I remembered Kessler and slipped the photo from the pocket of my lab coat.
“A gift from one of the Fab Four.” I held it out. “He thinks it’s the reason Ferris is dead.”
“Meaning?”
“He thinks it’s the reason Ferris is dead.”
“You can be a real pain in the ass, Brennan.”
“I work at it.”
Ryan studied the photo.
“Which of the Fab Four?”
“Kessler.”
Floating a brow, Ryan laid down the photo and flipped a page in his spiral.
“You sure?”
“That’s the name he gave me.”
When Ryan looked up the brow had settled.
“No one named Kessler was cleared for that autopsy.”
3
“I’M CERTAINKESSLER’S THE NAME HE GAVE.”
“He was an authorized observer?”
“As opposed to one of the multitudes of Hasidim who haunt these halls?”
Ryan ignored my sarcasm.
“Did Kessler say that’s why he was here?”
“No.” For some reason Ryan’s questions were irking me.
“You’d seen Kessler earlier in the autopsy room?”
“I-”
I’d been distressed over Miriam and Dora Ferris, then distracted by Pelletier’s call. Kessler had glasses, a beard, and a black suit. My mind had settled for a cultural stereotype.
I wasn’t irked at Ryan. I was irked at myself.
“I just assumed.”
“Let’s take it from the top.”
I told Ryan about the incident in the downstairs corridor.
“So Kessler was in the hall when you left the family room.”
“Yes.”
“Did you see where he came from?”
“No.”
“Where he went?”
“I thought he was going to join Dora and Miriam.”
“Did you actually see him enter the family room?”
“I was speaking to Pelletier.” It came out sharper than I intended.
“Don’t be defensive.”