Shades of Passion Read Free Page A

title of Detective works, too. I’m with the Department of Justice, and I’m here about Mr. Louis Cann. I understand he stayed here this past month?” At her silent invitation, he sat in the chair next to her desk.
    “Yes, but I already gave the local police a statement, and the officers interviewed the residents who were staying here at the time. They all had alibis at the time of the murder, as did my entire staff. Furthermore, none of us had seen Mr. Cann that day or had information about who might have attacked him. Given that, I’m curious why you’re here. And why DOJ is involved in the murder of a homeless man.”
    “I’m afraid I can’t talk details, but rest assured I’m trying to find the person or persons responsible. As you indicated, the residents that happened to be here for questioning have been cleared. There’s no evidence that any of them had a vendetta against Louis Cann. But a lot of people come in and out of this shelter. I’m wondering how often Cann stayed here in the past year. If he had run-ins with past residents. A grudge can last quite a long time. Maybe you’d be willing to give me your roster from the past few months along with the registration documents of those occupants? It’ll increase the scope of our investigation. Give us more to look into.”
    Scott picked up a pen and tapped it against the surface of her desk. “You mean it’ll give you more water to cast your net into. Sounds like a fishing expedition, Detective.”
    That may be, Simon thought, but at least he was willing to fish. The news was plastered with accusations that the police didn’t care about the homeless or, more specifically, the mentally ill, yet here he was, doing his best to find Cann’s killer.
    But he was also inferring that another homeless person might be the murderer, he realized. Suspecting she might take offense to that—as unwarranted as that offense might be—he said, “Look, the roster would help. But I’m not limiting my investigation to past residents. I also plan to talk to park employees and past employees of this shelter who might have associated with Cann.”
    Jesus, he thought. That probably sounded even worse to her. Like he was accusing her previous coworkers of murder. But so what? Investigative work was about following every lead, regardless of whose feelings might get hurt in the process. Basic civility was one thing, but he couldn’t worry that his questions would be taken the wrong way. That kind of political tiptoeing would be more important when he was back in management, but right now, he had to keep his mind focused on what was best for the investigation. “Listen,” he began, but Scott shook her head.
    “I’m sorry, but unless you have a subpoena, I’m afraid I can’t give you a roster or documentation on the shelter’s residents. Unless the resident signs a release, those records are confidential. And as I’m sure you can guess, no one signs a release.”
    Right, Simon thought, then tried again. “I apologize if my requests seem clumsy, but I’m trying to find a killer and that means potentially keeping your past and future residents out of harm’s way. Doesn’t that count for something?”
    “Of course it does, but—”
    “Besides,” Simon continued, “we both know that under the law, confidentiality is waived in certain circumstances.”
    “Yes, I do know that. But this isn’t a situation where a client is threatening suicide, has threatened to harm a third party or where child abuse has been disclosed. Now, I’m sorry, but I really can’t see how I can be of more help. And before you go hunting down that subpoena, I will say any information I’d have on Mr. Cann would be minimal. Dare I say even useless to you? But do what you feel you need to. Most of the residents the police talked to have already moved on, but I believe there are one or two left who knew Mr. Cann. You’re obviously free to inquire whether any of them is willing to talk with