Chapter 12

As I sat at my desk, I idly tapped my stylus pen against my chin.All the data gleaned from Gavin McAllister's computer stared back at me from their multiple placements on my portable android screen.Rogue had been able to crack the pass code and unlock the files themselves, but except for a daily schedule of appointments, McAllister's reports and other sundry data meant nothing to me or Rogue.A lot of it had to do with mathematical formulas and configurations, company planning statements, and what appeared to be medical reports.To those of us unfamiliar with math and medicine as a whole, this data proved useless until we had a better grasp of the type and scope of McAllister's work.

Of course, I made a search on the universal network but came up with a one-page site for the Senesco Institute, an introductory piece written in public relations hype.Thus, I contacted the institute directly and set up an appointment for tomorrow afternoon with the gentleman on the news last night, Bishop Dane Merrick, the company's frontline PR man.From there, my mission became a simple one:to penetrate the layers of corporate accessibility and talk to the person in charge of operations, or as the old saying went, get the scoop directly from the horse's mouth.I just hoped the horse in question had an amiable and cooperative nature.

Earlier I had put in a request for an additional officer to help me with the data processing, and Bender, in a rare gesture of cooperation, let me have Sergeant Libby Farah for a few days.I knew she would be a big help, and when she showed up at my cubby hole, I gave her the list of names gleaned from McAllister's e-files.With her usual crisp and efficient manner, Libby told me she'd have IDs available later this afternoon.I certainly didn't doubt her estimation, and wished her well.

Now as I continued to peruse the additional data before me, one particular item caught my interest in McAllister's daily log, what seemed to be a regular meeting scheduled for Wednesday afternoons.McAllister made a consistent note of K.K. @ the MLC, 9:30.KK could be someone's name, the MLC the initials for some place, group or business, the numbers a simple time notation, but I still had no inkling as to 9:30 a.m. or p.m.

I wanted to ask Arianna if she was familiar with any of this information; but instead of phoning her, I decided to return to the Elysian Towers.I found face-to-face interviews to be the most effective method of judging someone's veracity or lack thereof.Simple facial expressions, involuntary ticks, a tone of voice, the intensity of a gaze, and other nervous gestures spoke volumes.

So far I felt that I had successfully pegged Arianna as a cooperative and innocent bystander/witness, her countenance, mannerisms and general nature considered serene, honest and definitely pleasing.And although I felt she provided forthright information, there still could be some facts she had simply forgotten or lost in the transition before and after the murder of her boss and lover, and the emotional ride from contentment to sorrow.I just needed to nudge her in the right direction.My visit would be impromptu, thus preempting a desire to rehearse for our interview ahead of time.Of course, I hadn't planned to catch her in the middle of some subversive act; but simple human nature dictated that as we anticipate any kind of encounter, we tend to go over what we want to say and do, thus eliminating the element of surprise and that crucial moment of open, honest vulnerability.For some reason I looked forward to experiencing Arianna's naked state-of mind that is.

Rogue had called earlier and asked he could bring me some lunch.Unfortunately, I had to decline his offer, my time now stretched to the limits.It would take me a good hour or so to get from our dusty level to the tastefully rich plane of God's elite.

"You'll be home tonight?"I meant it as a question in need of a response, not as a statement of fact.Many nights I came home to an empty apartment because Rogue had gone off on one of his "business trips," sometimes for days at a time.Of course, he would leave me a note, but his miniscule explanations still left me wondering where and what he was doing.

"For you, darling," he answered now with a tone dripping sweet homily."I'll be home, waiting patiently for your arrival.In fact, I'll even rustle us up some dinner, chef's choice."

Of course, after last night's feast, any and everything that crossed my plate from now on would pale in comparison, Rogue's too.

"I look forward to it, darling," I cooed in return.I don't know why but I felt a streak of comfortable affection, prompted no doubt by our steamy shag session last night."So, I'll see you around six or seven."I couldn't be any more precise than that.