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“She would take pride in the fact that she did not ‘negotiate.’ It’s probable her ego would get in the way of any successful negotiation. Her intense emotional investment in every point of conflict would leave her two paths: to shut down entirely, or to call upon a higher authority to mediate.”
Jason said, “Resulting in all those filed complaints and trivial charges.”
“Correct.”
Jason thought it over. “She could have threatened the wrong person with legal action.”
“This is not someone who would be good at reading the room,” agreed the man who rarely acknowledged there was a room to be read.
So, not anything Jason didn’t already know, though hearing Sam’s impressions helped clarify his thoughts.
Anyone could be the victim of a violent crime. That was a fact. But one of the four concepts in the theory of victimology was that of Victim Precipitation, the idea that some people actually initiated the confrontation that eventually led to their injury or death. For example, some personalities might be so abrasive and obnoxious, they inadvertently triggered victimization.
This was not to say the victim was to blame, but it was sort of like a fatal traffic accident. The pedestrian might have the right of way, but walking into the path of a speeding vehicle was still going to get you killed—speaking as the guy who’d started the day narrowly missing being mowed down by a speeding vehicle.
“The old man’s banging the housekeeper,” J.J. informed Jason over shrimp tacos at El Cartel that evening.
Jason managed to swallow before he started coughing. When he could speak again, he asked hoarsely, “Which old man?”
“The former senator. Ono. He’s banging the housekeeper. She’s like thirty years younger than him.”
J.J. Russell fit everyone’s preconception of what an FBI agent should look like. He was tall, square-jawed, with dark hair that fell in a little wave so perfect, it could have been permed. He’d been top of his class at the Academy, but though he was smart, capable, and ambitious, he was not popular at the LA Field Office. He was just a little too cocky for someone who was barely out of probation. And he had an unfortunate tendency to blame—and then backbite—his partner when things went wrong.
A painful run-in with BAU Chief Sam Kennedy, and getting partnered with Kennedy’s boyfriend—a rising star in the ACT—had curbed the latter tendency, though he was still pretty cocky.
To their mutual surprise, Jason and J.J. actually made an okay team. After Montana, they were even almost friends. Or at least friendly.
“He’s a widower, right?” Jason asked.
“Right.”
“Well, then. Consenting adults.”
“The family’s afraid he’s going to leave everything to her.”
“If it’s his to leave, then…” Jason shrugged. “When you say family, who’s included in that?”
“The senator’s surviving sister still lives in the house with him and the housekeeper. She’s been a goldmine of information. The sister. Not the housekeeper.”
“I bet.”
“Cynical, West. And sexist.” J.J. was grinning.
“Maybe,” Jason acknowledged. “What about Georgette’s siblings?”
“Two brothers and a sister. She wasn’t close to any of them.” J.J. scowled as the filling fell out of the bottom of his taco.
“There aren’t a lot of family photos in her apartment. She did have four pictures of a black-and-white cat.”
“The cat now lives with the sister. Françoise.”
“Is Françoise the cat or the sister?”
“The sister. The cat’s name is Hammett.”
“Ah.”
“Anyway, Ono’s parents are deceased. Her father when she was seventeen. Her mother three years ago. The remaining family consists of her siblings, her great-aunt, and her grandfather. Only the grandfather believes further investigation into her death is required.”
“The brothers and sister believe her death was accidental?”
“Yep. And given the circumstances, you can understand why they feel like the less attention, the better.”
Jason frowned. “They’re so concerned with how her death looked, they don’t care whether she was actually murdered?”
“That’s not what I said.” J.J. thought it over. “Although, maybe. But you have to admit, the way she died is not good press.”
Jason opened his mouth, and J.J. said, “Some kid turned her into a meme. It was floating around the campus intranet until the administration finally got it taken down. Not before the family saw it.”
“Jesus.”
“She was not popular.”
“Even so.” Poor Ono. He hoped she’d never read her Rate My Professor reviews.
J.J. shrugged. “Anyway, the only one pushing for the case to be reopened is the old man, and the rest of them believe that’s because he feels guilty. He and Georgette had a blowup shortly before her death over his relationship with Ms. Suzuki.”
“Suzuki is the housekeeper.”
“Yep.”
Jason thought it over. “Would there be financial incentive to get rid of Georgette?”
“I guess so. One less slice of the pie to divvy up when the old man goes. But those people are not hurting for money. They’ve all got trusts and healthy savings and retirement accounts. It’s not like anyone hated her. They mostly seemed to view her as a nuisance.”
“Nice.”
“You don’t get to pick your family. I bet Georgette would have voted them off the island too.”
That was probably true.
“What about the Touchstone angle?”
J.J. grimaced, forking up the spilled cabbage and shrimp. “I don’t know. It’s falling apart, to be frank.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
Unexpected and disappointing. Jason pushed his dish away. “Were you able to find out who the officer was that Ono charged with sexual harassment?”
“Hugo Quintana. There’s no paper on him. He worked as a guard at CIW Chino. They’d hire him back in a heartbeat.”
“Did anyone bother checking into Ono’s claim that she was being harassed?”
“Rice, the head of security, says he interviewed Quintana and was satisfied with his answers. He says Quintana is one of his best men. Happily married, with two daughters headed for college.”
“Did you interview Quintana?”
“No. Do you want me to?”
Here’s where J.J. was still a first office agent. “It couldn’t hurt.”
“True. But there’s no evidence to support Ono’s claim of harassment.” J.J. met Jason’s gaze and groaned. “I know. I’ll talk to Quintana. It looked promising, but I don’t think that line of inquiry is going anywhere.”
Working as a guard at a women’s correctional facility might have made Quintana a little less refined in his dealings with the, er, fairer sex. And Ono? Jason’s inclination was always to side with his victim, but he couldn’t argue that Ono’s extensive history of complaints and grievances weakened her credibility.
“What about Eli Humphrey?” J.J. asked. “You haven’t interviewed him yet, have you?”
