"She had a drug habit and let a number of men come and go through that apartment. Her ex was trying to get custody. She was afraid all that was going to come out."
Allison didn't let it show on her face, but she was revising her opinion of Aaron. He seemed like the kind of man who went with what was expedient, who toted up the balance sheet before making any decision. How much of his grief was about Jim's death--and how much was about losing the golden goose? That gave her an idea.
"Did you have keyman insurance on Jim?"
Aaron looked blank. "What's that?"
"It's a kind of insurance that a company can take out on someone key to the business. Then if that person dies or is incapacitated, the insurance pays the company."
He raised his shoulders. "I don't know. You'll have to ask our accountants. We do carry liability insurance against lawsuits. That's what paid off when Brooke Gardner's family decided to settle:'
"How about the other staff?" Nicole asked."How did they get along with Jim?"
He pursed his lips. "Pretty well. No more arguments than at most workplaces."
"There were arguments?" Nicole raised an eyebrow.
"Well, not really arguments. People learned it was better not to get into a discussion with Jim. He had that way of never stopping, never letting go. He would just talk over you until you gave up."
After they told Aaron he could go, Allison turned to Nicole. "What do you think?"
"I'm thinking we might want one of our accounting specialists to go over the books. If you read between the lines, it sounds like the station might have been in financial trouble. They brought Victoria in, but it didn't help."
"And if they did have keyman insurance," Allison said slowly, "then Jim might have been worth more dead than alive."
Chapter 25
KNWS Radio
Back in the interview room, Nic looked at Allison and shook her head in mock amazement. "Okay, for suspects we now have station management, the Gardners, Representative Glover, Craig, NOD winners, and now Victoria. And don't forget Leather Hat Guy."
Allison laughed. "Maybe for this next interview we should concentrate on finding out who couldn't have killed him."
"Who's up next?" Nic asked as she massaged a knot on her inner thigh. Because she was still recovering from being shot in the shoulder, her Thai boxing instructor was focusing on the lower half of her body. Thanks to the training Nic had begun at Quantico, she was already good with her fists, but Muay Thai also used shins, knees, and elbows as weapons. The past weekend she had been too slow to block a kick and learned firsthand exactly how much pain the nerve that ran from the groin to the knee could produce.
Allison looked at the schedule. "Next up is an intern who was assigned to work directly with Jim. Willow Klonksy."
"Willow Klonsky? Doesn't exactly sing, does it?" Nic wondered which part of her name the girl would take after. Hippie chick Willow or plodding peasant Klonsky?
The answer turned out to be neither. Slender and model pretty, Willow was dressed in a black skirted suit, ivory blouse, and a single strand of pearls. Her makeup was flawless, her dark hair pinned up in a French twist. She looked like she was about to pose for a stock photo that would be labeled "young businesswoman." But when she shook hands with Nic, her palm was damp.
"I understand you're an intern here," Nic said, taking the lead. "Is that a paid position?"
"I get college credit," Willow said in a low voice. "I'm a senior in the broadcasting program at Reed."
Nic revised Willow's age down five years. She raised an eyebrow. "No offense, but you don't really look like a Reedie."
Reed was a top-drawer private college that attracted extremely bright kids with Birkenstocks, progressive ideas, and a liberal attitude toward drug use.
Willow offered them a smile, her first. It changed her face, softened some of the edges. "I don't necessarily dress like this when I'm not at work." Her tone became more serious. "And I don't necessarily take part in all the after-school activities you hear about."
"So you're working here for free?" Nic asked. Maybe white girls whose parents had lots of money could afford to do glorified volunteer work while they attended a college that cost tens of thousands of dollars. Every hour Nic hadn't been studying while she was in college, she had been making milk shakes, mopping floors, entering data into a computer. She barely remembered her courses. Every now and then her parents had been able to give her a twenty or two, or sometimes just a bottle of shampoo.
Willow leaned forward. "You don't understand. I am so lucky to be here. There were more than two hundred applicants for this position. Being an intern is about the only way to get around that whole catch-22: 'Can't get a job without experience, can't get experience without a job.' Because I've worked here, I'll be able to show on my resume that I do have relevant experience."
"What are your duties?" Allison asked.
"They. told me I would be booking guests, doing some research and editing, sound gathering, audio production ..." Willow let her voice trail off.