you can about Cyclone Inc. and its CEO—Paul Pritchard.”
Decker wrote the names on the whiteboard and explained the billion-dollar project currently headed by Mace and Grant Kaffey.
“I want everything looked at, no matter how trivial: any article, any analysis, any puff piece, any letter to the editor, any in-house publication—”
“Anything that will help get a feeling for the family and the business,” Wang said.
“Exactly,” Decker said.
“I did an initial Google search. Over two million hits. I could use some help.”
“Volunteers?” Decker asked.
Wanda raised her hand. “I’m no PC whiz, but I can look up articles.”
“Me, too,” Messing said.
“Great.” Decker continued on. “I also have a lead on a possible disgruntled employee, an account executive named Milfred Connors.” Decker wrote the name on the whiteboard. “Connors worked as an accountant for Kaffey Industries and was caught embezzling by none other than Neptune Brady. That’s all I know about the case. I’ll talk to Brady; who wants Connors?”
“I’ll do it,” Brubeck said.
“It’s yours, Willy,” Decker told him. “Marge and I initially talked to Grant and Mace Kaffey. We’ll follow up on them since no one’s been ruled out.”
Oliver said, “That’s good. The rich only like to deal with the top dog.”
“In that case, they’ll probably try to go over my head,” Decker said. “No matter. I’ll handle them. I’ve been known to be diplomatic.”
The room erupted into laughter.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Decker shouted. “It’s not that funny.”
Wanda said, “Strike that from the minutes as well?”
“Please.” Decker smiled. “I’ll also get in touch with Gil’s former boyfriend, a man named Antoine Resseur. Lee, if you could find out about him before I do the interview, it would be helpful.”
“Not a problem. Could you write the name on the board?”
Decker complied. “Okay, one other interesting side note about the family. Guy Kaffey may have suffered from manic-depression now known as bipolar disorder. I don’t know if it’s relevant, but in a manic phase, maybe he threatened someone. Lee, when you look up articles, bear that in mind. I’ll check it out with his doctor. Are we all together? Any questions?”
When no one raised a hand, Decker turned to Marge and Oliver. “After you’re done with the evidence collection in the buildings, I want you two to go back and reinterview Brady, Kotsky, Riley Karns, Paco Albanez, and the surviving maid, Ana Mendez. Get their stories down. If you suspect they’re playing loose and fast with the truth, get back to me. Anything new on the missing guards?”
Marge said, “We’re in constant contact with Denny Orlando’s family, nothing so far on Rondo Martin. We’ve got a couple of calls into the Ponceville sheriff’s office. I think we might have to do a field—”
Brubeck broke in, “S’cuse me, but did you just say Ponceville?”
“I did,” Marge said. “Why? What’s going on, Willy?”
“My wife’s family owns a farm about ten miles east of downtown Ponceville.” Willy smiled. “Don’t look so surprised. Blacks have been farming for centuries. Only difference now is we get paid for it.”
Wanda said, “I know. Strike it from the minutes.”
Decker said, “What do you know about Ponceville, Willy?”
“It’s one of the bigger farming communities in California that hasn’t been bought up by agribusiness. Hardworking people…mostly whites but a few blacks and lots of Mexican migrants. Whole town of ’em just outside the farms. Personally, I never heard of Rondo Martin, but if he’s been working in Ponceville within the last twenty years, I can find out about him with a couple of phone calls.”
“Do it.”
“’Course a trip would be better.”
“I can probably get funding to go up there, but let’s start with the phone calls.”
Decker pointed to the next item on the whiteboard.
“Okay, someone needs to check out the murdered housekeeper—Alicia Montoya. It would seem that the intended victims were the Kaffeys, and she was collateral damage. But we can’t make assumptions. When Dunn and I spoke to Gil, he indicated that Spanish might have been spoken during the murders. Maybe some jealous boyfriend of the maid thought she was having an affair and the Kaffeys were collateral damage.”
Shrugs all around. No one was buying.
“I’ve been surprised before,” Decker said. “Lee, you speak Spanish. Talk to Alicia’s family.”
“I could use a partner to make sure that my Spanish is up to snuff.”
Pratt’s hand went up. “I can’t read Cervantes but I speak a decent street Spanish.”
Decker said, “Okay, I’ve put both of you down for Alicia Montoya. We’re down to the last item on the board: the tip line. So far I’ve fielded about twenty calls, but the numbers are bound to rise, especially if the family offers a reward.”
Oliver groaned. “Then the numbers will go through the roof.”
“Are they offering a reward?” Marge asked.
“I don’t know, but I suspect they will because it looks good, if for no other reason. No matter how many tips come in, we’ll need to check them all out.”
Oliver said, “What about the walk-ins, Loo? We always get a couple of those.”
“I’ll take the walk-ins,” Decker answered. “Let me remind all of you that we are public servants. We treat everyone with respect and dignity. When people talk, don’t just go through the motions. Listen and listen carefully because we never know who or what is going to break the case wide open. Any other questions?”
No one spoke up.
“The meeting is officially over. You’ve got your lists, your papers, and your pens. More important, you’ve got your eyes, your ears, and your legs. Now let’s go out and solve some homicides.”
THE TWO COPS stationed outside Gil Kaffey’s ICU room momentarily confused Decker because he had approved only one uniform. As he neared the area, he realized that the second sentry was actually a rent-a-cop. Seeing Decker approach, the men stopped their conversation, straightened up, standing with legs apart and arms behind their backs, and watched him suspiciously. Decker flashed
