Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

they spent the $25,000 remodeling the house or buying that fancy Lexus he was driving.”
    “I don’t think so,” she said. “The Lexus was leased, and besides, when I asked Margaret about it, she recalled closing on the second mortgage, but had no idea that Levi was into it for twenty-five big ones. She denied taking on any major new family expenditures. Her chin hit the floor when I mentioned that the home equity line had only five grand left untapped.”
    “Let me tell you what I think,” I said. “My father used to tell me that I had champagne taste on a beer income. That’s what I’d say about Levi Vogue. It’s good you discovered the second mortgage. It appears he was spending more than he was earning, and the second mortgage could have served almost as a bridge loan to get him to his forty-fifth birthday, when the trust would have kicked in. If Levi was spending more than he was earning, and we couldn’t account for it, then I’d worry where that money was coming from. But since we can account for it, then all it proves is that Levi was lying to Margaret on a variety of different fronts in order to maintain a lifestyle she didn’t know anything about. It isn’t a pretty picture, but I don’t see how it sheds any light on his murder.”
    “You might be right. But I’m not convinced that his salary, plus the twenty-five grand spent over the past eighteen months, adequately explains his family finances. It looks like there was insufficient income to cover his debts. Sam, the guy was chronically late paying almost all his bills. You should see the dings on his credit report. One outstanding account had even gone to collection status.”
    “So, your conclusion would be that Levi Vogue was on the take, that he had some illicit stream of income supporting his lifestyle.”
    “I don’t know if I’d call it a conclusion, but I think it’s possible. Let me put it another way—if he wasn’t on the take, and somebody decided they were willing to pay a lot of money to influence a parole decision, he’d be the right guy to talk to. From what we can surmise, he needed the money.”
    Our verbal exchanges continued despite my starting to grow light-headed from the beer. “I definitely agree with you about one thing. Given Vogue’s position on the Board of Pardons, if he was as pinched financially as you make him out to be, he’d probably be more susceptible to succumbing to temptation if the right opportunity came along.”
    We turned our attention to our respective lists of forgery suspects. Before getting very far, Kate stopped. “I thought we agreed to keep this brief.”
    “We did,” I replied. “But think about it—isn’t half the fun of working an investigation with someone the collaborating about case theories? And when you can consume a mind-altering substance at the same time, it’s even better.”
    She laughed out loud, flashing a mouthful of beautiful white teeth. This woman is starting to grow on me, I thought. She’s talented, smart, and beautiful—a deadly combination. My head tells me to run while I can, my heart says something else.
    “You’re a piece of work, Sam. But I have to admit, we do seem to make a really good team. I’m not sure whether you’re my alter ego or I’m yours. Either way, it appears to be working.”
    Our conversation had lapsed into a comfortable silence. We didn’t make eye contact, each of us content to stare into half-empty glasses. Kate broke the silence with the best idea of the evening—going back to her place.
    She reached into her purse, pulled out her cell, and began punching numbers. As she dialed, she asked, “Tell me something, Sam. Do you like Chinese food?”
    “Oh, yeah. As long as I can get it hot and spicy,” I said.
    “Hot and spicy it is,” she said. She called Szechwan Charley’s, a popular Chinese restaurant in downtown Salt Lake City. She ordered Hunan Beef, Szechwan Shrimp and steamed rice. She jotted her home address on one of her business cards and handed it to me. As she slipped out of the booth, she turned and said, “I really don’t know why I’m doing this. Spur-of-the-moment sort of thing, I guess. See you at my place in twenty.” With that, she was gone.

Chapter Thirty-one
    I don’t know why it surprised me, but somehow it did. I’d never imagined Kate McConnell as a city girl, but that’s exactly what she was. Her home turned out to be a posh condominium in a gated community high in the Avenues