Bill Harvey Collection

by Peter O'Mahoney

“On the day that Jessica Lempare died.”

  “Oh. Um, it was quite distressing, you know? I was just checking that she was okay, and then after I went in there, I saw her lying on the ground. She was just lying there. I tried to check her pulse, but I could not find one. That’s when I ran in here and called the police.”

  “Did you enter the apartment again after that?”

  “No way. I was too scared. I waited in the foyer until the police arrived.”

  “Did you enter the apartment again with the police?”

  “No. I waited in the corridor until they confirmed she was dead.”

  Staring at Thomas, Harvey searched for any hint of a lie.

  “Thank you for your time, Thomas.” He stood. “I’m sure that we’ll talk again.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The entrance to the Recovering Veterans charity was not what Harvey expected.

  He expected a small broken door in an outdated shopping mall, but instead, he was riding a clean elevator to the top floor of a large inner city office building.

  When the doors to the elevator slowly opened, he was even more surprised.

  The space alone would have cost a lot of money—not to mention the modern art covering the walls. There were large glass doors, and the space resembled more of an expensive corporate office than it did a charity. However, surprisingly, there was no signage for the charity.

  Jack Grayson was able to build a thick file on the Recovering Veterans charity. The charity’s history had been filled with controversy, mostly relating to the use of donated funds. The financial status of the foundation was closely guarded and well-hidden, protecting it from even the best investigative journalists.

  “May I help you?” a blonde secretary asked as Harvey walked into the foyer of the office.

  “Good morning. I’m not sure that I have the right place. My name is Bill Harvey, and I have an appointment to speak with Mr. John Morgan, the CEO of Recovering Veterans.”

  “May I ask what it is regarding?”

  “It’s about the death of Jessica Lempare. I’m representing Anna Lempare as her lawyer.”

  The young lady smiled politely, and then typed into the computer in front of her.

  The door to the main office quickly swung open, and an older man stood at the entrance. Despite Harvey’s height, he was forced to look up at the man, whose weathered, large hand rested on the doorframe.

  “Hello.” The voice was deep. “I’m John Morgan, but most people call me Bud. So please, call me Bud.”

  Although he was close to seventy years old, Bud Morgan stood with a rigid posture. His square jaw and tense focus instantly projected the image of a life-long army officer. His jeans had been ironed, his shirt was neatly tucked in, and his hair was perfectly clipped—this was a man whose life had been run by rules and routine.

  “Mr. Bud Morgan,” Harvey greeted the man, shaking his hand in a solid handshake. “My name is Bill Harvey, and I’m the attorney for—”

  “Yes, yes. I know who you are. Jessica Lempare’s death was a sad, sad occurrence.” Bud’s eyes dropped to the floor as he shook his head. “I’ll miss that woman.”

  “Shall we discuss that in your office, instead of standing in the reception area?” Harvey directed.

  “Of course. How rude of me, Mr. Harvey. Please, come into my office.”

  Following Bud through the door, Harvey entered a large corporate space, complete with modern furniture, new carpet, and floor to ceiling windows. It felt like he had just stepped into the pages of a business sales catalog. Bud walked behind the large desk, resting in his almost regal office chair.

  “Mr. Harvey, this is Mr. Frank Matthews—a decorated veteran, and the deputy CEO of this charity,” he said, introducing the other man sitting in Bud’s office. “We were actually just discussing Jessica’s unfortunate passing.”

  “Mr. Matthews.” Harvey offered his hand to shake.

  The result of ten years practicing hypnotherapy meant that Harvey wasn’t able to meet anyone without making an instant judgment on their character. Frank Matthews stood to greet Harvey with tense shoulders, like they were reaching for his ears.

  All mental issues displayed themselves physically. Shoulders that tense meant that the man was either nervous about the current situation or he was hiding something about his personality.

  “I’ll leave you two to discuss what’s needed,” Frank stated almost with an air of disappointment.

  “No, please, Mr. Matthews, I would like to discuss this with you as well. I was hoping to catch both of you at once.”

  Frank offered Bud a glance and Bud thought for a moment, then nodded, and Frank sat back down.

  “This is a very nice office, Mr. Morgan. It must be expensive,” Harvey said as he walked over to the windows and looked down at the view of the parklands below. “Impressive view as well.”

  “This office does the job,” Bud’s reply was flippant.

  “More than required perhaps.” Harvey shrugged his shoulders. “Do you meet clients in this office?”

  “Here? No.”

  “The veterans would hate this place,” Frank added. “We go out to meet them. It’s part of the service that we provide. We work hard to bring our services to the veterans and save them the trouble of having to find parking. They have enough going on without having to worry about traveling Downtown to see us.”

  “Why isn’t this office listed as your charity’s address?” Harvey questioned, although he already knew the answer.

  Bud sighed. “Like I said, we go out to meet the veterans. It’s what they prefer. We also have another smaller office that we use if the veterans would like to meet with us. Our charity service is all about making the veteran’s comfortable. We use our smaller office for the meetings that we hold.”

  “Interesting,” Harvey quipped. “And may I ask how many people you assist on a day-to-day basis?”

