“No, of course not. She just summoned me.”
“You're positive of that?”
Jane bridled. "I told you so. Before she died, in fact.”
He took her hand. "I'm sorry, Janey. I warned you this was official."
“Are you saying I'm a suspect in her death, Detective VanDyne?" she snapped, pulling her hand away.
“No, I'm saying you're not. You see, this was in a folder. Like this one," he added, taking a brand-new file folder out of the briefcase. It was a hanging-type file, with two light metal bars. "This handwritten sheet was in a blue one. The only fingerprints on it were Stonecipher's and Weyrich's. Not yours."
“But this folder was by itself and the police think she was trying to blackmail me with the contents? If she had talked to me about the contents, I wouldn't have necessarily even seen the thing, much less touched it," she said grimly.
He nodded and said, "Right, but look at the file folder. See where there is a row across the top of these prepunched vertical slots that you pop out to insert a label?" He demonstrated, pushing his thumb against one of the dozen or so spots. A little lozenge of the blue card-stock fell out.
“Yes. So?"
“So when my people combed the apartment, they found a yellow piece like this in the sofa cushions and a red one stuck up against the leg of the coffee table. Watch—" He gave the top of the folder a slight twist and another little blue lozenge fell out into his lap.
“Oh—" Jane said, the light dawning. "Other folders."
“Right. Other folders that weren't in the apartment when we searched it. I'm just speculating here, but I think the scenario was this: She brought certain folders home from the office — these were in a separate file drawer in Stonecipher's desk, by the way, not with the official filing system. She probably had them in her bedroom and brought them out to the living room one at a time."
“Are you saying she had a whole list of people she'd ordered to come over?"
“Not saying," he said firmly. "Speculating. There's a world of difference. But there apparently are at least two others who might have been in the apartment. The ones with the red folder and the yellow folder."
“But the folders were no longer in her apartment? Or did you find them?"
“Nope. Gone. Possibly scooped up and taken by the person who killed her."
“So the fact that the folder about me was still there—"
“Pretty much lets you off the hook. At least as far as I'm concerned," Mel replied.
Jane thought for a minute. "So there was a whole file drawer of these in Stonecipher's office?”
Mel looked grim. "Afraid so. In a locked drawer in his desk. Emma had the key in her purse."
“Do you mean in addition to being a full-fledged bastard, the guy was a blackmailer, too?" Jane asked angrily.
“Now, now. Calm down. Let's say he was a potential blackmailer. The drawer full of files might have just been a hedge against inflation. He never approached you after your one visit, did he?"
“Good Lord, no! In fact, he never acted like he even remembered who I was. But then, all he had on me was something mildly embarrassing. What other kinds of things were left behind in the file drawer? I don't mean specifics—"
“Mostly fairly innocuous stuff," Mel said. "But there were a few pretty hot items."
“Then why were they still in the file drawer?" Jane asked. "That doesn't make sense. Why would Emma pull out something silly and trivial about me and leave something juicy in the file?"
“Because the 'juicy' stuff, as you put it, was about people who aren't around anymore. At least the ones we've been able to check so far. They've moved away or died or — in one case — already gone to jail for the transgression mentioned in the file."
“Mel, I'm not following this. You apparently have some theory. I hate to be stupid, but—"
“No, it's not you. I'm being deliberately vague, wondering if you'd leap to the same conclusion I did. Which is something I shouldn't be doing — forming theories without enough facts. You see, it has to do with what's not in the file drawer. When I interviewed everybody I could find who attended the deli opening, I turned up several people who had dealings with Stonecipher at one time or another. Like the Dohertys just as an example — the people who got the nasty divorce and then got back together and didn't have any moneyleft because Stonecipher had cleaned them out."
“And there wasn't a file for them?" Jane asked. "I'm sorry, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything except that he didn't know anything nasty about them.”
Mel cocked an eyebrow. "After representing an angry wife in a prolonged, ugly divorce suit, he had nothing to the husband's disadvantage?"
“Hmm. I see what you mean. LeAnne probably said some pretty nasty things about Charles. And true or not, he probably kept a record since he was given to doing that sort of thing.”
Mel put the folder back in the briefcase. "That's what I thought, too. So I got out my list of interviews from the deli opening, pulled out those names of people who admitted to having consulted Stonecipher. I checked those names against the private files and found practically none of them. Now, as you said, that could mean he just didn't have anything on them. Or—"
“—or it could mean those were the other files Emma pulled out," Jane finished.
Mel shut the briefcase and leaned back, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "And it's all a theory. With nothing to back it up. In fact, the whole theory's based on what's not there. The dog that didn't bark.”
They sat in silence for a long time and Mel finally opened his door. "Want to walk?"
“Think it will make my brain work?" Jane said with a smile.
“Your mind doesn't have to work on this. Mine does. I only told you this because it involved you in a way.”
He came around and helped her out. After locking the car, he took her hand and started strolling toward the swing set at the far end of the park.
“How do you suppose Emma knew about the private files?" Jane asked as they walked.
“She contributed," Mel replied. "They were two of a kind, her and her sleazy boss. She was his paralegal, did some initial interviews and such. Some of the notes are in her handwriting."
“Because she thought someday he'd dump his wife, marry her, and the two of them would settle down to a nice little blackmailing racket in their golden years," Jane said, disgusted.
“Maybe. We'll never know. They're both dead."
“Good!" Jane said. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that, but it sure doesn't sound like either of them will be missed. But couldn't he have already been using the material he'd accumulated?"
“Could be."
“Which might explain why some people didn't fight him on his various 'causes.' He might have used what he knew to make people knuckle under instead of trying to get money from them," Jane mused.
“That's possible," Mel said. "We'll have experts go over all his books with a fine-tooth comb to see if there's any extra money unaccounted for, but it will take a while.”
Jane sat down on a swing and Mel went around behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and pushing her gently.
“You know," Jane said, "I can see him doing that — making people go along with his nutty causes by reminding them of their sins — and feeling very noble about it," Jane said. "He was a ends-justify-the-means kind of person. He wouldn't have cared, I imagine, how many people he made miserable so long as he got his damned bicycle lane or fat content on menus.”
Mel just rubbed her shoulders and said, "Mmm."
“Do you think that's why somebody pushed the rack over on him? Just because they were so damned glad to find him dead and a bunch of old anger boiled up?"