It was hard to describe the shock that I felt when those initials revealed themselves. I suspected Bill and Lee were somehow involved, but to see the cover up unfold before my eyes was hard to process. Imogen seemed equally flabbergasted. We both leaned back in our chairs, and then Imogen spoke, breaking the silence.
"Lee Endicott," she said.
"That has to be it. But why? Why are his initials there?" I asked.
"He was on the course, and Bill covered it up," she said.
"It sure as hell looks that way. Bill jots his initials down instead of writing his full name, then erases them, instead of putting a line through them like he had a million times before, and then he lies about it," I said.
"Now what?" Imogen said.
"Why," I said.
"What do you mean 'why'?"
I laughed. "No, I mean we need to figure out why. Why would Bill do that? And what does it mean?"
"And how do you want to do go about doing that?"
"We need to talk to Bill, of course," I said.
"And you think he's just going to spill the beans?"
"I think with a little persuasion he just might," I said.
"And how do you think we're going to persuade him to implicate himself in Carl's murder?"
"He thinks we're the police. Thinks we're detectives. I think we need to have an unofficial, official chat with Bill and see what happens."
"You want to impersonate a detective?" she asked.
"More like play one in real life," I said.
"Max, you're an idiot."
"C'mon Imogen. He already thinks we are detectives. Aren't we assisting John on this case?"
"Yes"
"We're already working with detectives that want our help, so by default we kind of are detectives. Why spoil the illusion?"
"So, we won't fill him in on the fact that we're just assisting."
"Why split hairs? By the way, where's that interviewee?"
Imogen checked her phone for the time.
"No idea. She should have been here fifteen minutes ago."
"Where do you find these people?"
"Obviously, in the wrong places. I need to change up our job posting strategy," she said.
"Two in a row," I said. "What are the odds?"
"What do I get for the hat trick?"
"A stern reprimand from your boss," I said.
"Promise?"
I laughed. She always had a way of doing that. I moved over to the couch and sat down. Imogen stayed behind the desk. Sometimes moving helped me to think. Sometimes it made me have to go to the bathroom. Legs crossed, I sipped my coffee.
"Can you turn on some music?" I asked.
"Sure," she said.
Music filled my office. I had installed some Bluetooth speakers.
"Can you set this up in my office?" Imogen asked.
"Of course," I said. "I thought you'd never ask."
"So, now that it looks like our interview is a no-show, what do you want to do?"
"Not sure," I said.
If I were being honest, a nap sounded pretty good.
"Chat with Bill?"
"I think we need to plan out how we're going to approach him first," I said.
"Lee Endicott?"
"That means going into Manhattan or another dinner with him. I'm not quite up for that right now. But he's on the agenda. Pencil him in. But don't erase it if we cancel," I said.
"That's terrible, Max."
It was.
"Hey, you can't hit a homerun every time you're up to bat," I said.
"You want to see if we can chat with another auction house? Get their take on the painting?" she asked.
Alese Steiner. Right. I had forgotten about her with all of these Bill and Lee Endicott revelations floating around.
"How about we meet with Alese. Fill her in on the information that John gave us."
"Why don't we just call her?" Imogen asked.
"Yes, I suppose we can do that. But I'd like to see her face when we give her the news. You can tell a lot from someone's reaction."
"That's true, Max. You're quite the detective."
"Private investigator, my love. And don't you forget it."
I called Alese and told her that we had some information for her and asked if she could meet. She told me that she was not at home and that she could meet in a couple hours over lunch. I told her that was perfect and that she could meet me at the main clubhouse at Delmar. She agreed, and we disconnected.
"Lunch plans," I said.
"Wonderful," she said. "Let me guess, Delmar."
"It's not a guess if you hear me say it," I said.
Imogen made an exasperated face.
"What's wrong with Delmar?" I asked.
"I need a break from that place."
"We'll work on that, after the investigations. It's not my fault a murder happened there. It could be worse. We could be on a case in a terrible location. At least we get good meals and fine liquor on the job."
"There's something wrong with you, Max," she said. "Very wrong."
"At least I'm not predictable."
"If you think so," she quipped. "And, what exactly are you going to tell Alese?"
"Just the basics. That we traced the call to Manhattan. And see if that rings any bells for her."
"That the call supposedly originated in Manhattan you mean," she said.
"I don't think she needs to know that," I said. "I want to see what she says when we tell her that we 100 percent traced the call to Manhattan."
Ginny smiled. Maybe she actually thought that I might have known what I was doing.
"OK, Max. We'll give it a whirl and see what she says."
"We'll shake the information tree and see what falls out," I said.
"You're full of sayings this morning, aren't you?"
"It's the music. Gets my synapses firing on full throttle," I said.
"I see it's not just sayings that you're full of this morning," she said.