Animal Instinct Rosenfelt, David (free books to read .TXT) 📖

the hospital unconscious. They are going to administer drugs; wouldn’t it be nice if they had your list of allergies?

“Or you want medical or life insurance. Do you want to have to round up your records by calling all your doctors and then sitting for an invasive physical, or would you like the insurance company to easily access the information?”

“Do you have competitors?”

“Not really. Other companies do what we do, but they are spread out geographically. We handle most of the East Coast; this is our home office, but we have five satellites. It’s a bit of an anachronism; computers make geography relatively meaningless, yet that’s how our industry is organized. We have working relationships with the other companies.”

“What was your working relationship with Gerald Kline?”

“He was a headhunter for us. If we had an opening, he recommended candidates. We interviewed them, and if we agreed with his assessment, we hired them.”

“Was he the only person you used?”

“Yes. We hire people on our own through HR; but for the higher-level jobs, we used Gerald’s services. He was very good at it.”

“What were the talents necessary for the higher-level jobs?”

“Reliability, experience, computer expertise is essential…”

“What will you do with Kline out of the picture?”

“When I make that decision, you’ll be the first to know.”

I thought I would find it annoying not to be asking at least some of the questions, but Andy is covering the ground quite well.

“How well did you know Kline personally?”

“I would say moderately well. We had lunch quite a few times, and maybe three or four dinners. Most of the time we talked about work, but that wasn’t all.”

“Did you talk about Lisa Yates?”

“Some. He and Lisa were together for a while.”

“Did it bother you that he was in a relationship with one of the employees he recommended?”

Musgrove shakes his head. “No. First of all, their relationship began well after she came here. And second, it’s not like he was her boss; they had nothing to do with each other in their work life.”

“Any idea who might have viewed Kline as an enemy?”

Musgrove looks at me. “Present company excepted?” Then, “No; I was quite shocked when I heard the news.” He looks at his watch. “Are we done here?”

Andy nods. “I believe we are.”

IT would be overstating it to say that Jason Musgrove was worried.

At most, it could be said that he had some concern. Not because there was any real danger, but rather because things had gone so smoothly for so long that even a slight glitch assumed a greater importance.

The ex-cop and his lawyer had said nothing in the meeting to indicate they had the slightest idea what was going on. They asked questions about Gerald Kline because they were trying to find his killer. That made perfect sense given that the ex-cop was going to be put on trial for the crime.

But Musgrove would alert his team, so that they could then be on the lookout for any developments that might be worrisome. They were thorough and had immense resources and abilities, and Musgrove could count on them to be extra careful. There was too much at stake, and they had waited too long, to take any other approach.

Musgrove was in charge of the operation, but he had ceded much of it to his associates. Part of it was because they were so good at what they did, but the truth was that Musgrove set it up this way with an eye to the future.

When it was over, the others would disappear, never to be found again. That was how they wanted it, and they were capable of making it happen. Musgrove, on the other hand, wanted to remain behind, living the life he had built.

At times Musgrove felt uneasy about his having given the team too much power, too much leverage over him. But there was no way around it, and he was not truly worried.

When the time came, Musgrove believed he could handle any and all eventualities.

IN my view the Crown Inn is not an inn. It’s a motel.

Inns are places that are old and quaint and have two faucets in each sink, one for the hot and one for the cold. They don’t have televisions in rooms, but they do have stairs that creak, and four or five thousand antique shops within a mile radius. They serve good muffins and coffee in the morning, but you have to sit at a large table and make conversation with the other guests.

Motels are two-level buildings that look run-down about an hour after they are built. You can park your car in front of your room. There are vending machines on each floor, but no place to get change to use them, and no way to effectively complain if the bag of M&M’s doesn’t actually fall into the bottom tray. They have televisions, but no guide to tell you the channels. The soap is the size of a saltine, and their carpets are bought already pre-worn.

I may be generalizing here.

By any standard other than its name, the Crown Inn in East Rutherford is a motel. It’s also the place that Sam Willis said Lisa Yates paid for with a credit card during the last month of her life. Lisa’s house on Derrom Avenue was nice; this place would not seem up to her standards.

I’m not sure that there is anything to be learned here, but I’m positive that there’s nothing to be learned by sitting home. I’m certainly curious as to why Lisa would stay in this place; my best guess is that she was hiding. Unfortunately, I’m not likely to learn who she was hiding from by talking to the staff at the Crown Inn.

I walk into the small office out front and ask the blank-faced teenage boy behind the desk to get the manager.

“He’s not here.”

“You have got to be kidding,” I lie. “He said he’d be here.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I don’t have time for this.” I