said as I faced him across his desk was completely lucid.
“Be very careful. The meeting with Grainger last night could blow up in our faces.”
“I thought of that,” I said. “Motive and opportunity. But we can’t hide it.”
“It isn’t just that you will be a target for the murder investigation. We will also be vulnerable politically if it becomes public knowledge that we were negotiating with him. Unless… we could use that to our advantage.” He shook his head. There were too many angles for even Fred to work out. He settled into simple fulmination. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Everything is in shambles. Anything could happen right now. Who knows what might happen? Anything. Any single thing.”
“You’re feeling insecure, Fred. You should get therapy.”
“I don’t have time.”
I let him rant for a while. He was a poker shark who’d been dropped in a bridge tournament-it was a new game, he didn’t understand the rules, and he didn’t like it. Right now he was approaching hysterics, and somebody needed to slap him.
Fred’s secretary opened the door. “Mr. Boyer? Pamela called. She wanted to remind you that Detective Wilcox would be by at nine.”
That was the slap. “The police detective?” he said.
“I arranged it yesterday. I wanted to act cooperative.”
“Of course.” He was thinking coherently again. “This will be risky, but I see no other choice. It will be best to get it over with quickly.”
“Would you care to join us?”
“I think I had better.”
Being in an elevator that was trying to lift Fred Spellman to the top of a forty-two-story building also seemed risky, but I saw no other choice. We entered that little room, its door closed on us, and with a mighty effort it began its labor.
“Do you realize the gravity of the situation?” Fred asked.
That was exactly what I was thinking about, except that Fred meant Wilcox.
“Yes,” I said. “This murderer is for real, and so is the investigation. I don’t want to lose control.”
“No one is in control.”
We’d made it halfway. Fred was thinking very hard, and he turned suddenly to face me.
“Do you have an alibi for last night?”
“What?”
“What did you do after we separated?”
“I went home.”
“Last Saturday night, when Angela was shot. Where were you then?”
“On my boat.”
“With your wife?”
“Alone.”
“Don’t answer any questions he asks.”
We made it to the top, and I’d forgotten my worry about whether we would. “I’ll have to answer sometime.”
“Then just be very careful. Speak slowly so I can stop you if necessary.”
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that that doesn’t matter?” The elevator door opened.
“It does matter,” I said. “Not to the police, but it does matter.”
“Whatever.”
We crossed the lobby and opened the door to Pamela’s office.
Detective Wilcox rose to greet us, we all smiled, and I was reminded again how much I detested him. Or maybe just his mustache. He had a hard enough job, chasing criminals through political minefields. Why make it harder on himself, when a razor would slay that thing in two minutes?
“Please come in,” I said, and we filed into the throne room.
“Thank you for coming,” I said when we were all comfortable. “I guess you’re very busy today.”
“Yes, Mr. Boyer, I am,” he said. “But frankly, this meeting is right at the top of my list.” He looked like maybe he’d been sleeping as much as Stan Morton.
“It’s pretty high on my list, too.” I took a breath and began my official statement. “The last time we met, I was of the opinion that the investigation of Melvin Boyer’s death was politically motivated. I still think it was. Now, however, I accept that he was murdered. I want to cooperate with your investigation. I still don’t trust you, though. Your top boss is Harry Bright, and he’d like to murder me.”
Wilcox took a deep breath. “First, Mr. Boyer, let me assure you that the state police are completely independent.”
“And I completely believe you.”
“And we are only interested in solving these murders. That is my only purpose.”
“Then my purpose is to make sure you solve them correctly, because I think the governor has other purposes.”
He gave that up. “Anyway, sir, I would like to ask you some questions.”
“I think I’d like to ask questions first,” I said. “Are you treating all three of these murders as one case?”
“Uh, well, we don’t comment on investigations.”
I shook my head. “You’ll have to do much better than that, Mr. Wilcox. I said I’d cooperate, but I don’t need to do it for free.”
“I understand,” he said. “We’re keeping our options open. Personally, I think it’s clear the three cases are related.”
“Do you have any suspects?”
“No one specific yet. But we have a list of obvious names.”
“Who’s on it?”
“Mr. Boyer, I can’t tell you that.”
“You said they’re obvious.”
“It’s obvious who benefited from the deaths.”
I’d done pretty well from them-that was obvious. “Melvin had a lot of enemies.”
“Yes, he did,” Wilcox said. “But that wouldn’t carry over to Angela Boyer, or to Clinton Grainger.”
“Detective Wilcox.” Fred didn’t want us to forget he was there. “Is Jason Boyer your main suspect?”
“We don’t have a main suspect.”
“Jason Boyer, Katie Boyer, Eric Boyer,” Fred listed. “Is there anyone else obvious?”
Wilcox shrugged. “I’ll just say those are the three names on the list that are underlined.”
“Katie and Eric don’t even know who Clinton Grainger is,” I said. I’d just throw myself on that grenade. Eric recognized Grainger’s name, but that didn’t count.
“We’re just getting started with Grainger’s murder,”Wilcox said. “I don’t even have forensics from the scene yet.”
“Next question,” I said. “Who broke into my office?”
Wilcox reacted just enough to convince me he knew. “I haven’t seen any report on that. When did it happen?”
“Friday or Saturday, three weeks ago. I didn’t file a report. Since the police did it, why waste the time? They got Melvin’s office, too.”
“I don’t know anything about that, Mr. Boyer.”
“It sounds like the police department needs to work on internal communications. Never mind. What would you like to ask me?”
“Um, back to our list. Do you have any additional names for it?”
“No.”
He paused and looked down at his notebook. “How well did you know Clinton Grainger?” It was time to get personal.
“I met him three times.”
