She paced as she talked. 'We're going to need two more search warrants, and Tomas is going to have to do some more digging.'
'Warrants for who?'
Catherine went on for the next two minutes about how her thinking had changed-including the new suspect for whom she needed the warrants-and how they should proceed from here.
'And one last thing,' she said.
'Yeah?'
'Ask Tomas about Randle's computer from the agency. Is there any sign that it's been worked on by anybody, and can he tell if something was really wrong?'
'These are better ideas than any I've had lately,' Nick admitted. 'I'll get right on it.'
Catherine, putting her cell away, turned to O'Riley, who sat with a Coke can in one hand, the other hand flopped on the table, his expression almost as numb as Randle's. He looked like a weary king waiting for an angry mob to depose him.
'You look refreshed,' Catherine said. 'Shall we?'
'I didn't come here for a good time,' he said, using the table to push himself up.
'It's working.'
Surprised to find no one in Janice Denard's office, Catherine checked her watch: ten A.M.; too early for lunch-Denard should be here, somewhere. The CSI was still pondering her next move when the door to Ruben Gold's office swung open and Janice Denard appeared.
The attractive blonde's eyes widened, but any surprise and/or displeasure was momentary, a pleasant smile accompanying her greeting, as she stepped out, closed the door, and approached them.
'Ms. Willows-nice to see you again. Detective O'Riley. You two are here so often we should get your social security numbers.'
Catherine didn't bother with a polite smile. 'I'm following up on a few details.'
Denard gestured to the chairs in front of her desk, sitting behind it. Catherine sat, while O'Riley stayed on his feet, arms crossed, hovering in the background like a harem guard.
'I can't imagine what information I might have left to share with you,' Denard said, her own smile more strained than polite.
'I'd like to ask you about the bonus you got, first of the month.'
The woman's eyes narrowed just a bit. 'That's a little outside the scope of your investigation, isn't it?'
'Is it? Your bonus was double the next highest, which was that of Roxanne Scott, your counterpart.'
'What's the point of this line of inquiry, Ms. Willows?'
'In fact,' Catherine said, with a tight smile, ignoring the question, 'it's higher than any bonus the company has
Denard stiffened. 'Mr. Gold values my services.'
'That's the feeling I'm getting.'
'What I mean to say is, he was very generous. Which I don't believe is a crime.'
'No, Ms. Denard, that's not a crime. But that doesn't answer my question, at least not fully.'
Denard shifted in her chair; annoyance tugged at her eyes and mouth. 'Each partner has a discretionary account that no one else has access to. They pay bonuses for cost-saving ideas, a job well done-any number of things.'
The door to the inner office swung open again and framed there stood a tall, thin, mostly gray-haired individual in his vague fifties, with boyish features that seemed somehow wrong for a man his age; he began to say something, but it caught in his throat, upon seeing the two people in the outer office.
'Excuse me,' he said, smiling. 'I wasn't aware you had company, Ms. Denard.'
'These are the police investigators I was tell you about, Mr. Gold,' she said. She also smiled, hers less convincing than her boss's.
Gold wore a bright blue shirt with a black tie and suit. His eyes were dark blue, half-lidded but alert, giving him a look of perpetual caution; not a man you'd care to play poker with.
The co-owner of the agency stepped deeper into Janice's office and shook hands with Catherine, who had risen, and with O'Riley, saying 'Ruben Gold…Ruben Gold.'
Catherine introduced herself and O'Riley. 'I'm pleased to see you're back in the office,' she said. 'You're one of the people we've been needing to talk to.'
'Really? I was under the impression this…unfortunate incident took place while I was away.'
'That's my impression,' Catherine said sunnily, 'but the fact remains, you and Roxanne Scott are the only two people we haven't interviewed or fingerprinted.'
'Fingerprinted?' he asked.
'Yes, we've fingerprinted all your employees.'
'Well, I'm aware of that,' he said, with an inappropriate chuckle. 'But why would you need mine?'
His voice was mild-he might have been asking her to pass the butter.
'Routine elimination. Your prints are bound to be here and there, at your own business.'
He shrugged his understanding.
She went on: 'Let's take this opportunity to get our few questions out of the way.'
Gold turned to Janice and gave her an easy smile. 'I have a little time available, don't I?'
The secretary checked her book. 'Other than phone calls you need to make, Mr. Gold, you're open till lunch with Ian, right at noon.'
'Good,' he said, and smiled again.
It was a beautiful smile-caps, Catherine wondered-but stained faintly brownish yellow. A smoker.
'Step into my office, would you?' he asked the CSI and the detective.
They entered, Gold holding the door for them. As she slipped by the exec, Catherine noticed the scent of a citrus-based cologne. She and O'Riley took seats across from the huge mahogany desk, while Gold settled into his leather throne. Behind him was the printer where the photos had been found.
Catherine gestured admiringly at the silver airplane on the C-shaped base on the corner of Gold's desk. 'Aircraft enthusiast?' she asked.
'Something of one. Actually, that little number isn't all that different from mine.' He smiled charmingly, adding, 'Smaller, of course.'
She returned the smile. 'Company plane?'
'Yes,' he said, pride in his voice, 'a small Lear.'
'Where do you keep it?'
'Pardon?'
'Your plane. Where do you keep it?'
'Oh. Henderson Executive Airport.'
An easy drive, Catherine thought: south on Las Vegas Boulevard to St. Rose Parkway, then left, and HEA was just a short distance east.
She asked, 'When did you leave for Los Angeles?'
Gold's expression turned business-like, indicating he was aware the chitchat was over. 'Friday afternoon.'
'And the trade show you attended started…?'
'Well, there was a get-acquainted session Sunday evening, and the show started, for real, on Monday morning.'
Catherine nodded. 'And Friday evening?'
A little easygoing grin. 'Giants-Dodgers game at Dodger Stadium. A chance to see some of the guys who'd started here.'
Catherine was not a big baseball fan, but did know that the Las Vegas 51's were the triple-A affiliate of the Los Angeles Dodgers.
'And Saturday?'
'Slept in, had a late room service breakfast, played golf in the afternoon, dinner with friends in the evening.'
'You traveled alone?'
