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larger clients were moving on.”
    “And taking their money elsewhere.”
    A pained look crossed Maynard’s face, but he nodded, conceding the point. “In any case, Strachey was fully vested at Lux. Hewas a senior Fellow. He’d had his successes, done us all proud. Even though he could have retired with a full pension, we were delighted to see him continue his relational database work. But a decision was made that such work should be more of a…sideline.”
    “A hobby, in other words—rather that something he’d be paid for.”
    “Oh, he’d still be paid for it. But several months ago, we did with Willard what we do with many of our Fellows who are transitioning away from their primary research. We gave him
administrative
duties, as well—duties that could directly benefit Lux.”
    “Like a tenured professor transitioning to an associate dean. Making sure he was still of commercial use to Lux.”
    “Something like that.”
    “Could you tell me about these administrative duties?” Logan asked.
    “It was Roger Carbon’s idea, actually. Willard was given overall responsibility for the restoration of the West Wing, which as you probably know hasn’t been updated in ages. In fact, it’s been off-limits for the last several years. It’s not unsafe, of course, but it’s old and needs a complete retrofit to bring it into the twenty-first century. I don’t have to tell you that the loss of all that square footage has put a crimp in our operations, even with the expansion of our outbuildings. So its restoration was viewed by Lux as a very important task.”
    “Did Willard Strachey view it as important, as well?”
    At this, Maynard looked searchingly at Logan. “If you’re harboring any thoughts that Will might have been unhappy with the assignment, or felt it demeaning, you’re completely off base. He knew the way Lux works. And he was passionate about architecture. Here was a chance to take a beautiful example of late-nineteenth-century design and repurpose it into a modern, utilitarian space. He wasn’t getting his hands dirty, wasn’t wielding a nail gun: he was designing the functionality, balancing the practical with the aesthetic. It’s like a homeowner telling his generalcontractor just what he wants done—only on a different order of magnitude. We had an architect working with him, of course, to vet the designs and verify the underlying engineering, but the ideas began with him. And by all accounts he was delighted with the task. Of course, I didn’t see much of him on a day-to-day basis. You’d need to talk to Ms. Mykolos about that.”
    “Who?”
    “Kim Mykolos. His research assistant.”
    “The one he assaulted?”
    A brief pause. “Yes.”
    “Did you know much about Strachey’s behavior over the last few weeks?”
    “I’d heard reports from various people, yes. In fact, I’d been intending to have a talk with him.” Maynard’s shoulders drooped, and he looked down at his desk. “Now it’s too late. I’ll never know if there’s something I could have done, some way I could have helped.”
    “You mentioned he was working with an architect,” Logan said.
    “As it turns out, the great-granddaughter of the architect who originally built Dark Gables. Pamela Flood. She’s carried on the family’s architectural firm. We were lucky to get her.”
    Logan made a note of this as Maynard glanced at his watch. “I’m very sorry, Jeremy. There’s a meeting I need to attend. I’ll be happy to answer any other questions you have at some later point.” And he rose from his desk.
    “Just one more, if you don’t mind.”
    Maynard stopped. “Of course.”
    “Last night at dinner, Dr. Carbon suggested I ask about ‘the others.’ ”
    Maynard frowned. “He did?”
    “Yes. He mentioned you specifically as the one I should speak to.”
    Maynard shook his head slowly. “I’ve never understood Roger’ssense of humor. He may have been pulling your leg—you know he never took your