The Fregoli Delusion by Michael J. McCann Read Free Book Online Page B

c-level.”
    “C-level?” Horvath asked,
frowning.
    “Corporate slang,” Byrne
explained. “C-level refers to the top level of executives whose titles all
begin with a C: CEO, CFO, CIO, COO.”
    “I believe I saw our security
company’s fingerprint records listed on your warrant,” Kelly said.
    “And so you did, but I prefer to
take my own, thank you very much. More than once I’ve seen fingerprint records
tampered with to hide something or other.”
    “I don’t understand why you need
to fingerprint upstairs to begin with. He was shot near his home, not here.”
    Kelly’s tone was reasonable and
her expression genuinely puzzled, and although Byrne was a bristly prick who
didn’t play well with others, he enjoyed these moments in his life when he
discovered a gap in someone’s education that he could fill with his own
superior knowledge.
    “You see, Mrs. Kelly,” he said,
folding his arms across his chest, “the lieutenant’s job involves learning
everything he can about the victim’s activities over the final few days of his
life. He’ll want to know when he was last in his office, for example, and whom
he saw. He’ll construct a timeline and fill it with reference points for every
person he interacted with along the line. He’ll want a record of all the
fingerprints in the office for corroboration, and who knows, maybe we’ll find a
set of prints that don’t belong in there. Maybe someone slipped in and bothered
him about something. Maybe the same person showed up again this morning on the
bike path and—”
    “Tim,” Hank interrupted, “where
are you with the records from the security company?”
    Byrne frowned at the interruption.
“Mick’s down on the fourteenth right now,” he replied, referring to CSI Mickey
Marcotte, his computer technology specialist. “The security company’s owned by
Jarrett but run by a guy named Drussler.”
    Hank turned to Horvath. “Go down
there and see if you can find Mr. Drussler.”
    “He’s waiting in his office,”
Kelly said. “I gave him instructions to make himself available.”
    “Thanks,” Hank said.
    “I’m on my way down,” Byrne said
to Horvath. “Let’s go.”
    Hank followed Kelly to a set of
large cherry wood doors that opened abruptly as they approached. A grim-faced
man emerged, threw a look at Hank, and pushed by him down the corridor.
    Karen popped her head out,
scowling. “That was fun.”
    “I expect you’ll have questions
for me as well,” Kelly said to her. “We can go upstairs to my office if you
like.”
    “In here,” Karen pointed. It was a
given in Karen’s world that potential suspects should be questioned away from
familiar surroundings whenever possible. The board room was as close to neutral
territory as she could manage at the moment.
    Hank looked at her over Kelly’s shoulder.
Karen motioned with her chin, turned on her heel, and walked to the end of the
long board room table. She pointed at the chair on her right. Kelly obediently
sat down. Hank closed the board room door and sat down directly across from Kelly.
He shoved his chair back and crossed his legs comfortably, his body language
declaring that their questions would be casual and friendly, nothing to worry
about. He removed his notebook and pen from his jacket pocket and flipped the
pages. He noticed that Karen’s notebook was on the table in front of her
instead of the top drawer of her desk where it usually sat.
    He smiled. “I’ve been listening to
a faint Midwestern accent, Peggy. Ohio?”
    “Columbus, yes.” Kelly folded her
hands on the table.
    “Did you go to school there?”
    “Ohio State. I did my
undergraduate degree there and stayed for my MBA at Fisher.”
    “Is that right? My sister’s an OSU
alumna, too. She went there for her medical degree. She’s a pathologist in
California.”
    “Very interesting,” Kelly said.
    Karen leaned forward. “Where were
you between six and eight o’clock this morning?”
    “I was here,