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Now Finn was trolling the Nast Corporation Web site, searching in vain for photos of the executives while Damon continued roaming the department, eavesdropping. Madoz arrived, looking for an update. Finn gave it to him, then showed him the photo.
"That's Irving Nast," he said without hesitation.
"Are you sure?"
"Yep. Works for the Nast Corporation. Vice president of something or other. He's the CEO's nephew. I had a case a couple of years ago, one of their employees was killed in a hit-and-run. The widow had this nutty conspiracy theory. Claimed the company did it."
"Orchestrated a hit-and-run?"
Madoz laughed. "Yeah. Apparently the guy quit his job the week before. Definitely a hanging offense." He shook his head. "Total bullshit, but I had to follow through. I think the widow was hoping they'd pay her to shut up. Anyway, my liaison with the firm was Irving Nast.
Nice enough guy. Confused as hell about the whole thing, but cooperated fully. Wish they were all that easy."
"Did you have a home number for him?"
"I think so. Let me grab the file."
Finn called Irving Nast's home number and got his wife. That made things tricky. Nast had cooperated with Madoz, but he might be less inclined to do so when the matter involved a potential indiscretion with a very young woman. Without admitting why he was calling, Finn was able to get Nast's wife to tell him where he was - at the office for a few hours - but couldn't persuade her to part with a cell phone number. So a drop-by visit was in order.
As Finn drove to the Nast head office, Damon's fingers drummed against his leg. He had been like that since the shooting, disappearing into his thoughts, sometimes so much that he faded, once vanishing completely for a few minutes before surging back with a fresh spurt of energy.
The woman's death had bothered him, Finn knew, but more than that, watching her husband's shock and grief had reminded him of Robyn. Last night, Damon said he expected he'd be kept away if Finn found Robyn. But Finn knew he'd hoped that being allowed into the fair meant the barrier had been lifted. He'd expected to see her. Now that disappointment kept pulling him under.
Damon balled his fist and shook it. When he rested his hand on the door hand
le, though, it took only a minute before he started drumming again. His fingers made no sound, and the unnaturalness of it made Finn turn the radio up another notch. It didn't help. He could still feel the weight of Damon's mood.
"How'd you two meet?" he asked finally.
He had to say it twice before Damon responded, "Huh?"
"You and Robyn. How did you meet?"
Damon's eyes lit up, but the smile was hesitant as he studied Finn, judging whether he was just being polite.
"Did you go to college together?" Finn asked.
Damon shook his head. "She was a friend of my younger sister."
"So your sister introduced..."
"Not exactly." Damon's hand moved to his lap, fingers still now. "We met at her wedding - my sister's, that is. Her fiance was this hotshot stockbroker, liked to throw his money around, so he insisted on a huge wedding. Robyn was more of an acquaintance than a friend, but she made the guest list. They had this wedding planner who was big on forced mingling. You know, putting guests at a table where they don't know anyone? Bobby got the seat next to me. Everyone else was from the groom's side - coworkers and friends."
"So you talked to her, made her feel welcome."
"Bobby didn't need help mingling. She's quiet - compared to me - but she's great at making small talk. Gotta be, in her job. These girls we were sitting with, though? They only knew two kinds of small talk. Gossip and snark. Now, if you want to engage in a serious conversation about the propriety of the groom's stepmother wearing a leather miniskirt to the wedding, Bobby's your girl. But sniping and backbiting? No. That was the first thing that got my attention - the way she handled it. Most people would have joined in just to be included. Bobby tried, very politely, to steer the conversation in more constructive directions. When that failed, she backed out."
"And talked to you."
Damon's smile burst into a grin. "By that point, I was the one doing the initiating. I asked about her job, she asked about mine. Few things kill a girl's interest faster than 'I'm a junior high math teacher,' and I came this close to mentioning my band gig instead. But I could tell that wouldn't fly with Bobby. So I told the truth, and she was cool with it. Interested even. We got talking so much, I didn't notice when dessert was served, which, for me, is a miracle."
He paused, as if watching the movie in his head, one he'd replayed so many times he could mouth along with the words.
"And that was it then," Finn said. "You asked her out."
"Wasn't quite that easy. We were both seeing other people. For me, that other relationship was over before the meal was. Robyn had to be convinced, and that wasn't easy when she wouldn't even have coffee with me while she was involved with another guy."
Finn liked that. It supported the picture he was forming of Robyn Peltier as someone principled and honest, someone he could work with and help... if only he got the chance.
