MACE CLOSED the door behind her and sat across from him. “Thanks for repping me last night with old Abe.”
“Just wait until you get my bill.” He held up the book. “Diane Tolliver sent this to me in the office mail.”
“Okay?”
“Like very recently. But she had no reason to. It’s an old textbook.”
“Put it down. Now!”
He quickly set the book on his desk.
“Who else has pawed it, other than you?” she said severely.
“At least one other, the mail room guy.”
“Great.”
“He didn’t know any better.”
“But you should have known better.”
“Okay, maybe I should have. But I didn’t. So now what?”
“You got a hanky?”
“No, but I do have some tissues.”
He handed some over. Mace used one to open the book slowly. “I glanced through a couple of pages, didn’t see any cryptic writing. But we could pour lemon juice on it and see if the invisible ink is revealed.”
“Or we could just do this.” She held the book by the spine and swung it back and forth, the pages flapping open.
A small key fell out and landed on the desk.
“Don’t!” Mace cautioned as Roy reached for it.
Using the tissue, she picked up the key by its ridged end.
Mace said, “Not a safety deposit box key, maybe a post office box.”
“That narrows it down to a few hundred million. And we don’t even know if this key came from her.”
“She ever mention a post office box?”
Roy shook his head. “No.”
Mace stared down at the key with such intensity that it seemed that she expected the bit of metal to suddenly confess all its secrets. “And you had no other communication from her?”
Roy started to say no, but then he stopped. He clicked some keys and turned the screen around for her to see. “She sent me an e-mail late on Friday night.”
“Do the police know about this?”
“Yep, because they already questioned me about it today. I told them I didn’t know what it meant.”
Mace read the line. “You sure nothing rings a bell?”
“No, but it’s awkwardly phrased. ‘Focus in on’? Why not just say ‘focus on’?”
“I don’t know. You’re the guy that gets paid by the word. Any viable candidates for ‘A’?”
“Too many. But I didn’t think you were on the police force anymore.”
“There’s no law that says a private citizen can’t investigate a crime.”
“But-”
“Getting back to the key and e-mail, any thoughts?”
“Well, you can’t hold me to anything.”
“Just tell me, Roy.”
“Chester Ackerman. He’s the managing partner of the firm. I spoke with him yesterday. He was really nervous, upset.”
“One of his lawyers got stuck in the fridge, there’s a lot to be upset about.”
“I know, but, and this is just my gut, he seemed scared beyond what the situation would compel, if you know what I mean.”
“Like he was scared for his own skin?”
“And I think he was lying about something too.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Just something.”
“What do you know about him?”
“He’s from Chicago. Has a family. Brings in tons of business.”
“Okay, so basically you’re telling me you know nothing?”
“I’ve never had a reason to dig much deeper on the guy.”
“So maybe now you do have a reason.”
“You want me to spy on the managing partner?” he said incredulously.
“And anybody else who seems productive.”
“For what is most likely a random killing?”
“Your partner got stuffed in a fridge. Who’s to say it doesn’t have something to do with this place?”
Roy picked up his rubber ball, and shot at the basket. And missed.
“Mechanics are off. Murder closeup sometimes does that.” She perched on the edge of his desk and used the tissue to go through the book page by page. “No mob players on the old client list by chance?”
He shook his head. “We don’t do criminal work here. Just deals.”
“Business clients get into legal trouble all the time.”
“Like I told you before, if it’s litigation, we farm it out.”
“To what firm?”
“Several, on an approved list.”
“We’re not making much progress here.”
“No, we’re not,” Roy agreed.
“How much do you make?”
His eyes widened slightly. “Why do you keep asking me that?”
“Because you haven’t given me an answer. Don’t look all pissed. It’s a legit question.”
“Okay, more than Altman is paying you.”
“How much more?”
“With bonus and profit-share and bennies, nearly double.”
“An entry-level cop on MPD pulls less than fifty thou a year.”
“I never said life was fair. But just so you know, as a CJA I never made close to fifty a year.” He studied her. “So why did you want to know how much I make?”
“Your firm clearly has money, so that’s a motive to kill.”
“Okay. Maybe I can look into some stuff and get back to you. What are you doing tonight?”
“Dinner with big sis. But I’m free after that.”
“What, you never sleep?”
“Not for the last two years.”
She pocketed the key still wrapped in tissue.
Roy looked nervously at her. “I don’t want a withholding evidence charge leveled against me.”
“And I want to find out what the hell is going on around here. I’m like addicted to things that seem to make no sense.”
“But you’re not a cop anymore, Mace.”
“So everybody keeps reminding me,” she said, as she left his office.