Perry crossed one leg over the other and took out a small Fierro notepad that he had stuffed in his back pocket. Once situated, he unfurled the notepad, and clicked his pen to begin the mock interview. Before they had entered her office, he had cycled through some ideas and various ways on how he was going to approach this—well, whatever this was.

Right about now, he was wishing he had spent more time reading about journalists in his crime reading ventures as opposed to another tome by Chandler or Ross Macdonald.

Donald Westlake wrote about a reporter, didn’t he?

Why hadn’t he read that one instead of one of the other bajillion books about his character, the thief, Parker.

Too late now.

He’d have to focus on the basics. Grade school stuff. The Five Ws: who, what, when, where, and why. That would keep her talking, and more importantly, she wouldn’t be able to answer any of his questions with a simple “yes” or “no”.

He leaned back in the chair and lifted his chin. “How long did you know Mr. Wagner, Ms. Brashear?”

Olivia sat across from him, her posture precise and commendable. She cleared a few pages of paperwork from her desk to provide him with her utmost attention. “I first met Marc after he graduated from the Academy of Fine Arts and moved here from The Falls.”

“Ah, a Falls boy, eh?”

“That’s correct. Marc told me once that he found the larger cities much too busy and too loud for his liking. Old Town was much more suited to his tastes, I think. It was quiet and had less opportunities for distraction. I think he’d thought that his focus would be much clearer here.

“Anyway, I was organizing a charity auction to help commemorate the War of 1812 Bicentennial as it was fast approaching and we were looking for sponsors to help ring in the event. Marc submitted some paintings to me at that time and I was delighted to include some of his pieces in the auction.”

When was the Bicentennial again? Three or four years ago? Hmm, she’d known him for a while then.

“The response to his paintings from the community was astounding,” she went on. “Not since Jean Claude Michaud, another local artist in town, had we seen such an acknowledgment. In fact, Jean Claude, himself, was so impressed with his work that he offered to mentor the younger Marc in the ways of the business and to help him open his first gallery. The two would eventually form a close relationship. A bond, if you will.”

He had been so captivated by the story, that he’d completely forgotten what it was that he was supposed to be doing. He hadn’t taken a single note since she had started talking and now she had picked up on this irregularity.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Montauk, I’ve been so busy carrying on that I should have asked if you knew some of this information already. You could have stopped me at any time.”

Perry fumbled with his notepad in his lap and repositioned himself in his chair. “No, it’s fine. I—”

There was a knock at the door and Charlotte poked her head into the office. “Excuse me, Olivia. Sorry for interrupting, but I wanted to ask if it’s all right that I take my lunch now?”

“By all means, dear,” Olivia told her. “You can go right ahead.”

Charlotte nodded and shut the door, but not before stealing a look at the pad in Perry’s lap.

Olivia swiveled back to Perry. “Sorry about that. Now, where were we?”

Perry attended to his notepad and scrawled a few lines of text, writing, Wagner from Falls. Academy of Fine Arts. Mentorship from Michaud.

“Do you know if Marc had any immediate family in the area? Maybe someone else I can talk to?” He figured that he’d cover his bases to not arise any further suspicion from her.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “I assume they must be in The Falls, as well.”

“Right. How about hobbies? Did he have a favourite book or movie, perhaps?”

Confusion danced across her face. “I’m not really sure. Is that pertinent to your story?”

“I think it is,” he said. “We want our readers to have the chance to get to know Marc Wagner. A good story delves beneath the surface to look at what motivated him, what excited him, what made him interesting. I want to get into his heart and find out what made him tick.”

It sounded right to his ears, hopefully she would agree.

She smiled cordially. “I suppose you’re right. I really don’t know, though, Mr. Montauk. I wish I did, but we’ve lost that opportunity now. It’s funny…”

“What’s that?”

She turned her head to the side. “I was just going to say, that it’s funny how you can know someone for what feels like a long time, but yet, not really know them, if you know what I mean. I spent an extraordinary amount of time working with Marc but I’m afraid that I can’t answer very many of these personal questions. I don’t really know what he liked or what his aspirations were…”

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nonsense, Mr. Montauk. There’s no need to apologize. You’re just trying to do your job.”

‘Your job.’

The two words reverberated somewhere deep inside him and panic rushed to the surface. His heart beat faster. Sweat tickled at his collar.

“Yes,” he said, “I was only trying to find out more about him.”

“I will say, though…”

“Yes?” Perry said, his hand hovering over his notepad.

“I wasn’t going to say anything. I’m not even sure that I should, to be perfectly honest, but… I did notice some odd behaviour from Marc.”

“Odd behaviour?”

“Yes, he had started becoming more distant. Maybe even a bit apprehensive. It was all very out of character for someone like him.”

“When did this start?”

“I want to say a year ago.”

“A year ago?”

“Yes.”

“And this continued? This behavior? Do you have any idea what may have caused this shift?”

“There was one thing, but…” she began, but the thought appeared to drift away from her. Her eyes moved elsewhere. “We hadn’t spoken in a while. I had been meaning to call, but I never did. I can’t change that now.”

“I understand. What was the one thing?”

“Hmm?”

“A second ago, you mentioned that there was one that may have explained the change in his behaviour.”

“Oh yes. There was one time, maybe three weeks ago that I overheard Marc on the phone. It was a very heated call.”

“Can you remember anything that was said?”

“It was about money. Money and a car.”

Perry scribbled the two words down onto his notepad. “Thank you, Ms. Brashear. You’ve been most helpful. I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today.”

“No, thank you, Mr. Montauk. It’s the least I can do.”