![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Daily wordcount: 3,378
Total wordcount: 23,665
On/off target: -9,675
Only 10 more days of 3,000 words a a day and I will succeed! Argh this is so stressful, but I bring it on myself. Add to the fact that I'm getting more involved with a dog rescue and it's so sad and I can't handle some of the horribleness of people, this November is just wrecking me.
I woke up still confused and groggy from a dream, the kind of dream that feels disturbingly real, even though it’s completely impossible. The kind of dream that would make an awesome story, I thought, in a cryptic journal! It was probably an amalgamation of the thoughts left swirling in my head about the journal, the murder, and the movie, but it wasn’t recognizable enough as any of them to be obvious. I folded some papers to make signatures to later be bound into a book, found a good waterproof pen (since I would probably tea stain the pages later), and started writing.
Fifteen minutes later, I had a story that was all over the place, and I hated it. I hadn’t been able to capture the feel of the dream at all, and the more I tried, the more it slipped away. Writing wasn’t easy, I knew, but I also hadn’t thought I was that awful at it. And yet it appeared I was. And just at that moment, I was overcome by the most intense wave of ennui I’d ever felt. Much like Ron described it in the Prisoner of Azkaban, I felt I would never be cheerful again. It was terrible and hard to shake, and the feeling nagged at me like a shadow for hours. It was terrible, but also very motivating. I realized that I needed to take action, whether or not it was the right action. Over analyzing had led me to a place of paralysis and that would just not do.
I opened my laptop and set up an appointment for later today to get started on my passport, just in case I did need to go somewhere, but most probably to be able to visit the yarn outlet store in Canada. That had been a dream of mine for quite some time, and it was silly that I’d never done it. In fact, there were a lot of simple things I wanted to do that I never did. Sure, I made lists and plans, but when it came right down to it, I often didn’t. And this wasn’t the first time I’d had this conversation with myself, either. Motivation is very hard to come by, I thought, as I reflexively flipped browser tabs to randomly scroll through social media. I stopped myself suddenly. How often did I do that? Did I need the oh-so-trendy social media detox bull? I mean, it was sort of bull, but I could also see their point. Maybe I did need this trip to Hawaii for more than just the whole murder case problem. I needed to get away and relax and unplug, though I had promised Jess I would stay in contact with her about the case, so I had to check in occasionally. But maybe not even every day.
I opened a new tap to check on flights, and my eyes scanned the news on the home page that came up as the default new page start in my browser. My brain almost didn’t recognize the significance of the news story until I’d already clicked off the page to search for a flight. Then I stopped, a cold feeling creeping up my spine, and went back to read the story in full.
Jess was dead. Much, I had a feeling from the tone of the news story, in the same horrific manor Melody had been murdered. I glanced at the clock, and realized, with a start, I could still be on time to work. That dream had rattled me from sleep at an ungodly early hour, and even with puttering around, I could still make it. This would probably be the smart thing to do, given the recent turn of events. I packed up all my notes about the case, the photos, and the journal, and made a quick sweep to ensure there was nothing out of place or left behind just in case someone did decide to search my house. It looked like its normal slightly disheveled space, and I locked up and left, feeling a little bit queasy.
Work was a buzz of speculation, rumor, and outright lies. No one was surprised to see me, or wondered where I had been yesterday. Communication was not our strong suite, and other than Jess, I wasn’t sure who all had known about my fool’s mission. Her bosses, for sure, but they wouldn’t deign to talk to the underlings, if they even ventured on to this floor. I sat down at my desk, trying to sort through my notes and figure out what I’d tell the police, if they even came to talk to us. Certainly they’d want to talk to her co-workers, wouldn’t they? To know if there were any angry clients, or steamy office romances, or… anything? And should I turn the photos over to them? I could honestly, say I found them in an old file… or I could just re-hide them in an old, but not completely dormant, file Jess was still working on. If they searched through those, they’d find it. If they didn’t, I’d know where they were if I ever needed them, but I would be able to stay a little more out of the case. I was pretty sure, based on her pointed questions, that Jess was the one who had originally hidden them, and she’d made an educated guess that I had them when they went missing, because she’d assigned me to that case. So maybe no one else would know where they’d been, and that they had ever been missing?
