He would rather have interviewed them separately, but the interaction between witnesses could also prove useful. “I’m guessing you’ve heard about Erik Berglund.”

“Yes,” Donohoe said. “Shame.”

“Shame,” Jefferson repeated, equally without conviction.

“Pudgy little fucker,” Houten said, and thumped the end of the diamond willow cane that was holding him up for emphasis. This close Liam could see that the handle had been inlaid with jade, and the striations of the bark were starkly dramatic. It really was a beautiful piece of work. If Liam ever needed a cane he wanted one exactly like that.

Then Houten’s words caught up with him and he blinked, because Erik Berglund had been more lean and hungry than pudgy. “It appears that the last time Mr. Berglund was seen alive was at Gabe McGuire’s party on Monday night. I understand that all three of you were in attendance.”

Everyone waited for someone else to speak first. No one did. “Are any of you aware if Mr. Berglund had any enemies? Anyone he had annoyed at work, for instance?”

Donohoe rolled his eyes, Jefferson maintained his glare, and Houten snorted. “He said he’d quit his job to come home, but if you check I bet you’ll find they fired his ignorant little ass.” Houten’s voice was high and indignant and wavery in a way that Jefferson’s was not.

“There was almost no one in the Bay area that Erik hadn’t made an enemy of,” Donohoe said.

“Including yourself, Mr. Donohoe?”

“It’s Aiden, Liam, and sure, I was pissed off at him. Have you seen RPetCo’s rig parked up the Bay?”

“Yes.”

“We’ve got a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to build a resource extraction industry in the Bay that will provide hundreds of jobs, which is not a small deal for a community our size. And if they actually find oil that could be thousands of jobs, direct and support, for decades. And then along comes goddamn Erik Berglund, insisting with literally zero proof that the Bay should be declared off limits to resource extraction of any kind at least until he can prove his thesis. For what? An old trail that might or might not have existed that isn’t even in use now?”

“I did see some of the artifacts he had discovered,” Liam said.

With obvious patience Donohoe said, “We all saw them, Liam, including Hilary here, who has a lot more time on the job than Erik had, and Hilary says they don’t date back more than a century.”

“Mr. Houten?”

“Two at the most,” Houten said in his high, quavering voice, “but that’s pushing it beyond the bounds of scientific credibility. We argued about it. He laughed at me.” It was clear that the memory stung.

Liam, whose experience with science was more along the lines of crime scene investigations, didn’t know enough to argue with Houten. “The night of the party,” he said, “did Erik have any arguments with any of the other guests? A quarrel loud enough to draw attention?”