W Is for Wasted

lifted toward one side of his nose. “You said this was for tax purposes. I don’t understand the relevance.”
    “Don’t ask me. I can’t begin to guess why the IRS is looking into it.”
    “The IRS?”
    “This Pensky fellow might be the focus of their investigation. I really have no idea. Pete was obviously concerned enough to make a note of it.”
    “Well, yes. That was partly my doing. When she got back from Reno, she started shutting herself in the bedroom, making long-distance calls. When I told him about it, he thought there might be a problem.”
    “Good guess on his part,” I remarked. I looked at him without comment, creating a small stretch of silence.
    Willard shifted his weight. “So what happened was, he overheard a phone conversation between Mary Lee and Owen Pensky . . .”
    “How’d he manage that?”
    “What?”
    “How could Pete overhear a phone conversation? I’m not following.”
    He adjusted his crutches and stepped back. “I don’t think I should say anything more. Maybe someone else can help.”
    “Wait,” I said. “Hold on. I’m probably out of line here, Mr. Bryce, but in my past association with Pete, there were occasions when he employed a phone bug. Any chance of that here? Because if you gave your consent, you may be facing a serious legal issue.”
    “I didn’t consent. I was against it. I didn’t like the idea at all, but he said if there was something going on, we might as well know the truth.”
    “So you’re saying he recorded a private conversation.”
    “He might have without me knowing it.”
    “You didn’t hear the tape yourself?”
    “No way. I paid him and that’s the last I saw of him.”
    “What happened to the tape?”
    “He kept it, I guess . . . if there was one.”
    “I got that already. ‘If there was one,’ where is it?”
    “He didn’t say anything more about it.”
    “He
dropped
the matter?” I said, my tone incredulous.
    “Yes.”
    “He let it go and that was the end of it? You’re talking about Pete Wolinsky, is that correct? Because I can promise you Pete never let anything go if there was money to be made.”
    “Well, there was this other idea he had. He thought she might have something at work. You know . . . like in her desk—letters or something—so he came up with this plan to go into the lab using her employee badge, which I was supposed to give him.”
    This was unexpected. I studied him with interest. “Really. When was this?”
    “August 24, but she turned in her notice that day, so all of a sudden it wasn’t any big deal. She quit and that was the end of it. I don’t think she’s talked to Pensky since.”
    I said, “Ah.”
    “I was sick of the whole thing by then anyway. I figured Pete was feeding me a line of bull and I got tired of playing along.”
    “What was your last contact with him?”
    “The next morning. I guess he slept in his car all night because the minute Mary Lee went off to work, he was knocking at my door, all rude and aggressive about why hadn’t I handed over her ID. I fired him right then.”
    “And that night he was shot to death.”
    Willard lifted a hand in protest. “Oh, no. No, no. It wasn’t that night, was it?”
    “The twenty-fifth.”
    “No connection there. None whatsoever.”
    I stared. “I want to talk to your wife.”
    “You can’t do that.”
    “She and Owen Pensky had a subject under discussion and she’s the only one who knows what it was. Well, no, that’s not quite true. Pensky knew, of course. And Pete knew, didn’t he?”
    “How would I know what Pete knew? Now get away from here. I don’t have to talk to you. I only did this to be nice. You have no reason to bother my wife. You want to know what they talked about, call Pensky and ask him.”
    “Good idea. I may do that, but I should warn you, if I don’t get answers from him, I’ll be talking to her.”
    “No. Absolutely not.”
    “I don’t need your permission, Mr. Bryce, so if there’s anything you want to ’fess up to, I’d suggest you do it soon.”
    I took out a business card, slid it into his shirt pocket, and gave it a pat.
    •   •   •
    I drove home in a state of suspended animation. I was sorry to learn Mary Lee had quit her job, because she’d no longer have access to sensitive information. By the same token, maybe now that she was free as a bird, she’d be happy to blow the whistle on Reed. If Pete had overheard a discussion about the trial or the