I remembered that she had worked on another case with Melody, a year ago, something about a building dispute. That was probably around the time the whole tangled web started, since I didn’t recall anything earlier. It was always possible they were acquaintances, or even lovers, long before the case, but it was also possible that’s how they met. And I remember some files coming up from that old case when I was searching the database for information on my case, so there were some boxes back in the storeroom somewhere. I did a quick search for another case I was working on, just to give my trip to the storeroom legitimacy (I was getting quite paranoid, I admit), then, with the photos tucked into a file about the very boring, very cut and dry building acquisition case I was using as cover, I scampered back to the storeroom and quickly located the old box from Birch and Tanner. I couldn’t help having a quick rummage through it, and I was actually disappointed when nothing of interest was in it. Just very boring papers and files. I slipped the photos into one of the folders, slid the lid back in place, and had just reached the box I was extracting a file from as cover when I heard the voices behind me.
“So how many boxes are there?” A tired male voice was saying as three people rounded the corner. I recognized Rhonda, the office manager, and the other two were men in suits. Police detectives, perhaps?
“I don’t actually know,” she replied in a very bored tone. “Oh! Becca!”
She pulled up short as she saw me, and I stood frozen, my hand in the box. I felt my stomach clench, and I had to tell myself to relax, they had no reason to suspect me, the box I was looking in had absolutely nothing to do with Jess. I took a deep breath and was about to speak when Blue Suit spoke up.
“Is that one of the files we’ve come to collect? I will need you to step away from the box, miss,” he said gruffly.
“The Quinton Pharmacy building?” I asked, feigning puzzlement. “What do you need with that case? It’s pretty much wrapped up and not very interesting.”
Don’t overplay it, I told myself, and tried to keep my face set in an expression of mild bafflement. Rhonda actually looked very relieved, she knew every case and who was working on it, and would instantly know Jess would have had nothing to do with such a simple case. Technically Jess was my main boss, but when you work for such a large firm you do get assigned cases by other “dotted line” bosses, and it was one of those that had off-loaded some of the more monotonous work of the small, not-profitable tenancy case of the pharmacy.
“That isn’t a case she was working on, at all,” she told the men in suits. “That’s John’s case, and like Becca said, there is absolutely nothing remotely interesting about it. What about the Canin and Burke and Birch and Tanner merger? Do you know where those files got off to?”
“Oh, those were all digitized,” I said, pretty sure they wouldn’t know that a very small portion of them were still sitting on a jump drive on my desk. I had diligently scanned everything before destroying the last box of papers, but I also knew our database was backed up nightly, and I didn’t want there to be a discrepancy between last night’s archived data and what would be found there today. The rest of the files had be uploaded a few days ago, and I doubted they’d look back that far. They probably wouldn’t even look at last night’s data, but my paranoia was getting to an all-time high. “Was there something in particular you were looking for in them?”
“We don’t yet know what we are looking for, can we get a copy of those, please?” Black suit asked, though it didn’t sound like much of a question.
“That is a matter between you and legal,” Rhonda said. “There is an issue of client confidentiality, what your warrant covers, you know the drill. We can restrict any access to these files until you get that ironed out and insure that no one tampers with anything until you’re ready to take what you’re going to take. Sorry, Becca, I think you should leave the file you came in for here for now.”
“Oh, that’s… fine, can I just write down this number off this piece of paper? It’s all I really needed, anyway,” I said, gesturing to the paper on the top of the stack. The suits nodded, and I scribbled a random number on the file folder I had carried in.
“Did you bring that file in with you?” Blue Suit asked, reaching for it.
“I did, you can look at it, if you want,” I said, handing it over. “It’s not anything I can’t reprint if you absolutely need to take it, I don’t think. I might have made some notes on it, but I think I’ve already addressed all of them, like I said, this case is pretty close to buttoned up.”
“No, that’s fine, there’s nothing in here,” Blue Suit said, and handed me the file back.
“What exactly were you expecting, a hand written confession?” Rhonda snapped. She was usually a fairly patient person, given the insane stress inherent in her job, but the suits obviously had her rattled.
“You never know,” Black Suit said cryptically, and although I knew he was trying to sound menacing, I couldn’t help buy snort. Everyone turned to look at me.
