meeting.”
Jake paid attention to the one-sided conversation.
“Why can't you use their van? Oh, I see. I suppose you can use the truck. The keys are hanging in the mud room. Devon — drive carefully, and don't leave the gas tank on empty, please. Okay, I'll see you.” He rotated back to face Jake, replacing the receiver. “Sorry about that. Kids.”
“Ah, I love kids.” Jake smiled. “What does your son do?”
“He works at Starlight Music. They provide disc jockey services for all kinds of events, wedding receptions, parties , whatever. They're supposed to have their own van to haul equipment, but lately it's been in the repair shop more than out.”
“That'd be a very interesting line of work. I bet they use all kinds of electronic gadgets in a job like that.”
“They do. In fact…” Watkins hesitated, appearing as if he'd said too much. He refocused and stated, “Enough about that. You have more questions? I really must get back to work.”
“Just a few.” Jake glanced at what he'd jotted in his notebook. Save Our Wildlife , corporation officersRoss Whitcomb, William Rust and Eugene Tuttle. Eugene Tuttle! That's where he'd heard the name. Someone had used that name to rent an office on the same floor as Watkins, in this building. What a coincidence . “Have you ever heard of Ross Whitcomb?”
Watkins thought about it. “Can't say that I have.”
“What about William Rust?”
Another blank look. “Sounds familiar, but I can't place him. Sorry.”
“Eugene Tuttle?”
“Nope,” Watkins answered, a little too quickly.
“Are you sure about that? Eugene Tuttle? The sign in the hallway says he has an office on this floor.”
“There are a dozen offices on this floor, Detective. My partners and I have eight employees right here in our own suite of offices. I wouldn't begin to keep track of who else comes and goes in the building.”
“Really, not even here on the same floor? You haven't met him in the elevator perhaps?”
Watkins simply stared at him.
“I guess not. You see, I'm trying to figure out who the brains are behind Save Our Wildlife . They stand to inherit a bundle if something happens to Joss—Miss Wheeler. Of course, I intend to see that nothing happens to her.”
“Of course.” The lawyer stood, extended his hand. “Good luck, Detective. If I can be of further help, just call.”
Jake took his time leaving. He stood, shook hands with Watkins, and slowly exited the office. Watkins watched him impatiently, which caused Jake to move even slower.
In the outer office, he stopped in front of the secretary's desk. “Betty, do you know Eugene Tuttle? The directory in the hall says he has an office on this floor.”
She squinted and thought about it. “I don't believe I do. I know most of the people on the floor. We share the elevator several times a day.”
Exactly as I suspected. They'd become familiar with faces, then names, and would eventually know most of the people in offices around them.
“Some folks rent offices, but never move in,” Betty continued. “I've seen that several times in this building. Not sure why, though.”
“Who would I talk to, to find out if Mr. Tuttle ever moved in?”
She rifled through her desk drawer and pulled out a business card. “MDP Management handles the leases and maintenance on this building. Ask for Susie, she's a friend of mine. Tell her I sent you.”
“Thanks, Betty.” Jake smiled at her. He took the card and headed for the door. In the hallway, he punched the phone number from the card into his cell phone.
“MDP Management, Renee speaking,” a woman answered.
“May I speak with Susie, please?”
“One moment.” While she placed him on hold, he paced the hallway, looking at suite names and numbers. The directory indicated Tuttle's office in suite 415 , but the door there had no sign. Not that the man was even the same Eugene Tuttle as on the Wildlife website, but Jake suspected one hell of a
Jake paid attention to the one-sided conversation.
“Why can't you use their van? Oh, I see. I suppose you can use the truck. The keys are hanging in the mud room. Devon — drive carefully, and don't leave the gas tank on empty, please. Okay, I'll see you.” He rotated back to face Jake, replacing the receiver. “Sorry about that. Kids.”
“Ah, I love kids.” Jake smiled. “What does your son do?”
“He works at Starlight Music. They provide disc jockey services for all kinds of events, wedding receptions, parties , whatever. They're supposed to have their own van to haul equipment, but lately it's been in the repair shop more than out.”
“That'd be a very interesting line of work. I bet they use all kinds of electronic gadgets in a job like that.”
“They do. In fact…” Watkins hesitated, appearing as if he'd said too much. He refocused and stated, “Enough about that. You have more questions? I really must get back to work.”
“Just a few.” Jake glanced at what he'd jotted in his notebook. Save Our Wildlife , corporation officersRoss Whitcomb, William Rust and Eugene Tuttle. Eugene Tuttle! That's where he'd heard the name. Someone had used that name to rent an office on the same floor as Watkins, in this building. What a coincidence . “Have you ever heard of Ross Whitcomb?”
Watkins thought about it. “Can't say that I have.”
“What about William Rust?”
Another blank look. “Sounds familiar, but I can't place him. Sorry.”
“Eugene Tuttle?”
“Nope,” Watkins answered, a little too quickly.
“Are you sure about that? Eugene Tuttle? The sign in the hallway says he has an office on this floor.”
“There are a dozen offices on this floor, Detective. My partners and I have eight employees right here in our own suite of offices. I wouldn't begin to keep track of who else comes and goes in the building.”
“Really, not even here on the same floor? You haven't met him in the elevator perhaps?”
Watkins simply stared at him.
“I guess not. You see, I'm trying to figure out who the brains are behind Save Our Wildlife . They stand to inherit a bundle if something happens to Joss—Miss Wheeler. Of course, I intend to see that nothing happens to her.”
“Of course.” The lawyer stood, extended his hand. “Good luck, Detective. If I can be of further help, just call.”
Jake took his time leaving. He stood, shook hands with Watkins, and slowly exited the office. Watkins watched him impatiently, which caused Jake to move even slower.
In the outer office, he stopped in front of the secretary's desk. “Betty, do you know Eugene Tuttle? The directory in the hall says he has an office on this floor.”
She squinted and thought about it. “I don't believe I do. I know most of the people on the floor. We share the elevator several times a day.”
Exactly as I suspected. They'd become familiar with faces, then names, and would eventually know most of the people in offices around them.
“Some folks rent offices, but never move in,” Betty continued. “I've seen that several times in this building. Not sure why, though.”
“Who would I talk to, to find out if Mr. Tuttle ever moved in?”
She rifled through her desk drawer and pulled out a business card. “MDP Management handles the leases and maintenance on this building. Ask for Susie, she's a friend of mine. Tell her I sent you.”
“Thanks, Betty.” Jake smiled at her. He took the card and headed for the door. In the hallway, he punched the phone number from the card into his cell phone.
“MDP Management, Renee speaking,” a woman answered.
“May I speak with Susie, please?”
“One moment.” While she placed him on hold, he paced the hallway, looking at suite names and numbers. The directory indicated Tuttle's office in suite 415 , but the door there had no sign. Not that the man was even the same Eugene Tuttle as on the Wildlife website, but Jake suspected one hell of a
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