Soft Case: (Book 1 in the John Keegan Mystery Series)

by John Misak

  “Hello Mr. Chapman,” I said. I pulled out a small tape recorder that I had taken from my apartment, and placed it on the edge of his desk.

  Chapman smiled again, then touched a button on a panel next to his desk. Behind him, a compartment opened, revealing a small audio system.

  “We could use my system, if you like. My microphones will record better than what you have there.”

  “No thanks,” I said, “this works just fine. Nice setup you have, though.”

  “Modem technology,” he said, “I love it. I’m telling you that if I gave you an hour, you probably wouldn’t be able to find the three microphones that are hidden in this room.”

  “Worried about someone stealing Techdata secrets?”

  He chuckled. It was an annoying, almost sinister chuckle. “No, I am just an electronics buff. Not to mention, I’ve gotten a lot of entertainment from some of the things I have caught on tape here.”

  “I’m sure you have.”

  “So, what is it you want to talk about?”

  “Ron Mullins,” I said flatly.

  “Obviously. It’s a real loss, not having him around.”

  “He was planning on leaving anyway.”

  “Yes, I am sure you know all about that.”

  “I do.”

  “Ron was a very creative man. He needed something to occupy his mind. He was a genius.”

  “How did you feel about his leaving?”

  “I was against it. He was Techdata. Without him, the company almost seems incomplete.”

  “When did he first mention to you that he wanted to leave?”

  “Well, he had dropped subtle hints over the last two years, but I think the first time he actually came out and said it was at a convention in California. Even though I had my ideas about what he was going to do, it came as a big surprise.”

  “Why didn’t he go to the convention with you in Amsterdam?”

  “He had other business to take care of.”

  “What sort of business?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I would assume it had to do with his running for Senate. He had been meeting with a lot of people about that recently.”

  “How did you feel about that?”

  “About his meeting with people?” Chapman asked.

  I didn’t like the way Chapman looked at me. He analyzed me, as if to see I posed a threat to him. He kept fiddling with a pen on his desk too. He didn’t appear comfortable, though his voice didn’t sound broken at all.

  “About his running for Senate.”

  “I wasn’t sure it was right for him. He felt strongly about it though, and considering the fact that he was my friend as well as my partner, I supported him.”

  I remembered the question that the last reporter asked him, about legislation. “One reporter asked you about legislation regarding Silicon Alley, what do you know about that?”

  Chapman leaned back in his chair, and unbuttoned his jacket. “Just that it is something they have been talking about for years. You see, when companies started making it big in California, and other companies were leaving New York for Seattle or New Jersey, New York wanted to lure some back. They gave out huge tax breaks, something New York never had to do, and they were willing to look the other way on a lot of things. The amount of empty office space in New York steadily climbed, and they needed to do something.

  Then, about five years ago, the new legislature in New York decided that, once they already had us firmly planted here, that they could pass legislation that would cancel out the benefits companies like ours received to come here in the first place. The bill has been sitting around up in Albany for about four years now, and the issue has the government split nearly in half.”

  “Corporate politics, huh?” I said.

  “You could say that.”

  “What about that bill going to Washington?”

  “It’s not plausible. It’s a state issue. I don’t see it ever going to Washington, unless the federal government wants to rethink how it does business across the country.”

  “Did you and Ron ever discuss it?”

  “Of course. We were concerned about it. After all, if we lose the tax breaks we get, it would seriously affect our bottom line.”

  “What do you think of politics?”

  “Don’t like them. Never did. All they do is get in the way.”

  I couldn’t argue that.

  “What was Mr. Mullins’ state of mind like recently?”

  “He didn’t seem to be himself.”

  “Suicidal?” That was a tough word to say with a numb mouth. I hoped that Chapman didn’t think I was some sort of idiot. From what I could tell, I was hiding my handicap pretty well.

  “I don’t know if I would say that. Like I said, Ron was a genius. Geniuses tend to go through bouts of depression more often, I think. Especially when they think that their talent is going to waste.”

  “So, you don’t think Mullins committed suicide?”

  He looked at me over his glasses. “I’ve known Ron for a long time. I’ve seen him go through a lot, with his wife, his father, and with several issues here at Techdata. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but we communicated well, and I think I knew him inside and out. Yes, he’d been much different lately, but I attributed that to the changes he was considering in his life.”

