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“And you say you’re representing Edgar’s interests?”
“That’s right. We were hired by his counsel, Ted Bergin.”
“Who I now understand is dead.”
“That’s right. He was murdered up in Maine near where Roy is being held.”
“So you’re technically no longer representing Edgar, then?” Russell smiled at what he obviously thought was a key and winning point in the debate.
“Actually, we are. Bergin’s law firm was representing him, and there’s another lawyer there who’s taken the case over. So the connection still holds.”
Russell, who did not seem to be listening to this, spread his hands. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Well, I was hoping you could tell me if Roy was working here when he was arrested.” He paused. “Or is the office too big to determine that?”
“I don’t need to tell you anything. You’re not the police.”
“By not telling us things you’re actually telling us a lot,” pointed out Michelle.
Sean added, “I’m sure the police have been by to question you. Why don’t you just tell us what you told them?”
“Why don’t you just ask them yourself? I’ve already told you enough. And I’ve got work to do.”
“It’s always nice to hear it from the horse’s mouth,” said Michelle. “I hope you recognize your role in the proceedings.”
“I don’t appreciate your tone.”
Sean sat forward. “Do you think he’s guilty?”
The man shrugged. “Probably.”
“Why?”
“These genius types. They’ve all got dark sides. Think too much. Not like the rest of us. So, yeah, he probably did it. Let’s face it, any guy who knows every reg of the tax code has to be some sort of a wacko.”
“Well, let’s hope you don’t get called for jury duty,” snapped Michelle. This drew a scowl from Russell.
Sean said, “Did you notice anything in Roy’s behavior that would have indicated he might have been a serial killer?”
Russell gave a fake yawn and said in a clearly uninterested tone, “And what sort of behavior would I have been looking for?”
Michelle pounced. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe a human head or two in the jellybean bowl on his desk. Subtle things like that, you freaking moron.”
A minute later they were being escorted out of the building by a security guard who looked about as tough as the accountants in the building. When he reached out to put a hand on Michelle’s back to urge her along, she snarled, “Touch me and die.”
The man jerked his hand back so fast he winced, as though he’d pulled a muscle.
Outside Sean sighed. “I love your interrogation approach, Michelle. So subtle, so sophisticated.”
“Almost makes you want to be wearing a badge again,” said Michelle. “That way they can’t kick you out before you get your answers, even if you’re a smart-ass. And that idiot was going to tell us nothing useful.”
“You’re right. He was stonewalling. Must be a good reason.”
“And Roy was most definitely not working for the IRS when he was arrested. Otherwise the guy would have just told us so. He’s hiding something. He tells us a lie, it comes back to bite him. He tells us nothing, nothing sticks to him later.”
They were about to get in Michelle’s SUV when the woman approached.
She was timid looking, with straight light-blond hair and glasses that fronted pretty blue eyes.
