David Baldacci - True Blue

“In light of what happened this morning that’s very reassuring,” Roy said sarcastically. “Did you see anyone leaving between the time you heard Diane and when I came in?”

“There were only a few people who came in during that time. All regulars.”

“Anybody from Shilling?”

“Not that I recognized, no.”

Roy scrutinized Ned. “Did you maybe take another break?”

“No, I swear, I was here the whole time. Okay, I was reading, but I couldn’t have missed someone passing by. The lobby’s not that big.”

That was true, thought Roy. And anyone coming up from the garage elevator would have to pass right in front of the security desk.

“So are you saying you saw nobody leave during that time?”

“That’s right. Just people coming in. I mean, it was early, who’d be leaving?”

At least one person might have , thought Roy. The killer. “And you told the cops this?”

“Yeah, everything.”

“Does your firm carry lots of insurance?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Well, if I were you I’d find out, because your screwup affected a law firm big-time. And don’t forget, they can sue you without even having to hire an attorney.”

“Jesus, do you think they might come after me? I mean, they can’t, right? I’m just the security guard. I don’t have any money.”

“The courthouse is open to anyone, Ned. And, hell, they might go after you just for the sheer fun of it.”

Roy walked out into the sunshine. Whoever had killed Diane had probably gone up in the elevator with her. And maybe instead of leaving, that person had then stayed in the building somewhere. He or she might even be there now, working in another office.

Or in my office.

Diane had come in about ninety minutes before he had. Had she been killed immediately and the murderer long gone before Roy got to the office? Or had it happened minutes before he got there? Or had it happened while he was in his office and he hadn’t heard a damn thing? He tried to remember how cold Diane’s body had been. The fact was, if she’d been in the fridge two days or half an hour, she would still have felt pretty cold to him. Maybe the ME would have a better shot at answering that.

“You look like you’re thinking way too hard.”

Roy looked to his left where Mace Perry was perched on her Ducati staring at him.

WHAT ARE YOU doing back here?” Roy asked as he walked over.

“How do you know I ever left?”

“I can see the front entrance from my office. I’ve been staring out at it the last few hours.” He eyed the Ducati. “I wouldn’t have missed these wheels.”

“Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot. And I came back to try it again.”

Roy didn’t look inclined to accept her offer, but he said, “I never got your name.”

“It’s Mace.”

“Mace? That’s a weapon, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I am,” she quipped.

“Come on, what’s your name?”

“Really, my name is Mace.”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

Mace looked toward the building. “I saw you talking to the security guard. What did he say?”

Roy looked at Ned through the glass. “Not much. Ned’s not exactly all that with it.”

“Tolliver might’ve ridden up in the elevator with whoever killed her. Ned was probably somewhere taking a sugar-slurp break. Killer did the deed and then either walked out or to his office in the building. Maybe at your law firm.”

“That’s one theory.”

“I’ll give you another one. You were the one who went up in the elevator with Tolliver, and she used her key card, so that leaves no record of you. You killed her and stuffed her in the fridge. You snuck down the stairs and waited until the guard came back. Then you waltzed in the building from the garage elevator side like it was the first time, so he could time-stamp you in his head. You go up to the office, fuss around at your desk for a while, go to the kitchen, open the fridge, catch the poor lady-which would explain any trace of her being on your person and vice versa-and then you call the cops in a fake-freak voice.”

Roy stared at her, his features darkening. “Is this how you try to make a fresh start? By accusing me again?”

“I’m not accusing you. But you’re a lawyer. You know what’s coming. You were on the scene alone with a dead woman. The cops will go down this very same trail with you at some point. So you better be prepared to answer. You can practice on me.”

“Why, so you can go back to the cops, tell them, and they can run holes right through my explanations?”

“I told you, I’m not a cop. And if what you’re saying is the truth it would be pretty tough to pin a murder rap on you.”

“Okay, I’ll play along. I accessed the parking garage with my card. That shows I got in around seven-thirty. Took the elevator up to my office, did some work. Went to make coffee and found Diane. I made the call to 911 at two minutes past eight. Records show she was at the office ninety minutes before I got there. I didn’t even know she was there.”

“That won’t cut it. You could’ve parked your car down the street, walked into the garage, waited for her to arrive, ridden up in the elevator with her, killed her, left, driven your car to the garage, and the same scenario follows.”

“Ned said he heard Diane saying hello to someone. That doesn’t fit with your scenario.”

“The testimony of morons is always heavily discounted by the blues and the courts. And the fact is, you could’ve come in when you said, at seven-thirty, gone up in the elevator, killed Tolliver, stuffed her in the fridge, and called the cops. Plenty of time.”

“Okay, what’s my motive?”

“I’m a purist chick when it comes to a criminal investigation, meaning I eyeball opportunity first. Motive usually comes later. But if it’s there, the cops will find it.”

“So what should I do? Grab the next flight to a country that has no extradition with the U.S.?”

“Nah, it’ll probably be okay.”

Roy looked startled. “Probably?”

“I’ve got a good nose for killers, and it’s not twitching around you. So where’d you play basketball?”

“How do you know I did? Just because of the office door hoop?”

“It’s partly your height, and the way you walk, and how you dissected my playing career earlier.”

“And what’s the other part?”

“I saw a set of Audi keys on your desk earlier. I checked the garage here. There was an Audi parked near the entrance, which would peg it as yours since you got here so early. In the backseat were a duffel bag, three basketballs, and four pairs of expensive B-ball shoes that pretty much only collegiate or professional players will put out for.”

“University of Virginia Cavaliers.”

“I actually already knew that since you also have the big cool orange sticker on your rear bumper.”

“You know, you look like the police chief.”

“She’s a lot taller than me.”

“I meant in the face, and the eyes. You both have green eyes, with some flecks of bronze.” He looked at her more closely. “And a tiny bubble of magenta in the right one.”

Mace studied her eyes in the Ducati’s side mirror. Incredibly enough, for the first time, she did see bronze and the pop of magenta.

“I don’t know any guys who even realize magenta is a color.”

He pointed at her. “I knew I recognized you. You’re her sister, Mace Perry. Should’ve remembered as soon as you said your name.” He broke off. “But the newspapers said your name was originally Mason Perry.” He looked at her funny. “Mason Perry, Perry Mason the TV lawyer? Is that a coincidence?”