“I understand he was upset about the decision to go with more trailers rather than proper housing. He had concerns about public health.”
“I believe that’s true, yes. But we were being practical. It would be a near-non-profit venture for us, and we needed to keep costs down.”
“Your assistant…” Bob mentioned.
“Greg Thomas?” Baird looked mildly curious. “What about him?
“He was there when the argument took place as well?”
“He was.” Baird smirked slightly at the notion. “Mr. Richmond, Greg is… not a complicated person. He does my errands. He has no role in the business per se, and I can’t see him having any involvement with Mr. Singh.”
“He’s here?”
“He stepped out on some personal business, I believe.”
“And Marcus? Where was he when the argument took place? No one’s mentioned that yet.”
He looked down at his dress shoes momentarily. “He was out of the office, picking up Richard’s dinner, I believe.” His tone was less pleased, almost annoyed.
“So… for him to be involved in any way can’t have anything to do with why Singh was there, then.” Bob stared at the man, looking for cracks. “Because he didn’t hear that argument.”
Baird sighed. “Mr. Richmond, look… I appreciate you have a job to do. But I think you might be overcomplicating all of this. I liked Marcus, I really did. But my understanding is that he had the weapon that killed Mr. Singh on him, and his wallet.”
Bob studied the man’s face as he asked the question. “And how did you feel about that?”
Baird shrugged. “What am I supposed to think? The truth is that I hardly know the boy. He’s from a big city, Chicago, that has a lot of crime, and clearly he is not from an affluent background.”
“He’s poor… so he’d rob your boss and kill him?” Bob said. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”
Baird’s expression shifted, nervousness creeping in. “Clearly, it is not my intention to suggest… It’s just that the circumstances—”
“Yeah. Yeah, I get that.”
Baird abruptly checked his watch. “The time is… getting away from me a little. I really do have to take a conference call in just a few minutes.”
Bob could tell he was being blown off. “Okay. It was good of you to meet, sir,” he said. He nodded back towards the doors. “I’ll head out… but I may need to talk to you again. Is that okay? You know… without the formality of scheduling depositions, that sort of official thing?”
“Absolutely,” Baird said. But his head shake was definitely askew, circling between yes and no as if he couldn’t quite decide. “Just call my secretary and we’ll set something up. Good day, counsellor.”
He turned and headed for the stairs.
“JUST… one other thing,” Bob called out.
Baird stopped. “Yes?”
“Merry Michelsen. Tell me about him.”
Baird peered at him, motionless for a few seconds. Then he said, “I’m… not sure I know the name. Seems vaguely familiar.”
“Not a problem,” Bob said. “Thought I’d ask.”
“It was good speaking with you, Mr. Richmond.” Baird turned and headed up the stairs.
Bob exited through the front doors. The last question had been telling. Baird had just stared him, not like a man searching for why a name is familiar, but with a penetrating gaze, like he’d wanted to know why the question was even being asked.
As he turned left to head to the parking lot, a man bumped him, their shoulders clashing, both men staggering slightly.
“Sorry,” Bob said.
“Watch where you’re going, champ,” the other man muttered.
Bob looked back as the man grabbed the front-door handle. “Excuse me? You bumped me.”
The man had straw hair, eyes pale blue, pink skin that looked like it didn’t think much of the sun. “Nice try, pal. Watch yourself,” he said. The man pulled the door open.
Before it could swing closed, Bob said, “You wouldn’t be Greg Thomas, would you?”
He paused, holding the door open. “And now who would be asking that?”
Bob held out his hand to shake. “Bob Richmond, Marcus Pell’s legal representative. You have a minute to talk?”
Thomas ignored the hand and sucked on his tongue, sizing him up. “Uh huh. Don’t really know him. I mean, I know he’s an intern here, but… Can’t help you. Now…” he nodded towards the doors, “you got anything else to ask? I need to get back to work.”
“I’m good,” Bob said, lowering the hand.
“Fine,” Thomas said, disappearing through the open door.
Bob made a mental note to work up information on Baird’s assistant. He had a menacing vibe.
