Chapter Seven: Durenko
Patrick Jane and Grace Van Pelt were two very different travel companions.
Lisbon found herself ruminating over this during the hour-and-a-half long drive to Durenko Sports, Inc.
She was used to going on interviews with Jane, who was always bugging her to let him have the keys.
Van Pelt was just happy to be in the car.
Jane seemed to consider it his personal mission to keep Lisbon entertained. He was a walking, talking, quarter-tossing encyclopedia of bizarre facts, unusual conversation-starters, and impressive mind-reading tricks that made Lisbon's brain hurt when she tried to figure out how he pulled them off.
Van Pelt, on the other hand, was all business. She spent the entire trip verbally outlining everything she'd learned about Durenko, so that by the time they reached the company's headquarters, Lisbon's brain hurt for a different reason.
At least she would be well-prepared for the upcoming interviews.
Lisbon pulled into the parking lot of a massive glass and steel structure that bore the name "DURENKO SPORTS, INCORPORATED" in backlit metallic letters. There was a bronze statue out front, a larger-than-life image of an ATV, ridden by two young, helmeted riders. One boy and one girl. Van Pelt gave the artwork a mildly interested glance as she and Lisbon entered the building.
Inside, the two agents were greeted by a smiling, middle-aged secretary whose hair was redder than Van Pelt's.
The woman instantly sobered at the sight of their badges. "This is about Paul, isn't it?"
Lisbon didn't beat around the bush. "We're going to need to speak with Buck Hoskins, and possibly some of the employees who worked with Paul."
The secretary nodded several times, resembling a bobble-head doll. "Of course, of course. Mr. Hoskins' office is on the fourth floor. I can take you up there…"
Lisbon and Van Pelt trailed after the secretary's clip-clopping high heels, following her through a wide open corridor that blazed with sunbeams. Halfway along it, a card table had been erected to hold a large picture of Paul. The rest of the tabletop was overflowing with flowers, hand-written notes, and candles. Several more bouquets had been placed on the floor.
"Did you know Paul Jorsten?" Van Pelt asked the woman striding ahead of them.
The secretary slowed down to walk alongside them. She smiled sadly. "A little bit. I saw him every morning when he came in, and again when he left at night. We'd chit-chat about movies, work, the weather…Just small talk. But he was always kind to me – always. He knew my name…" The woman's smile turned wry. "Even Mr. Hoskins has trouble remembering my name."
The three women stepped onto the elevator. Lisbon's stomach gave that familiar, rollercoaster swoop as they started to rise. She turned to the secretary. "You said you talked about work…Do you know if Paul was thinking of applying for a promotion, or if he was in competition for any kind of advancement at the office?"
The woman frowned. "No, nothing like that. Just the opposite, actually…"
Lisbon raised an eyebrow. "The opposite?"
"Well, our Head of Technical Services is retiring next month. They offered Paul the position, but he turned it down."
Van Pelt's face mirrored Lisbon's bafflement.
"He turned down a promotion?" the younger agent asked. "Why?"
"Too many extra hours. At least that's what I heard. Paul already had a long commute, and he didn't want to lose any more time with his family…"
The elevator came to a lurching halt on the fourth floor, just as the secretary's pager began to buzz and vibrate against her hip. She looked down at the number, then back up at the agents. "I'm so sorry – they need me at the front desk – "
"We can take it from here," Lisbon assured her, stepping out into the hall. "Just tell us which office is Hoskins'."
The secretary held the elevator door open and pointed. "Straight that way, third door on the right." The pager started to buzz again. "If you need anything else – "
"We know where to find you," Lisbon said.
The woman nodded, and let go of the door.
"Thank you, Maureen," Van Pelt added, earning a small smile from the red-headed secretary and an impressed eyebrow-lift from Lisbon.
Van Pelt really had done her homework.
As soon as the elevator door clattered shut, Lisbon sighed. "Well, there goes the job competition angle…"
Van Pelt bit her lip.
They started walking.
Lisbon's phone began trilling after about ten steps. She flipped the device open and held it to her ear. "Lisbon."
"Hey, boss." It was Rigsby. "Just wanted to let you know that Cardelli's alibi checked out – he and Rubenstein were looking for the horse all night, and they were never separated for more than twenty minutes at a time. There's no way Cardelli would've been able to sneak off, kill Paul, and get back to the search area in twenty minutes."
Lisbon made a sour face. The pulsing pain in her skull increased its volume from light rock to heavy metal. "Well, it was worth a try." She sighed. "You better call Cho and tell him to let Cardelli go. Van Pelt and I are at Jorsten's workplace, following up on a few leads." Or non-leads, as the case seems to be, she added silently. "We'll meet you back at the office when we're done here."
"All right, boss. Will do."
Lisbon hung up and glanced over at Van Pelt.
"Bad news?" the young agent asked tentatively.
"More like no news," Lisbon replied. "Cardelli's alibi is solid, and we're back to square one. Again."
"Maybe Hoskins will know something," Van Pelt offered hopefully, nodding at the open office door up ahead.
Lisbon's response was a grumpy, skeptical look. Nonetheless, she turned off her phone, slipped it back into her pocket, and strode toward Buck Hoskins' office.
They still had an interview to complete before officially declaring this trip a three-hour waste of time.