probably shared by a number of people.”
“A legion of enemies,” Marks suggested.
“A number. It’s inevitable in the business.”
“Who else do you have in mind?”
Oh, Julie, she thought, never volunteer. “I was just speaking generally, Lieutenant.”
“I understand. Have you been able to learn why this Mr. Phillips felt the way he did?”
“No, sir.”
“How did Alexander feel about him?”
“Contemptuous is the first word that comes to mind.”
“We may want to go into this later,” Marks said, “but we must assume for now that Phillips, already dead, is not a suspect in Alexander’s murder, which is the crime under our investigation.”
“Am I a suspect?” Julie asked.
“Well, you’re very much alive,” Marks said with the slightest of smiles. “Let’s talk some more about you. I understand you and your husband were personal friends of the Alexanders…”
Julie turned that over in her mind: she had scarcely thought of Fran, only of herself. “I ought to have thought about Fran,” she said aloud. “We used to be closer friends than we’ve been lately. I haven’t seen her since shortly after I went to work for Tony. He and my husband did meet.” She wondered if it was Fran who had told him of the family friendship.
“Did you know she was in the office this afternoon?”
“No, sir.”
“Any ill will between you and Mrs. Alexander?”
“Not on my part certainly. I’m fond of her. But the longstanding friendship was between Tony and my husband. Jeff started his career working for Tony.”
“Geoffrey Hayes?”
Julie nodded and thought how often she had mentioned him.
“Are you familiar with the box on Alexander’s desk, the one with the slot ink?”
“Yes, sir. We put our copy in it for Tony.”
“Ever try to get anything out of it?”
“No. I don’t think it’s possible without the key.”
“You know the box is bolted to the desk?”
“I know that I’ve never seen it in any other place,” Julie said, wondering now for the first time why it was so carefully secured.
“Ever see inside of it?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Did you know that Alexander kept a loaded revolver in that box?”
“No, sir. I certainly did not know that.”
Marks got to his feet. “Let’s see if we can go over there now. Wally, anything more you want on the tape from Mrs. Hayes?”
“Mrs. Hayes, did you notice any other name besides Mr. Alexander’s in the registry?”
“No. I only noticed Tony’s because it was familiar to me.”
“Yes, ma’am. What was the name of the man you wrote the story about?”
“Morton Butts.”
Marks and Herring exchanged glances. “I’ll check it out,” Herring said.
EIGHT
J ULIE CAUGHT SIGHT OF Tim Noble as she moved across the hall with Marks. Herring was waiting for him. Tim looked bereft. Julie wondered why she had no such feeling. She kept wanting to ask, How’s Fran? or How’s Fran holding up? but even as she framed the words they seemed forced and hollow.
In the office technicians were gathering their gear, repacking their kits at the conference table. Tony’s desk was covered with a sheet except for the corner where the copy box had been. There the wood was lighter in color and two holes showed where the bolts had been removed. The floor in the area of the desk and the celebrity bank was marked with masking tape. Chalk circles enclosed dark splotches it took Julie a few seconds to recognize as blood. The shock of reality finally hit home. The room tilted and momentarily went out of focus.
“Are you all right?” Marks asked.
“I’ll make it.”
When he was sure she was not going to pass out, Marks said, “I thought you might like to look up those names you missed out on last night.”
Julie just looked at him.
Marks sighed. “The world is full of s.o.b.s, isn’t it?” He echoed Phillips’ words to a purpose of his own. “But you do see how hard it is to believe that someone would walk that distance
“A legion of enemies,” Marks suggested.
“A number. It’s inevitable in the business.”
“Who else do you have in mind?”
Oh, Julie, she thought, never volunteer. “I was just speaking generally, Lieutenant.”
“I understand. Have you been able to learn why this Mr. Phillips felt the way he did?”
“No, sir.”
“How did Alexander feel about him?”
“Contemptuous is the first word that comes to mind.”
“We may want to go into this later,” Marks said, “but we must assume for now that Phillips, already dead, is not a suspect in Alexander’s murder, which is the crime under our investigation.”
“Am I a suspect?” Julie asked.
“Well, you’re very much alive,” Marks said with the slightest of smiles. “Let’s talk some more about you. I understand you and your husband were personal friends of the Alexanders…”
Julie turned that over in her mind: she had scarcely thought of Fran, only of herself. “I ought to have thought about Fran,” she said aloud. “We used to be closer friends than we’ve been lately. I haven’t seen her since shortly after I went to work for Tony. He and my husband did meet.” She wondered if it was Fran who had told him of the family friendship.
“Did you know she was in the office this afternoon?”
“No, sir.”
“Any ill will between you and Mrs. Alexander?”
“Not on my part certainly. I’m fond of her. But the longstanding friendship was between Tony and my husband. Jeff started his career working for Tony.”
“Geoffrey Hayes?”
Julie nodded and thought how often she had mentioned him.
“Are you familiar with the box on Alexander’s desk, the one with the slot ink?”
“Yes, sir. We put our copy in it for Tony.”
“Ever try to get anything out of it?”
“No. I don’t think it’s possible without the key.”
“You know the box is bolted to the desk?”
“I know that I’ve never seen it in any other place,” Julie said, wondering now for the first time why it was so carefully secured.
“Ever see inside of it?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Did you know that Alexander kept a loaded revolver in that box?”
“No, sir. I certainly did not know that.”
Marks got to his feet. “Let’s see if we can go over there now. Wally, anything more you want on the tape from Mrs. Hayes?”
“Mrs. Hayes, did you notice any other name besides Mr. Alexander’s in the registry?”
“No. I only noticed Tony’s because it was familiar to me.”
“Yes, ma’am. What was the name of the man you wrote the story about?”
“Morton Butts.”
Marks and Herring exchanged glances. “I’ll check it out,” Herring said.
EIGHT
J ULIE CAUGHT SIGHT OF Tim Noble as she moved across the hall with Marks. Herring was waiting for him. Tim looked bereft. Julie wondered why she had no such feeling. She kept wanting to ask, How’s Fran? or How’s Fran holding up? but even as she framed the words they seemed forced and hollow.
In the office technicians were gathering their gear, repacking their kits at the conference table. Tony’s desk was covered with a sheet except for the corner where the copy box had been. There the wood was lighter in color and two holes showed where the bolts had been removed. The floor in the area of the desk and the celebrity bank was marked with masking tape. Chalk circles enclosed dark splotches it took Julie a few seconds to recognize as blood. The shock of reality finally hit home. The room tilted and momentarily went out of focus.
“Are you all right?” Marks asked.
“I’ll make it.”
When he was sure she was not going to pass out, Marks said, “I thought you might like to look up those names you missed out on last night.”
Julie just looked at him.
Marks sighed. “The world is full of s.o.b.s, isn’t it?” He echoed Phillips’ words to a purpose of his own. “But you do see how hard it is to believe that someone would walk that distance
Similar Books
