by D. L. EVANS
The information clicked over in the well-oiled mind. “I can’t read your bloody grey matter,” Reese said glaring across the desk at Mack. “Elaborate. I only know that Harmon owns the company that runs security at the TV Station. How are you tying that to this Summerhill place and a murder?”
“And the bigger question,” Mack interjected, “ is that if they installed the hidden camera, why send us the tape? They must have known we’d trace the installers and the companies that are all linked, back to the source. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless someone in the organization isn’t playing ball,” Reese said thoughtfully.
“Someone actually has a conscience and didn’t want an innocent woman charged with the murder of her uncle.”
“That has to be it,” Mack agreed. “But I’ll bet the brass don’t know we have this tape,” Mack answered, “Harmon controls, probably owns, the company that runs the security at the Stanford Galleries and their warehouse, Omni Systems, right?”
“Right,” Reese answered. They were on the same wavelength. “You think he also installed illegal systems along with the real security equipment?”
“Somebody did. I think we need a search warrant to go through his main building on King Street.”
“It’s a waste of time, Mack,” Reese replied. “A warrant won’t get us into any areas he deems protected by ‘national security’ and he would have cleaned everything else up when the poker players were rattled two weeks ago.” Mack looked surprised. Reese elaborated, “Something shook them up. We don’t know what, but all four of them put new scanning equipment in their offices at the same time. I’ll bet he’s expecting a search, eventually. You can bet he’s ready.“
“Why did you refer to them as poker players?” Mack asked.
“I told you when you first asked about them. They get together every-so-often socially and it usually ends up in a friendly game of poker. Why?”
“I don’t remember you saying anything about playing cards,” Mack said. “It could be relevant. Remember when Jack Hennessy was killed?” Reese nodded but didn’t see the connection. “It was some sort of religious ritual murder. I don’t know if you saw the photos in the file, they weren’t released, but there was a deck of cards on the rug directly under him, covered in his blood and every other bodily fluid he once had. The card thing was one of the details that were kept from the press. We thought it could be some kind of warning and we were right. Adam also guessed that the killer musta known about Roger Smythe and the poker game. It was meant as a fucking message, all right. Maybe he’s planning to get all of them the same way,” Mack said running with the thought. “No wonder they’re spooked. Christ, this guy is insane. I wonder what they did to piss him off?”
Reese still looked angry. He asked, “Are you telling me that Styles knew about the cards and I didn’t?” His voice went up an active. “Shouldn’t you get your priorities right?”
Mack thought for a moment. “You’re in ‘Fraud’ and Adam is working on the murders from another angle… but you’re right,” he conceded. “If you had been on the inside, you would have caught the connection. Maybe you should consider moving to Homicide.” He stared at Reese still mulling something over. “For now you just get the warrant to search the labs with Mapplebeck and a few more experts. How soon can we get in?”
Detective Reese swallowed his annoyance. “It’s past lunch and no judge will work fast enough to get us in today, for all the good it’ll do. I can probably pull a few strings and arrange it for tomorrow.”
“Great, as early a possible. Thanks.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
ADAM STONE:
I punched in Mack’s number and extension at the station. When he answered, I said, “If you can free yourself up for dinner tonight, I’ll make your dreams come true? How’s that for an invitation?”
Mack laughed. “I’m really in the mood for good news, Adam but how do you know what I’ve been dreamin’? Y’know, I’ve been celibate for a while now and I’ve discovered that - just like athletes and yoghurt, it has a definite shelf life. But I hate to tell ya Adam ol’ boy, there ain’t nothin’ that you personally can do to make my dreams come true, even in my delicate condition. I just ain’t that desperate, mate.”
“Jesus, what a horrible thought,” I said laughing. “First let me tell you that I have some good news … and some more good news. Let me tell you the good news first. I’ve arranged a meeting with Annie at the Stanford Warehouse where she has an apartment on the second floor. I’ll give you a time and directions later. Second, some even ‘gooder’ news, Lauren invited herself to dinner at my place and specifically asked if you could join us. Are you listening? She’ll be on her own too. And... before you ask, I have no idea what changed her mind or should I say her opinion about you. It wasn’t me although God help me I tried.” Mack was speechless or maybe in shock. Either way he didn’t answer. I took it as a cue to continue. “I don’t ever want to re-live your first meeting,” I said into the silent phone, “I was sure that Lauren would rather have you euthanized than sit together at dinner with you, but there you go. What do I know about the fair sex? Nothing it seems.”
Lauren had been on Mack’s mind since her visit to his home that rainy night. His promise to keep the meeting confidential weighed heavily on him. “Sure,” he managed, “that is good news, Adam . I was going to drop by sometime anyway with my updated notes... and several more ideas you might like to kick around for your book. Soooo. My dreams are coming true are they? Is she showing up naked and horny? And where are you going to be spending the evening?”
