“I’m … devastated!” Reed said. “Simply …”
“Were you and your brother close?” Marge asked.
“Close?” Reed tapped his folded hands on the desk. “I wouldn’t say close … but I was closer to him than I was to anyone else on the maternal side of my family. We had our professions in common; we used to meet for lunch and at staff meetings. We attended some of the same hospitals. We weren’t exceptionally close, but Kingston was still … I just can’t believe …”
He took a deep breath, got up and walked over to the water machine. “Can I offer you two any coffee or tea?”
“We’re fine, Dr. Reed.”
Reed played with a paper cup, then filled it with water and drank. “I … I don’t know anything about …” He crumpled the corrugated container and threw it into the garbage. “I don’t know how I could possibly help you. With Lilah as well. I’m … I’m not at all close to her. I don’t …”
He sank back into his desk chair.
“When was the last time you saw your brother?” Decker asked.
“Saw him?” Again Reed folded his hands. “I don’t remember. A few weeks ago. My girl would know. She makes my appointments. Kingston and I never met spontaneously. It was always … arranged. Either he’d call or I’d call. That sort of thing—Can I turn the recorder off? It’s making me feel quite uneasy.”
Decker turned off the machine, then pulled out his notebook and held it up. “You don’t mind this?”
“Not at all,” Reed said. “The recorder is just so … dehumanizing.”
“Indeed it is,” Decker said. “Were you in contact with Kingston after Lilah was attacked?”
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