room. I walked in and she closed the door behind me.
Photos of the Vice President, the extended Grayson family, and assorted folks adorned the walls. Captions identified them. I saw a group shot with Janet in it and one of the Vice President and his sister in tennis garb with the caption âTwins win mixed doubles third year in a row.â
Suddenly an inner door burst open, and an agitated Frances âFrankieâ Grayson rushed in. âWe are not giving interviews.â
âMs. Grayson? Ah, we met last Friday night atââ
âAnd would appreciate yourââ
I interrupted. âI'm sorry for your loss.â
Grayson's ears finally caught up with her mouth. She looked at the card in her hand, my card, and said, âFriday night? I wasn't aware reporters were there.â
âI wasn't there as a reporter. I attended with my husband, Jerry Fields, a friend of Ralph Morgan's.â
Grayson's rage calmed precipitously. âDid we meet?â
âRalph introduced us to the Vice President, and he introduced us to you.â
The light went on. âOh, Ralph's attorney.â
I hoped I had not just created a problem for Ralph, or Jerry.
âWhat can you tell me about Janet Rausch, Ms. Grayson?â
âEh, her bio will be available later this afternoon,â the restless woman said.
âI was thinking of the more human interest things, like what you do together as a group,â I said evenly.
âWe have a softball team, but most everything else we do involves working with and for the Vice President, which is a very busy schedule,â she said tersely.
âI'm sure Janet's death is tragic for all of you. Since the killing took place Saturday night, would you know anyone she might have been with?â
âI have no idea.â
âDo you think her killer could have been somebody she knew?â
âKnew? What are you talking about?â Grayson flared. âHer murder was another grizzly act in a city known for its human tragedies. There's a serial killer out there.â
âDid you know she was pregnant?â
Grayson's face contorted as she struggled to maintain control. âI don't keep upââ She interrupted herself, appearing to make a mid-course correction. âCan't you appreciate our situation?â She picked up a phone. âHave Kat come to conference room two.â She hung up. âWe are not doing interviews about Janet,â she said defiantly.
I replied gently. âI'm only interested in her private life.â
Grayson's athleticism showed in her square stance and posture. She looked like she was ready to pounce on me. The door Grayson had entered from opened.
âMs. Turner will show you out,â Grayson said, as a woman entered.
No words passed between the two, as Grayson walked out and Turner closed the door. It was obvious Kat knew her instructions. However, this was also Janet's friend Kat Turner, a windfall opportunity. âSorry to be seeing you again under these terrible circumstances,â I said sincerely.
Kat moved to the hall door. I moved to the softball team picture. âHow often does your team play?â
âOne, two times a week, in late spring and early summer,â she said disinterestedly.
âWere you and Janet regulars?â I asked, hoping to keep the conversation going.
That fell flat. Kat opened the hall door that would lead to my exit.
I had noticed that the door Grayson and Kat used went into an office area opposite from the reception area. I decided to gamble. I walked through the doorway Kat had indicated, but made a quick move to the right, instead of left as Kat was expecting me to do, catching her by surprise. That gave me a head start toward the office area.
âNo, that's not the way out,â she called out to me.
I had gotten three or four strides ahead of her, entering a large room that resembled a small version of our