John Lescroart - The Motive

"You like my paintings?"

Surprised-where had the man come from?-Glitsky whirled and found out. A door on the left wall stood open, blessedly light and even inviting. "I can't really say they speak to me."

"Yes, I do suppose it's an acquired taste. The tension of whether something terrible has just happened, or whether it's about to."

Glitsky shook his head. "I get enough of that in my job."

"Yes, of course. I suppose you do." He extended his hand, revealing a mouthful of perfect teeth under a crisp gray mustache. He was about Glitsky's size, a bit thinner. His hair was thick, silver. Even here in his home on the weekend, he was well turned out-black merino sweater, tan slacks, expensive-looking loafers. A handsome, confident man. "Nils Granat," he said, gripping Glitsky's hand hard, meeting his eyes. "We've met before, haven't we?"

"Yes, sir, a couple of times at City Hall. I wasn't sure you'd remember."

Granat turned his mouth up slightly, touched his forehead. "I remember people. It's almost what I do best. So what can I do for you, Chief? Is 'Chief' all right?"

"Fine."

"You want to sit in the library?" He jerked a finger behind him. "Right here." Without waiting for Glitsky to respond, he was already through the door and into the large, airy, pleasant adjoining room. "That foyer is a little gloomy, isn't it?" he said over his shoulder. "I should probably leave the side doors open, brighten it up. But then, I wasn't expecting anybody, especially this early on a weekend morning." He turned, confident that Glitsky would be there, and when he was, motioned him to the red leather couch. Granat himself pulled an Empire chair around and sat on it, crossing one leg over the other. "So how can I help you?" he asked. If he had any sense that this no-warning, early-morning visit by a high-ranking policeman meant that he was in trouble, he showed no sign of it.

Glitsky came forward to the front edge of the couch, and came right to the point. "I'm investigating the murder of Paul Hanover."

"God. Wasn't that a tragedy!"

"Yes, sir. But it was more than that. Somebody killed him."

Granat nodded. "That's what they're saying." "You don't believe it?"

"Oh no, not that. Of course I believe it. I mean, he was shot, wasn't he, before the fire? I just meant I hadn't heard that anyone had determined he'd been the primary target."

"You mean the woman?"

"Yes. Didn't she have some… well, maybe I shouldn't say."

"No. Say anything you want. At this point, I'm interested in anything you might know."

"Well, I can't say that I know anything. It's just that… Missy, wasn't it? You know that she just sort of appeared one day, and after that she was with Paul-a fait accompli, if you will. Not that she wasn't beautiful, but she didn't seem to be quite… one of us in some way. I may not be saying anything very coherent."

"So you think somebody in her past might have…"

Granat shook his head. "I can't say I've gotten so far as to actually think anything. Maybe it was just that she was foreign. French, I think. In any event, when I heard about the killings, I wondered about her background first, her enemies, not Paul's. I mean, Paul was extremely well liked, very respected by everyone. And not just here, but in Washington, everywhere. He put people together, did immense good work on many, many fronts. I knew him pretty well, as you may know, and I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt him, much less kill him. It just doesn't make any sense."

"So your initial feeling was that it had something to do with Missy?"

"More than with Paul. Yes."

Glitsky sat back. "That's interesting."

"Do you know anything about her? Not that it's any of my business."

"Not too much," Glitsky admitted.

"Well." Granat lifted his hands palms up. "But you came to see me? About Paul? It must be about the towing, then?"

Glitsky halfway apologized. "It was someplace to start."

"Sure, I understand. It would be." Granat sat back, his arm outstretched along the row of books behind him. "Well, I'd be the first to admit that for the most part, the towing industry is a bit of a tough crowd, although that's still a long way from saying that violence is a common negotiating tool."

"But not necessarily unheard of."

Granat shook his head. "As a matter of fact, I'm not aware of any time recently that Tow/Hold has resorted to anything like strong-arm tactics. It's one of the reasons they retain me. To get things done a different way."

"But now with Mayor Washington gone…"

The lobbyist smiled. "We still have a mayor, and the city still needs an experienced company to handle its towing. And in spite of what you might have heard, no final decision has been reached."

"No, I realize that. In fact, it's kind of my point. Now, with Hanover out of the picture, it leaves Bayshore rudderless…"

Granat's dry chortle cut him off. "I wouldn't say 'rudderless.' These people are not rudderless. They're a very sophisticated bunch of venture capitalists who are trying to buy their way into a business they believe to be profitable but don't completely understand."

"As Tow/Hold does."

Another nod. "I believe the mayor might come to see it that way, yes."

"Or one of the members of the Municipal Transportation Agency?"

"Or one of them, that's true. Three, I believe, are already inclined to retain Tow/Hold."

"I've heard that, too."

"So from my perspective the decision is still very much a matter of the merits. Three of the MTA people obviously think that we-Tow/Hold-should stay on because we're doing a pretty good job, in spite of some of the problems we've had." Granat leaned forward in his chair. "You've got to understand, Chief, that whoever gets the contract, they're going to have the same problems. Fact is, they're going to have to hire the very same folks that we use to run the lots and patrol the streets. That's the reality. And they're not going to pay those people any more than we do-they can't and make a profit. So they've got the same labor pool doing the same work for the same price. The only change is the employer's name and a few guys at the top of the food chain. At least Tow/Hold has identified a lot of the bad eggs and knows to keep them off the payroll. Under Bay-shore, it'll be the same thing we've got now, only worse because of the learning curve on top of everything else. I'll be telling that to the folks at MTA next week, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if I convince at least one of them with the simple logic of it."

"Especially now that Hanover won't be rebutting you."

For an instant, Glitsky thought he saw a spark in Granat's eyes, but if he had, it disappeared immediately. "I liked Paul a lot, Chief. I really did. As you can see, I'm pretty comfortable here financially, so are the top guys at Tow/Hold. If we lose the contract, of course we'll be disappointed, but nobody's going under. I promise. We do twelve other cities in the ninecounty area. Nobody took Paul out to keep him from influencing Kathy West, which seems to be what you're implying."

Glitsky shook his head. "I haven't implied anything. I was just wondering what you'd have to say about all this. Have you talked to the mayor since Wednesday?"

A tepid smile. "I called and had a small talk with her right after I heard about Paul."

"And since then?"

"Well, I'm afraid her honor doesn't return many of my calls."

"So you've tried, then?"

"Of course. But it's all about access. And I don't have it. Not yet, anyway." He sat back, seemed to gather himself. "Look, I'm not going to bullshit you and pretend we don't want to keep the contract. It's a huge deal. But it's business."

"Yes, but if Bayshore can stop you in San Francisco, they're in a better position to poach in your other territories."