when you left? Nobody else?”
She turned to face him. “Well, the kids and a couple of their friends, too. Ian’s, really, not the girls’.”
“Two of them?”
“I think so. Teenagers. They sat in here.”
“Two of Ian’s friends, then,” Glitsky said. “Do you know their names?”
“One was Joel Burrill. He’s here all the time. The other one, I think Mark, but…” She shook her head.
“How about the names of the coffee group women?” Glitsky asked.
This was more promising, and Mrs. Tong brightened up slightly. “Well, there’s Ruth Fitzpatrick, I know. And Jamie Rath. Oh, her daughter Lexi was here, too. She’s in Siggy and Chloe’s grade. Jamie lives right around the corner. I could show you.”
Glitsky made a little writing motion, signaling Bracco that he should be jotting down these names. To Mrs. Tong, he continued, “That would be good when we’re finished here, if you don’t mind. Now, as to the rest of the guests, was anyone else here when you left, or just the coffee group and Ian’s friends? And Siggy and Chloe’s classmate.”
“Well, of course Mr. Markham’s assistant was here the whole time. Brendan, just crying and crying, worse than Mrs. Markham sometimes. Then there was Frank Husic next door. He’s a very nice man. He heard about Mr. Markham on the radio and came right over to see if there was any way he could help.” Mrs. Tong closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded to herself. “That’s all when I was still here. After that I don’t know.”
“So you didn’t see Dr. Kensing?” Glitsky asked.
Mrs. Tong’s expression was instructive. She reacted visibly with recognition and, Glitsky thought, shock. “Dr. Kensing coming here surprises you?”
It took her a moment to phrase one syllable. “Well…” She stopped. The inspectors waited. Finally she shrugged. “Yes, I guess,” she said.
“And why is that?”
Mrs. Tong was starting to close up. She drew her head down slightly between her shoulders.
Glitsky kept at her. “Did you know Dr. Kensing, Mrs. Tong? Was he a friend of the family?”
“Not exactly a friend, no. I didn’t know him, but the name…the name is familiar.”
Glitsky hadn’t moved his chair, but he somehow seemed to have gotten closer to her. “And you wouldn’t have expected him to come by? Why is that?”
Before Mrs. Tong could frame an answer, one of the inspectors interrupted. Bracco, eager to show off what he’d learned, pumped in, “He was on call at the ICU when Markham died. He probably felt he should.”
Glitsky’s gaze would have frozen flame. He turned mildly, though, back to his subject. “Mrs. Tong, I’m sorry. What were you going to say? Why you wouldn’t have expected Dr. Kensing to come and visit?”
“I just…” She’d picked up the tension between Glitsky and his inspectors, and it didn’t increase her comfort level. “I don’t know,” she said finally.
In some ways, Glitsky knew, this interview and their interruptions might someday prove instructive to Fisk and Bracco, but it wasn’t any solace at the moment, as a willing and cooperative witness was clamming up before his eyes because he couldn’t establish a rhythm, which was halfway to rapport.
But he wasn’t through trying yet. She’d opened a different door a crack, and maybe he could get her to open that one. “All right,” he said, “but you did say that Dr. Kensing wasn’t exactly a friend. I believe those were your words. Didn’t you say that?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“Could you tell us what you meant by that?” He threw another, apparently benign look at his rookies, but it delivered the message loud and clear: Shut up and let her answer.
“Well, he worked for Mr. Markham.”
“So you meant he wasn’t exactly a friend because he was more an employee?” When she appeared to be considering that, Glitsky clarified it further. “As opposed to not exactly being a friend because he was more an enemy.”
They waited,
She turned to face him. “Well, the kids and a couple of their friends, too. Ian’s, really, not the girls’.”
“Two of them?”
“I think so. Teenagers. They sat in here.”
“Two of Ian’s friends, then,” Glitsky said. “Do you know their names?”
“One was Joel Burrill. He’s here all the time. The other one, I think Mark, but…” She shook her head.
“How about the names of the coffee group women?” Glitsky asked.
This was more promising, and Mrs. Tong brightened up slightly. “Well, there’s Ruth Fitzpatrick, I know. And Jamie Rath. Oh, her daughter Lexi was here, too. She’s in Siggy and Chloe’s grade. Jamie lives right around the corner. I could show you.”
Glitsky made a little writing motion, signaling Bracco that he should be jotting down these names. To Mrs. Tong, he continued, “That would be good when we’re finished here, if you don’t mind. Now, as to the rest of the guests, was anyone else here when you left, or just the coffee group and Ian’s friends? And Siggy and Chloe’s classmate.”
“Well, of course Mr. Markham’s assistant was here the whole time. Brendan, just crying and crying, worse than Mrs. Markham sometimes. Then there was Frank Husic next door. He’s a very nice man. He heard about Mr. Markham on the radio and came right over to see if there was any way he could help.” Mrs. Tong closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded to herself. “That’s all when I was still here. After that I don’t know.”
“So you didn’t see Dr. Kensing?” Glitsky asked.
Mrs. Tong’s expression was instructive. She reacted visibly with recognition and, Glitsky thought, shock. “Dr. Kensing coming here surprises you?”
It took her a moment to phrase one syllable. “Well…” She stopped. The inspectors waited. Finally she shrugged. “Yes, I guess,” she said.
“And why is that?”
Mrs. Tong was starting to close up. She drew her head down slightly between her shoulders.
Glitsky kept at her. “Did you know Dr. Kensing, Mrs. Tong? Was he a friend of the family?”
“Not exactly a friend, no. I didn’t know him, but the name…the name is familiar.”
Glitsky hadn’t moved his chair, but he somehow seemed to have gotten closer to her. “And you wouldn’t have expected him to come by? Why is that?”
Before Mrs. Tong could frame an answer, one of the inspectors interrupted. Bracco, eager to show off what he’d learned, pumped in, “He was on call at the ICU when Markham died. He probably felt he should.”
Glitsky’s gaze would have frozen flame. He turned mildly, though, back to his subject. “Mrs. Tong, I’m sorry. What were you going to say? Why you wouldn’t have expected Dr. Kensing to come and visit?”
“I just…” She’d picked up the tension between Glitsky and his inspectors, and it didn’t increase her comfort level. “I don’t know,” she said finally.
In some ways, Glitsky knew, this interview and their interruptions might someday prove instructive to Fisk and Bracco, but it wasn’t any solace at the moment, as a willing and cooperative witness was clamming up before his eyes because he couldn’t establish a rhythm, which was halfway to rapport.
But he wasn’t through trying yet. She’d opened a different door a crack, and maybe he could get her to open that one. “All right,” he said, “but you did say that Dr. Kensing wasn’t exactly a friend. I believe those were your words. Didn’t you say that?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“Could you tell us what you meant by that?” He threw another, apparently benign look at his rookies, but it delivered the message loud and clear: Shut up and let her answer.
“Well, he worked for Mr. Markham.”
“So you meant he wasn’t exactly a friend because he was more an employee?” When she appeared to be considering that, Glitsky clarified it further. “As opposed to not exactly being a friend because he was more an enemy.”
They waited,
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