“I understand you worked for Mr. Sayles, correct?”
“Yes, I do—I did.”
“His assistant told us you and Mr. Sayles typically met early most mornings.” The detective fell silent, as if searching for some telltale tic of incrimination. I didn’t flinch. “Did you meet with him this morning?”
“No.” I wasn’t lying. Technically, we hadn’t. But if Michael committed suicide, why was she in my office asking me a bunch of questions? Maybe someone did see me leaving the twentieth floor. A slow throb pulsed through the center of my left temple.
The detective scrutinized me for a few seconds. “Did you sign in or use your ID badge like everyone else who works here?”
My palms started to slick with sweat. “I lost my badge a few days ago and no one was at the security desk when I arrived.”
“Security wasn’t on duty when you arrived? What time was that?”
The throb in my temple pulsed full and strong. “Early. Maybe seven or a little after.” Just chill. All this could be behind me in a matter of minutes. The only thing she had to go on was that I entered the building. I knew firsthand there were no security cameras on the twentieth floor, so she had nothing to ping me for being up there or anywhere near Michael’s office.
The detective nodded, pursed her lips, and searched my tight quarters with a more discerning eye this time. The silence between us was uncomfortable, but her pregnant pause was wasted on me. I’m a lawyer. We invented the pregnant pause.
“When was the last time you met with Mr. Sayles?”
“Last week.”
“An early morning meeting?”
“No.” Another lie. More flutters.
“Did anyone else meet with the two of you last week?”
“No.”
“May I ask what the two of you discussed?”
“Just the company’s legal matters. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why are you investigating his death if he committed suicide?”
“Just routine,” she said casually. She scanned the folders sitting across my desk. More power to her if she could read upside down and didn’t grow bored with the crap I was working on lately. “Do you know if Mr. Sayles had any disagreements with anyone here in the Legal Department or maybe one of his colleagues in the executive suite?”
“Uh, no. I can’t think of anyone,” I said quietly. This was more than routine. She knew something.
“I heard he might have had some personal problems. You know anything about that? Maybe problems with his family, money problems?”
“No! Absolutely not . . .” I caught myself. I was so sick of people dragging out this line as a justification for a man who was obviously in some serious pain. Other people in the department had said the same thing. “I just mean, that kind of speculation couldn’t be further from the truth. Michael was well respected around here and in the legal community.”
Bradford smiled. “I see. How long have you worked for Houghton?”
“Three years.” Guilt started to burn welts into my conscience. Maybe this time, I should have stayed and explained things.
“Always for Mr. Sayles?”
“Yes.” This time, the detective stared for a beat longer than was comfortable for either of us. Perhaps I’d been too forceful in protesting her theories about Michael.
“Well, if you remember anything that you think might be helpful to my investigation, I hope you’ll call me.” She stood and handed me a business card.
“Sure.”
“By the way, do you know who will be replacing Mr. Sayles as general counsel?”
“Um . . . I . . . I’m not sure.” Not exactly a lie since I hadn’t formally accepted the job yet.
“Thanks for your time.”
“Of course.” I sat mute, watching the back of her camel-hair coat float out of my office door. Why was a detective asking routine questions about Michael’s suicide and why was she asking me? Detective Shelly Bradford had just moved to the top of my list of people not to trust.
“What’s going on?” Anita said as she bustled back into my office.
“Just the police asking routine questions. Can you grab the door on your way out? I need to get back to work.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yep. Thanks.” Everything was not okay. I fell back into my chair. A heavy cheerless sky blanketed the city and threatened dismal weather. Appropriate, too, since the detective’s questions left me feeling vulnerable.