with an athletic figure, nice legs, and quite crisp green eyes. She wore khaki shorts, white and blue canvas deck shoes, and an aquamarine T-shirt damp on her shoulders.
They descended into a spacious, well-appointed living room. Owen Adler stood to the side of the steep ladder and offered his hand to Daphne to guide her down the steep steps. “Welcome aboard,” he said to Boldt.
Adler was a boyish forty-five, with graying hair at the temples, wire-rimmed glasses, French cuffs, and silver cuff links. He stood just under six feet but carried himself much taller. He wore soft brown Italian loafers, linen pants, and a faint pink pinpoint cotton shirt with a starched collar. His handshake was firm, his dark eyes attentive.
Adler and Daphne sat on opposite ends of a small chintz couch. Adler’s attorney and chief operating officer, Howard Taplin, took the cushioned chair to Adler’s immediate right. Taplin was a wiry man with drawn features, a trimmed mustache, and intense gray eyes. He wore a gray suit and black wing tips and the kind of high, thin socks that required garters. Boldt sat between Taplin and Kenny Fowler. Fowler had once served on the police force in Major Crimes, working the gangland wars. Boldt saw him occasionally at the Big Joke, where Boldt played happy-hour piano. Fowler carried a deliberate intensity in his eyes. He wore his dark hair slicked back and kept himself impeccably groomed. He fancied himself a ladies’ man, though the rumors had always been that he chased the cheerleading age. Boldt knew well the man’s reputation for an explosive disposition and frank honesty. Fowler shook hands strongly with Boldt and asked him about Liz and Miles. He always remembered to ask. He had a couple of new teeth in front and a tiny scar on his lower lip. Boldt wondered what the other guy looked like: Fowler was the workout type and wore tailored clothes to prove it.
As Adler opened the meeting, the cruiser left the protection of the jetty, entering some rougher water. But as the speed increased, the ride smoothed. The cabin was impressively soundproofed. A male crew member delivered a pitcher of iced tea and extra glasses with sprigs of mint and wedges of lemon. A plate of cookies circulated.
Adler said, “We want to welcome your assistance and expertise, Sergeant. This is a horrible situation, and we will cooperate in whatever way required to resolve this just as quickly as possible. I want to say right up front that we’re aware we may have impeded your efforts by waiting to contact you as we did.” He glanced at both Daphne and Howard Taplin. “And I should add that we still feel strongly about keeping the involvement of the police as low-profile as possible. With these contaminations, whoever this is has proved he means business, and we would just as soon be perceived as adhering to his demands—all of his demands.”
“Agreed,” Boldt replied. “Where do we stand with the recall?”
“We’ve issued a full recall for the product run in question. Kenny is continuing to quietly search for a possible employee who might carry a grudge. You two will want to coordinate on that, I’m sure.”
“We will not give in to terrorism,” Taplin interrupted.
Adler did not appreciate the intrusion. “What Tap means,” he said addressing Boldt, “is that we would prefer to catch this person than enter into negotiations.”
“And some of us would prefer to keep the police out,” Taplin said. “Nothing personal,” he added coolly, passing Boldt the most recent fax.
T HE CHOICE IS YOURS.
MORE SUFFERING—AND WORSE—
UNLESS YOU OBEY.
D O NOT CLEAR THE SHELVES,
AND NO POLICE OR PRESS OR
HUNDREDS WILL DIE .
B EEN TO PORTLAND LATELY ?
“Portland?” Boldt asked, worried.
“We have calls in to all the hospitals,” Fowler explained.
Daphne took the fax and reread it, saying partly to herself, partly to the gathering, “He’s getting more wordy. That’s a good sign. He’s opening up.” The
They descended into a spacious, well-appointed living room. Owen Adler stood to the side of the steep ladder and offered his hand to Daphne to guide her down the steep steps. “Welcome aboard,” he said to Boldt.
Adler was a boyish forty-five, with graying hair at the temples, wire-rimmed glasses, French cuffs, and silver cuff links. He stood just under six feet but carried himself much taller. He wore soft brown Italian loafers, linen pants, and a faint pink pinpoint cotton shirt with a starched collar. His handshake was firm, his dark eyes attentive.
Adler and Daphne sat on opposite ends of a small chintz couch. Adler’s attorney and chief operating officer, Howard Taplin, took the cushioned chair to Adler’s immediate right. Taplin was a wiry man with drawn features, a trimmed mustache, and intense gray eyes. He wore a gray suit and black wing tips and the kind of high, thin socks that required garters. Boldt sat between Taplin and Kenny Fowler. Fowler had once served on the police force in Major Crimes, working the gangland wars. Boldt saw him occasionally at the Big Joke, where Boldt played happy-hour piano. Fowler carried a deliberate intensity in his eyes. He wore his dark hair slicked back and kept himself impeccably groomed. He fancied himself a ladies’ man, though the rumors had always been that he chased the cheerleading age. Boldt knew well the man’s reputation for an explosive disposition and frank honesty. Fowler shook hands strongly with Boldt and asked him about Liz and Miles. He always remembered to ask. He had a couple of new teeth in front and a tiny scar on his lower lip. Boldt wondered what the other guy looked like: Fowler was the workout type and wore tailored clothes to prove it.
As Adler opened the meeting, the cruiser left the protection of the jetty, entering some rougher water. But as the speed increased, the ride smoothed. The cabin was impressively soundproofed. A male crew member delivered a pitcher of iced tea and extra glasses with sprigs of mint and wedges of lemon. A plate of cookies circulated.
Adler said, “We want to welcome your assistance and expertise, Sergeant. This is a horrible situation, and we will cooperate in whatever way required to resolve this just as quickly as possible. I want to say right up front that we’re aware we may have impeded your efforts by waiting to contact you as we did.” He glanced at both Daphne and Howard Taplin. “And I should add that we still feel strongly about keeping the involvement of the police as low-profile as possible. With these contaminations, whoever this is has proved he means business, and we would just as soon be perceived as adhering to his demands—all of his demands.”
“Agreed,” Boldt replied. “Where do we stand with the recall?”
“We’ve issued a full recall for the product run in question. Kenny is continuing to quietly search for a possible employee who might carry a grudge. You two will want to coordinate on that, I’m sure.”
“We will not give in to terrorism,” Taplin interrupted.
Adler did not appreciate the intrusion. “What Tap means,” he said addressing Boldt, “is that we would prefer to catch this person than enter into negotiations.”
“And some of us would prefer to keep the police out,” Taplin said. “Nothing personal,” he added coolly, passing Boldt the most recent fax.
T HE CHOICE IS YOURS.
MORE SUFFERING—AND WORSE—
UNLESS YOU OBEY.
D O NOT CLEAR THE SHELVES,
AND NO POLICE OR PRESS OR
HUNDREDS WILL DIE .
B EEN TO PORTLAND LATELY ?
“Portland?” Boldt asked, worried.
“We have calls in to all the hospitals,” Fowler explained.
Daphne took the fax and reread it, saying partly to herself, partly to the gathering, “He’s getting more wordy. That’s a good sign. He’s opening up.” The
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