A Plague of Secrets by John Lescroart Read Free Book Online Page A

though.”
    Schiff took one end of the overstuffed floral-print couch. “I’m fine too.”
    For another second or two Maya stood expectantly, then she shrugged and took her place at the other end of the couch. “So all this business talk is interesting to me, of course, but that’s not why you’re here. How can I help you?”
    Schiff threw a look over to Bracco, and he came forward slightly. “Well, let’s get the hard stuff out of the way first. How long had Dylan Vogler managed BBW?”
    Maya’s lips turned up. “That’s not a hard one. He pretty much started when I opened, which was ten years ago, and took over full-time about two years later.”
    “Were you aware,” Bracco continued, “that he was selling marijuana out of BBW?”
    All traces of animation left her face. “To be honest, I had heard a couple of rumors.” She looked at Schiff.
    The female inspector nodded. “They were evidently true. He was growing high-grade marijuana in his attic. He had a backpack full of it on him when he was shot. He’s got records at his house for about seventy regular clients, a couple dozen of which we’ve already talked to. He sold it out of the store.”
    Maya’s hand went to her mouth. “I didn’t realize it was-”
    “So”-Bracco kept up the press-“you didn’t know that he had a criminal record?”
    Her brow clouded as she whiplashed back to Bracco. “Well, yes. I knew about that. But that was a long time ago.”
    Schiff again. “Before he worked for you.”
    “Right.”
    Bracco, double-teaming. “You knew about his record when you hired him?”
    “Of course.”
    “Of course?” Schiff asked.
    Maya nodded. “We were friends. We’d been friends in college, USF. I knew he’d made a mistake, but he’d paid for it, and I had an opportunity to help him get back on his feet. It didn’t seem like any kind of risk. He was a good guy and everybody liked him. He’s been an ideal manager for all this time.” She paused. “I can’t believe he was selling dope over the counter at the store.”
    “That’s pretty much established, ma’am,” Bracco said. “Do you mind telling us how much he made working for you?”
    For the first time Maya showed a reluctance to answer. Her back straightened for a second. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
    “Nevertheless,” Schiff said, “it could save us some time.”
    Still rigid on her corner of the couch, now no longer smiling, Maya looked at her hands in her lap. “He made ninety thousand dollars a year. Seventy-five hundred a month.”
    “A lot of money,” Schiff said.
    “As I said,” Maya responded, “the store made money. And largely because of Dylan’s management. He did a good job, and I thought it was fair to pay him well.”
    “What’s a manager of a Starbucks make?” Schiff asked.
    Maya shook her head. “Less than that, I’m sure. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not a big multinational corporation. I don’t have stock-holders. I can pay him whatever I want. He worked hard and I wanted to keep him happy, so I paid him well. As I said, we were friends in college. Once I got him set up, and especially once he started having a family, I felt a responsibility for him. Is there anything wrong with that?”
    Schiff shook her head. “Nobody’s saying there is, Mrs. Townshend.”
    But Bracco wasn’t ready to stop mining this vein. He jumped in quickly. “So did you and your husband socialize with Dylan and his wife?”
    “No,” Maya said. “No. Not very much. He’s my employee, after all. We have very different lives now.” Suddenly seeming to realize that she’d exposed herself somehow, Maya relaxed back into the couch, trailed an arm along the armrest. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what all these questions are about. Do you think I had something to do with Dylan’s death? Or knew more about his marijuana business? I don’t even know what’s going to happen to BBW now. I may put it up for sale. Joel and I