“Sorry,” I wheezed, trying not to laugh. “I’m just trying to imagine there being anything interesting in any of these files. I honestly feel for the people who have to go looking through these. I’ve been working here for eons, and the most interesting thing I ever found in a file box was a discarded gum wrapper. Which was actually pretty interesting, it was a Beechnut gum wrapper and they don’t make that gum anymore. Reminded me of my grandfather…”
I trailed off as I realized they were all just staring at me. I cleared my throat in the sudden silence.
“Sorry, I know I get carried away and talk too much,” I said. “I’ll just get out of your way. Have fun with the files, I do hope you find something.”
“Miss… Becca, was it?” Blue Suit asked, and I stopped.
“Yes?”
“You worked closely with Ms Kinsington, did you not?” Blue Suit was studying me, and I felt uncomfortable under his gaze.
“I did, I was one of her researchers,” I said. “She assigned me most of the cases I worked on.”
“We will need to talk to you, soon. We would appreciate it if you did not discuss anything with anyone else in the office until we are able to interview you. Could you please wait at your desk?”
“I… sure, will it be long? Am I allowed to get coffee?” I asked, and it came out sounding a little more sarcastic than I meant it to. I thought I saw a glimmer of something in Blue Suit’s eye, and I desperately hoped it was amusement and not anger.
“Of course, just… keep the chit-chat to a minimum and not about the case, if you would.”
I nodded, and hurried out of the room. I wasn’t sure I wanted any coffee, my stomach was in knots, but I thought since I said something, I really needed to go get some. It wasn’t until I was carrying my cup back to my desk that I realized how much my hands were trembling. I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together. You knew they would want to talk to you, I told myself. It’s not a big deal. They’re talking to everyone. You were her employee, and they need to find out if her death was related to her work. It will be fine. I had just started to settle down when the suits approached me desk.
“If you would follow me,” Blue Suit said, without so much as a hello.
“Sure,” I said, leaving my coffee on my desk. My hands were undoubtedly shaking again, and I didn’t want my nervousness to be that visible. They led me to a conference room and shut the door. I took a seat, clasping my hands in my lap. At least I had an excuse for it, it was freezing in the room, as usual. “I should have worn my sweater in here.”
“We need to ask you some questions about Jessica Kinsington. Is it okay if we record the conversation?” Black Suit asked, pulling out a recorder.
“Sure, I guess, I mean, do I have a choice, really?”
“Of course you have a choice, you are not under arrest, or even, at this point, under suspicion. We would like to think you would want to help catch whoever did this to Ms Kinsington, but some people do have an aversion to talking to the police.” Black Suit said with no trace of any sense of humor or personality.
“Oh, I do want to help, if I can,” I said hastily. “Though I don’t know much about her, other than work assignments. It wasn’t as if we were close, or had any relationship outside of work. No happy hour drinks or anything. She wasn’t like that, though I probably would have been more weirded out by a boss that did want to hang out after hours. That seems like it would be an HR nightmare.”
“First things first, we need to establish the record, and then I will ask you to repeat that sentence and we’ll go from there, okay?”
He ran through a list of identifying questions, and I learned that Black Suit was Detective Martin and Blue Suit was Detective Reyes. They got me to state my name and address, my position in the company, and how long I’d worked there. Then they circled back around to my statement.
“Could you repeat what you said when we first sat down?” Reyes asked.
“I believe I said I should have worn my sweater in here, it’s actually quite cold. I suppose they keep it colder because people tend to wear suits and they don’t want them overheating, plus rooms do warm up when there are a lot of people in them…” I trailed off as I saw the look on their faces. “Oh, sorry, you didn’t mean what I said when I first sat down, but rather, what I said about Jess after you asked about the recording.”
“Yes,” Martin said through gritted teeth. I could tell he wanted to be mad, but, as I had technically complied with exactly what he said, he couldn’t really be. He should have been more accurate, I wasn’t about to not comply with the letter of his request and get caught out.
“Ah, about how Jess didn’t, as far as I know, socialize with anyone in the office after hours? That’s just as far as I know, she never socialized with me and no one else ever mentioned her doing so. They also didn’t precisely mentioned that she didn’t, but then, I don’t think anyone expected her to, so that wouldn’t really be a topic anyone would discuss? Her being social would have been the unusual thing someone would have commented on.”
“Why would it have been unusual for her to socialize with coworkers?” Reyes asked.