We both laughed. “OK. I asked for that. I just thought you might be a little thrilled and eternally grateful. She just called a few minutes ago and didn’t want to get into anything on the phone as she’s still at work but she sounded stressed out. All I could get out of her is that it’s something that she wants to discuss “off the record”. By the way, this is not in character with her, Mack. Alarm bells went off and I tried to pump for more information but she closed the door. I did get that she didn’t want to be seen talking with the police so she wants a private meeting, specifically with you, as you’re the only cop she knows - God help us - through me… and you can be trusted. I suggested dinner at my place. She jumped at the idea. Hence the invitation.”
“It’s a great idea!... “ Mack agreed. “Hell, it’s a brilliant idea. Let me bring the food,” he said. I agreed. “Do you think it could be that she’s found something out about Smythe? You know, his background?”
“Christ, I don’t know. I hope we’re not put on the spot about him, you know, having to lie about his hidden past. We’ll just have to play it by ear. Speaking about the past... look buddy,... how shall I put this... (sigh)... Remember your last meeting a few years ago?”
“Everyone makes mistakes Adam. She’s probably forgotten by now.”
“Lauren has a steel trap mind,” I told him firmly. “She has not forgotten that you had watched her show once, repeat once and advised her that aggression in a woman is unfeminine… and that if she ever wants to hook a winner... Dear God, may He forgive you... that she could get more out of any important male if she used ‘honey instead of vinegar?’... Do you recall those indelible words?”
“I was a bit out of step, you’re sayin’?” Mack replied sheepishly.
“About a bloody century... You actually said that she should ‘show some cleavage and wear shorter skirts?’ Holy Mother of God....” I continued.
“Well, looking back, it was a little ...”
“Judgmental? Sexist?... a stereotypical chauvinistic pig… a foot-in-mouth moron to boot?... I just crossed myself Mack and I’m not Catholic. Are you hearing me?”
“Gee, Adam, What’s yer point?” Mac said with false exasperation. I let my silence answer, while trying not to break up laughing. “Never mind.” he finally muttered. “Suffice it to say that, since I’ve become a fan of her show, I’m reformed, Adam, really. I now think aggression is
sexy... in a tasteful way. You know, for a tall, gorgeous woman with great tits and legs. The spice of life, you might say. I’m sure she’s able to look past my few faults to see the purist within, right?” I couldn’t think of an answer. He continued, “Perhaps she’s forgiven and forgotten and you’ve blown this all out of proportion. You ever think of that? ”
“Jesus, do me a favour.” I sighed staring up at the ceiling. “To prevent a blood bath, you better just keep quiet and just listen to whatever she has to say. Let her do all the talking.” He grunted and I took that for a yes. Another thought crossed my mind, causing my stomach to tighten. “Did anything happen between you and her assistant Mary? The bouncy one with the hydraulic ass who made eyes at you at the wake?”
“I told you, Adam. I’m takin’ a breather for a while. Hey, I know where you’re headin’. Do you think I’d even consider tromboning that sweet child when she works with the woman of my dreams? Women talk you know. Frankly, I’m hurt, Adam, that you would think so little of me. Besides, it’s only a matter of time until this thing with ‘Roger the Slime’ blows up, whatever it is, and I’ll be right there to pick up the pieces. What time do you want me?”
“‘Bout eight,” I replied. What the hell, Lauren would have to accept him at face value like the rest of us.
“Good that’ll give me a couple of hours. Does she like Jap food?” he asked.
“How would I know? She never cooks for me. I wouldn’t survive... and that’s not to be repeated!” I emphasised. “Lauren’s not a fussy eater, likes just about everything as I recall. Don’t go to any trouble. Just pick up some Chinese... Japanese or whatever and bring it over. And clean up your language if you want to impress her.” Christ, why was I bothering? He was beyond help. Lauren must be desperate to ask for his advice.
“You can relax,” Mack replied with just a hint of sarcasm. “I’ll just sit there and smile charmingly. I won’t pick my nose, scratch myself and I’ll try not to fart. OK?... Jesus. You’re going to make one hard-ass brother-in-law. See ya at eight.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
ADAM STONE:
Lauren arrived on time and as upset as I’ve ever seen her. Without her ‘on camera’ makeup she looked like a freshly scrubbed university student complete with jeans and a sweatshirt. She gave me a forced little smile (usually reserved for difficult guests, I thought) and a big sister hug (just for me). I inhaled her perfume and the warm smell of her hair. She preceded me into the living room. The sun was just beginning to set, filling the sky with orange and red scarves, tinged with blue, and the city lights were starting to blink on the horizon. Our conversation proceeded stiffly around bland subjects, but it got her talking and she seemed pleased to know that there really was a book in progress. Her voice was on automatic and I felt like I was listening to a recording as she stared out the window, ostensibly to admire the view. I poured her a double sherry, which she gratefully took and sat down.
I thought I would cheer her up with the news about the mysterious tape that arrived at the police station and cleared Annie of the murder of her uncle.
“Oh Adam, that’s great news. That poor old man. Who killed him?”
I decided on the spur of the moment not to tell Lauren about the police hunt for Serge Mentz on a first-degree murder charge. Vlad Roman was sure to be involved somehow and Lauren didn’t need the extra stress, at least for the moment. I wondered if Mack would say anything.
