little closer than before. “Do you know anything about Bob Ballard’s Washington connections?” he asked.
“His what?”
“You must know that there’s some interest from official Washington in your project. Someone connected with the U.S. Department of the Environment possibly, or a White House crony?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. Where do you get this stuff? You must have been talking to Jane.”
“Do you know who Frank Rizzo is?”
“Sure. A businessman who contacted Charlie. Mafioso type, but suave. We all went over to his place on the Îsle d’Orléans last week. Pretty special hangout. Beautiful house and gardens, lots of weird characters by the swimming pool. Charlie invited him to join us at the party the night of his death. I didn’t exchange more than a few words with Rizzo that night, but I talked to Bob about him. He seemed to think he might be useful.”
“How?”
“Investing in the firm in some way. Oh, don’t worry. Bob’s aware of Rizzo’s shady side. We aren’t going to be taken in.”
“Can I ask you what you did, and when, on the evening of the murder. I know you’ve already made a statement.”
“Sure. I went to the private party Charlie Linton set up. Everyone except Jane was there — Bob, Meg, Simon, Chen, Rizzo — and a few other guys. I stayed late, until around one o’clock, then I turned in.”
“Did anyone leave or duck out for any substantial period of time?”
“I certainly didn’t. I was there the whole time. I think Chen took off for a while, late in the evening, and of course Meg left early, as always. Simon wasn’t there very long either. Charlie was in and out the whole time, and I think he left around nine or ten and didn’t come back, although he said he would.”
“Did you see Jane Linton that evening?”
“No, I didn’t, though Charlie mentioned that he was meeting her in his room.”
“Was that why he left around ten?”
“I have no idea.”
Sam got up, walked over to the stone wall, and turned to her.
“Were there any policy disagreements between Charlie Linton and Bob Ballard, or between Charlie and you? Any disputes about the way Arbor Vitae should go?”
Annie Sergeant thought about this for a moment. “I wouldn’t call them disputes. But it’s true, Charlie and Bob differed on how to market their discovery. Charlie was worried that if the big international firms, the U.S. firms in particular, got hold of it, they would do some things he didn’t like. He was a Canadian, as you know, and a big Canada booster, and he wanted to try to develop the project here, maybe getting the government to pass some laws to prevent potential abuses. Bob Ballard disagreed, and, frankly, I think Bob was right. Charlie was too naive. We certainly need some American investment. And now we have to deal with Jane, which is even worse.”
“Even worse? Charlie was hard to deal with, then?”
“Charlie ran his own show. He didn’t confide much in people. He was an idealist, but idealists are often single-minded and difficult. Idealists can do bad things, very bad things, and still keep the glow of virtue.”
“What bad things did Charlie do?”
Annie stood up. She looked perplexed. “How would I know? I’m speaking generally. I only met him a few years ago. He was a good colleague, and always pretty decent to me. He may have had his reasons, but he was decent — as a colleague at least. Besides, he was always under pressure, I think, from that terrible wife of his.”
“Why are you so down on Jane Linton? Did you have some kind of trouble with her?”
“Look, Sam, I think I’ve answered you pretty squarely. Can we knock this off now? It’s getting late and I’d like to get back to the hotel. We can talk again later, if you need to.”
“That’s fine. I have to move on, too.”
She turned, hesitated, and with a glance at the wide plain stretching back to the city, said, “Nice running track. I might come out here tomorrow. I don’t suppose you run?”
“Only when someone’s chasing me.”
“I might chase you — at least as far as dinner. I like wrestlers as well as runners. Are you interested?”
“I’m interested, but I can’t make it for dinner. How about a drink later tonight?”
“Sure. Come over to my hotel, if you want. They have a pretty good bar. It’s the Ben Franklin on the Rue des Glacis. Apparently, the old kite-flying bugger came up here from Philadelphia to try to get Canada to fight the British.”
“The first of many American foreign-policy mistakes.”
“Spoken like a loyal Canuck.”
“Spoken like a California-born American.”
She gave him a sharp look. “Oh? I’ll have to hear more about that. Over those drinks, possibly.”
“I look forward to it. I’ll ring your room when I get there.”
She gave him a little wave and walked away. He liked the way she moved, loose and free, with her body swinging nicely in the stylish dress. From a distance she might have been a twenty-year-old, but it was no disappointment to get closer either. He wondered how close they might get. He thought he had detected quite a bit of interest in her quick glances, the intimate inflections of her voice. It had been a while since he had felt any real tension with a woman, at least the positive–negative kind that can lead somewhere.
* * *
In the lobby of the museum, he called Daniel’s flat. Clara answered. She sounded angry.
“Yes, you can come by. In fact, I want to talk to you. Our mutual detective friend has gone and had our apartment searched without permission. You were with him, Sam, weren’t you? What the hell’s going on?”
“I’ll be right there,” Sam told her. He walked out to the Grand Allée and got a taxi. There was no sign of Annie; she must have gone back into the museum. Her green dress was still vivid in his mind. She’s not exactly Maid Marian, though, he told himself. I have to be on the lookout for a sucker punch. This self-admonition came out as a mumble and the taxi driver glanced at him questioningly in the rearview mirror.
Minutes later they pulled up at the house on Sainte-Geneviève. Clara came down the steps to meet him. She didn’t look happy.
“I just called Paul to complain,” she said. “I can’t get hold of him. What the hell does he mean by searching the apartment?”
Sam took hold of one of her arms and gently steered her back up the stairs.
“Can’t we have a drink and talk about it? I want to fill you in — both of you.”
“That’s fine, but
