Chapter Six

 

I've got a few feelings about this guy, and none of them are proof of anything just yet. Which means that I've got to dig a little. But without any real solid suspects, I give the boys a call.

They'll go through more official channels and get photos of the scene. They won't find anything. The photos won't mean anything, in the end. But that doesn't mean that we can just skip the step because it's an inconvenience.

We'll have to do what we can, in spite of the fact that I don't think there's a snowball's chance in hell that we find much of anything in the place. Because there are procedures to follow, even when they're useless.

***

Josh takes a look around the estate before getting out of the car. It's a big place. There are bigger, maybe. One or two.

But this one was built by the old man, Mr. Queen the elder, practically with his own two hands, so big or not was his own decision to make. Not the decision some asshole two hundred years ago made, and the man living there now just liked well enough to shell out twenty million for.

There's a guy outside the door, to compliment the guy at the gate who let them in. Unlike the guy at the gate, there's no little stool here, which probably means that he's either less senior—or, if this were the military, more senior.

Then again, it could be some kind of shit-test for the new guys. You'd find out pretty damn quick on a hot day if they can stand outside for a few hours without passing out.

The third possibility is that he's usually patrolling, but he's been placed here special for my visit. Each seems about as likely as the last possibility.

Josh slips out of the car. Anna comes out after. She's got a habit of following his lead, one that she seems to have slipped into so naturally that she might not have noticed it.

She might do it with every guy she runs into, now that she's untied. An extreme submissive attitude. It only means one of two things: stupidity or abuse.

She wants approval, and she wants it so bad that she'll debase herself for it. Either someone's convinced her that she will regret it if she doesn't, or she's really incapable of getting anywhere without someone helping her.

 She hasn't shown signs that she's a dumb girl. It would be obvious. She'd be incapable of taking care of herself, for Pete's sake. Never mind care for a child, she wouldn't even have managed to stay in that apartment.

On the other hand, there aren't many people who would have caused a girl like this to think of herself as some guy's accessory.

In fact, if the story is anything like what it's supposed to be, the two of them had been dating since high school. There wouldn't have been many chances for someone else to have gotten to her. None of them recent enough to still have such a strong grip on her.

Anna waits patiently for him to pass by. Josh tries to smile reassuringly. She doesn't look suitably reassured, but then again how could she be expected to be?

He keeps his head up as he walks up to the guy. Anna surprises by greeting him by name.

"Hey, Terry." The big guy's got a scar on his face and his nose has never been set right from several breaks. He looks for all the world like he might be the roughest son of a bitch on the planet.

"Miss Anna," he says. He winks in a way that doesn't hide it, but says that he can't be more friendly on the job. It's an interesting mix of professionalism and friendliness. The sort of thing you might build up over time with a staff, if you were a friendly kind of person.

And again it speaks to the sort of man that he works for. It may prove to have been more trouble than it was worth, in the end, but for now it seems as if bringing Anna isn't going to be a dead end. She's already telling him things about the house, without even knowing it.

The big guy—he is damn big, too—reaches back to open the door, ushers them inside, and then takes the lead, down a side path and into a longish hallway. After a short walk he turns to the right.

Anna must know where they are. She's probably been at this house a thousand times. She'll know every room in the place. She doesn't offer any insight into where they're going, and neither does 'Terry.'

"Go on inside, Detective. Mr. Queen is waiting."

"Thanks."

Josh walks in. It'll be interesting to see whether or not Anna comes inside. She does, but only a step. She stays by the door. He leaves her there for the moment. It will play out how it's going to play out. The door closes behind them.

"Mitchell Queen?"

Two men stand up. Both of them are in thousand-dollar suits. When they turn, not quite in unison, it's much easier to tell them apart.

The one in the black suit is older, hairline receding, spectacles that sit low on his nose. He starts moving almost as soon as I speak, circling around the other.

The younger man has tight, thick black hair, and the face of a celebrity. Both figuratively, and literally, because he's been a celebrity since he had the good fortune of picking the right family to be born into.

"Detective Meadows? I'm Jake Morrow; I've been retained by the Queens as their attorney, I'll be present for any questioning."

"I don't have many questions. I'm sure this will only take a moment."

"Excellent," the thin man says. He uses the side of his thumb to press the glasses up his nose. They slip down again a moment later.

"Do you mind if I sit?"

"No, not at all. Go right ahead," the attorney says. It's odd.

Or, it seems odd, until Josh gets a look at Mitchell's face. He's not looking at the detective, which is exactly what the plan had been. He's looking at the girl. Whatever he's thinking about her, he's not saying it.

Josh goes across the room and sits down. The chair faces the door, puts his back to the wall. It's a fabulously comfortable chair, as well. Really surprising. The thing looked so ornate that he assumed it would be like sitting on a bed of nails.

"If you'll pardon the intrusion, Mr. Queen, I've just got some potentially upsetting news, and a few questions."

Queen hasn't sat back down yet. He's still looking at the girl. The statement, now that I'm seated, causes him to slowly settle down into his own seat. His face turns over towards mine like it's causing him real difficulty.

"I'm happy to be of any assistance I can."

Josh takes a deep breath and pulls the digital recorder out of his pocket. Unlikely. If he were really being asked the questions going through Josh Meadows's mind, then 'happy' would be the last thing he'd be.

"Do you mind if I record this? Makes it easier than writing notes down, you know?" Mitchell's eyes flick down to the tape recorder. Then they move over to the pad that Josh pulls out with his hand. "Oh, this? Just in case I think of anything while you're speaking, you see. I'd hate to cut you off, especially being who you are. Or if you refuse the recording, of course."

He takes a second. He leans over to the attorney without speaking, keeps his eyes on the recorder. The attorney leans back, says something, and Mitchell nods. "Sure."

"Thanks. You're a real help. I appreciate it. I'll put that in my notes."