Although named after their fraternity, the Delta Omega Tau reference had no affiliation with the national chapter and was listed as a nonprofit organization. Instead of officers, Caitlin found another shell corporation.

Organic Foods International appeared to be an import/export business with an office in the Bahamas.

IOBD LLC’s ownership broke down into four cells, all other corporations: NF LLC. AF LLC. DA LLC. KM LLC.

Those listings broke down to actual names, each a single-member limited liability corporation.

Nathan Fodor, President

Adam Fodor, President

David Amireau, President

Kieran Michelson, President

Caitlin queried KM LLC. The only other listing linked to Kieran was RepRepair LLC in the state of California.

She drummed her fingertips on the tabletop.

“They may have compartmentalized everything, but they’re getting checks. If they’re getting checks from a company found trafficking narcotics—”

Lakshmi knew that one. “They’re liable for the drugs, whether they’re onsite or not.”

Caitlin speared a yogurt-covered strawberry with her fork. “And hiding a drug trafficking operation makes a far better motive than covering up the accidental overdose of a friend.”

*   *   *

Caitlin left Lakshmi hunting financials and picked Mary up from the Student Union. “What’s with the hippie shirt?”

Mary wore a tie-dyed T-shirt covered in bright-colored, high-stepping bears. “I’m undercover.”

“Undercover? You’re the dean of the Media School.”

“I’m not worried. Half of my staff members don’t recognize me, let alone any of the thirty thousand students not in my department. Today, I’m a dirty hippie looking to score. Granola chicks like the Grateful Dead, and who the hell else would ask for a tour of an organic farm?”

Caitlin laughed and aimed for the countryside. Mary worked the console and her phone’s music app until Caitlin heard the stoner jam rock of Jerry Garcia and Co. She sang along with her old friend. Neither could carry a tune, but the Dead didn’t sound any worse with their help. Their bad voices and giggles carried them to the east side of town. Caitlin caught Mary up on her Chapman progress.

“Even if you catch them selling weed, how does that prove they murdered Angela?”

“It doesn’t,” Caitlin said, “but if the farm goes back long enough, it’s one more place the cops can look for a body. If not, a trafficking charge ought to loosen lips about Chapman.”

“Not bad, Caitie. Only two weeks in and you’ve uncovered a drug ring. Can’t believe the BPD dropped that ball.”

Caitlin nodded along. “Greenwood is no idiot. I think he thinks he’s using me.”

“For what?”

She remembered the vibe they’d shared two nights before at the bar and smiled. “Not sure, but I can’t wait to find out.”

Mary moved on. “What about the other thing?”

“What other thing?”

“You know.”

“Why does everyone keep asking me about my rape?”

“Are you serious?”

“That’s a joke—”