it. She and Mona Danforth had words about it while we were at Café Milano. But the thing is, whoever’s investigating Meldon’s death should have retraced his steps too. They could’ve found something or knew that he was meeting with Tolliver. And let me tell you, if their deaths aren’t connected it’s like the mother of all coincidences. And I don’t believe in coincidences anyway.”
“So we find Diane’s killer, we get Meldon’s murderer too.”
“That’s sort of the plan.”
“Any way to find out who is investigating Meldon’s homicide?”
“If I ask Beth she’ll want to know why. I can try a couple other sources. Meantime we need to follow up our own leads.”
“But that waiter could call the cops and tell them what he just told us.”
“He could but I doubt he will.”
“Why?”
“He’s probably forgotten about it. It just comes with the chronic ADD mentality of that generation that believes that twittering actually constitutes personal interaction.”
“Hey, that waiter was about the same age as me.”
“Sorry. So can you find out where Diane worked before Shilling?”
“Yeah. But let me write it down. Otherwise I’ll probably forget we even had this conversation because of my generational ADD.”
“Oh, Roy, at least you make me laugh.”
“Well, while you’re laughing I also just remembered where I saw the initials DLT.”
“DLT?”
“It was at the bottom of the last e-mail Diane sent me.”
“I saw that. Just figured it was her initials.”
“That’s what I thought too, but she never signed any other e-mails that way.”
“Okay. So what else could it mean?”
“I’m betting DLT stands for Daniels, Langford and Taylor.”
“And they are?”
“The escrow agent that Shilling & Murdoch uses for all of its closing transactions. Their offices are up on K Street, right in the middle of Lobbyist Alley.”
“And they’re significant why?”
“They do the money wire transfers for our deals. Billions of dollars go through their office, at least electronically. Billions.”
“Okay, billions of anything always gets my attention. What do you think you can find out?”
“I can check the firm archives for a start. I can look through closing docs for the deals that Diane and I worked on, check escrow letters, electronic funds transfer confirmations, that sort of thing.”
Before he walked inside she said, “Call me with whatever info you can get on Diane. I’ll follow it up from there. But you need to focus on repping the Captain. With Mona on the other side waiting with fangs bared, you’re going to really need to bring your A-game.”
She roared off, leaving Roy to trudge into the building, his briefcase smacking against his leg.
Ned nodded to him from the security desk.
“You okay, Mr. Kingman?” he asked.
“Never better.”
CHAPTER 86
MACE DROVE BACK to Abe Altman’s place and checked on Alisha and Tyler. She found the pair in Altman’s study going over specifics of the program Altman had designed. They looked up when she poked her head in. Ty still had the basketball and was bouncing it in a corner.
“Where’s Darren?” Mace asked.
“He left,” said Alisha. “Didn’t say where he was going and didn’t say when he be back. I’m worried about him.”
“Hey, Razor can take care of himself.” This was a lie, Mace knew. When it came to people like Psycho you’d need an Army battalion to take care of yourself. She walked back to the guesthouse, went up to her bedroom, and pulled something out of her closet. It was the baggie of shell casings the honor guard had given her at her father’s funeral. She sat back on the bed and held the bag on her chest, staring at the ceiling. It was so stupid of her to have opened the coffin. Every time she thought of her father, it began with that horrifying image before she could manage to push it aside.
She rattled the metal in the bag.
Okay, Dad, what do you think I should do? Let Beth run with this or keep chugging on? I want to be a blue again, Dad. I have to be a blue again.
She rattled the casings some more, as though trying to get better reception. There was no answer. There would never be an answer. She wasn’t a little girl anymore who could run to Daddy for help. These were her problems to solve. Only there was no right or wrong answer. There were only choices. Her choices.
She put the precious bag of used ordnance away, slipped over to the window, and looked over the grounds. Her gaze, by habit, sought out all places of potential danger. Entry points, the shadowy spaces under