LITMIR.BIZ

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I am truly humbled. I promise I’ll take a course once I get settled in school.”

      “Not good enough. There’s a life-size doll at the firehouse in Greenbury. As soon as we get back, I’m giving you a few lessons. It won’t be official. You’ll still have to be certified. But it’ll give you a jump start.”

      “Are you kidding me?” McAdams protested. “Do you know how many germs have settled in that orifice? C’mon!”

      “No excuses, McAdams. End of discussion.”

      “Fine.” McAdams rolled his eyes. “Anything else?”

      “That’s sir to you.”

      “Anything else, sir?”

      “Yes, there is, McAdams. Because you were derelict in your duties as a sworn officer of the law, you can carry my jacket.”

      UN Plaza was a gleaming skyscraper set in blocks of open space. It was fronted with hedges and concrete barrels and poles with flapping banners depicting its member countries. From Harold Cantrell’s office at the McGregor Fund, Decker could see people gathering in orderly queues, waiting for a tour.

      The only chair in the office was behind the desk. Five minutes later, a kid—probably an intern—came in with two folding seats. It seems that Mr. Cantrell was called away to an emergency meeting but should be back shortly.

      Shortly was almost a half hour. Cantrell was a slight, thin man in his thirties with a cue-ball head and algae-green eyes. He sat down and shook his head.

      “I’m sorry about Lorraine.” He took out a handkerchief and wiped his sweaty forehead. “I’ve been having a bad day, but I suppose a death puts things in perspective. You’re from Greenbury so I’m assuming she was found there.”

      “She was.”

      “Was she murdered?”

      “Unofficially, yes.”

      “So what are you doing here?”

      “Talking to people who knew her. Trying to re-create her life just before it happened.”

      “When did it happen?”

      “Probably right after she disappeared.”

      “So around five years ago.”

      “Yes. I’d like to ask you what you remember about her disappearance.”

      “Wow. It was a while ago but you don’t forget things like that. From my standpoint, I didn’t even know she was missing until she didn’t show up on Monday. When she didn’t call in sick, I called her, but it went straight to voice mail. About an hour later, her boyfriend called asking if Lorraine was at work. That’s when we both knew something had happened. I continued to call her boyfriend after that, just to see if there was anything new. After a while …”

      He threw up his hands.

      “Life goes on.” Cantrell shook his head again.

      McAdams said, “You were her boss?”

      “Yes. Lorraine was hired as a junior analyst. She was on probation as any new employee would be. She was doing a good job. She had potential. It was really sad.”

      “Did you hire her?”

      “I was one of the people who interviewed her. She had several rounds of interviews. Everyone was keen on her. She was a smart person and a hard worker. It’s just a shame.”

      Decker said, “Did she have any problems with any of her co-workers?”

      His nostrils flared. “Why would she have problems with co-workers?”

      “It’s what you ask when you’re dealing with murder victims.”

      “Oh. Not that I know of.”

      “She was transgender,” Decker said. “Anyone have problems with that?”

      Cantrell suppressed a laugh. “I can see you don’t know much about McGregor.”

      “Enlighten me, Mr. Cantrell.”

      “Our investments are socially conscious. We make it a point to be diverse, and as a result, the company appeals to a lot of people who live alternative lifestyles.”

      “Just because two people are gay doesn’t mean they get along,” Decker said. “How did she get along with her co-workers?”

      “As far as I know, she fit in fine. I don’t know anyone who had a problem with her. She didn’t work here all that long. And she wasn’t in publicity or human resources. She mostly sat at her desk and analyzed stocks.”

      “Did she have a specialty?” McAdams asked.

      “Not a sector, no. We hired her to work with institutional endowments. A lot of schools have considerable funds but they’re not big enough to hire their own full-time analysts. We have a number of institutions as clients. That’s what attracted Lorraine to our company. She loved working with schools and colleges.”

      Decker was writing furiously in his notebook. “Lorraine went to Morse McKinley up north in Greenbury.”

      “Yes, I know. She didn’t finish because she was supposed to undergo sex reassignment surgery. She told us everything.”

      “She told her partner that she was going up to Morse McKinley the weekend she disappeared,” Decker said. “We know she made it up there, but we don’t know why she went in the first place. By any chance, would it have something to do with the firm?”

      “No.” Cantrell was puzzled. “Why would it have something to do with us?”

      “Perhaps someone sent her up there to raise awareness of your investment strategy?”

      “I was her boss and I certainly didn’t do that. Her job was analysis, not finding new clients.”

      “But if she knew someone up north, maybe she went there with the specific goal to recruit new clients.”

      “I would never ask her to do something like that. And I couldn’t imagine anyone else asking her to do it.”

      “Maybe she was trying to show initiative,” McAdams said.

      “This is all speculation on something that happened years ago.”

      “I realize that,” Decker said. “But because it happened so long ago, speculation is a part of the investigation.”

      “I can appreciate your position, but unfortunately, I have nothing to add.” Cantrell checked his watch. “Anything else?”

      Decker stood up and closed his notebook. “Thank you for your time. If I have anything else to ask you, where can I reach you easily?”

      “Here’s my card.” Cantrell scribbled on it. “My cell is on the back. It’s terrible what happened to her. I hope you find out who did it.”

      McAdams took the card. “Thank you.”

      Decker gave Cantrell his card. “And please let me know if you hear of anything.”

      “Why would I hear of anything?”

      “This has turned into a murder investigation, Mr. Cantrell. Like the police, people speculate. And sometimes they even know what they’re talking about.”

      It was a little past two when they left. Clouds that looked like balls of Brillo pads had materialized, blocking out the sun but keeping in the heat, making the city swelter. Decker felt like a walking water balloon.

      McAdams pulled out his phone and pressed the Uber app. “Two-minute ETA. You can come or not, but I’m not walking.”

      “This time you win. It’s hot.”

      They both stood under a dry cleaner’s awning. McAdams said, “I remember going back to school when I was

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