a Scotland Yard inspector at a conference a year ago. I thought I’d give him a ring to see if he knows anything about Chesterfield. He seems to be our only lead.”
“I’m not so sure about Moser,” Ragland said. “He seemed a little melodramatic. It could be he was putting on an act.”
“I didn’t get that impression, Pete. His grief seems genuine,” Quinlan said. Dillon could tell that his partner was restraining himself.
“Yeah, well, he could be a good actor. Let’s not cross him off our list yet.”
“Sure thing,” Quinlan said. “Say, Pete, do you know Chesterfield?”
“I know who he is. I have a bridge group I play with every Wednesday night when I can. We were short a man one evening and he sat in. That’s about it.”
“What are your impressions?” Quinlan asked.
“I don’t really have any. He seemed to know his bidding, if I remember correctly, but I can’t recall anything he said. I don’t know if I spoke to him after that.”
“Did you witness any of the behavior that led to Chesterfield leaving?”
“No. This job keeps me pretty busy, so I don’t get to the club as much as I’d like to.”
“Okay. The lab techs should be done with the crime scene by now, so Roger and I are going to take a look.”
As soon as Ragland and the detectives left the conference room, they heard someone yelling on the floor below. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they saw two police officers blocking a muscular young man in a garage mechanic’s uniform, who was trying to get around them.
Samuel Moser put a restraining hand on the distraught man’s arm. “Please, Gary,” he pleaded.
The man shook off Moser’s hand. “Let go of me.”
Ragland and the detectives joined the group.
“What’s going on?” the deputy DA asked.
“This is Gary Randall, Sophie’s husband,” Moser explained.
“Is she … When Margie called, she said she was…”
“She didn’t suffer,” Moser lied. “It was very fast.”
“Please, I have to see her,” Gary pleaded. “I won’t cause any trouble.”
Quinlan stepped between the officers and Randall. “I know you want to see your wife, but she’s passed and she’s at peace. You don’t want to see her now. You should remember her the way she was the last time you saw her, when she was happy. That’s the memory you want.”
Randall’s shoulders sagged and he started to sob. Quinlan escorted Randall into a room off the lobby and sat him on a sofa. Moser sat beside him.
Randall looked up, his eyes filled with tears. “Who would want to do this?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Quinlan assured him. “We have our best people looking for evidence that will lead us to the person who hurt your wife.”
“Where’s Jane?” Moser asked.
Randall looked as though he’d been punched in the gut. “Oh God. How can I tell her that Sophie is—?” He broke down again, unable to say the word.
“Jane?” Quinlan asked.
“Their daughter,” Moser explained.
“Is someone with her?” Moser asked Randall.
“She’s in school.”
“You should go to her,” Quinlan said. “Your daughter needs you now. Do you feel up to driving?”
Randall wiped his eyes and took some deep breaths. “I’ll be okay. When can I see Sophie to say goodbye?”
“Give these officers your contact information and I’ll make sure it’s soon,” Quinlan said.
“Thank you.”
Quinlan squeezed Randall’s shoulder. Then he led Dillon and Ragland out of the room.
“Poor bastard,” Dillon said.
“This is the part of this job I hate,” Quinlan told him. “And it never gets easier.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Morris Quinlan had been sitting in the reception area of the accounting firm of Fisk & Combe for fifteen minutes when a severe-looking woman in a gray business suit walked out of a long hall and stopped in front of him.
“No. I’m with Homicide, and it concerns your father, Arthur Gentry.”
Paulson’s features hardened. “It’s about time. Come back to my office.”
Paulson’s office was halfway down the hall. She had a window with a view of the Willamette River and enough space to let you know that she was a partner in the firm. The decorations were austere, mostly college degrees and professional certificates. The few personal items were a picture of Mrs. Paulson, her husband, and their child, and a framed crayon drawing of a stick figure father, mother, and child standing in front of a house that Quinlan assumed was a tribute to the daughter’s artistic talent.