Annie Seymour 01-Sacred Cows by Karen E. Olson Page A

together, but nothing fit. I found myself back at University Towers, staring up at the balcony.
    “Come back to the scene of the crime?” Tom’s voice pierced my thoughts and I stared at him.
    “Do you know?” I asked.
    “Know what?”
    “About the McGee Corporation?”
    “It’s a Gap store.” He knew and he didn’t tell me. Figures. “How’d you find out?”
    “Priscilla.”
    He chuckled. “It helps to have friends in convenient places.”
    “So what’s the story?”
    He shook his head. “Beats the hell out of me.”
    “What about rent checks?”
    “They’ve got the post office box on them, and the rent’s paid in full and on time every month. Landlord says Mark Torrey, representing McGee, checked out. Why would he double-check the checks when the guy renting the place works for the city?”
    So it was the city’s Mark Torrey after all.
    “Have you talked to Torrey yet?” I asked.
    Tom shook his head. “They say he’s in California. We’re checking that out.”
    These things usually were so damned neat. Maybe it really was the ex-boyfriend, but then what was this all about? A mysterious corporation, a missing city lawyer. This opened up a whole new can of worms regardless of the murder.
    “Press conference in half an hour,” Tom said. “I’ve got to be there. You going?”
    I nodded. “Yeah. Medical examiner’s report?”
    “The whole case is going to break wide open once they find out how she died. Chief thinks if there’s a big show, then Yale and the city won’t freak as much.”
    “I talked to David Best.”
    He stared at me, his blue eyes dark. “How?”
    “He wanted to talk. His lawyer said no, but he said some stuff.”
    “He loved her, right?” Tom was skeptical of everyone and everything.
    “Maybe he did.”
    “That’s the best reason to kill a girlfriend who’s a hooker.”
    Point taken. Tom touched my arm, and it shook me out of my confusion. I touched his hand, and he winked. It reminded me of something.
    “Hey, there’s some guy wandering around who seems to be everywhere I am. Italian, good-looking, in that Frank Sinatra sort of way. Have you seen him?”
    “He’s following you?” Tom frowned.
    “It’s just that he always seems to be in the same places I am. I’ve seen him a lot the past couple of days.”
    Tom’s forehead wrinkled in that way it does when he’s worried about something or thinking. “Next time you see him, call me, okay?”
    He seemed so concerned that I didn’t have the heart to tell him this guy was here one minute, gone the next, so it probably wouldn’t do any good.
    “Time to get crucified,” he said abruptly. “See you there.”
    I’d forgotten to ask him what he was doing at University Towers, and when I remembered, he was waving at me from the window of his car. He probably was here for the same reason I was: to get some sort of psychic message about who had done such a thing to this girl. I stared up at the balconies and shuddered.
    I T WAS A ZOO. Reporters crammed into the conference room, TV cameras pointed at the empty podium, microphones were being hooked up. Like they were really covering the story. Next time I’d see all these guys would be at the funeral.
    “You’re here.” Dick Whitfield always showed up in the wrong places at the wrong times.
    “I said I’d be, didn’t I?” I snapped, pissed that he would even think I wouldn’t show up. “What’re you doing here?”
    “No one heard from you all morning.”
    “I’ve been working. I have to leave the office to do that.”
    Fortunately the police chief arrived at that moment, before I could say anything else. I had to get a grip on myself. I couldn’t spend good energy arguing with Dick Whitfield. He wasn’t worth it.
    Tom walked in behind the chief as the primary investigator on the case. I think he saw me, but he didn’t show it.
    They ran through the information I already had, and when they came to the medical examiner’s report, everyone froze.