Free Cemetery Dance by Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child

you busy yourself with, Mr. Kline?"
    "I'm CEO of DVI."
    "That doesn't really tell me anything."
    "If you want my rags–to–riches story, read that." Kline pointed to half a dozen identical books sitting together on one of the shelves. "How I went from a lowly DBA to head of my own company. It's required reading for all my employees: a volume of brilliance and insight for which they are privileged to pay forty–five dollars." He bestowed a deprecating smile on them. "My secretary will accept your cash or check on the way out."
    "DBA?" D'Agosta asked. "What's that?"
    "Database administrator. Once upon a time I massaged databases for a living, kept them healthy. And on the side, I wrote a program to automatically normalize large financial databases."
    "Normalize?" D'Agosta echoed.
    Kline waved his hand dismissively. "Don't even ask. In any case, my program worked very, very well. It turned out there was a large market for normalizing databases. I put a lot of other DBAs out of jobs. And created all this." His chin tilted slightly upward, the self–satisfied smile still lingering at the edges of his pink, girlish lips.
    The man's egghead egotism set D'Agosta's teeth on edge. He was going to enjoy this. He leaned back casually in his seat, to more protesting of expensive leather. "Actually, we're more interested in your extracurricular activities."
    Kline looked more closely at him. "Such as?"
    "Such as your penchant for hiring pretty secretaries, intimidating them into having sex with you, then bullying them or paying them off to keep quiet about it."
    The expression on Kline's face did not change. "Ah. So you're here about the Smithback murder."
    "You used your position of power to abuse and dominate those women. They were too afraid of you, too afraid of losing their jobs, to say anything. But Smithback wasn't afraid. He exposed you to the world."
    "He exposed nothing," Kline said. "Allegations were made, nothing was proven, and any settlements, if they exist, are sealed forever. Alas for you and Smithback, nobody went officially on the record."
    D'Agosta shrugged as if to say, Doesn't matter, the cat's still out of the bag.
    Pendergast stirred in his seat. "How unpleasant it must have been for you that after Smithback's article was published, DVI's stock market capitalization dropped by fifty percent."
    Kline's face remained serene. "You know the markets. So fickle. DVI is almost back up to where it was."
    Pendergast folded his hands. "You're a CEO now, and nobody's going to kick sand in your face again or take your lunch money. Nobody's going to disrespect you and get away with it these days — am I right, Mr. Kline?" Pendergast smiled mildly and glanced at D'Agosta. "The letter?"
    D'Agosta reached into his pocket, slipped out the letter, and began to quote: "I promise that, no matter how much time it takes or how much it costs, you will regret having written that article. You cannot know how I will act, or when, but rest assured: I will act." He looked up. "Did you write that, Mr. Kline?"
    "Yes," he said, his face remaining utterly under control.
    "And did you send that to William Smithback?"
    "I did."
    "Did you —"
    Kline interrupted. "Lieutenant, you are such a bore. Let me ask myself the questions and save us all some time. Was I serious? Absolutely. Was I responsible for his death? It's a possibility. Am I glad he's dead? Delighted, thank you." He winked.
    "You —" D'Agosta began.
    "The thing is" — Kline rode over him again — "you'll never know. I have the finest lawyers in town. I know precisely what I can say and cannot say. You'll never touch me."
    "We can take you in," D'Agosta said. "We could do it right now."
    "Of course you could. And I will sit silently where you take me until my lawyer arrives, and then I will leave."
    "We could book you for probable cause."
    "You're bloviating, Lieutenant."
    "The letter is a clear threat."
    "All my movements at the time of the killing can be accounted for. The finest