'Thank God you're all right.'
I had never heard my father so concerned about my safety. 'I'm fine, Dad. But someone should call Mrs. Mackay.'
'I did that, myself. She has friends with her now. The police didn't know anything about you so I called Arrow and she told me what hotel you were staying at. I called the hotel, but you weren't there.'
A lot had taken place while I was out of the loop. I said, 'The police are on their way here.'
'Are you at your hotel now?'
'No. I'm at the home of James Buchanan.' Looking out his picture window at a postcard view of a lit-up Golden Gate Bridge.
'James Buchanan? How do you know him?' He sounded incredulous.
'I didn't until tonight. Ned said to meet him here.' Lights of cars moved in both directions over the bridge, like fireflies on parade.
There was silence at the other end of the line. The doorbell rang. I said, 'I think the police are here now. I'd better go.'
'When are you coming home?'
'Tomorrow morning.' It occurred to me that it was already tomorrow.
'I'll talk to you when you get back.'
'Dad? Is there anything I can do while I'm here?'
'No. Everything is taken care of.'
'Dad, I'm…I'm sorry about Ned.'
'So am I.' His voice cracked.
There wasn't anything else to say. I said goodbye and hung up. Stan opened the front door and admitted a woman and a man, dressed in civilian clothes.
The woman said, 'I'm Detective Washington and this is Detective Lawson, San Francisco Police Department.' She showed him a badge. 'I would like to speak to James Buchanan.'
'I'll take you to Mr. Buchanan,' Stan said. 'You might also want to speak to Karl Patterson.' He indicated where I was standing a few feet away in the living room. 'He flew to San Francisco from Los Angeles with Mr. Mackay this afternoon.'
'Yes, we do want to talk to Mr. Patterson,' Detective Washington said. And then to her partner, 'I'll talk to Mr. Patterson. You talk to Mr. Buchanan. You know what to ask him.'
James had cleared the casino immediately after we had found out about Ned's death. He seemed very upset. Everybody had left, including all of the young men, except Stan and a couple of others who were closing things up downstairs.
Stan escorted Detective Lawson to James' office, where he had closeted himself after kicking everybody out. Detective Washington came into the living room and introduced herself to me. She had a strong voice and her demeanor and body language said she was in control of the situation; her black hair was cut short and her blue pantsuit was the color of power. She was tall, with graceful movements, and I suspected she could take care of herself in a fight as well as any man.
'I'm sorry about Mr. Mackay,' she said, softening her voice a little.
'Thank you.'
'I'm glad we found you. One of your father's people gave us the name of your hotel, but you weren't there.'
'I was here.' Obviously. Okay, Karl, get control.
'May I ask you a few questions?'
'Of course.'
She sat in an armchair and motioned me to a sofa facing it. She produced a pencil and a spiral notebook.
'When was the last time you saw Mr. Mackay?' she asked.
'About 6:30 or a little later. We flew up from LA together and he drove me to my hotel. Then he…well, I thought he was going to a business meeting.'
'Where was this meeting supposed to be held?'
'At the Golden Palace Restaurant,' I said, remembering what Stan had said.
'Did Mr. Mackay tell you he was going to this meeting?'
'Yes. Actually, he didn't tell me the name of the restaurant. I got that from Stan, the fellow who answered the door. Mr. Mackay was supposed to be here at ten.'
'Did you know that Mr. Mackay never actually went to the Golden Palace?'
'I didn't find that out until Mr. Buchanan called the restaurant looking for Mr. Mackay.'
'And when was that?'
'Just before he called the police. About a half hour ago.'
Detective Washington made some notes and then said, 'What did you do after Mr. Mackay left you off at your hotel?'
'I checked in. I was hungry so I ate dinner at a restaurant nearby. Then I rested in my room.'
'Why are you staying at a different hotel from Mr. Mackay?'
'Uh, because…' I was going to say because I was paying for it myself, but that wasn't true and it was easily verified. 'It was a last-minute arrangement. I guess that was the easiest place to get a room.'
She seemed satisfied with that answer, but things were moving too fast. I wanted to stop and rewind the last few hours; they hadn't come out right. Should I have become concerned sooner about Ned not showing up? What good would it have done? Why did he lie about his meeting? Did my father blame me for his death?
In answer to another question, I explained as well as I could my reason for coming to San Francisco, but only about getting business advice, not the part about checking on Ned. My words sounded lame to me. I wondered if I would believe myself if I were the interrogator.
When she asked at what time I had left the hotel I told her about walking to the Buchanan residence. She raised her eyebrows when I mentioned walking. Was it because nobody walked here? She asked me what route I had taken. I told her.
'Did you see or hear anything suspicious when you were walking on Grant Avenue?' Detective Washington asked.
'No. Just the usual tourists and locals…the shops…'
'Did you go on any other streets in Chinatown or did you stay on Grant?'
'I stayed on Grant until I got to Columbus.'
'And you didn't hear any gun shots.'
'No! Why?'
'Because Mr. Mackay was shot in an alley just off Grant, probably about the time you were walking there. Of course, the noise level is so high that I would not have expected you to hear the shots. Or anybody else on Grant, for that matter.'
Then why did she ask me? Was I a suspect?
I must have looked like a scared rabbit because the corners of Detective Washington's eyes crinkled slightly and she said, 'It's nothing to worry about. Just the fact that you were so open with me about your route would lead me to believe your story. In any case, when I talked to your father he said that you hardly knew Mr. Mackay and I'm sure you have no motive for killing him.'
That made me feel better, but maybe she was just trying to get me to lower my guard.
'A couple of other things,' she said. 'Mr. Mackay's body was found in a dumpster. Since he's pretty hefty it probably took two men to get him in there. Preliminary estimate is that he hadn't been there more than half an hour. He was found by a homeless guy looking for food. Lucky for us or it might have been hours, or even days, before he was discovered.'
But not lucky for Ned. It didn't matter to him. She asked me several more questions, which I answered carefully.
Detective Lawson appeared at the entrance to the living room. He was less impressive looking than Detective Washington, with an expanding waistline and a receding hairline. The checked sport coat he wore had seen better days and may even have been in style once. He said, 'Mr. Buchanan showed me the log he keeps for guests. Mr.
