The OB/GYN offices were the first thing she saw when the doors of the elevator opened. Ledbetter’s suite was 640, around the corner, away from the main thoroughfare, without the constant parade of patients in and out. Smart. Sam didn’t hesitate, went to the double glass doors and entered the offices of Ledbetter Market Strategies.
The doors closed behind her with a whispered rush, and Sam realized her initial assessment about Ledbetter’s level of success was correct. The offices were gorgeous. The walls on either side housed floor-to-ceiling mahogany and glass shelves that held all sorts of artifacts, masks and jars and shields and art in a variety of textures and colors. It was an impressive display. Sam was reminded of a childhood trip to see the Egyptian mummies, and all the finery that accompanied their kings and queens to the graves. She’d been in awe of the fact that it was all so very old, and that so many ghosts still floated around the scene. She felt that here as well, the presence of the people to whom the materials had belonged. Watching over their treasures.
“May I help you?”
A man in his mid-thirties with dirty blond hair and a dimple in his chin sat at the reception desk. She hadn’t even noticed him when she walked in.
“Yes. Good afternoon. My name is Dr. Samantha Owens. I’m a medical examiner, and I am working on Dr. Ledbetter’s case. I am so sorry for your loss.”
His face crumpled. “You’re kind to say that. We aren’t quite sure what to do now. Dr. Ledbetter has two partners, but they’re both out of the country at the moment, unreachable, so we’re all just gathered here trying to move forward and get through the day. Her loss is inestimable. I’m George Capra, her assistant. She was like a mother to me, I’ve worked with her for years. Since she taught me in graduate school, actually.”
Good. She’d walked right into the firm’s institutional knowledge. That was going to make things easier.
“I know how hard it is to lose the ones you love.” Oh boy, do I know.
“Yes. It’s terrible. What can I help you with, Dr. Owens?”
Sam set her Birkin bag on the frosted glass bar that separated her from the assistant, and said, with a tone of confidentiality, “Honestly, George, I’m not quite sure. The details of the investigation haven’t given me a great deal to go on, and I find it helps my work to have a complete picture of who my...guests are. I’d just like to know more about her, if you’ve got a few minutes to share.”
He cracked a weak smile. “You’re an ethnographic researcher, just like her. You need all the components of her life to make sense of her death.”
“Yes. That’s it exactly.”
“See, if the police would just look at their crimes in those terms, they’d solve so many more cases. I’m happy to help. Why don’t you come into her office, that’s the best place to start. Can I get you some coffee, or tea?”
“Tea would be lovely, thank you. Light and sweet.”
“Of course. Follow me, please.”
The hallways of Ledbetter’s offices were adorned with photographs of the company’s namesake. Sam stopped to look at a few of them. There was the shot of Ledbetter with the Maasi tribesmen she’d seen online, and another of her bundled up in snow gear with a six-pack of Inuit and frolicking huskies.
“She did the Iditarod three years ago. That was taken after the race. She didn’t win, not by a long shot, but she finished, which was more than the majority of the nonprofessionals who entered.”
“She sounds like an extraordinary woman.”
“Oh, she was. Traveled all over the world, never saw a challenge she didn’t want to tackle. For the past year, she’s been training for alpine climbs, wanted to do the seven summits before she got too old. Of course, that meant she needed to stop smoking, and she’d tried so many times, and failed every attempt. It was the one thing I’ve ever seen that she wanted to do but had trouble with. But she’d pretty much licked it. She hadn’t had a cigarette in six months. She finally gave up doing it on her own and tried hypnosis, and it seemed to work.”
“Nicotine is worse than heroin.”
George laughed a bit, sadly. “That’s what Loa used to say.”
The pictures continued on, a parade of events that led down the hall into her office. It was just what Sam expected, neat as a pin, organized, well laid out. On the wall were more pictures, one of which Sam recognized from trips as a girl, the volcanoes of Hawaii. Ledbetter knelt with a huge grin on her face and her arm flung out to the right, framing the mountain behind her, as if to say, Wow, look at this!
Sam looked closer at the shot. Her heart started to beat harder.
“George, do you have a magnifying glass?”
He shook his head. “No. But that shot is on her computer. She was one hell of a photographer, as you can imagine, and has every trip she’s ever taken digitized. You need a closer look?”
Sam tapped the photograph. “I need to blow up this area right here. Just to the left of where she’s kneeling.”
“Sure. You want me to do it now?”
“Please. Thank you.”
Sam took the picture off the wall and stared at it, her mind whirling while George tapped away at the computer and pulled up the original.