The Lasko Tangent by Richard North Patterson

hit-skipped in front of the Ritz-Carlton. He didn’t look like anything human.”
    “Who was it?”
    “Alexander Lehman. Controller at Lasko Devices.”
    “That’s awful.” It was hard to tell how he felt. “What’s being done?”
    “The police are looking into it.”
    “Can you help them?”
    “I’ve given them a statement.”
    “Did you find out anything?”
    “No.”
    “What happened exactly?”
    I told him. He was silent. “Well,” he finally said, “there’s nothing for you to do then except come home.”
    “I guess not.”
    “OK. Come see me as soon as you get in.”
    I hesitated. “I may take an extra day in case something comes up.”
    “Listen, it’s a horrible thing. But don’t fool around up there unless the police want you. We need you back here.”
    “I’ll see you later, Joe.” I slammed the phone down, and started thinking.
    My thoughts began to mesh. McGuire had never called me out of town before. I remembered that he had let me meet Lehman after a sham argument. And there was the lunch with Catlow. Whatever I was going to do, I didn’t have much time to do it. I jumped up and left the room.
    Gubner was still in. He let me in, his dull stare following me to the chair. I steeled myself. “I want you to take me to Lehman’s place tomorrow.”
    Hostility changed to shock. “You’re out of your mind.” The stock phrase seemed to be all he could think to say.
    “It’s the only way. Lehman said he had a memo and I don’t want anything to happen to it.”
    Gubner half-rose from his chair. “You fucking ghoul. You honestly think I’d let you bother Valerie and the kids after this?”
    I stayed calm. “If I have to, I’ll subpoena her to Washington.”
    His voice shook with disbelief. “I’ll take you to court on it.”
    “Which will only upset her more.”
    He stood up. “You know, I hadn’t realized what a prick you really are.” He said it as if he had just turned over a rock and found me there, looking up.
    “Save the bouquets. You’ve been sitting here sniping at me to indulge yourself. You’ve got a dead friend, and you won’t help. I tell you, man, it’s pathetic.”
    My words stung his eyes. “I don’t give a shit about your investigation. Alec’s dead. What else matters?”
    “Is that your position on Buchenwald too, Marty?”
    It was a raw remark. Gubner stood staring at his clenched fist. I got ready to dodge the punch which had been coiling all evening. But it never came. I figured I knew why. I spoke with a toughness I didn’t quite feel. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Lehman got killed because you didn’t bring him to Washington. Maybe you blew it.” Gubner shot me a look of pained anger. I went on. “You figured that if his information was good, you’d threaten to have him take the Fifth unless we gave him immunity for testifying. That you’d have me come up here and then run back to McGuire, all excited. It might have worked. Except now we’re out of luck, especially Lehman. And you’re trying to push it all off on me. That’s a chickenshit play, and I’m not going to play along. Try a psychiatrist.”
    Gubner’s face collapsed in a tired, confused look. I chose a more even tone. “I’ll apologize now, Marty. You can decide to or not, later on. I really don’t care. But Lehman’s death isn’t your personal possession. And sitting on your ass is a crappy memorial.”
    Gubner had decided not to hit me. But my agency was in the way. He shook his head slowly.
    I had to commit. “OK, you think someone at my place tipped Lasko. But there’s no way you could ever find out. I’m going to try.”
    Gubner sat down as if someone had sucked the starch out of him. He sat, elbows on knees, with his head half-covered in his hands. Then he raised a blank, weary face. “I’ll call Valerie in the morning. Whatever she wants. If she’ll see you, OK. If she wants to fight you, I’ll fight you. Either way.”
    “All right.”
    Gubner