"This share issue that Madison is making. What can you tell us about it?"
Pettigrew seemed surprised by the question, and something else—uncomfortable? "It's a normal course issue to raise twenty million dollars of new equity to fund the company's ongoing operations. Routine, really. It's received all necessary regulatory approvals."
"So it's a done deal?"
"Yes. For all practical purposes. Twenty million is not what you would call a big deal. Quite modest, in fact. By way of comparison, the Pegasus Energy Trust, which Adrienne was also handling, involves over five hundred million."
He was being steered away from Madison. Why? More to watch Pettigrew's reaction than anything else, Chris asked, "I know about Lost Horse, of course. Everybody in the oil patch does. Does Madison have any other oil and gas production?"
"Not to speak of. A few odds and ends. Minor working interests in some pretty marginal fields. But they've just acquired some Crown acreage up in the Peace River Arch. That's what the twenty million is for. To explore the potential of their Peace River play."
"That's still in the initial stages, I take it. Have they shot seismic over the lands?"
"Not yet. That's next on their agenda. Three-D seismic. They're very bullish on the play. They keep talking about a granite wash, whatever that means. It's beyond a simple lawyer like me."
It might have been beyond Pettigrew, which Chris rather doubted, but it wasn't beyond him. Back in the Devonian geologic age, more than 300 million years ago, huge upthrust blocks of granite were exposed to the surface. They were split, cracked, and fractured by the forces of erosion, and the pieces were washed down the mountainsides by water, hence the name granite wash. Over eons the broken shards were overlaid with other formations and were—what was the word?—lithified into stone; with their cracks and fissures they made excellent reservoir rock to trap petroleum as it migrated to the surface. But all he said was, "That's good to hear. With the revenue generated by their production from Lost Horse, plus twenty million in new money, they won't have to go looking for partners to work up their Peace River play."
"That's right." Pettigrew's response was restrained.
Knowing it was out of line, but wanting to probe further, Chris asked, "Should I pick up some of this new issue?"
"C'mon, Detective. You know perfectly well I can't answer that."
"Sorry. I guess I got carried away. Okay, let me ask you about Ms. Vinney's social life. Outside the office."
"I doubt if she had one. We're all pretty dedicated to our work in this shop, but none of us could keep up with her. You wouldn't believe the hours she put in." Visibly more at ease, Pettigrew added, "I thought this tragedy was the work of that serial killer. A random act, if you will. I do know that one of her extracurricular activities was running. Unlike some of us"—this with a rueful glance down at his own too-generous waistline—"she was very fit. Isn't it likely that her killer saw her when she was out for a run and pounced?"
"Her body was found in Edworthy Park, and she lived in Eau Claire. Not exactly walking distance."
"She could have driven to the park. Maybe she wanted to run there for a change. I'm told it's quite scenic."
"Her Mercedes was still in the underground parkade of her condo building."
"That puts paid to that doesn't it? Was she dressed for running when she was found? Shorts, running shoes, that sort of thing?"
"I'm afraid we can't divulge that information just yet. You understand."
"Of course." Pettigrew shot back the French cuff of his striped shirt to look at his watch. "If that's all, I'm due to meet a client for lunch at the Ranchmen's Club. Running a bit late as it is."
Chris looked at Gwen and nodded. She closed her notebook and they both stood up. Handing the lawyer his card, Chris said, "You can reach me there if anything occurs to you. One more thing," he added. "Would you have a word with Mr. Ingram and tell him it's all right to talk freely to us? At the moment, he's hung up on solicitor-client privilege."
"As he should be. I'll speak to him, but you must realize that solicitor-client confidentiality is a cornerstone of the legal profession. It's not something to be lightly put aside."
"I appreciate that. Just as I want you and Mr. Ingram to appreciate that this is a murder case."
"You can be sure that Pettigrew's instructions to his junior will be very carefully worded," Chris remarked to Gwen as they rode the elevator down to the ground floor.
"They don't have to talk to us if they don't want to," Gwen replied as the doors slid open and they stepped out.
"Nobody does," Chris replied. "Well, you've seen the distinguished Mr. Pettigrew in action. What do you think?"
"He's concerned about something. That's obvious. But it may have nothing to do with the murder."
"You could well be right," Chris agreed gloomily. "For that matter, the fact that the cross is on the right hand instead of the left may not mean anything either. A cross is still a cross, as Steve would have it."
"There's still the matter of the breast implants," Gwen pointed out. "We know TLC hates them. But Vinney's weren't touched."
"The profiler will have a field day with that one. Let's duck into Earl's for a quick lunch. I'm buying."
"I understand that Mr. Pettigrew has talked to you and authorized you to speak freely about the files you handled with Ms. Vinney?" It was mid-afternoon, allowing time for Pettigrew to return from lunch and confer with his junior.
"That's right," Ingram replied guardedly, not meeting Chris's eyes. Chris and Gwen exchanged glances. It was clear that the junior lawyer was on a tight leash. He was nervously eyeing the open notebook Gwen was holding in her left hand.
"You appreciate that the information you can give us is very important?"
"Not really. I can't see any connection between it and Adrienne being killed the way she was."
"We're the best judges of that. It's just a process of eliminating possibilities, getting them out of the way, so to speak. So we can concentrate on more promising leads," said Chris, using a strategy that often helped make witnesses more forthcoming. It wasn't having that effect on Ingram, however. He remained as uptight and tense as before.
"Mr. Pettigrew told us that Ms. Vinney had five major files on the go." Maybe it would help if Ingram thought the senior partner had been open with the police.
"Maybe. I only worked on two of them. She never said anything about the others. She wouldn't."
"Professional discretion, eh?"
"That's right. She was very keen on that. She lectured on legal ethics at the law school."
"Did she? That's pretty impressive." Robyn would be taking that course at some point. Usually ethics wasn't taught until the third year, so she wouldn't have reached it yet. "Which two files were you working on?"
"The Pegasus Energy Trust and the Madison share issue."
"What can you tell us about them?"
"The Pegasus deal is mega!" For the first time Ingram showed some animation. "Five hundred million dollars! We've had to satisfy stock exchanges and security commissions here in Alberta and in Toronto and New York, not to mention the SEC. You wouldn't believe how picky they can be. The SEC sent our application back three times. We're still working on it."
"They've been spooked ever since those corporate scandals blew up on them a few years back."
"Yeah." For a brief moment Ingram looked at Chris like one professional to another, but his guarded look returned when the detective brought up the subject of the Madison share issue.
"Pretty straightforward,"