“Because no one on this level would really be her coworker. Sorry, I should have clarified, when I said ‘office’, I didn’t mean the entire firm. We’re kinda broken up into … not distinct companies, but definitely very separate groups. And when it comes to this office, she’s one of two top dogs. So to hang out with us would be for her to socialize with people she supervised. And technically, John, the other boss, is even a tiny bit below her. I don’t know if that’s official, but it’s certainly the unofficial pecking order. He’s comparatively new, so she has a ton of seniority. It’s actually a bit amazing she hasn’t been promoted yet, but it’s just a matter of time, and an open position.”
“Hold on, slow down,” Reyes said. “To clarify, the comments you make will only apply to the people that work in this particular office, and not the firm as a whole, is that correct?”
“Correct,” I said with a nod.
“You do not work closely with any of the people in the other offices?” Reyes asked.
“Me? No. Think of it as… okay, maybe this is a bad analogy, considering I am talking to law enforcement, but think of it as a king handing out Letters of Marque. Jess was the pirate captain, we crewed her ship. The guy swabbing the decks didn’t have even indirect association with the king, though the captain might. That’s how it worked here. The bosses got the orders, then dispersed them to us. Sometimes, the higher-ups weren’t even terribly involved in the cases, especially if they were small ones and they came in because the companies had worked with us before. They’d just come straight to the … ship.” I stopped, rethinking my explanation. “Or I could have described it more like federal and state governments, that would probably be a better analogy. Looking at it that way, this office is a city government, at best. We do the most boring, almost always completely straight-forward contracts.”
Reyes and Martin looked equal parts shell-shocked and vaguely amused by my pirate rambling. I’m guessing they didn’t usually have people go quite so off-topic, but I couldn’t stop myself. I have that kind of babbling personality, and being nervous was making it worse.
“How so,” Martin started, then started over, narrowing the focus of his question. “You said the contracts your office deals with are almost always completely straight-forward, can you tell me what you mean by that?”
“We don’t deal with contracts where there’s much, if any, contention. Most of the contracts we draw up are amicable agreements, both parties want the same thing and just need it put in proper legal terms. There’s no fighting over those terms, though there is the occasional very small quibble. And by small, I mean, phrasing differences small. We aren’t the department that deals with hostile takeovers or disputes. Nothing that anyone would raise a fuss about, and certainly nothing that would get anyone killed.”
Total wordcount: 23,665
On/off target: -9,675
Only 10 more days of 3,000 words a a day and I will succeed! Argh this is so stressful, but I bring it on myself. Add to the fact that I'm getting more involved with a dog rescue and it's so sad and I can't handle some of the horribleness of people, this November is just wrecking me.
I woke up still confused and groggy from a dream, the kind of dream that feels disturbingly real, even though it’s completely impossible. The kind of dream that would make an awesome story, I thought, in a cryptic journal! It was probably an amalgamation of the thoughts left swirling in my head about the journal, the murder, and the movie, but it wasn’t recognizable enough as any of them to be obvious. I folded some papers to make signatures to later be bound into a book, found a good waterproof pen (since I would probably tea stain the pages later), and started writing.
Fifteen minutes later, I had a story that was all over the place, and I hated it. I hadn’t been able to capture the feel of the dream at all, and the more I tried, the more it slipped away. Writing wasn’t easy, I knew, but I also hadn’t thought I was that awful at it. And yet it appeared I was. And just at that moment, I was overcome by the most intense wave of ennui I’d ever felt. Much like Ron described it in the Prisoner of Azkaban, I felt I would never be cheerful again. It was terrible and hard to shake, and the feeling nagged at me like a shadow for hours. It was terrible, but also very motivating. I realized that I needed to take action, whether or not it was the right action. Over analyzing had led me to a place of paralysis and that would just not do.
I opened my laptop and set up an appointment for later today to get started on my passport, just in case I did need to go somewhere, but most probably to be able to visit the yarn outlet store in Canada. That had been a dream of mine for quite some time, and it was silly that I’d never done it. In fact, there were a lot of simple things I wanted to do that I never did. Sure, I made lists and plans, but when it came right down to it, I often didn’t. And this wasn’t the first time I’d had this conversation with myself, either. Motivation is very hard to come by, I thought, as I reflexively flipped browser tabs to randomly scroll through social media. I stopped myself suddenly. How often did I do that? Did I need the oh-so-trendy social media detox bull? I mean, it was sort of bull, but I could also see their point. Maybe I did need this trip to Hawaii for more than just the whole murder case problem. I needed to get away and relax and unplug, though I had promised Jess I would stay in contact with her about the case, so I had to check in occasionally. But maybe not even every day.
