Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

received this kind of information from anybody, no matter how diplomatically delivered, had to be upsetting.
    The corporate headquarters of Vogue Chemicals was located in downtown Salt Lake City near the convention center. After we signed the visitor log in the lobby, a neatly dressed security officer escorted Kate and me to a spacious fifth-floor conference room. The room was decorated in earth tone colors with fine-grained oak furniture. Several beautiful southwest landscape paintings hung on the walls.
    We waited for approximately ten minutes before a subdued Richard Vogue entered the boardroom, accompanied by Edward Tillman, whom he introduced as the company’s corporate legal counsel. He apologized for being late and thanked us for coming. Vogue was a distinguished-looking man, probably in his late sixties, with a mane of thick silver hair. His aristocratic look was enhanced by a well-tanned face and a lean, wiry physique that suggested a man who placed a premium on physical fitness. When he shook my hand, the grip was strong and his hand leathery. This was not a man who’d spent his entire work life sitting behind a desk.
    “Lieutenant McConnell, Mr. Kincaid, my wife Helen and I have been blessed with three wonderful children and eight grandchildren. Levi was our eldest child and our only son. I can’t begin to describe the pain and anguish that his murder has caused the entire family. We are a close-knit bunch, and this has been devastating for everyone.
    “Needless to say, the news Margaret received last evening from Deputy Chief Puffer and Mr. Locke only served to add to the family’s grief. Just when we’d adjusted to the notion that your investigation produced Levi’s killer, we were told that this Watts fellow had taken his own life.
    “Speaking personally, I found that news most disturbing. I had hoped, one day, to have the opportunity to ask Mr. Watts why he killed my son. His death, regardless of how it happened, permanently deprives me of that opportunity. And now to have the coroner’s office conclude that Mr. Watts’ death was really a murder staged to look like a suicide is almost beyond belief. I don’t know what to make of it, and I’m hoping you can help me.
    “Also, I’d like to ask that in the future, you contact me directly with information about the investigation. It’s much too overwhelming for Margaret to deal with right now.”
    We extended our personal condolences. Kate promised to communicate directly with him in the future. She explained that it had become imperative that we obtain statements from Margaret and her sons as soon as possible, and asked how he preferred we handle that.
    “I don’t see any reason why we can’t arrange something for tomorrow right here in this office.” Turning to Tillman, Vogue asked, “Ed, I realize that it’s Saturday, but could you arrange your schedule to be here, at say eleven o’clock in the morning? Margaret and the boys can meet you.”
    Tillman nodded. Ideally, this wouldn’t be the way we preferred to take statements from family members in a murder investigation, but it would have to do. Depending on how Tillman conducted himself, we could probably make it work.
    Vogue surprised us by expressing skepticism about the accuracy of the medical examiner’s findings relative to the death of Charles Watts. He demanded to know what specific evidence the State Medical Examiner’s Office used to conclude that Watts’ death was a criminal event rather than a suicide. Like us, he seemed to sense that a murder, arranged to look like a suicide, might hold unknown and ominous implications. After Kate reviewed the existing evidence, he seemed unhappily resigned to the accuracy of the coroner’s report.
    Finally, Vogue got around to asking the question we most hoped he wouldn’t. “Tell me this. Given the medical examiner’s findings regarding the murder of Watts, how close are you to having this mess resolved?” This particular question seemed to bring Tillman out of a semi-comatose state and to the edge of his seat, pen at the ready. Having anticipated this question, Kate and I had rehearsed an answer on the drive over. Unfortunately, while the answer contained elements of the truth, it also contained a deliberate and glaring omission.
    “I wish we were here with the answers I know you and your family so desperately want, but I’m afraid that’s just not the case,” said Kate. “We’re back to square one with respect to who