“Chaney and Cox. How may I help you?”
“Melanie? Jeremy Barnes here.”
“Oh, hi, Jeremy. How are you?”
“Well, that depends. Is the BF still on the scene?”
She gave that little giggle and said, “Yes, he is.”
“Oh. Well, then I’m okay, but certainly not wonderful.”
“What can I do for you, Jeremy?” she asked.
“Is Cameron McKenzie in?”
“Yes, he is. Would you like me to connect you?”
“Please.”
“Okay, but first, let me put you through to Mr. Chaney. He said if you called or came by, he’d like to speak with you.”
“Fine.”
After a wait of about a minute, the partner came on the line.
“Mr. Barnes, this is Elias Chaney. Thank you for taking the time to talk with me.”
“No problem, Mr. Chaney. What can I do for you?”
“We were just wondering if you’d made any progress on the Pendleton thing.”
By “the Pendleton thing,” I assumed he meant the murder of one of his employees, but I let that go.
“I’m not sure,” I told him. “I’m still just acquiring information.”
“Yes. I understand that you spoke to Sandra Richardson yesterday. Was that helpful?”
“It might be. I don’t know yet.”
“Hmmm. And whom are you contacting this morning?”
If we’d been in the same room, I could have looked at him funny for that whom thing. Instead, I said, “I’m going to talk with Cameron McKenzie.”
“I see,” he said. Then there was a pause. “You know, Mr. Barnes, I hope you remember what we told you yesterday. Terry’s death has upset everyone here at the firm, and I would hate to have our employees further burdened by questions which might serve as a reminder of the tragedy we’ve all suffered.”
Not to mention the potential drop in billable hours, I thought.
“I promise to be as circumspect as possible, Mr. Chaney,” I said.
“I really can’t imagine what Cameron could tell you that would be of any assistance.”
“Then my conversation with him will be brief, won’t it?” I asked.
“Well . . . yes, of course. I’ll have Melanie connect you with Cameron now.”
Within a few seconds, another voice said, “Cameron McKenzie here.”
“Mr. McKenzie, my name is Jeremy Barnes. I’m investigating the death of Terry Pendleton. Would it be possible for us to get together for a few minutes today?”
“I’d heard that Terry’s wife had hired someone. Can’t say I understand why, but that’s her business. Sure, I can spare some time today. You free for lunch, Mr. Barnes?”
“Tell me when and where.”
“Café Amante, noon. I’ll reserve a table.”
“Great. I’ll see you there.”
That gave me just enough time to shave, shower and do a little work in the office before starting downtown. I especially wanted to talk to Cameron before I saw Rachel Pendleton again. If her husband had been cheating on her, the time would come when I would have to talk to her about it, a conversation I definitely did not look forward to. She had hired me to look into her husband’s murder, not uncover any infidelities on his part.
* * *
I drove the Parkway East to the Stanwix Street exit, then a few blocks to the parking garage across the street from Fifth Avenue Place, a sort of high-rise mini-mall. Café Amante is on the second floor. Because of its central location in Pittsburgh’s business district, along with a wall of glass overlooking the Golden Triangle, it’s a popular lunch spot with people who work downtown. I told the hostess I was dining with Mr. McKenzie, and she nodded and asked me to follow her. So I did.
Chapter 19
Cameron McKenzie was so good-looking he should have been on one of the afternoon soaps. About my height, slender build, medium-length dark hair, blue eyes, brilliant smile, the whole package. In her senior year at UCLA, Angie had received some sort of award at a sports banquet, and for reasons that will remain forever mystifying, one of the presenters at the affair was a supermodel, who happened to be sitting right next to Angie. As I took a seat across the table from Cameron, I realized what Ang had meant when she said that she’d suddenly begun questioning her makeup, her dress, her shoes, anything and everything about her appearance that night. I’d like to be able to at least say that Cameron dressed poorly, but, of course, his dark blue suit was expensively cut and fit him beautifully. He even had a pocket watch, for God’s sake, which actually looked good on him. I had to give Sandra Richardson credit for turning this guy down, even if he was engaged. Hell, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to say no if he asked me for a date.
A waitress came right over and asked if she could get us anything to drink.
“Just some iced tea for me, Janene,” Cameron said. “Mr. Barnes, how about you? A glass of wine?”
“Iced tea for me, too,” I told Janene, and she left to get our beverages.
“Really,” Cameron said, “if you’d like some wine, be my guest. I have a lot of work to do this afternoon, or I’d join you. And, by the way, lunch is on me.”
“Did I just become a business expense?” I asked him.
“Ask me how the Dickinson case is going,” he said.
“How’s the Dickinson case going?” I asked.
He smiled and put his
