Page 46 of The Instruments of Darkness

“Perhaps so, but what about her attendance fee? She must have paid it somehow, unless she just turned up with cash on the day.”

“Preregistration was obligatory. We were oversubscribed.”

“So there’s either an electronic or a paper trail for the payment,” I said. “What about confirmation of identity?”

“We asked for proof, but a company ID, even self-produced, would have been enough. We didn’t make photocopies, or take cell phone pictures, because that’s a whole other can of privacy worms. Proof of payment was sufficient to gain access, and each participant received a welcome pack and badge on arrival. It wasn’t as though we had anything to hide. We’re not the Bilderberg Group.”

“Did the badges have to be worn at all times?”

“Yes, on a lanyard. The hotel insisted, for security reasons.”

“Did attendees have to sign up for particular sessions?”

“Not for the main events, but they did have to register for round table discussions, workshops, and special presentations.”

“Is there a record of those registrations?”

“Only of the ones who put their names down in advance. If there was room, people could just show up and grab a seat. Theoretically, they were supposed to add their names to a list. In practice, that fell by the wayside after the first hour.”

“It’s still worth checking, in case anyone can recall her.”

Delaney Duhamel folded her arms and legs simultaneously.

“I’m sorry, but I’m very uncomfortable with giving you access to other attendees, beyond what may be publicly available, and I’m not going to reach out to them on your behalf. In fact, I’d much prefer it if you didn’t go contacting registrants. We partly rely on membership subscriptions and forum registration to fund our endeavors. If we’re perceived, however wrongly, to have sent a private investigator to participants’ doors, we’re going to suffer financially and reputationally.”

“And that’s before the sexual assault case goes to trial. It only goes to prove that a bad situation can always be made worse.”

Sometimes, it’s advisable to beat a strategic retreat. I still had the option of knocking on doors, with or without Delaney Duhamel’s cooperation.

“Look, I understand your position,” I said. “All I ask is that, if you do find a record of Teller’s attendance as part of a smaller group, you set it aside. If there’s anyone on the list of other participants whom you feel could be amenable to talking to me without compromising you or your employer, you might consider sharing that name.”

“I guess I can do that.”

“Lastly, did you have a photographer present?”

“We use a woman named Courtney Wasser. She’s a local freelancer.”

“Did she send you all the pictures she took?”

“She cherry-picked the best ones.”

“Maybe you could ask her to forward the entire file, and pass it on to me.”

Delaney Duhamel was taking notes.

“I’ll need time to do all that. I can call you, or email whatever I think might be helpful.”

Experience had taught me that distance impacted negatively on commitment, and absence didn’t necessarily make the heart grow fonder. I didn’t want to leave Lynn without the information I’d come for.

“I can wait,” I said, “unless you’d prefer that I didn’t.”

“I think not waiting might be preferable, or not here. If you have an hour or two to spare, there’s a place called the Walnut Street Café about a mile and a half away. I’ll come by with whatever I pull together.”

There were probably coffee shops closer to the office than Walnut Street, but I couldn’t blame her for being cautious. Delaney Duhamel might have been entertaining doubts about her vocation, but if she was going to leave, she wanted it to be of her own volition, preferably with references that didn’t denounce her as a snitch.

I thanked her for her help and went to find the Walnut Street Café. I thought about leaving my car behind and walking, just to spite the oil and gas guys in the white-collared shirts, but the three-mile round trip on foot didn’t appeal, so I drove. Which was the world’s climate problem in a nutshell.

CHAPTER XXVII