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“Special Agent Erikson. I’d like to talk with you about Gillian Murphey.” The agent had a high and tight haircut and looked like he’d been sent from central casting.
“So, talk.”
Agent Erikson looked around. “Is there somewhere else—”
Vic shook his head. “You’re welcome to pull up a chair, but I’m in the middle of a couple of murder investigations. Now, how can I help you?”
Erikson hesitated as if debating whether to press for privacy and ended up accepting the offered witness chair. “Why did you visit Gillian Murphey?”
Vic met his gaze without flinching. “I thought he might know something that pertained to an investigation.”
“Did he?”
“No,” Vic lied smoothly. “He’d been out of the game too long. It was more a matter of covering every base. Sometimes you follow a tip, and it comes up bupkis.”
He could feel Erikson evaluating him, looking for a hole in his story. Vic had faced down criminals for too long to fold during an interrogation, even an unofficial one.
“What did you think he might know about?” Erikson probed.
“I’m looking into a series of disturbances at the Ocean Visions Hotel. His name came up as someone who had been associated with the hotel in the past, and I like to be very thorough,” Vic answered.
“What sort of disturbances?” Erikson’s mistrust was clear in his tone.
“A couple of people have gone missing, there’s been a spike in reported sightings of strange phenomena, some unexplained fires,” Vic replied as if it were business as usual. “I wanted to know if that matched his experience.”
“And what did he tell you?” Erikson’s frosty tone was just shy of hostile.
“Not much. As you say, it was a long time ago. A lot of water under the bridge. Nice guy, but he wasn’t really very helpful.”
“Are you aware Gillian Murphey is dead?”
“I heard. A pity. Car accident?” Vic’s best guileless look wasn’t going over well with Erikson.
“We’re still investigating,” the agent said. “You were one of the last people to see him.”
“And he was hale and hearty when I did.” Vic was tiring of the cat-and-mouse game. He doubted that he and Erikson were on the same side.
“I’d like to get a statement—”
“In which I’ll repeat exactly what I said right now.” Vic let some of his annoyance show. “You can save us both the aggravation. There’s nothing more to add.”
“I want you to come down to headquarters—”
“Not without a warrant.” This time, Vic didn’t even try to soften his displeasure when he interrupted. “And you go through official channels, including my boss. What are you really looking for, agent?”
“There’s been unauthorized access to case files on a secret project Murphey was part of years ago. We’re trying to figure out who hacked in, and what they wanted.” Erikson looked like he had sucked on a lemon. “We are treating his death as a possible homicide related to the incursion.”
“I didn’t hack anything,” Vic replied evenly. “I don’t know who did. I was looking for information on the hotel’s old casino and gambling operations, and Murphey had business there during that period. I thought he might have noticed something. He didn’t. End of story.”
Erikson seemed to recognize the standoff. That he hadn’t produced a warrant and perp-walked Vic down to headquarters made Vic suspect the man was acting outside of his official capacity.
“Thank you for your cooperation, detective. I’ll make a note of our conversation and be back in touch if I have any questions.” Erikson stood to leave. “It would be good for you to remember that old projects may have long tails. Know when to walk away.”
Vic watched the man until he reached the elevators, uneasy with his questioning.
“Was that a threat?” Ross asked quietly.
“Not sure, but it seemed like a pretty ominous warning,” Vic agreed. “I mean, what the fuck? The Mob, the military, a necromancer, and now the FBI?”