  “Like getting a divorce?” I interrupted.

  “Where did you hear that, in the tabloids?”

  I didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell Chapman about what Sondra told me. I didn’t feel as though I could trust this guy. He really didn’t give me reason not to trust him, but he also didn’t give me a reason to trust him either. I didn’t consider him a suspect.

  “It’s been thrown around a few places.”

  “It’s nonsense. Mullins loved his wife.”

  “What do you think of her?”

  “Sondra? The woman is quite a package. Very tough to please, but a loving wife regardless. I always thought she was too much for Ron to handle. He loved her dearly, and even thought they had their problems from time to time, they worked them out.”

  “So they never considered divorce,” I said.

  “I’m sure they did, but so do just about every other married couple in the world. It’s a fact of life, these days. But I’m telling you, Ron would never have allowed it. He wouldn’t have done that to his kids, nor would he have jeopardized his future political career by doing something like that.”

  “What do you know about Mullins’ will?”

  Chapman smiled again. “I know what you are trying to do.”

  He did? I didn’t even know what I was trying to do. I was just throwing shit against the wall to see what stuck. Not much did, but that was nothing unusual.

  “You do?”

  “You’re talking about the situation going on with the company. I’m fully aware of the fact that Sondra can cancel the buyout. Yes, there’s a lot of money involved, but we are dealing with the loss of a great businessman, husband, and father. Money isn’t everything.”

  So, I had hit a soft spot. I liked that. “It’s all about money.”

  “What do you want, Detective Keegan? You want to consider me a suspect in this?” Chapman asked. It didn’t seem to shake him. The question came more as for information than concern.

  “I consider everyone a suspect. I would think you would understand that.” I watched Chapman’s face. The expression did not change one bit.

  “I know you have an investigation to carry out, and I also know that you have absolutely no leads, other than the fact that Ron apparently killed himself.”

  “Which you seem to think impossible.”

  He exhaled. “Not impossible. I’m no psychologist. It just doesn’t seem likely.” He paused. “Listen, I know you have a job to do, and I would like to do anything I can to help you. I mean, if there was any sort of foul play involved in Ron’s death, then that is an atrocity, and I would like to see you bring the people responsible t
o justice. I just don’t see how knowing about my company will help you.”

  Of course he knew. I wished I had the answer machine tape with me, so I could play it for him and see his reaction. That comment about fixing what Mullins’ father started stuck in the back of my mind. Mullins’ father had started Techdata, and Harold Chapman was in charge of that. It made sense.

  “Well, Mr. Chapman, I am not here to inconvenience, or anger you. Everything regarding this case is of concern to my department and me. So, if you wouldn’t mind answering just a few more questions, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

  Chapman opened up a desk drawer and pulled out a cigar. He flicked a switch, which turned on a ceiling fan overhead. “Do you smoke?” he asked, reaching in the drawer for another cigar.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pack of cigarettes, which I had purchased at a convenience store next to Dad’s office. My mouth was still numb, so holding a cigarette in my lips took concentration.

  “Only the sort that kill you,” I said.

  “Feel free,” he said, lighting his cigar. Smoke filled the room for a second, then it rose up into the exhaust fan directly above him. He took a few long drags, savored the cigar, which smelled like shit to me, and placed in the ashtray he placed halfway between us. From what I could tell, he was inhaling it. Disgusting. I lit my cigarette, threw the match in the ashtray, and looked at him. “Go ahead, ask your questions.”

  How nice of him.

  “Is it true that Mr. Mullins orchestrated the Onyx deal?” I asked.

  “Well, he originally was against the deal. It was my idea at first, but he was pivotal in making it happen.” Chapman spoke clearly and confidently. I sensed nothing off about his speech, anything that would give away his lying.

  “Will it definitely happen?” I asked.

  “Looks that way. I hope so. Thinking about investing?” Chapman quipped, trying to lighten the mood. I couldn’t blame him. Few people liked talking to the cops.

  “Not on my salary,” I said.

  “Everyone has to start somewhere.”

  I decided to get the conversation back on track. “Can Mrs. Mullins, under the current circumstances, block that merger? Does she have the power to do so?”

  He thought about that for a second. “On paper, I guess she could. But she really doesn’t know much about the operations of the company, so I doubt she would even consider doing such a thing. It would be a fool’s errand.”

