He offered Tim a firm grip. "Percy Keating, head of security. We're glad you're here. If you have a minute, Dean Kagan wanted to thank you in person."
They followed him down the sweep of the stairs, up a dim wainscoted corridor decked with dour oils in frames stained to match the molding, and into a study with mallard green walls, a pair of distressed leather club chairs, and knotted slab desk. Percy made introductions from the doorway as if announcing titled nobility at a ball, and no one exchanged salutations beyond slight nods.
Even under the circumstances, Dean Kagan was impeccably put together, the thirty-two-tooth CEO smile, every hair fixed in place despite the rotor blades overhead. "I wanted to let you know we appreciate your quick response, and I give you my assurance that we'd like to cooperate in every way."
"Thanks, that'll help," Tim said. "Can I get your contact information?" The three Kagans produced business cards in short order. "If you wouldn't mind writing your home and cell numbers on the back?"
As Tim collected the cards, Bear asked, "Do any of you know this man?" He handed off Walker's photo to Dolan, who stiffened and passed it to Chase, who finally glanced up from his BlackBerry.
Of the two brothers, Chaisson was more at home, leaning back in his club chair. "This is the guy who-"
Dean's smile firmed.
Chase glanced over the top of the picture next to Percy, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod. "This guy broke into our lab offices today."
Tim knew better than to be surprised. "What happened?"
Chase filled them in. Dolan offered a few embellishments to the story but largely deferred to his brother's version.
"Do you have security footage?"
"In the lobby, yes," Dean said. "But not within the lab. A damn fine idea, though." He nodded at Percy to look into it. So the guy wasn't just house detective after all.
Dolan tipped the photograph to the light. "Who is this guy?"
"Walker Jameson," Tim said. "He broke out of prison last night."
"I read about that," Chase said.
"Do you know Tess Jameson?"
"Doesn't ring a bell."
"You might go through your records." Tim pulled an ivory business card from his pocket. "She had your business card in her bedroom."
"I give away hundreds of business cards a week."
Tim flipped it over. "With your home number written on the back?" He fanned out from behind it the matching card Chase had just jotted on. "In your handwriting?" From the corner of his eye, he saw Kagan the Elder's gaze intensify.
Chase's lips seemed stuck to his smile, but then his hand raised and clapped to a knee. "What can I say? I meet a lot of people, and I don't always remember names."
"How about you, Dolan? Ring a bell?"
"She's the mother of a kid we were going to use in our trial."
Chase snapped his fingers. "That's right. She had a different last name than the kid."
"Had?" Bear asked. "Not has?"
"Killed herself," Dolan said.
"Hold on," Bear said, "you don't remember this woman, but you remember that she killed herself?"
"Walker's her husband?" Dean Kagan broke in.
"Brother."
Dolan was flushed, but the other Kagans' milder reactions of surprise seemed feigned.
"You mentioned her son," Tim said. "Sam Hardy. You used him in your commercials, a KCOM news segment. Why did his name leave the trial list?"
"Ours is the only trial in the world this year for children suffering from AAT deficiency," Dean said. "Every AAT parent wanted in. We had over eight thousand applicants. Sadly, we could only accept a small percentage of the kids."
"But the Vector poster boy?" Tim asked.
Dean pursed his lips thoughtfully. "The selection of trial participants is scientific, Deputy." He paused. "I wish public relations were as well, but it's not."
Tim pressed forward. "Do you know Ted Sands?"
Dean's eyebrows quivered contemplatively, and he looked at Percy.
"He was a former Beacon-Kagan security worker," Percy said. "I hired him myself. He left about a year ago to pursue freelance options."
Dean asked, "Is he the mess in my front yard?" At Bear's nod he said to Percy, "Get to the bottom of this. And quickly. These officers will need all the specifics of his employment with Beacon-Kagan and anything else on him you can assemble."
Already on the job, Percy moved to the door, earnestly but awkwardly poking a handheld.
"A fugitive and a former security guard?" Chase said. "Why's this ending up here?"
Bear said, "We were hoping to defer to your greater knowledge."
"I haven't the damnedest," Dean said. "I run an international conglomerate. That's a lot of employees, and each one of them steps on some toes for the bottom line now and again. I've had threats originating from every state in the union, and quite a few not of this union. Percy can acquaint you with our file of disgruntleds, if you'd like."
"We'd like," Tim said. "And we'd also like the guest list for the party."
"We need to proceed with discretion. To protect the company-and my guests. We're about to launch a product that's a major breakthrough for tens of thousands of kids. It's lifesaving. I don't want us to do anything to threaten it."
"So that's a…?"
Dean smiled. "A gentle no. I don't know about this killer, but our guests are not connected to him. There were some important people here this evening."
Tim and Bear looked at each other. Tim nodded. Bear cleared his throat and said, "In addition to being a deputy marshal, I've been admitted to the bar. So let me explain, since your own legal staff are not in attendance, the legalities of where we're at: Your house, while a private and sumptuous residence, is also a crime scene that figures in a federal investigation. You, your family, and your companies are going to cooperate with that investigation. Your choice-the Marshal can make a phone call, and a federal judge can explain why, in writing. Your attorneys can call their contacts at the office of the attorney general, and we're off to the cock fights. Or we can just get to work. Together. It's timing, really-a matter of wising up before someone else gets turned into folk art on your porch."
"You make a convincing case, Counselor. Change that to a reluctant yes." Dean's unflappable grin remained. "It's a red herring, but you'll get the list. Now, it's been a long night, and this is clearly a topic requiring our alert attention. Why don't you come by the office tomorrow. Noon. I'll have the boys there. The list. And whatever you'll need from Percy's files." He gestured to the door, a man used to directing human traffic. "Anything else?"
"Just that guest list." Tim handed a Service card to Dolan, since he was closest, and said, "Call if anything else goes bump in the night."
An actual butler, who'd been waiting fussily in the wings helplessly regarding the legion of trespassers, saw them out. He closed the door behind them without a farewell, seemingly glad to be sealed back within his domain. Tim and Bear paused at the edge of the porch, surveying the scene. Most of the deputies had cleared out, and the media crowd at the cordon had thinned considerably, leaving the diehards and the paparazzi.
It took four criminalists to lift Ted Sands into the CSI van. Though they'd made some headway with the chisels, Ted still remained in the block, a frozen tobogganer.
The blotch on the flagstones looked like an oil stain.
"Helluva statement," Bear said.
"This isn't a statement," Tim said. "It's an introduction."
They threaded through the remaining cops at the cordon and climbed into Tim's Explorer.
"Of course the old man's gonna be cooperative," Tim said once both doors had shut. "And every button on every phone in that house is lit up right now."