Collateral Damage A Matt Royal Mystery - By H. Terrell Griffin Page 0,84

coffee.”

She returned with a sterling silver set, pot, tray, creamer, and sugar bowl. The cups were porcelain with small blue flowers and a gold band around the rim. “We used to do this every night,” she said. “My husband, Karl, and me. Late coffee never seemed to keep either of us awake. He’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Thank you, Mr. Royal. He was a good man, but the cancer ate him up, and it was a relief when he passed on. He was in such pain. But the years go by and the memories fade and every once in a while, like now, they come bounding back with a force that surprises me. But you didn’t come here to talk about me. Judy said you’re looking into Jim Desmond’s death. How can I help you?”

“I appreciate your seeing us so late, Mrs. Lane,” I said. “We’re beginning to think there was an Asian connection to his death. Mrs. Avera said there were a lot of Asians in and out of your office. Can you tell me anything about them?”

“No, I’m sorry. Bud never introduced any of them to us. He always took them into the back room.”

“Do you remember any of them speaking?”

“Only to say hello or that they were there to see Bud if he was in, something like that.”

“Were they all speaking English?”

“Yes.”

“Any accent?”

“Not a foreign accent. A couple of them sounded southern.”

“Did you ever pass the time of day with them?”

“No, but Judy did have a conversation with one recently. I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Do you know Nigella Morrissey?”

“I don’t think I do.”

“Did you ever hear the name around the office?”

“Not that I remember.”

“If I told you that she worked for the Otto Foundation, would that help?”

“What kind of work? It’s just the three of us in the office.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Lane, but we think she was employed by the Otto Foundation in some capacity.”

“Well, that’s news to me.”

“I understand you make some of the disbursements. Nigella’s name never came up?”

Maude shook her head. “I authorize some electronic funds to be sent to some of our suppliers, but only when Bud tells me to. He always gives me a list of the ones to send.”

“Have you worked for the foundation for a long time?” I asked.

“About ten years. After Karl died, I needed something to keep me busy. We never had any children and my family is scattered, so when I got the opportunity to work for the Otto Foundation, I jumped at it.”

We talked for a bit longer, but there was nothing else to learn. We finished the coffee and drove toward the airport. I was in a bleak mood, my mind churning with worry about J.D. We hadn’t come up with anything that would help in finding her. We’d chewed up a day and had very little to show for it. Images of her kept flashing through my brain like a slide show, pictures of her smiling on a spring day on my boat, or in a favorite restaurant on the key, or over a glass of wine in my living room. And then would come another slide, a picture of her tied to a chair somewhere, her face a rictus of fear.

Jock broke into my melancholy reverie. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. We’ve got an obvious connection to Stanley now. The one who tried to kill me was in the Otto Foundation offices. We don’t know whether he’s Laotian or some other variety of Asian. But then we get the thug with the shotgun in Stanley’s house speaking Vietnamese. That could tie him to John Nguyen and maybe to Tuan Nguyen in Ho Chi Minh City.”

“Or maybe they’re all Laotian and one of them speaks Vietnamese.”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Do you want me to get those hard drives you stole off to my tech people in Washington?”

“That’ll take too long. Let’s get them to Debbie, see if she can make any sense out of them. If not, we’ll get them to your people first thing in the morning.”

“It’ll be midnight by the time we get to Longboat,” Jock said.

“Debbie’s a night owl and if she knows this might tie in somehow to J.D.’s disappearance, she’ll work all night.”

We flew through the night to Sarasota. I asked the pilot if he could wait until he heard from me in the morning to decide whether to go to Jacksonville to pick up Macomber, or to ferry us around some more. He was agreeable. He’d spend the