Chapter 13

The office was sparsely furnished, the chairs and desk all slick black matte and chrome. The walls were painted a deep blue. Along the wall to the left of the doors was a large set of shelves on which sat a variety of cameras. Some were old-fashioned, while others were brand new. They ranged from old film 35mm cameras to ultra-modern digitals, with formats ranging from Polaroid to large format.

Dashiell and Regina stepped forward as Carolyn Bartlett allowed the doors to close and walked around the desk to take her seat. Dashiell and Regina sat as well. “I was terribly sorry to learn about Elaine. And to think I saw her just this morning.”

“That’s what we’d like to talk to you about,” Dashiell said. “We understand you may be one of the last people to see her alive.”

“I guess so. Jessica Hill and I went to see her on behalf of Washington Woman. But of course, you know that. I’m sorry. I’m a little shaken up.”

“You knew Mrs. Scofield well?” Regina asked.

“Not really. Elaine and I travelled in some of the same social circles. I’ve done some work for her and the family before. But it was a professional relationship.”

“Yet you call her Elaine,” Regina pointed out.

“Well, as I said, we’ve seen each other at parties and such. That was the limit of our social interaction.”

“Can you tell us about the interview?” Dashiell asked, trying to get the interview back on track.

“We arrived just before ten a.m. and I set up my lights while Jessica asked some preliminary questions. The interview got going in earnest and I went to work. I’m known for my documentary style when it comes to photos for interviews and other profiles. Just before eleven we wrapped things up and I packed up my equipment.”

“You don’t work with an assistant?” Dashiell asked.

“No, not in these situations. Having assistants around tends to hamper the flow of things and that affects the pictures. And I’m still fairly spry for my age.” She smiled.

“And that was the last time you saw Mrs. Scofield?” Regina interjected.

“Yes. Jessica and I left. I came back here and I assume she went back to her office. I’ve been here working ever since.”

“Yes, I wanted to ask about that. You said you were in the dark room. You still shoot with film?” Dashiell asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “For some shots, I do. Elaine Scofield was writing an autobiography. It was a look back at her life and I wanted to evoke that feeling by using an older style of photography. I lit her like they used to light Eva Gardner and other starlets. It was all very 1950s. So I went with three cameras. A digital for archival purposes, as well as medium and large format cameras. Nothing in the digital world can touch the sheer quality of a larger negative.”

Dashiell nodded. Regina was flipping through her notebook.

“Well, that matches up with what Miss Hill told us,” she said. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Bartlett.”

“Happy to help in any way I can, Detective. May I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“How did Elaine die?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Bartlett, but we can’t discuss those sorts of details in an on-going investigation,” Regina answered.

“Of course, Detective. I was just curious, since the police were involved.” She paused. “It’s probably best I don’t know.”

Regina looked at Carolyn Bartlett’s face, and her own softened. “It was nothing gruesome. Mrs. Scofield was a powerful figure in Washington life and by all reports in excellent health. Her sudden demise was unexpected, and thus we felt it best to investigate pending a cause of death.” Regina hesitated. “I’d appreciate you not repeating that to anyone.”

Carolyn relaxed. “Of course, Detective. Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome,” Regina said.

“Well, we should get going, stop taking up your valuable time,” Dashiell said. He had been examining the various cameras on the shelves. He turned to go.

“Just one more thing,” Dashiell said, pausing at the glass double doors. “Did you happen to listen to the interview?”

Carolyn’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, Detective, no. I was there while Elaine and Jessica were talking, but when I’m looking through the camera my mind is wholly focused on my work. I tend to tune everything else out. Why?”

Dashiell shrugged. “Just curious. It’s possible she said something that could be of use to us.”

“I’m sorry Detective. You’d have to ask Jessica for her notes.”

“Of course. Thank you for your time.”

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