Page 51 of Accidental Murder
Darkness descendedas Megan entered the Central Convalescent Facility where William Norton worked. Despite the potted plants and Douglas fir decorated with silver ornaments and tinsel, the fetid odor of aging pervaded the first floor. Megan’s father, who was fifty-five when she and her sister were born, had died a miserable death in one of these places.
She obtained a security badge at reception and rode an elevator to the fifteenth story. In stark contrast to the windowless foyer, the fifteenth floor was brightly lit and provided spectacular views of the city.
Nice digs, Megan mused. Why weren’t the patients living on this level? The panorama alone might lighten their spirits.
An assistant showed her to William Norton’s office.
“Inspector Sergeant Harahan.” Norton stood when she entered. Gaunt and ropy, he could fit the description Kayla’s neighbor had provided. He spoke with a slight Southern drawl. “I’ve been expecting you.” With ease, he settled into his oxblood red chair. “Please, sit.” He indicated an uninviting metal chair against the wall next to a silk ficus tree but didn’t offer to move it closer to his desk.
Sensing danger beneath his folksy demeanor, Megan remained standing.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” He nudged two calculators—there were five in all on the desk—to the right edge. “They say rain’s coming, though.”
“Sir, we’re wondering what you can tell us about your association with Kayla Macintyre.”
Norton adjusted his tie. “Kayla did some computer work for my wife Cindy.”
“Your estranged wife. In fact, you recently struck her, I’m told.”
Norton’s mouth twitched. “The two of us are going to seek counseling.”
The intercom buzzed and Norton’s assistant said, “Sir, you’re needed downstairs. It’s that man again about his father’s bill. Security is holding him at bay.”
“I’m sorry, Inspector. I have to go.” He nabbed a pack of cigarettes off the bureau behind his desk and retrieved an expensive looking jacket from the back of his chair.
“I’ll walk with you.” Megan followed him to the elevator. “Tell me more about Cindy’s and Kayla’s relationship.”
“All I know is Kayla helped my wife create a website, pure and simple.” Norton slipped on his jacket then pressed the down elevator button. “Cindy designs dog pillows.” He stifled a snicker.
Megan bridled. Weren’t his wife’s aspirations good enough for him? A dozen of her college friends had created their own businesses. Most were doing well. Megan wondered if that was what she should do. Exactly what kind of start-up it would be, she wasn’t sure.
The elevator doors opened and they entered.
“Sir, we have on record that Kayla Macintyre is the reason your wife reported spousal abuse and slapped a restraining order on you.”
Norton pressedLfor lobby. “My behavior has been horrid, I’ll admit.” He pulled a cigarette from the pack and rolled it between his fingers. “But I’m in treatment to learn how to become cool, calm, and collected. Cindy knows this, and I’m sure she conveyed that fact to Miss Macintyre.”
“Sir, your wife seems to be missing.”
“Says who?”
“A friend.”
“Have you checked her mother’s place?” His voice dropped to a whisper with a hint of a snarl. “She always runs home to Mama.”
His upper lip and the collar of his shirt started showing the beginning signs of sweat. Good. Megan was enjoying his unease. She made a mental note to conduct future interrogations in the confines of an elevator.
“Where were you on the night Kayla Macintyre was killed?”
“Here. Working.”
“Can someone corroborate your whereabouts?”
“Hundreds of patients and staff.” Norton folded his arms. “Do you have a witness who can put me at the scene of the crime?”
Megan cocked her head. Honestly? Two guys in one day trying to one-up her? “We’ll need your fingerprints.”
“They’re on record.”
