Double Take
Page 74
The silence stretched on for a moment. No one attempted to break it. Thomas said finally, “You asked me about Soldan Meissen, Agent Stone.” He frowned, shook his head. “I doubt this means anything, but there is a lot at stake so let me be completely honest. There is something about Soldan that sometimes shakes my confidence. I can’t tell you what, exactly, only that I am never quite as satisfied at the end of our sessions as I was with August. Soldan is quite legitimate, I know that. He has proved many times that he can contact my parents. They speak through him to me, and yes, I recognize their words and expressions, their sly wit, their endearments. Soldan isn’t a fraud, if that’s what you’re after.”
“Then what is the problem, sir? Do you think he isn’t telling you everything your parents wish him to?” Sherlock asked.
Pallack shrugged. “Come now, three FBI agents, and you’re actually taking this seriously? You’re considering that one can really talk to the dead?”
Savich’s face and voice were both expressionless. “We’re not really asking about that, but about your perceptions of him.”
“That’s an improvement over the not-so-subtle ridicule of those fatuous boneheads at the SFPD. They didn’t for a minute believe August was the honest-to-God real deal. I don’t think they had anything but contempt for him or any of his friends and colleagues. They wouldn’t have cared all that much that he was killed except that he was famous and had high-powered connections. The media spurred them on since they found the psychic angle all very sexy, and so the cops had to go through the motions.”
Julia said, “They seemed to care enough when they had the handcuffs all ready to snap on my wrists.”
Thomas Pallack looked at her. “They focused on you, Julia, for the simple reason that they could understand the motive you might have—a beautiful young woman married to a very successful, very rich older man. They had no grasp whatever of who and what August really was about, how he couldn’t help making some enemies among the living when he communicated with the dead. So they aimed at you. The black widow, yes, the fools could understand that because they’d seen it immortalized by Hollywood, and accepted it to be true. Ridiculous of course to anyone who knew you, knew August, knew what was vital and honest in him, but there you have it.
“I am very sorry it has required attempts on your life to force the police to revisit August’s murder to find a tie-in. And not simply local law enforcement, even the FBI. Actually, I don’t understand how you are involved. Shouldn’t this be strictly a local matter?”
Savich said easily, “We were asked to bring in a fresh eye, Mr. Pallack. This is what the Criminal Apprehension Unit at the FBI is designed to do. We come in only at the request of the local police.”
Sherlock said, “We understand you asked Kathryn Golden to contact your parents, but she was unable to.”
“She told me she got nothing but static during her attempts. Very odd, she told me, that something like that rarely happened to her.”
“And so you sought out Soldan, or did he come to you?” Savich asked.
“He offered his services to me, as I recall.”
Julia said, “And yet you don’t feel complete satisfaction with Soldan, that is what you said.”
“That’s right, Julia. Sometimes I feel we’re speaking of issues my parents and I discussed some time ago, a sense of deja vu, if you will, as if we’re not making much progress. It’s frustrating, but there you have it.
“Now, I have answered your questions. You will answer mine. Why are you so interested in my sessions with mediums?”
Savich said, smooth as the dark India tea Isabel had made him for breakfast, “As a successful businessman, you would never consider information gathering a waste of time. It’s what you do, it’s what we do. Do you have any idea who killed Dr. Ransom?”
CHAPTER 40
Do you know,” Thomas Pallack said slowly, still fiddling with his pen, “the inspectors from the SFPD never even asked me that outright. I’ve thought about it over the months, Charlotte and I have discussed it. Would any of his colleagues kill him? Were they jealous of him because of his success, or perhaps his wealth? Yes, probably, but that is commonplace in the world—it doesn’t seem a likely motive for murder. From what I hear, many of his colleagues worshipped him.
“I’ve come to believe it had to be one of his many clients, past or present, perhaps someone he inadvertently harmed with information he passed on to them, or someone he enraged at something he told them.”
“Then what is the problem, sir? Do you think he isn’t telling you everything your parents wish him to?” Sherlock asked.
Pallack shrugged. “Come now, three FBI agents, and you’re actually taking this seriously? You’re considering that one can really talk to the dead?”
Savich’s face and voice were both expressionless. “We’re not really asking about that, but about your perceptions of him.”
“That’s an improvement over the not-so-subtle ridicule of those fatuous boneheads at the SFPD. They didn’t for a minute believe August was the honest-to-God real deal. I don’t think they had anything but contempt for him or any of his friends and colleagues. They wouldn’t have cared all that much that he was killed except that he was famous and had high-powered connections. The media spurred them on since they found the psychic angle all very sexy, and so the cops had to go through the motions.”
Julia said, “They seemed to care enough when they had the handcuffs all ready to snap on my wrists.”
Thomas Pallack looked at her. “They focused on you, Julia, for the simple reason that they could understand the motive you might have—a beautiful young woman married to a very successful, very rich older man. They had no grasp whatever of who and what August really was about, how he couldn’t help making some enemies among the living when he communicated with the dead. So they aimed at you. The black widow, yes, the fools could understand that because they’d seen it immortalized by Hollywood, and accepted it to be true. Ridiculous of course to anyone who knew you, knew August, knew what was vital and honest in him, but there you have it.
“I am very sorry it has required attempts on your life to force the police to revisit August’s murder to find a tie-in. And not simply local law enforcement, even the FBI. Actually, I don’t understand how you are involved. Shouldn’t this be strictly a local matter?”
Savich said easily, “We were asked to bring in a fresh eye, Mr. Pallack. This is what the Criminal Apprehension Unit at the FBI is designed to do. We come in only at the request of the local police.”
Sherlock said, “We understand you asked Kathryn Golden to contact your parents, but she was unable to.”
“She told me she got nothing but static during her attempts. Very odd, she told me, that something like that rarely happened to her.”
“And so you sought out Soldan, or did he come to you?” Savich asked.
“He offered his services to me, as I recall.”
Julia said, “And yet you don’t feel complete satisfaction with Soldan, that is what you said.”
“That’s right, Julia. Sometimes I feel we’re speaking of issues my parents and I discussed some time ago, a sense of deja vu, if you will, as if we’re not making much progress. It’s frustrating, but there you have it.
“Now, I have answered your questions. You will answer mine. Why are you so interested in my sessions with mediums?”
Savich said, smooth as the dark India tea Isabel had made him for breakfast, “As a successful businessman, you would never consider information gathering a waste of time. It’s what you do, it’s what we do. Do you have any idea who killed Dr. Ransom?”
CHAPTER 40
Do you know,” Thomas Pallack said slowly, still fiddling with his pen, “the inspectors from the SFPD never even asked me that outright. I’ve thought about it over the months, Charlotte and I have discussed it. Would any of his colleagues kill him? Were they jealous of him because of his success, or perhaps his wealth? Yes, probably, but that is commonplace in the world—it doesn’t seem a likely motive for murder. From what I hear, many of his colleagues worshipped him.
“I’ve come to believe it had to be one of his many clients, past or present, perhaps someone he inadvertently harmed with information he passed on to them, or someone he enraged at something he told them.”