I opened a new tap to check on flights, and my eyes scanned the news on the home page that came up as the default new page start in my browser. My brain almost didn’t recognize the significance of the news story until I’d already clicked off the page to search for a flight. Then I stopped, a cold feeling creeping up my spine, and went back to read the story in full.
Jess was dead. Much, I had a feeling from the tone of the news story, in the same horrific manor Melody had been murdered. I glanced at the clock, and realized, with a start, I could still be on time to work. That dream had rattled me from sleep at an ungodly early hour, and even with puttering around, I could still make it. This would probably be the smart thing to do, given the recent turn of events. I packed up all my notes about the case, the photos, and the journal, and made a quick sweep to ensure there was nothing out of place or left behind just in case someone did decide to search my house. It looked like its normal slightly disheveled space, and I locked up and left, feeling a little bit queasy.
Work was a buzz of speculation, rumor, and outright lies. No one was surprised to see me, or wondered where I had been yesterday. Communication was not our strong suite, and other than Jess, I wasn’t sure who all had known about my fool’s mission. Her bosses, for sure, but they wouldn’t deign to talk to the underlings, if they even ventured on to this floor. I sat down at my desk, trying to sort through my notes and figure out what I’d tell the police, if they even came to talk to us. Certainly they’d want to talk to her co-workers, wouldn’t they? To know if there were any angry clients, or steamy office romances, or… anything? And should I turn the photos over to them? I could honestly, say I found them in an old file… or I could just re-hide them in an old, but not completely dormant, file Jess was still working on. If they searched through those, they’d find it. If they didn’t, I’d know where they were if I ever needed them, but I would be able to stay a little more out of the case. I was pretty sure, based on her pointed questions, that Jess was the one who had originally hidden them, and she’d made an educated guess that I had them when they went missing, because she’d assigned me to that case. So maybe no one else would know where they’d been, and that they had ever been missing?
I remembered that she had worked on another case with Melody, a year ago, something about a building dispute. That was probably around the time the whole tangled web started, since I didn’t recall anything earlier. It was always possible they were acquaintances, or even lovers, long before the case, but it was also possible that’s how they met. And I remember some files coming up from that old case when I was searching the database for information on my case, so there were some boxes back in the storeroom somewhere. I did a quick search for another case I was working on, just to give my trip to the storeroom legitimacy (I was getting quite paranoid, I admit), then, with the photos tucked into a file about the very boring, very cut and dry building acquisition case I was using as cover, I scampered back to the storeroom and quickly located the old box from Birch and Tanner. I couldn’t help having a quick rummage through it, and I was actually disappointed when nothing of interest was in it. Just very boring papers and files. I slipped the photos into one of the folders, slid the lid back in place, and had just reached the box I was extracting a file from as cover when I heard the voices behind me.
“So how many boxes are there?” A tired male voice was saying as three people rounded the corner. I recognized Rhonda, the office manager, and the other two were men in suits. Police detectives, perhaps?
“I don’t actually know,” she replied in a very bored tone. “Oh! Becca!”
She pulled up short as she saw me, and I stood frozen, my hand in the box. I felt my stomach clench, and I had to tell myself to relax, they had no reason to suspect me, the box I was looking in had absolutely nothing to do with Jess. I took a deep breath and was about to speak when Blue Suit spoke up.
“Is that one of the files we’ve come to collect? I will need you to step away from the box, miss,” he said gruffly.
“The Quinton Pharmacy building?” I asked, feigning puzzlement. “What do you need with that case? It’s pretty much wrapped up and not very interesting.”
Don’t overplay it, I told myself, and tried to keep my face set in an expression of mild bafflement. Rhonda actually looked very relieved, she knew every case and who was working on it, and would instantly know Jess would have had nothing to do with such a simple case. Technically Jess was my main boss, but when you work for such a large firm you do get assigned cases by other “dotted line” bosses, and it was one of those that had off-loaded some of the more monotonous work of the small, not-profitable tenancy case of the pharmacy.
“That isn’t a case she was working on, at all,” she told the men in suits. “That’s John’s case, and like Becca said, there is absolutely nothing remotely interesting about it. What about the Canin and Burke and Birch and Tanner merger? Do you know where those files got off to?”
