“Slumming. We already know she played roles-the whole punk bit. And
the thefts she pulled on her landlords were illogical, not for
profit.
Exactly the kind of thing that’s likely to get discovered.
She comes across disorganized to me, Alex. Not the type to plan and
execute a high-level blackmail scheme.
“No one said she was good at it. Look at the way she ended up.”
He looked around the empty room as if suddenly concerned about being
overheard. He drained his ale glass, then lifted his spoon and pushed
the soup bone around his bowl like a kid playing toy boat in a tiny
green harbor.
“The way she ended up,” he finally said. “So who killed her?
Daddy? Mommy? Grandpa?”
“Wouldn’t you say hired help? Those types don’t do their own dirty
work.”
“Hired to slice her and do a mechanical rape?”
“Hired to make it look like a psycho thing’ that’ll never get solved
unless the psycho does it again. Hell, maybe Ashmore was involved,
too, and the same guy was paid to set up a phony mugging.”
“Imaginative,” he said. “You just sat there with those people, playing
with their kid, making chitchat, and thinking all this?”
“You think I’m totally off-base?”
He ate more soup before answering. “Listen, Alex, I’ve known you long
enough to appreciate the way your mind works. I just don’t think you
have much more than fantasy at this point.”
“Maybe so,” I said. “But it sure beats thinking about Cassie and
everything we’re not doing for her.”
The rest of the food came. I watched him carve up his chicken.
He took a long time to section the meat, showing more surgical skill
and deliberation than I’d ever seen before.
“Phony psycho job on Herbert,” he said. “Phony mugging for Ashmore.”
“He was Herbert’s boss. Owned the computers and had done a toxicology
check on Chad Jones. It was logical to think he knew whatever Herbert
did. Even if he didn’t, whoever killed her might have taken care of
him, too, just to be careful.”
“Why would he be involved in blackmail? He was independently
wealthy.”
“He invested in real estate,” I said, “and the market’s sliding.
What if he was leveraged to the hilt? Or maybe he hadn’t quit
gambling, as his wife believed. Lost big at the tables and needed some
cash. Rich folk can get poor, right? The L.A. shuffle.”
“If Ashmore was in on it-and I’m just playing along at this point why
would he want Herbert for a partner?”
“Who says he did? She could have found out on her owngotten hold of
his computer data and decided to free-lance.”
He said nothing. Wiped his lips with his napkin, even though he hadn’t
eaten any chicken.
I said, “One problem, though. Ashmore was killed two months after
Herbert. If their murders are related, why take so long to eliminate
him?”
He tapped his fingers on the table. “Well . . . another way to look
at it is, Ashmore had no knowledge of what Herbert was up to at first,
but found out later. From data she’d stashed in the computer.
And he either tried to capitalize on it, or told the wrong person.”
“You know, that dovetails with something I saw the other day.
Huenengarth-the head of Security-removing Ashmore’s computers the
morning after Ashmore’s murder. My first impression was he was getting
hold of Ashmore’s equipment. But maybe what Huenengarth was really
after was in the machines. The data. He works for Plumb-meaning he
really works for Chuck Jones. Guy’s a real corporate henchman type,
Milo. Plus, his name came up yesterday when I was speaking to Mrs.
Ashmore. He was the one who called to offer the hospital’s
sympathies.
Was coming by with the UNICEF certificate and the plaque. Strange job
for head of Security, wouldn’t you say? Unless his real intention was
to learn if Ashmore kept a computer at home and, if he did, to get it
out of there.”
Milo looked down at his plate. Finally ate. Quickly, mechanically,
without much apparent pleasure. I knew how much food meant to him and
felt bad for ruining his dinner.
“Intriguing,” he said, “but it’s still one big z/” “You’re right,” I