“No one’s saying at the moment,” I lied.
“Where’s Mackenzie? Is he coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Are you alright?” I asked.
“Yes... no... well, I’m not sure.” Tears pooled in her eyes and she fussed in her purse for a tissue. I had to wait until she was ready to tell me what was wrong.
“You’re sure you’re alright?” I sat opposite her with a ginger ale.
“In three days,” she began, “Friday at three in the afternoon, I’ll be hosting the Bank Tower opening extravaganza on camera, in front of millions and everything that can go wrong, ab-so-lutely has. Mom can’t fly up from Florida. She broke her foot while out sailing, if you can imagine. Her foot, Adam! Oh, don’t worry, you’ll hear all about it when she calls. She’s all right… in a cast, but all right. What else can go wrong? My life has imploded. I don’t know what to do.”
She looked at me with such emotion that I couldn’t think of anything to say. She was my rock; the granite marker beside the road that would always be there. Nothing rattled her. “I must confess Sis, I never expected to hear those words from your mouth. What on earth is wrong?”
As if on cue the buzzer sounded and I let Mack into the building. I waited in the front hall with the door open and a few minutes later he arrived carrying a large cardboard box. (Presumably dinner.) He mumbled some sort of greeting as he rushed into the kitchen and placed the box on the counter. He asked quietly if Lauren had arrived and I said she was waiting in the living room. He ran a finger around his collar and it occurred to me that Mr. Cool was actually nervous. Under lighter circumstances, I would have found this revelation amusing. “Has she said anything?” he asked. I shook my head and he followed me out of the kitchen. Lauren was back standing at the window, arms around herself in a kind of self-hug, looking out at the distance. Mack walked over to her and shook her hand saying it was lovely to see her again. With Lauren in sneakers, they were the same height, five ten but Mack had the slimmer build. Still, I was pleased with a safe beginning. She relaxed.
“Detective Mackenzie,” she said rather formally, “... please sit down. Thanks for coming at such short notice.” He stopped her and asked to be called Mack. There seemed to be no residue left over from their previous meetings at my place a few years ago, and I was sure we were both relieved. ”O.K. thanks, Mack,” she continued, “Did Adam tell you that this conversation has to be ‘off the record’?” She sat on my overstuffed couch and made herself comfortable.
“Yes, he did but I have to tell you that I’m going to rely on the fact that you have a brother that was a cop, so you understand that I won’t be able to ignore anything... like... shall we say, a confession to murder or something like that.” She didn’t laugh as he expected but looked down at her hands. He turned to me but I just shrugged my shoulders. I had no idea what she was going to say.
“Don’t worry. It’s nothing like that.” She looked up and smiled for the first time. I could imagine the effect it was having on Mack but I had to admit, he was the still the cool professional. Mason Green himself, in drapey cream pants, Italian loafers and a wine coloured silk shirt. Studiously casual, and elegant. I went over to the bar and poured him a beer as Lauren started her story.
“Something is wrong at the TV Station.” Lauren stated as she looked around the room composing herself, selecting the words. We waited. “You know that Roger, that’s Roger Smythe is…. I mean was, my fiancée.” The words hung in the air. This was no surprise to me after our recent conversation about Annie but I had yet to update Mack.
He just nodded although I knew must be thrilled.
“I should explain something,” Lauren continued calmly, “my assistant Mary Weston is the niece of Katherine Thorn, who is Roger’s secretary. No one knows this, I mean, that they’re related.” She took a deep breath. “Oh, this is getting confusing. Let me start at the beginning. Several months ago, my former assistant Lorry Roberts took her pregnancy leave and decided not to go back to work. Several part-timers made me crazy. I was desperately looking for someone when Katherine asked me to see her niece who was just graduating. Katherine knew exactly what I was dealing with and arranged the interview. To make a long story short, Mary and I met, we talked, and I liked her and hired her right away. We kept the family part quiet because Katherine didn’t want any hint of nepotism and it’s against company policy anyway. I’m telling you this because some things have come to me through their relationship. They’re quite close.”
The sun had gone down leaving the room in premature darkness and
I turned on the room lights, adjusting the dimmer switch to low. The door to the balcony was open letting in a warm vagrant breeze. We could hear the high electrical whine of the cicada, harbinger of more furnace-hot days to come. Mack was the epitome of patience, keeping questions to himself, allowing Lauren to proceed at her own speed.
Another deep swallow of sherry, and she continued. “A while ago Jack Hennessy, the late Jack Hennessy, and two other men showed up at my office and asked us, Mary and I, to leave while they scanned for listening devices, bugs.” Mack and I must have looked puzzled as she felt the need to clarify, “That’s what they said. Bugs! Jack Hennesey said that Mr. Smythe had insisted it be done immediately. I couldn’t imagine what this was about and went directly to see Roger. Katherine had tried to warn me and she was right. Roger was... different, but I had to sort things out.“
“This was how long ago?” Mack had taken his small notepad out of the breast pocket of his jacket and started writing.
