She made the call while we waited, and a few minutes later a balding man in his fifties came down and offered his hand. “Frank Newton,” he said. “How can I assist you both?”

“This may seem a somewhat strange request,” I said, “but we need to get into James Hamberly’s office and inspect whatever storage units he has there.”

He frowned. “You know James Hamberly is dead, don’t you?”

“Yes, we do. We still need to check out his office, I’m afraid.”

“Sure, but can I ask why?”

“We’re not really in a position to say,” Jackson said, “but it involves the theft of some research matter.”

Frank’s eyebrows rose. “And you think James was involved? Because he was a decent man, and I refuse to believe that’s possible.”

Many an otherwise decent man had gotten involved in shady dealings, but I bit the comment back and simply said, “At the moment, we’re only checking possible leads. It may turn out that this is just another red herring.”

Frank grunted and turned around. “This way, then.”

He led us through a door to the rear of the reception room and up a set of stairs. There was a long corridor lined with a series of glassed offices; James Hamberly’s was the last one on the right.

Frank knocked, then entered without waiting for a response. Mark Terral—a sallow-skinned, brown-haired man—looked at us over the top of his glasses. “Is there a problem, Frank?”

“These two PIT officers need to check out the storage units Hamberly was using.”

“That’s those three over there by the wall and the upright near the door. The ones behind me are new.” He paused, his gaze scanning us. “What’s Hamberly done?”

“Possibly nothing.” I started checking the units, looking for a number that matched the key. “We just have the tedious task of checking all possibilities, however remote.”

“Does this have anything to do with his murder?” he asked.

“Not his murder, no,” Jackson said. “Does the name Janice Green mean anything to you?”

Both men shook their heads. None of the locks matched the number of my key, so I moved across to the upright.

“Why?” Frank asked.

“Because she was murdered yesterday, and there was a Holdright Industries badge in her car. She also had Hamberly’s number in her cell.”

“We deal with a lot of people,” Frank began doubtfully.

Jackson held up his hand, stopping him. “I know. As we’ve said, we’re merely chasing down all possibilities.”

“No match with these units,” I said. “Do you mind if I double-check the remaining ones, just in case?”

Mark waved a hand in invitation. “Where did she work? I might not know her name, but I’ll probably know the company.”

“Rosen Industries,” Jackson said.