  “Before we get into that, Mr. Harvey, can I ask what the exact purpose of this visit is?” Bud stopped the questioning progressing any further.

  “As I mentioned, I’m representing Anna Lempare about the unfortunate death of her aunt.”

  “Is Anna pleading Not Guilty?” Frank asked.

  “She is.” Harvey nodded. “And this all seems to tie back to the will that I imagine you’re very familiar with as your charity receives sizable donations each month from the trustee. I would like to discuss that with you.”

  “I’m very familiar with the will. Please, Mr. Harvey, sit down. May I offer you something to drink? A whisky perhaps?” Bud indicated towards the chair on the opposite side of his desk, next to Frank.

  “No, thank you,” he replied as he placed his briefcase down on the floor and then slowly sat in the chair. “And you were familiar with the trustee?”

  “Jessica and I knew each other quite well, yes.”

  “Frank, did you know Jessica?”

  “We have a past.” Frank squirmed uncomfortably. “We used to date many years ago, and we have kept in touch since. Obviously, we appreciate the monthly donations from the estate. We—”

  “The donations from the estate are our largest,” Bud interrupted. “And as you would be aware, with the untimely death of Jessica, the will leaves half the amount of the estate to the charity.”

  “Her death is rather timely. Your charity would have suffered greatly if Anna was to complete the conditions of the will.”

  “Ha.” Frank chuckled. “I think that we all know that there was no way that little girl was going to enroll in the Army Basic Training course. And if she did enroll, then there would be no way that the precious girl would have completed it.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Harvey added, watching for a reaction from either of the men. Neither showed any emotional reaction, although the emotion was beaten out of both of them years ago. “What exactly does this charity provide?”

  “We help those who helped us,” Frank said proudly. It was the first time that Harvey had noticed truth
in his words. “That’s our motto. We provide services to those who served—including mental health support, help for those who returned with a physical disability, and emotional support for those who need it. Jessica and I—”

  “Our main focus is support,” Bud talked over the top of Frank again. There was still a clear ranking structure between them. “We act as a conduit between the veterans and various support options—and they may be psychologists, counselors, physiotherapists, or any number of options. We pay for a lot of their services as well. Mostly, though, we organize support groups, where men and women can gather and support each other.”

  “How many people are employed here?”

  “Three full-time employees. There is myself, and Frank, obviously,” Bud responded. “And Nicole, our secretary, who you met on the way in.”

  “And how many veterans have you helped?”

  “Too many to count.”

  “Do you keep those numbers available?”

  “Not readily.”

  Harvey was frustrated by the evasiveness.

  “You’re a veteran also?” Harvey turned to the man next to him, attempting to build rapport with Frank.

  Frank’s eyes flicked up and to the left. He was accessing the thinking part of his brain. “The Gulf War.”

  “What division?”

  “Are you a veteran, Mr. Harvey?” Frank countered, leaning forward to move his glass of water on the table slightly to the left.

  Harvey learned a long time ago that when facing an anxious situation, people may dissipate that anxiety through physical activity in the form of grooming oneself or the immediate surroundings.

  When providing an unconfident answer to a direct question, a person may adjust their physical appearance; for example, they may move their tie, or move a few strands of hair behind their ear, or straighten a piece of clothing, or adjust their surrounds. If the question was laced with pressure, suddenly the glass of water was in the wrong place, or the book on the table wasn’t lined up correctly.

  “No, I didn’t serve. However, I have great respect for those who did.”

  “Then look, no offense, but I find it hard to talk about it with anyone who hasn’t experienced war,” Frank responded. “There is… there are things that happen in war that words can’t convey. It’s hard to understand.”

  Harvey nodded, but the air of uneasiness in the room remained.

  “Mr. Morgan, can you tell me anything of interest about Jessica Lempare?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re referring to?”

  “I would like to know how close you were to her. In the past few months, were you and Jessica friends? Or more than friends?”

  Bud laughed. “We were friends. If she needed my help, then I would help her. We were certainly not anything more than that. We had known each other for many years, and of course, she attended all our functions as our main benefactor. I had great respect for that woman, and I’m saddened that she has passed.”

  “Where were you on the afternoon of May 1st?”

  With a sharp glare, Bud turned. “I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mr. Harvey?”

  “It’s a simple question.”

  “But it’s one with a lot of implication.” He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk. “When I first heard that Jessica had been murdered, my first thoughts were of Anna. They didn’t like each other—everyone knew that. They argued a lot and that Anna has quite a temper.”

  “Mr. Matthews.” Harvey turned to the man next to him. “When did your romantic relationship with Jessica end?”

  “Many, many years ago. We still saw each other occasionally, mostly because I felt sorry for her. She lived a lonely life, and a lot of what she did was with me. Some weeks, I would be the only other person that would talk to her. But it was all her own making—she wouldn’t go out, or do anything new. That was the world that she wanted. Other than her housekeeper, Manuel, who came in twice a week, she wouldn’t talk to anyone else. Not that she really talked to Manuel either. She hated him. She didn’t trust him at all. She even bought a small video camera to hide in her living room, just to make sure he wasn’t stealing anything.”

  “And you were saddened by her death?”

