"I'm glad. Here is my card with my cellphone number. Could I have yours?"
"Absolutely. Here you are."
At precisely 6:28 the following morning Chris stationed himself behind the front door of the penthouse. He waited for a couple minutes after hearing the soft thud of the papers landing on the doormat to give the concierge time to get back on the elevator, then opened the door and scooped up the newspapers.
The story, with Phil Dummett's byline, was the same in all four papers; only the headlines differed. Variations on the same theme: "Police Search for Second Killer"; "Is There More Than One Killer?"
Dummett had certainly carried out his end of the bargain. Now to see if it stirred up any response from TLC.
There was nothing he could do about that. It would either happen or it wouldn't. Next on the agenda was to interview some of Vinney's colleagues at the law firm. Patterson was out of the office at a crime scene so there was no chance to talk to him about the meeting with Dummett. But the other detectives—with the exception of Mason, who remained at his desk—crowded around Chris, pummelling him with questions. When the excitement died away and they went back to their desks, he turned to Gwen. "What have you arranged with the McKinley people?"
"We start with Jeff Ingram. He was Vinney's junior. You're to see him at ten-thirty."
"Her junior is a good place to start," Chris said approvingly. "I want you to come with me, Gwen. See how her associates come across."
"Sure. And one of the senior partners, a Mr. Pettigrew, wants to meet with whoever is in charge of the investigation."
"I'll be happy to oblige him. After we've heard what this Jeff Ingram has to say. Meanwhile, you can fill me in on what we know about Mr. Ingram."
"Not an awful lot," Gwen began. "So far ..."
"I understand you worked very closely with Ms. Vinney?" Chris posed it as a question, but it came out as a statement of fact.
"She was my mentor," Jeff Ingram replied in a hollow voice, gazing solemnly at the two detectives. The look on his pudgy, soft-chinned face reflected his sense of loss. Ingram was showing more signs of grief than the others Chris had interviewed, including Scott Millard. But there was something else besides grief. The eyes, heavy lidded and of indeterminate colour, were alert and watchful behind round, metal-rimmed glasses. Probably afraid of saying something that would get him in trouble with the partners. This was borne out by his reaction when Chris asked about the files he and Adrienne had been working on recently.
"I can't answer that. Solicitor-client privilege." The reply was rehearsed, either by himself or on instructions from the firm. Ingram clearly intended to avoid saying anything that might jeopardize his career.
"We have ways of finding out, you know," said Chris with a meaningful glance at Gwen.
"I realize that. It would be better if you found out that way."
Chris shrugged. "I'm sure Mr. Pettigrew will tell us when we see him."
"If Mr. Pettigrew gives the okay, I'll be happy to tell you everything I know about the files." Ingram smiled his relief. "I don't see how that will help your investigation, though."
Chris let that pass. "What about her life outside the office? Can you tell us anything about that? Anyone she was involved with? Anyone who might have had it in for her?"
"I know nothing about that part of her life. Absolutely nothing. We never spoke of anything besides work. There was no need to."
"Adrienne's dance card was always full." Morris Pettigrew's smile was reminiscent, tinged with sadness. "She will be sorely missed, not only for the files she generated but also for her work ethic. She set a wonderful example. For all of us."
"That's what we would like to talk about. Her files." Chris and Gwen were perched rather uncomfortably on the edge of a padded black leather sofa in Pettigrew's spacious office. The portly lawyer remained behind his desk, the size of a drilling platform, its polished surface completely bare except for a computer terminal.
"That's what I hear."
Chris wondered how Pettigrew had heard that, but he let it pass. The legal grapevine at work, undoubtedly. Pettigrew was saying, "I thought we were dealing with a serial killer. The notorious TLC. What a cruel joke those initials are!" The senior partner shook his head. "His, ah, ‘activities' have been in the headlines for months. He seems to be leading the police on a merry chase, I must say," he added, a glint of malice in his eyes, deeply set in pouches of flesh. "You'll forgive me, but I can't help feeling that if you had managed to catch the killer, my brilliant partner would be alive."
And billing up a storm, Chris thought sardonically. Aloud, he said, "The evidence does seem to point to a serial killer, but we have to explore every avenue. We would be remiss otherwise."
"I understand. So you want to know about the files she was working on?" Pettigrew swiveled his chair around to face the computer and clicked on the mouse. "There they are. Only five, as you can see. But big. Very big."
Gwen made a note of the names while Chris walked over to the desk and peered at the screen. Not surprisingly, they were all oil companies. This was Calgary, after all. "Can you tell us something about them?" he asked.
"Certainly. Ensign Petroleums is engaged in merger negotiations with another company. The next one, Premium Resources, is fighting off a hostile takeover bid. Madison Energy is about to come out with a new share issue; an oil sands consortium is selling its interest to China's national oil company; and Pegasus Energy is folding natural gas properties into an income trust. As I said, she had a full dance card. Fortunately, we have adequate bench strength in the department to take over."
"Energy trusts are really dominating the stock market these days."
"And they will continue to do so. It's a way for a company to realize on its assets and make them available for distribution to the unit holders."
"It also means those funds are no longer available to explore for oil and gas."
"True. The industry is maturing. There's no doubt about that." Pettigrew shot Chris a speculative glance, as though somewhat surprised by his comment. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he smiled. "You're the lawyer, aren't you? I missed the connection at first. I've heard of you."
Still looking at the computer screen, Chris said, "The Madison share issue should be well received by the market. Their shares have been hot ever since the Lost Horse field came on stream."
If Chris hadn't been standing so close to Pettigrew he would have missed the sharp intake of his breath. Without moving his head, he shot a quick downward glance at the seated lawyer. A nerve jumped in Pettigrew's flushed cheek, twisting his lips in an involuntary grimace.
"Something wrong?"
"No, no. I was just thinking that I will have to take on that file myself. We have already lost a couple of days."
It was more than that. Things could change rapidly in the oil patch. Fortunes made and lost overnight. Madison Energy could stand a little close examination. Although it was hard to see what connection it could have to the Vinney woman's murder. Chris mentally congratulated himself that there were no Madison shares in his portfolio. He had thought of buying some when the news of the Lost Horse discovery first broke, but the share price had risen so quickly that he figured the potential for profit had been squeezed out of it already.
A few months later he'd had another chance to invest in Madison. Jack Adams, his main stockbroker, had contacted him, recommending an issue of Madison flow-through shares. With flow-through shares, a company that already had sufficient credits to offset its taxes renounced the tax deductions earned by exploring for oil and gas in favour of the shareholder. Chris could have used the tax credits but was put off by the year's hold on selling the shares. Many companies required the owner of this class of shares to hold them for a certain period of time before they could be sold. A lot of things could happen to an oil company in the space of