know how tight a rein she keeps on him.” He said it with a hint of a smile, a kind of understood wink. “He probably just wanted to bust loose a little. But Nance is worried, and by the time she finished, she had me worried.”
“All the reports are so vague, and that makes them more frightening,” Weaver insisted. “We were there . Right there at the bar. One of the reports said there might be seventy people dead.”
“Take it easy.” Callaway put a hand over hers, briefly. “You know how the media exaggerates.”
“People are dead.” Her face, soft around the edges, went hard. “That’s no exaggeration. How could that happen? It’s a good place. It’s not a dive or a joint. Hell, I’ve taken my mother there. Nobody will tell us anything,” she continued. “They’ve all told us we had to wait here, for you. I know who you are. I watch the media reports like a kid eats candy. You’re a homicide lieutenant. Were people murdered?”
“I’ll tell you what I can. There was an incident at On the Rocks this evening that resulted in multiple deaths.”
“Oh God. Joe?”
“I’m sorry to inform you Joseph Cattery has been identified as one of the victims.”
“Well, Jesus.” Callaway simply stared at her. His eyes, so dark they read black, went blank for a moment. “Jesus. Jesus God! Joe’s dead? He’s dead? How? He was just sitting at the bar, having a drink. We were all just having a couple drinks.”
“I’m not able to give you details at this time. Did either of you notice anything out of the ordinary while you were in the bar?”
“Nothing,” Weaver murmured, with tears swimming in her eyes. “There was nothing. It was happy hour, and most of the tables werefull, so we just took the bar. I didn’t want anything to eat anyway. We just sat at the bar, talked about the presentation, the campaign. Just shoptalk.”
“Did both of you leave alone?”
“Yes.”
“Yes,” Callaway concurred. “I actually walked out with somebody else from the company. Not our department. Whistler,” he said to Weaver. “I didn’t know he was in there, and we hit the door pretty much together. Said how’s it going, and went our separate ways.”
“How did he die?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Weaver, I can’t tell you at this time.”
“But his wife, his kids. He has a boy and a girl.”
“We’ll be talking to her. I’m going to ask you not to contact her until tomorrow, until we can make the official notification.”
“There must be something you can tell us,” Callaway insisted. “Something we can do. Joe … we were all there with Joe.”
“I can tell you that we’re actively investigating, and we’re pursuing any and all leads. We’ll be issuing a media release as soon as possible. You can tell me if either of you know of anyone who’d want to harm Mr. Cattery.”
“No, absolutely no.” Weaver took a long, steadying breath. “He’s the original Mister Nice Guy. He coaches a soccer team. He’s the first one to give you a hand if you need it. He’s been married—first and only time—for … I don’t know, twelve years, maybe more. He doesn’t forget your birthday.”
“Everybody likes Joe,” Callaway confirmed. “You have to.”
“How long have you worked with him?”
“I’ve been with S&R for nine years next January,” Weaver said. “He came on a few months after me.”
“I’ve been there almost ten years. We don’t always work together,” Callaway qualified. “We have solo projects, team projects.”
“And Stevenson Vann—related?”
“He’s the COO’s nephew,” Weaver informed Eve. “He came on about five years ago. He’s good. He’s got the knack. He and Joe are pretty friendly, actually. Their boys are about the same age—Steve’s divorced, but he gets the kid every other week. They talk kids. They talked kids tonight a little. Oh my God, who’s going to tell Steve?”
“I’ll do it.” Callaway took a breath. “I’ll tell him.”
“All the reports are so vague, and that makes them more frightening,” Weaver insisted. “We were there . Right there at the bar. One of the reports said there might be seventy people dead.”
“Take it easy.” Callaway put a hand over hers, briefly. “You know how the media exaggerates.”
“People are dead.” Her face, soft around the edges, went hard. “That’s no exaggeration. How could that happen? It’s a good place. It’s not a dive or a joint. Hell, I’ve taken my mother there. Nobody will tell us anything,” she continued. “They’ve all told us we had to wait here, for you. I know who you are. I watch the media reports like a kid eats candy. You’re a homicide lieutenant. Were people murdered?”
“I’ll tell you what I can. There was an incident at On the Rocks this evening that resulted in multiple deaths.”
“Oh God. Joe?”
“I’m sorry to inform you Joseph Cattery has been identified as one of the victims.”
“Well, Jesus.” Callaway simply stared at her. His eyes, so dark they read black, went blank for a moment. “Jesus. Jesus God! Joe’s dead? He’s dead? How? He was just sitting at the bar, having a drink. We were all just having a couple drinks.”
“I’m not able to give you details at this time. Did either of you notice anything out of the ordinary while you were in the bar?”
“Nothing,” Weaver murmured, with tears swimming in her eyes. “There was nothing. It was happy hour, and most of the tables werefull, so we just took the bar. I didn’t want anything to eat anyway. We just sat at the bar, talked about the presentation, the campaign. Just shoptalk.”
“Did both of you leave alone?”
“Yes.”
“Yes,” Callaway concurred. “I actually walked out with somebody else from the company. Not our department. Whistler,” he said to Weaver. “I didn’t know he was in there, and we hit the door pretty much together. Said how’s it going, and went our separate ways.”
“How did he die?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Weaver, I can’t tell you at this time.”
“But his wife, his kids. He has a boy and a girl.”
“We’ll be talking to her. I’m going to ask you not to contact her until tomorrow, until we can make the official notification.”
“There must be something you can tell us,” Callaway insisted. “Something we can do. Joe … we were all there with Joe.”
“I can tell you that we’re actively investigating, and we’re pursuing any and all leads. We’ll be issuing a media release as soon as possible. You can tell me if either of you know of anyone who’d want to harm Mr. Cattery.”
“No, absolutely no.” Weaver took a long, steadying breath. “He’s the original Mister Nice Guy. He coaches a soccer team. He’s the first one to give you a hand if you need it. He’s been married—first and only time—for … I don’t know, twelve years, maybe more. He doesn’t forget your birthday.”
“Everybody likes Joe,” Callaway confirmed. “You have to.”
“How long have you worked with him?”
“I’ve been with S&R for nine years next January,” Weaver said. “He came on a few months after me.”
“I’ve been there almost ten years. We don’t always work together,” Callaway qualified. “We have solo projects, team projects.”
“And Stevenson Vann—related?”
“He’s the COO’s nephew,” Weaver informed Eve. “He came on about five years ago. He’s good. He’s got the knack. He and Joe are pretty friendly, actually. Their boys are about the same age—Steve’s divorced, but he gets the kid every other week. They talk kids. They talked kids tonight a little. Oh my God, who’s going to tell Steve?”
“I’ll do it.” Callaway took a breath. “I’ll tell him.”
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