Uh-oh.

"She tells me you two had a nice chat."

I slumped down in the chair even more. I was close to horizontal, and the Angelo issue was starting to look more and more workable. At least with Angelo, my sin was in having done nothing. I couldn't make the same claim with Aunt Jo. I almost blurted out my second mea culpa, but decided to wait for his reaction first. "I spoke to her last week." I said. "Human Resources called from Denver and needed some information."

"Why didn't you tell me that you and Ellen knew each other?"

"We didn't. Did Jo Shepard tell you that we did?"

"No. But I surmised that the two of you must have been friends. Otherwise, why would you be interested in gaining access to her house?"

"Well, it wasn't that so much as I thought I could help her with Ellen's personal effects. There doesn't seem to be anyone else."

"Is that why you went up there on Friday? To help with her effects?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. Did everyone know everything that I did? I might as well post a daily schedule. This was getting out of hand. I didn't want to be lying to my boss. "No. No, that's not why I went up there, Lenny. The truth is that Dan has a theory-"

"That Ellen was murdered by the union in Boston. And he wants to get into her house to find the proof. Am I close?"

"You're right on target." I should have guessed that he would have known.

"Alex, listen to me. You should have called me before doing something like that… and I suppose I should have warned you about Fallacaro."

"What about him?"

"He's bad news, Alex. He's already ruined a couple of careers, including his own. And he didn't do Ellen any favors. He's always got his own agenda working, and I'm sure he does here, too."

I sat up straight. "What do you mean by that?"

"He's the one who encouraged Ellen to take such a hard line with the union. She got caught in the cross fire. Now he blames himself, and his way of dealing with it is to deny the obvious, to insist that she was murdered." Lenny's Southern accent grew deeper and richer as his frustration grew. I'd promised myself when I'd called Aunt Jo not to regret it later, not to do that to myself. Fat chance. As I listened to Lenny, I felt the guilt like a clinging vine growing around that defiant resolve and squeezing the life out of it.

Lenny was still going. "And I'll tell you something else. He's destructive. This ridiculous story is destructive for the airline, and as the Majestic Airlines representative in Boston, Alex, it's your job to make sure that a damaging and false story like that doesn't get out of hand. I don't want to see myself on Sixty Minutes. Do you?"

"Of course not, but this doesn't seem like Mike Wallace territory to me."

"No? Think about it. Five years ago you had the female ramp supervisor at Northwest who was murdered at Logan. Now here's another young woman dead at Logan, this time with Majestic. She was young, single, not that experienced, working in a tough place with a tough union. Majestic is high-profile, Bill Scanlon is high-profile, and she picked a strange way to die. You could spin an interesting tale."

That was true, but… "You make it sound as if the company is trying to hide something."

"No. No matter what Dan Fallacaro says, Ellen killed herself. If we did anything wrong, it was in not getting her out of there before it was too late." He paused for a long time, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, with more rounded corners than sharp edges. "That was my fault. I should have seen how overwhelmed she was." He picked up the receiver. "Alex, I'm not going to make the same mistakes again. It's my job to keep you focused on the right things, and that's all I'm trying to do. Pay attention to the airport and what needs to get done there. Get the numbers up and don't get distracted. I'll hold Scanlon off until you can get things under control there."

"Scanlon?" My heart did a double clutch.

"Boston has been receiving what you might call unusual interest from the chairman." He stretched out the middle 'u'-un-yooo-su-al. "I've had calls from him almost every day since you've arrived."

"About what?"

"About the problems in your station. I know you've only been there a week, but he's not interested in excuses. I can only do so much before he loses patience with the both of us."

Lenny had no idea how hollow his threat was. I wasn't afraid of Bill. But I also didn't want him interested in my operation. I stood up, paced over to the window, turned around, paced back, sat down, and stood up again. I didn't want to see him; I didn't want to talk to him on the phone; even talking about him touched on a nerve that was still painfully exposed. Moving to Boston had been a way to put distance between us, and he had promised to honor that decision. I could only hope that in spite of any problems I was having here or what Lenny might say, he would keep his promise.

"Do you understand?" Lenny asked me.

"I understand."

"I appreciate your commitment on Angelo," he said, "and I'd like to ask for another. My plan is to send someone up there from my Human Resources staff here in D.C. to handle Ellen's personal effects, someone who has some training in this area. For my peace of mind, can you promise me that you will work on the problems at the airport until I can free someone up?"

"Yes, I can do that."

"That means you will stay out of Ellen's house?"

I really had no good reason not to make him that promise. "I'll stay out."

"Do I have your word?"

"You have my word."

"Good. Now, all you have to do is ask and I'll take care of Fallacaro for you. You can bring in your own guy-or gal."

I didn't think I knew any "gals." "Take care of him how?"

"I'll make him a ramp supervisor in the farthest place I can find from New Jersey."

"Do you mean Boston?"

"I mean New Jersey. Newark. If he gives you any more trouble, tell him that. And call me when you've come to a decision about Angelo."

"I will."

When I hung up, Molly was in the doorway with her coat on. "Matt's calling back. He got tired of waiting and hung up."

I checked my second line, unaware that it had even rung.

"And I'm going home. Don't forget that tomorrow is Tuesday and you've got your staff meeting."

"Thanks, Molly. Have a good evening."

I punched up Matt's call. He'd been promoted since the last I'd seen him, so instead of a manager's cubicle in the midst of the hoi polloi, he'd be in a big window office sitting in a high-backed swivel chair behind his turbo desk.

"Have you got your feet up on the desk, Matt?"

"That's what it's for, isn't it?"

"And I'll bet you haven't looked at the mountains for a week." Matt had a magnificent view from his side of the building. I'd spent most of my time in headquarters gazing out the window at the canvas peaks of Denver International Airport and in the background, the real thing-the majestic peaks of the great Rocky Mountains.

"We're much too busy to appreciate the natural beauty of our surroundings. I hear it's more exciting where you are. What's it like out there?"

"It's like an airport, Matt." I checked the view out my window, where I could see a line of purple tails with Majestic logos, one on every gate. "We have airplanes here and passengers and cargo. You should come out sometime and see what kind of business you're in."

"No time for that." I heard the clacking of his computer keys, and I knew he was checking e-mail. "I'm talking about all the rumors. Word here is everyone in Boston thinks someone murdered Ellen Shepard. Don't you feel weird? I feel weird, but you're sitting in her chair."

"What happened to her is not contagious, Matt, and I like to think of it as my chair now." I touched the armrest, felt the rough, nubby weave that wore like iron. This chair was probably going to survive the next twelve general managers. "I feel sad about what happened to Ellen, not weird. She was more than a rumor. You know that. You worked with her."