Free Name Withheld : A J.p. Beaumont Mystery (9780061760907) by Judith A. Jance Page B

“Getting ready to chop me off at the knees, I imagine.”
    In response to Bill Whitten’s keyboard commands, the TV monitor slid back into the cabinet, the doors in front of it closed, and the blinds opened, filling the room with the unexpected light of watery, midwinter sunshine. Watchingthis process I remembered what Whitten had said to me earlier, in the car, about him being a prime suspect.
    â€œIs there any truth in Don Wolf’s charges?” I asked. “That you were diverting funds?”
    Whitten’s somber gaze met mine across a vast expanse of polished desk. “There are diversions and then there are diversions,” he said.
    â€œIn the event of an independent audit of the company books, do you think you’d be exonerated?”
    â€œThat depends on the CPA,” Whitten answered casually, but not quite casually enough. Something in the way he looked at me—the tiniest flicker of an eyelid perhaps, put me on edge and on point. Before I could say anything further, however, he reached out and tapped the keyboard once more, unlocking the door to his office. He immediately pushed a button on his phone.
    â€œYes, Mr. Whitten?”
    â€œDeanna, I need you to make copies of these three tapes for Detective Beaumont. He’ll need them as soon as possible.”
    â€œI may not be able to do that until after lunch,” she said.
    Whitten glanced at me. “Do you want to wait?” he asked. “Or would you rather have them delivered later on today?”
    I checked my watch. The morning was already almost gone, and I had barely made a start. “It might be better to have them delivered.”
    Whitten spoke back into the intercom. “Whenever you get around to it will be fine,” he said. Then he turned his attention on me. “I suppose you’ll need to see both his apartment and his car, won’t you?”
    â€œYes, but—”
    He punched the intercom again. “Deanna, you’ll also need to call the manager over at Lake View. Even though you can’t tell Jack Braman what’s happening, you can let him know that Detective Beaumont will be stopping by. Jack should let him into the apartment. We’ll fax written permission if he needs it. And call the dealer on the car lease and see if he can make arrangements for a duplicate key on Don’s Intrepid.”
    â€œRight away,” Deanna answered.
    â€œWhy is it you have access to Don Wolf’s apartment?” I asked.
    â€œD.G.I. owns it,” Whitten replied. “Don leased it from the company temporarily in order to facilitate his move up from California. Lake View is on Lake Union, just south of the Fremont Bridge. Do you know where that is?”
    â€œI can find it. Now about these tapes…”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œIf the taping was done without consent, and if word about them gets out, you could end up having an invasion-of-privacy problem on your hands.”
    â€œWith the girl?”
    â€œPossibly.”
    Whitten shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. I look at itthis way: With Don Wolf dead, sooner or later you’d come looking for me because of what was going on between the two of us. If nothing else, the tape shows that I’m not the only one who had a problem with good ol’ Mr. Don Wolf. I may be a good solid suspect, but at least I’m not the only one.”
    I did my job then—the job I’m paid to do. Even though my motivation was lacking, even though Don Wolf wasn’t a prince among men, I was still obligated to investigate his murder. As I pulled out my low-tech notebook and pencil, I glanced back over my shoulder toward what I was sure was a dummy thermostat near the door.
    â€œAre we being taped?” I asked.
    Whitten grinned. “We could be if you want to be.”
    â€œNo, thanks,” I said. “I’ll pass.”
    I spent the next hour asking