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“What do you mean?” she asked.
“We don’t have any kind of credible motive for Nina Kirby to do this,” he said. “it’s hard to imagine that she would kill Ava Martell just because she was iffy on hiring her to investigate her husband’s unusual spending.”
“Maybe not,” Jessie conceded, “and I’m sure that we’ll eventually uncover all kinds of incestuous connections among these neighbors, but for now, this is what we’ve got to work with.”
“Hello,” came a smooth, unhurried voice from behind them.
Jessie turned around to find herself facing an elegant, silver-haired woman in her fifties who was as tiny as the concierge was tall.
“Hi,” Jessie said, “Are you Ms. Portnoy?”
“Please, it’s Mary,” the woman said, extending her hand first to Jessie and then Ryan. “I understand that you have some interest in our event last night.”
“We do,” Ryan confirmed.
“Considering the organization you represent, I assume you’d like to discuss the matter in a more private environment.”
“That would be great,” he said.
“Perhaps we can go to the ballroom where the event was held,” Mary suggested. “It’s not being used right now.”
“Sure,” Ryan agreed, and they followed her to an elevator.
Once inside, Mary spoke in a hushed, cautious tone.
“I understand that you’re proceeding with discretion,” she began, “but the more you can share about what why you’re here, the greater help I can be. I certainly hope that nothing at our event last night ran afoul of the law. From my perspective it seemed like a smashing success.”
“No, Mary,” Ryan assured her, “we don’t have any issue with the event. Our questions are in regard to a specific participant. Does the name Nina Kirby sound familiar?”
Mary Portnoy smiled uncomfortably as the elevator doors opened and they stepped into the hall.
“It does,” she said, noting a man walking by in a suit and indicating that she would wait until they were alone again before responding. She led them to the Galaxy Ballroom, which she unlocked before opening the doors.
They all moved inside the space, which was thickly carpeted with a large section in the middle dedicated to a wooden floor, which Jessie assumed was for dancing at non-lawyer events. At the far end was a dais with a podium at the center.
“This ballroom can accommodate as many as 200 people,” she explained. “The event last night had 146 attendees, including the organizers and speakers. Other than that latter group, I didn’t interact with any individual more than Nina Kirby.”
“Is that good or bad?” Jessie wondered.
“I’d rather not frame the experience in those terms,” Mary replied. “Let’s just say that she was relentless in pursuit of her goals. She moved from table to table, seemingly trying to collect contacts and generate business opportunities. Normally that’s fine. After all, everyone was here to grease the wheels to an extent.”
“But?” Jessie asked leadingly.
“But she took it to another level,” Mary answered, shaking her head at the memory. “She would try to engage people in conversation while speakers were at the podium, when they clearly wanted to focus on the speech being made. And she was loud too, to the point of getting shushed multiple times. At one point, I had to pull her aside and plead with her to hold her conversations until speakers were done.”
“Did she?” Ryan asked.
“She would stop briefly,” Mary said, “but after a couple of minutes, she’d start up again. There were multiple complaints. Ultimately, after speaking with the event director, I warned her that if she couldn’t control her enthusiasm for inopportune communication, we’d have to return her payment and ask her to leave. That seemed to work. She held her tongue pretty well after that.”
“Do you remember her leaving for an extended stretch at any time?” Jessie pressed.
“No,” Mary said firmly. “Once she was on my radar, I had an eye on her pretty much the entire evening. I’d say that other than leaving for a few minutes for what I assume was a restroom break, she was there the whole time, making what I regret to say was quite a nuisance of herself. I actually made a note in the file to insist she not be invited next year. She was just too distracting.”
“Are you able to get us a copy of the guest list, including who sat at each table?” Ryan asked, even though Jamil was securing it from Kirby herself and it seemed moot after what they’d just been told.
“Certainly,” Mary told him. “I think there’s a copy in the annex office just outside. Give me a moment.”
After she walked off, Jessie spoke.
