Russell Andrews - Hades

"And results," Stan added. "He believed in the Bill Parcells school of economics. You are what your record says you are."

"Okay," Justin said. "I've got the theory he lived by. But what did he do during the day?"

"Mostly the same as what we did," Stan said. "He read, he researched, he focused."

Justin nodded and scratched at his half day's growth of beard. He wondered how the two guys in the room managed to stay so perfectly clean shaven. "And you didn't notice anything different over, say, the last few months?" he asked.

"Different how?" Ellen Loache asked.

"I don't know. Different behavior on Ronald's part. Different business practices. Different in any way."

"Well," Ellen said, "things definitely changed about six months ago, but that was only natural."

"Why?" Justin asked.

"The nature of our business changed," Harry said.

Justin didn't have to say anything. He just moved his fingers in a "come on" motion. Harry continued talking.

"Originally we were basically just a research company, providing services for other companies. That's mostly what Ronald did at the Rock."

"The Rock?"

"R and W. Rockworth and Williams."

"Wait," Justin said. "What does Rockworth and Williams have to do with Ronald?"

"That's where he used to work before starting TLG."

"He used to work at Rockworth?"

"Sure. He pretty much was Rockworth up here. He ran the Providence office. Ellen and I worked for him there."

"He brought me over from Citibank," Stan said, "in Boston."

Justin held his hand up, motioning for them to be quiet. He didn't know what the Rockworth connection could possibly mean, but it was too strong to ignore. The one thing that had popped up at every turn so far was the financial institution of Rockworth and Williams. Justin decided that he sure as hell was going to find out what that connection meant.

"Okay," he said after a few moments. "Go on. How did the business change?"

"We began doing a lot more of our own investing, dealing directly with clients rather than only working through Rockworth."

"And this changed things how?"

"A lot more personal service for one thing. When you're dealing directly with clients, you're at their beck and call." That was from Harry. He clearly didn't like being at other people's beck and call.

"A lot more travel for another," Ellen said. "Particularly for Ronald. He was spending a lot more time out of the office dealing with clients."

"Do you have a list of the clients and the places he traveled to?" Justin asked.

Ellen nodded and handed over a folder. "Mrs. LaSalle told me you'd be wanting that, so I already prepared it."

"This is everyone?"

"Certainly everyone I knew about."

Justin picked up on her hesitation. "Is it possible there were clients you didn't know about?"

Another hesitation. "I don't think so," Ellen Loache said, "but…"

"But Ron seemed like he was becoming more secretive about things," Stan said.

Harry shot Stan a sharp glance, but Justin turned to face Stan and asked him to be more specific.

"It's hard to really be specific," Stan said. "I just got the feeling he was doing something he didn't want to discuss with us. Or with me, anyway. To be honest, I thought maybe it was because he didn't think I was doing a great job."

"That's ridiculous," Ellen said quickly.

"Well, I mean, I know that," Stan said. "I had a great year. But still, he just didn't seem to want to include me sometimes."

Justin turned to Harry Behr. "Did you think the same thing? About you, I mean, not about Stan."

Harry also hesitated, then nodded. "Yes," he said. "It was weird. But not so weird that I felt like I could say anything."

"That's exactly the way I felt," Stan said. "It was subtle."

Justin had a few more questions but before he could ask anything else, Ellen said, "It's crazy, isn't it? Ronald and Evan Harmon… having this happen so close together. It creeps me out."

Justin managed to keep his voice calm and quiet. "Ronald knew Evan Harmon?"

"Sure," Harry said, "from Rockworth."

"Did they do business together?"

"Some."

"Recently?"

"Pretty regularly," Ellen said. "Particularly since we expanded the business."

"Was Ascension one of your clients?"

"One of our biggest," Stan said. "Maybe the biggest."

"Do you know the specifics of what they were doing together?"

"We did a lot of research for Ascension. Evan and Ronald talked a lot," Harry said.

Ellen indicated the folder. "Whatever I have is on that list. I tried to make it as thorough as I could."

The conversation went on for another twenty minutes or so. But Justin had run out of questions. He was staying because it was easier to sit there and talk with the three younger people than it was to get up and move. But he could tell that they were becoming fidgety and impatient, and it was Saturday night after all. He thought about taking them to dinner, having a few drinks with them. It would be nice. But he realized it would be nice only for him. They didn't want to spend their big night of the week drinking with a melancholy cop immersed in a murder case. They wanted to go home to their spouses or lovers or even their pets and TV sets. Dining with him would be way down on their list of desirable things to do. Maybe number 101 out of a hundred. So he thanked them one last time, and told them to go and try to enjoy themselves. They said that they'd do their best.

His parents had waited to have dinner and Justin appreciated the gesture. He was starving and bone tired and it was nice to relinquish control, even if for only a couple of hours. He made himself a perfect vodka martini with three olives, exactly the way his father liked his drink fixed, and his father joined him. Then Jonathan opened a superb bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape and they sat at the table and Justin did his best to fill them in on his day. He left out details he knew they wouldn't want to know-what had happened at Dolce, his encounter with the FBI agent on the steps of the police station-but he gave an in-depth accounting of the time he spent at Victoria's house. As he spoke, he could hear his words tinged with disappointment, even anger.

"Her grief is very raw right now. And even if weren't, people deal with grief in different ways," Jonathan said. "Some people are afraid of it."

"And some people wallow in it," Lizbeth added. "It took you a long time to get over yours."

Justin looked up from his wineglass. "Do you think I'm over it, Mother?"

She smiled softly. "What I think is that when we suffer loss and pain, it makes us a different person. It's like a physical wound. When you break your leg, you're not the same afterward-you're left with a scar or a limp or an ache whenever it rains. At some point it heals-the scar is barely seen, the limp is hardly noticeable-but your body is still different. Altered. Not necessarily worse, I suppose, but still different. And at some point you accept the fact that this is your new body; you realize you can still run, just maybe not as fast or as long; and you move on. It's the same when we grieve, except no one can see the scar, not when it's raw and not when it heals. But it changes you just as much, and the change is permanent. And at some point you accept the change and realize this is the new you. Emotionally battered and bruised and maybe even forever heartsick, but you move on."

"I'm not as sure as you are that I've moved on."

"It doesn't mean you've forgotten. And it doesn't mean you're not still sad. Of course you are. The scar is permanent. But I've seen enough of you now… you've become a different person. And I think you've accepted this new you. I'm very glad about that."

It was the longest speech he'd ever heard his mother utter, and he loved her for it. He started to thank her, to tell her he hoped she was right, to say he thought she just might be right, but his downtime had ended. He hadn't gotten two hours; he'd barely gotten a full sixty minutes. He hadn't even finished the salad that Louise had made. Didn't matter. His cell phone was ringing, and when he pulled the phone out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID, he knew he had to answer the call.