her lap, placed her hands on the table, and leaned forward.
“Is this a bad time, Ms Williams? You don’t seem particularly interested in my party.”
Cameron blinked to attention. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Elegant Edibles is very interested in your dinner. Allow me to get one of my associates for you.” She pushed her chair away from the table. Lydia asked her to stay.
“Please.” Lydia set her voice to warm and soothing. “You come so highly recommended. I’d prefer to work with you.” She smiled as Cameron pulled her chair back. “I don’t mean to intrude, but you look a little off your game. Can I be of any help?”
The young blonde trained her vacant green eyes on Lydia. Her lower lip quivered. “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t see how anyone can help.”
Lydia glanced across the room and saw the counterwoman cleaning a glass shelf well out of earshot. “Let me try,” she said. “I’m a psychologist. People tell me a good one. And if you don’t mind my saying, if anyone ever looked like they needed to talk to a good psychologist, it’s you.” Lydia pulled her cup back in front of her. “What do
