Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

technology I could do without. We engaged in the usual salutations and perfunctory glad-handing before settling down to business.
    “Sam, as you probably know, Richard Vogue has asked Allen & Associates to look into Levi’s murder. I want to assure you that we are here to assist in any way we can and not to step on toes. Believe me, I understand how difficult it can be when a high profile case is already being worked by more than one agency. And then to have a team of private investigators tossed into the mix can’t be viewed by the official agencies with much enthusiasm.”
    No shit, Sherlock, I thought.
    I decided to hedge my bets and play it conservatively. “You know, Jim, you’re probably talking to the wrong guy. You need to be on the horn to Lt. Kate McConnell. She’s the lead on this one. My office has been assigned in a support capacity only.”
    “Oh, I understand that, Sam, but I hoped you could make the introductions and lay the groundwork. After all, you and I have some history. I’m afraid I can’t say the same about my relationship with Lt. McConnell. I could take the direct approach and go straight to her boss, but I’d hate to do that for the obvious reasons.”
    He was playing all of the right cards. I decided that it made sense to feign cooperation and stall for time. “You’re right about one thing—going around McConnell would probably be a big mistake. Suffice it to say, it wouldn’t exactly engender an attitude of trust and cooperation. You should also be aware that the Salt Lake County Attorney’s office has been involved from day one. Tom Stoddard is the contact there. I’m sure the DA’s office will expect input into this decision. In the meantime, I’d be happy to serve as a liaison between you and Lt. McConnell. Let me approach her and I’ll get back to you. How does that sound?”
    Translated, that means I’ll get back to you in about ten years.
    “Sounds good to me, Sam. I really appreciate your assistance. Time is of the essence, so I’ll expect to hear from you soon.”
    ***
    I had an idea. I found Terry working in his office, all dressed up and ready to attend Levi Vogue’s funeral.
    I dropped into the seat next to his desk. “Change of plan,” I said. “And for what I’ve got in mind, you’re definitely overdressed.”
    “Shit. I not only wear my best suit, but I rush my ass to the cleaners yesterday and pay to get it cleaned, all because you told me we’re attending Vogue’s funeral today. And now you’re about to tell me I’m not going. What gives?”
    Smiling, I said, “What’s the matter with you—out a little late last night? You know, Terry, it wouldn’t hurt if you’d buy a second suit, and always keep one of them clean. Then you can avoid the stress of having to run around at the last minute trying to get your wardrobe in order. And besides, you are going to the funeral. It’s just that nobody’s going to see you.”
    “Up yours, Kincaid,” he said, trying to suppress a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Just give me the piss-ass assignment and get out of my office.” That’s what I liked about Burnham—always the soft-spoken gentleman.
    ***
    I don’t like funerals much, never have. This one would be no exception. I arrived about twenty minutes before the scheduled start of the service. It was a beautiful afternoon for a funeral, lots of sunshine with a cobalt blue sky and a few cumulus clouds.
    I spotted Burnham parked in our undercover surveillance van across the street from the church parking lot. This gave him an unobstructed view of the church’s main entrance, as well as a good view of a side entrance. He would have a clear field of vision through the van’s one-way glass to videotape mourners as they entered and exited the church. I knew this exercise might be for naught, but I also felt there was at least an outside chance that the video footage might help us connect someone to Vogue’s murder.
    To my dismay, I also observed two marked vans and a large SUV from our local television stations. The press release, explaining the circumstances surrounding the death of Charles Watts, had been given to the assembled media at a nine a.m. news conference.
    The guest of honor was present in a bronze casket at the front of the church. It was common in the Mormon faith to have an open-casket viewing preceding the funeral service. In this instance, undoubtedly because of the condition of the body, there had been no