“Oh, those were all digitized,” I said, pretty sure they wouldn’t know that a very small portion of them were still sitting on a jump drive on my desk. I had diligently scanned everything before destroying the last box of papers, but I also knew our database was backed up nightly, and I didn’t want there to be a discrepancy between last night’s archived data and what would be found there today. The rest of the files had be uploaded a few days ago, and I doubted they’d look back that far. They probably wouldn’t even look at last night’s data, but my paranoia was getting to an all-time high. “Was there something in particular you were looking for in them?”
“We don’t yet know what we are looking for, can we get a copy of those, please?” Black suit asked, though it didn’t sound like much of a question.
“That is a matter between you and legal,” Rhonda said. “There is an issue of client confidentiality, what your warrant covers, you know the drill. We can restrict any access to these files until you get that ironed out and insure that no one tampers with anything until you’re ready to take what you’re going to take. Sorry, Becca, I think you should leave the file you came in for here for now.”
“Oh, that’s… fine, can I just write down this number off this piece of paper? It’s all I really needed, anyway,” I said, gesturing to the paper on the top of the stack. The suits nodded, and I scribbled a random number on the file folder I had carried in.
“Did you bring that file in with you?” Blue Suit asked, reaching for it.
“I did, you can look at it, if you want,” I said, handing it over. “It’s not anything I can’t reprint if you absolutely need to take it, I don’t think. I might have made some notes on it, but I think I’ve already addressed all of them, like I said, this case is pretty close to buttoned up.”
“No, that’s fine, there’s nothing in here,” Blue Suit said, and handed me the file back.
“What exactly were you expecting, a hand written confession?” Rhonda snapped. She was usually a fairly patient person, given the insane stress inherent in her job, but the suits obviously had her rattled.
“You never know,” Black Suit said cryptically, and although I knew he was trying to sound menacing, I couldn’t help buy snort. Everyone turned to look at me.
“Sorry,” I wheezed, trying not to laugh. “I’m just trying to imagine there being anything interesting in any of these files. I honestly feel for the people who have to go looking through these. I’ve been working here for eons, and the most interesting thing I ever found in a file box was a discarded gum wrapper. Which was actually pretty interesting, it was a Beechnut gum wrapper and they don’t make that gum anymore. Reminded me of my grandfather…”
I trailed off as I realized they were all just staring at me. I cleared my throat in the sudden silence.
“Sorry, I know I get carried away and talk too much,” I said. “I’ll just get out of your way. Have fun with the files, I do hope you find something.”
“Miss… Becca, was it?” Blue Suit asked, and I stopped.
“Yes?”
“You worked closely with Ms Kinsington, did you not?” Blue Suit was studying me, and I felt uncomfortable under his gaze.
“I did, I was one of her researchers,” I said. “She assigned me most of the cases I worked on.”
“We will need to talk to you, soon. We would appreciate it if you did not discuss anything with anyone else in the office until we are able to interview you. Could you please wait at your desk?”
“I… sure, will it be long? Am I allowed to get coffee?” I asked, and it came out sounding a little more sarcastic than I meant it to. I thought I saw a glimmer of something in Blue Suit’s eye, and I desperately hoped it was amusement and not anger.
“Of course, just… keep the chit-chat to a minimum and not about the case, if you would.”
I nodded, and hurried out of the room. I wasn’t sure I wanted any coffee, my stomach was in knots, but I thought since I said something, I really needed to go get some. It wasn’t until I was carrying my cup back to my desk that I realized how much my hands were trembling. I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together. You knew they would want to talk to you, I told myself. It’s not a big deal. They’re talking to everyone. You were her employee, and they need to find out if her death was related to her work. It will be fine. I had just started to settle down when the suits approached me desk.
“If you would follow me,” Blue Suit said, without so much as a hello.
“Sure,” I said, leaving my coffee on my desk. My hands were undoubtedly shaking again, and I didn’t want my nervousness to be that visible. They led me to a conference room and shut the door. I took a seat, clasping my hands in my lap. At least I had an excuse for it, it was freezing in the room, as usual. “I should have worn my sweater in here.”
“We need to ask you some questions about Jessica Kinsington. Is it okay if we record the conversation?” Black Suit asked, pulling out a recorder.
“Sure, I guess, I mean, do I have a choice, really?”
