Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

was the last time you saw Levi?”
    “Late yesterday afternoon. I left for home at about five-thirty and Levi was still in his office.”
    “Thanks for your help, Judith. If you think of anything else, no matter how trivial it may seem, you know where to find me.”
    My next interview was with William Allred, a retired prison warden who had been employed by the Department of Corrections for twenty years prior to his appointment to the Board of Pardons. Allred was nearing the end of his second term. As I recalled, his appointment had been a controversial one. Many people believed that his selection had less to do with ability, and more to do with his reputation as a tough prison warden. He had always projected an attitude that said, on his watch, inmates would not be running the asylum. That attitude resonated well with Utah politicians and probably played a major role in his hiring.
    Allred invited me into his office. I glanced around the room thinking that I’d never seen a dirtier, more cluttered space. Files were scattered everywhere and piled on everything. I moved a two-foot-high stack from an office chair to the floor so I’d have a place to sit.
    Allred glanced up from a file and said, “Sorry about the mess. One of these days I’ll get around to straightening it up. I hate to rush you, Sam, but we’re going to have to keep this short. I’ve got a full docket of parole grant hearings scheduled for this afternoon, and I’m still not finished reading the files.”
    “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice. I’ll try to keep it brief.”
    “I sure hope I can help. Levi’s murder has shocked and devastated everybody in this office. How are Margaret and the children holding up? Has she returned from California?”
    “I don’t really know. I haven’t had any contact with her. My guess is that she’s on her way back to Utah.”
    “And how is the investigation proceeding?” he continued. “Did you find any physical evidence at the crime scene? Any suspects yet?”
    I started to wonder who was interviewing who. Before I could answer, Allred apologized. “I’m sorry to be asking all these questions, Sam. It’s just that the rest of us are feeling a little jumpy. I know everybody will feel a sense of relief once somebody’s in custody.”
    I treated Allred’s questions the same way I would had they come from the press. That means I used my standard line of evasive bullshit and didn’t really answer any of them.
    I asked Allred the same questions I’d previously posed to James-Hyde. And with one notable exception, I received almost the exact same responses.
    “Away from the office, who were Levi’s friends?”
    The question seemed to momentarily catch him off-guard. For a split second, his facial expression registered surprise. “Well, I really haven’t any idea about that. There was this guy from his church ward. Levi once told me that he and this guy, and, sorry, but I can’t remember his name, sometimes attended Jazz games together. Other than that, my sense is that Levi spent most of his time with family.”
    “Did you and he socialize outside the office?”
    “Once in a great while, but not very often.”
    “And when you did go out, what kinds of things did you do together?”
    “When we did go out, and it wasn’t often, we’d usually go to lunch. That’s really about it.”
    “Seems like I heard from somebody that the two of you spent time together lifting weights. Is that true?”
    “Well, yes, that’s true. On rare occasions, Levi and I have lifted together. I maintain a membership at a Gold’s Gym in Midvale and Levi attended a couple of times as my guest.”
    For whatever reasons, Allred wanted to distance himself from any personal relationship with Vogue. I wondered why. While he didn’t outright deny the friendship, he certainly downplayed it.
    The third member, Gloria Perez, was a former law school professor at the University of Utah. She was three months shy of finishing her second term. From what I’d heard, she badly wanted Governor Strand to appoint her a third time, and rumor had it, he wasn’t going to do it.
    Perez looked tired and drawn. Her mascara had run, and it was obvious that she’d been crying. As the board’s senior member, I had hoped my interview with her might lead to some startling revelation that would shed light on Levi’s murder. But it didn’t. About the only interesting answer came when I asked if she could identify any of Levi’s