  “Of course,” Frank snapped. “Once upon a time, I loved that woman, but she drove me insane. She was very needy and very rude.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Harvey noticed Bud moving in his seat. He was clearly trying to stay out of this conversation.

  “I’m not sure I like the tone of this discussion,” Bud stated, clearly evasive. “We have welcomed you into our office, and you’re treating that welcome with complete disregard. We are not on trial here. The police have arrested Jessica’s murderer, and ten million dollars is a very clear motive.”

  “Ten million dollars is a very clear motive. That’s why I’m here.”

  Both men stared at Harvey, unsure what to say next.

  “I’m interested in where you men were on May 1st.”

  Frank looked to Bud, who shook his head.

  “I think this discussion is over, Mr. Harvey.” Bud stood up from behind his large desk, and walked towards the door. He held the office door open, waiting for Harvey to move. “It’s time for you to leave.”

  Picking up his briefcase, Harvey nodded to Frank, before turning towards the exit.

  “Both of you should be aware that I have evidence that Anna is innocent,” he bluffed, attempting to cause anxiety for the real killer. “And as Anna is innocent, that means there’s a killer still walking free.”

  “Don’t worry,” Bud whispered as Harvey walked out the door. “We’re all killers here.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “Your thoughts?” Jack Grayson handed a pint of pale ale across the table, and Harvey took a long sip before he answered. He took his time to taste the hops and the heavy flavor of the locally crafted beer, then gave a nod of approval; not to anyone in particular. Harvey was pleased the beer was good; as it was the only saving grace for the bar.

  The lighting was dim, the décor was outdated, and the place was understaffed. But more than that, it was full of middle-aged men yelling at a basketball game on a large screen television. In general, Harvey preferred bars without sports. There was too much testosterone around when a game was on. Not that he was scared; he just preferred not having to beat a guy up on his way out.

  “She didn’t do it,” he stated.

  “Really? You think Anna is innocent? Why?”

  “She might be a fiery redhead who didn’t like her aunt, but I don’t think she was wild enough to strangle her. I can’t see it in her. I can’t see her as a murderer, Jack. She’s just not that type of person. Maybe if it was a gunshot that killed her aunt, I might think differently. A single gunshot could be a moment of suspended disbelief, almost an accident. But strangulation is different. That’s a determined process where she would have had to look her aunt in the face for a minute, perhaps two. I don’t think that Anna Lempare is capable of that sort of behavior.”

  “Well, someone is a determined murderer. Someone out there walked into the apartment and strangled Jessica.” Jack shrugged his shoulders. “So, if Anna didn’t have anything to do with it, what do you think happened?”

  “I think that after Anna and Jessica had engaged in a heated argument, someone entered the apartment and strangled her. Now, there are only two possibilities about how the person avoided the detection of the security cameras in the building—either they were already in the apartment building, or they knew the building well enough to know that there were no cameras at the back entrance.”

  “Who are your suspects then?”

  Just as Harvey went to answer the question, the crowd around the television erupted. The men hugged and screamed like they had personally affected the outcome. Harvey appreciated the passion that sport brought out; however, he had never understood the dedication to an event where he had no control over the outcome.

  “Looks like a win
for the team,” Harvey quipped.

  Jack laughed. “You wouldn’t even know the names of the teams.”

  Jack peered across at the television, checking the score. While Harvey had never understood the need to support sports teams, Jack had known nothing else. Sport was the one constant that he had had in his life. When everything else was falling apart, he could count on his loved L.A. Lakers to get him through the hard times.

  It was a distraction from the pain of his lonely childhood, and the team’s successes filled him with hope. That hope kept him going, season after season.

  For Jack, sport was invaluable. A lifeline for optimism.

  “There are a few people that could have benefited from Jessica Lempare’s death.” Harvey stole Jack’s attention back from the game. “I have spoken to three people over the last two days who had the means and the motive to murder Jessica.”

  “Namely?” Jack performed a small fist pump when his team’s score was displayed on the screen.

  “Bud Morgan comes to mind.”

  “The head of the Recovering Veterans charity?”

  “Bud was likely to lose a lot of money if the will was changed. His entire income was paid for by the donations from the will. He has a nice office, a nice secretary, and a nice amount of respect from his fellow veterans. He wouldn’t have been very happy if he was going to lose that. He has had a very easy life as the CEO of that charity. He hasn’t had to worry about raising funds—he just took the money.”

  “But it was in Bud’s best interests for Jessica to stay alive? If she had stayed alive until Anna turned twenty-five, in only a few months’ time, then the charity would have inherited the full twenty million dollars, not just half the amount. Unless you think that Anna was going to complete the training?”

  “No.” Harvey shook his head. “She would never have completed the Army Basic Training, but Jessica might have considered changing the terms of the will.”

  “Even after she argued with Anna, you still think that Jessica was going to agree to change the will?”

  “I do. I think that she was going to make an adjustment. Although she was rude, she was quite a reasonable person. While any changes to the will needed the conditional support of the charity, she had the power to change it without their support. She could have taken the will to court to have it adjusted. I can’t imagine that she would have given the full amount to Jessica, but I think that she would have negotiated a deal.”