“Of course you have a choice, you are not under arrest, or even, at this point, under suspicion. We would like to think you would want to help catch whoever did this to Ms Kinsington, but some people do have an aversion to talking to the police.” Black Suit said with no trace of any sense of humor or personality.
“Oh, I do want to help, if I can,” I said hastily. “Though I don’t know much about her, other than work assignments. It wasn’t as if we were close, or had any relationship outside of work. No happy hour drinks or anything. She wasn’t like that, though I probably would have been more weirded out by a boss that did want to hang out after hours. That seems like it would be an HR nightmare.”
“First things first, we need to establish the record, and then I will ask you to repeat that sentence and we’ll go from there, okay?”
He ran through a list of identifying questions, and I learned that Black Suit was Detective Martin and Blue Suit was Detective Reyes. They got me to state my name and address, my position in the company, and how long I’d worked there. Then they circled back around to my statement.
“Could you repeat what you said when we first sat down?” Reyes asked.
“I believe I said I should have worn my sweater in here, it’s actually quite cold. I suppose they keep it colder because people tend to wear suits and they don’t want them overheating, plus rooms do warm up when there are a lot of people in them…” I trailed off as I saw the look on their faces. “Oh, sorry, you didn’t mean what I said when I first sat down, but rather, what I said about Jess after you asked about the recording.”
“Yes,” Martin said through gritted teeth. I could tell he wanted to be mad, but, as I had technically complied with exactly what he said, he couldn’t really be. He should have been more accurate, I wasn’t about to not comply with the letter of his request and get caught out.
“Ah, about how Jess didn’t, as far as I know, socialize with anyone in the office after hours? That’s just as far as I know, she never socialized with me and no one else ever mentioned her doing so. They also didn’t precisely mentioned that she didn’t, but then, I don’t think anyone expected her to, so that wouldn’t really be a topic anyone would discuss? Her being social would have been the unusual thing someone would have commented on.”
“Why would it have been unusual for her to socialize with coworkers?” Reyes asked.
“Because no one on this level would really be her coworker. Sorry, I should have clarified, when I said ‘office’, I didn’t mean the entire firm. We’re kinda broken up into … not distinct companies, but definitely very separate groups. And when it comes to this office, she’s one of two top dogs. So to hang out with us would be for her to socialize with people she supervised. And technically, John, the other boss, is even a tiny bit below her. I don’t know if that’s official, but it’s certainly the unofficial pecking order. He’s comparatively new, so she has a ton of seniority. It’s actually a bit amazing she hasn’t been promoted yet, but it’s just a matter of time, and an open position.”
“Hold on, slow down,” Reyes said. “To clarify, the comments you make will only apply to the people that work in this particular office, and not the firm as a whole, is that correct?”
“Correct,” I said with a nod.
“You do not work closely with any of the people in the other offices?” Reyes asked.
“Me? No. Think of it as… okay, maybe this is a bad analogy, considering I am talking to law enforcement, but think of it as a king handing out Letters of Marque. Jess was the pirate captain, we crewed her ship. The guy swabbing the decks didn’t have even indirect association with the king, though the captain might. That’s how it worked here. The bosses got the orders, then dispersed them to us. Sometimes, the higher-ups weren’t even terribly involved in the cases, especially if they were small ones and they came in because the companies had worked with us before. They’d just come straight to the … ship.” I stopped, rethinking my explanation. “Or I could have described it more like federal and state governments, that would probably be a better analogy. Looking at it that way, this office is a city government, at best. We do the most boring, almost always completely straight-forward contracts.”
Reyes and Martin looked equal parts shell-shocked and vaguely amused by my pirate rambling. I’m guessing they didn’t usually have people go quite so off-topic, but I couldn’t stop myself. I have that kind of babbling personality, and being nervous was making it worse.
“How so,” Martin started, then started over, narrowing the focus of his question. “You said the contracts your office deals with are almost always completely straight-forward, can you tell me what you mean by that?”
“We don’t deal with contracts where there’s much, if any, contention. Most of the contracts we draw up are amicable agreements, both parties want the same thing and just need it put in proper legal terms. There’s no fighting over those terms, though there is the occasional very small quibble. And by small, I mean, phrasing differences small. We aren’t the department that deals with hostile takeovers or disputes. Nothing that anyone would raise a fuss about, and certainly nothing that would get anyone killed.”
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