Jacqui produced a dazzling smile. “We never, never renegotiate our contracts. It’s Daddy Bysen’s very first law of business. I did tell the man that—what was his name, William? Anyway, it doesn’t matter—I told him that, and he finally agreed he would meet the price we’d all agreed on. We were supposed to take delivery of the first order last week, but, fortunately, we had a backup supplier, so we’re only five days behind schedule.”
“Backup supplier?” I echoed. “Is this the person who’s been selling sheets through the churches in South Chicago?”
Jacqui laughed, the malicious laugh she gave whenever someone in the Bysen family was looking foolish. “Someone very, very different, Ms. Polish Detective; if you’re investigating those sheets, I think you’ll find yourself at a dead end.”
Mr. William looked at her reprovingly, but said, “I always maintained Zamar was unreliable. Father keeps saying we should give South Side businesses priority just because he grew up down here. Nothing will convince him they can’t meet the production schedules they agree to.”
“It is pretty darn unreliable to die in the fire that destroys your plant,” I said.
Mr. William glared at me. “Who talked to you, anyway, about his contract with us?”
“I’m a detective, Mr. Bysen. I ask questions and people answer them. Sometimes they even tell me the truth. Speaking of which, you were here Monday afternoon, and so was your son.”
“Billy?”
“You have other sons? I don’t know how you two missed each other. You really didn’t see him?”
William pressed his lips together. “What time was he here?”
“About this same time. Four-thirty, five. I figure you said something to him that made him decide to take off.”
“You figure wrong. If I’d known he was here—damn it, you’d think I was one of the stock clerks, not the CFO of this company. No one tells me one damn thing about what’s going on.”
He pushed open Grobian’s door. “Grobian? Why in hell didn’t you tell me Billy was here Monday afternoon?”
The truckers crowded in front of Grobian’s desk backed away so that William could look directly at the warehouse manager. Grobian was startled, that much was clear from his expression.
“Didn’t see him, Chief. He cleared out his locker, but you already know that. He must have come in just to do that.”
William frowned some more, but decided to let it go at that; he came back out to the hall to resume his attack on me. “Who hired you to look at Fly the Flag’s business? Zamar didn’t leave anything but debts.”
“Now, how do you know that?” I said. “Busy man like you, CFO of America’s fifth-biggest company, and you have time to look into one tiny supplier?”
“Attention to detail makes us successful,” William said stiffly. “Is there any idea of foul play in that fire?”
“Arson always makes one suspect foul play,” I said, equally stiff.
“Arson?” Jacqui managed to widen her dark eyes without wrinkling her forehead. “I heard it was faulty wiring. Who told you arson?”
“Why does it matter to you?” I said. “I thought you had your new supplier hard at work and everything.”
“If someone is setting fires in South Chicago companies, it affects us; we’re the biggest company down here, we could be vulnerable, too.” Mr. William tried to sound stern but only managed peevish. “So I need to know who told you it was arson.”
“Word gets around in a small community,” I said vaguely. “Everyone knows each other. I’d think your pit bulls from Carnifice would have picked up the story. After all, they’re staking out Billy’s pastor; they must have talked to the people he knows.”
“They tried,” Aunt Jacqui started to say at the same time William demanded how I knew Carnifice was watching Andrés.
“Now, that’s easy. Strangers stand out down here. Too many vacant lots, so you know when someone is lurking, and too many people who don’t have jobs, so they spend their days chilling on the streets. What did your guys find out about Billy’s car?”
“By the time we got to it, it had been stripped,” William said shortly. “Tires, radio, even the front seat. Why didn’t you let me know right away you’d found it? I had to learn about that from that black policeman who acts like he’s in charge down there.”
“That would be Commander Rawlings, and he acts like he’s in charge because he is. As for why I didn’t call you, too much was going on for me to think about you—like hiking two miles across the marsh to find your dead driver. Events happened too fast for me to think of calling you.”
“What did you find in the car?” Jacqui asked.
“You wondering if I ran off with Billy’s stock portfolio?” I asked. “He left a couple of books in the trunk. Violence of Love, the one by the murdered archbishop, and”—I shut my eyes, conjuring the titles I’d seen in the dark—“ Rich Christians and Poverty, something like that.”