  “Do you think she will proceed with the buyout?” I asked.

  “I don’t see why not. She doesn’t like the software business. She has no interest in it. She likes money, Detective Keegan, if you want me to be honest, she stands to make a hefty sum by proceeding with the buyout.” Again, Chapman spoke clearly. He meant what he said, for sure.

  I decided to shift gears. “What would you say if I told you that I have a witness who says he knows something about Mr. Mullins’ death? Someone who works for you.”

  “Do you?” Chapman asked, looking at me directly without a flinch.

  “I’m speaking hypothetically.”

  “Hypothetically, huh? I’m not much into hypotheticals. To entertain your question, however, I would be interested in finding out what this person knows. Also, how they came to know it. People can say whatever they want, make up stories, or they can think they know something they really don’t.”

  “Agreed. Still, people also can see and hear things and know them as well. It’s hard to tell if someone really is telling the truth,” I said.

  “Don’t I know that,” Chapman said, pulling at his cigar. He considered it for a moment, watching the smoke rise around it. “Have you ever been fooled, betrayed?”

  “Of course.”

  “It usually blindsides you,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Do you know of anyone who would want to do Mr. Mullins any harm?” I asked, seeing an opportunity.

  “Obviously, if I knew of such a person, I would have brought it to Ron’s attention, and I would have told you about it immediately.”

  “So, no one you were aware of would want him dead?”

  “No one I knew of. I mean, you’re talking about a highly competitive industry here. A lot of things we do, especially when we do them well, can squash an entire company. Of course there has to be someone that wasn’t happy with him, or our company.”

  “Anyone in particular come to mind?”

  Chapman took another hit off his cigar. “This is the software industry, Detective Keegan, not the mafia. You don’t see computer geeks going around knocking off their competition.”

  It was time to get to the meat of this interview. Geiger wanted me to bring him back something, and though Chapman did offer me some information, I had nothing that helped the investigation.

  “What if I told you that you were a suspect? That I thought you might have offed your partner because he was against your merger with Onyx, and he had changed his mind about the buyout.”

  Chapman laughed heartily. It appeared quite genuine. “Detective Keegan, please. I am a businessman. I was a partner and friend of Ronald Mullins for almost twenty years. He made this company what it is, I won’t deny that. Without him, I would be well off, no doubt, but I wouldn’t have one-tenth the amount of money I have now. Even the notion that I would want him dead is preposterous, at best. Please keep your questions within the limits of sanity.”

  Good answer, Harold. “Most murder investigations do not revolve around sanity, Mr. Chapman. I need to explore every lead, every opportunity, even the ones that seem ridiculous. They all seem ridiculous until seen in the right light, the right motive.”

  “There are no facts, only interpretations,” Chapman said.

  “Very true. One of your own sayings?” I asked.

  Chapman shook his head. “Nietzche.”

  “Gesundheit.”

  Chapman smiled at my bad joke. “He was a famous writer and philosopher. Guy like you would probably like him. Give you some more perspectives to look at your cases with.”

  I finished my cigarette and extinguished it in the ashtray. I wouldn’t get anything from Chapman. Agnelli would close the case, and he might have been right to do that. I couldn’t prove murder here. Everything pointed to the fact that Mullins killed himself. But, I had no other case to work on, and this was the most interesting one I had been given in a long time. I didn’t want it taken away from me.

  I searched my mind for something I could go on. “Do you know where Mr. Mullins was headed the day he died?”

  “No. I was in Amsterdam.” Chapman said this like I should have known it already. I felt like an idiot.

  “When was the last time you spoke to him?” I asked.

  “Early Tuesday. Sometime around eight. We usually spoke at that time in the morning. In the beginning, we used to get geared up before the market opened. So we made that call a habit.” I didn’t know the first thing about getting excited about the market. Rick probably did.

  “How did he sound?”

  “Fine, from what I could tell.” Chapman coughed into his hand. Gross, I thought. People did this all the time and then shook hands later. I tried to remind myself not to accept that hand, or go to the bathroom right afterward to wash mine. Didn’t need Chapman’s throat snot on my hand, thanks.

  “How long did you two talk?”

  “About twenty minutes.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “I was meeting with someone from Onyx. They were at the convention. He was a little concerned about the fact that they would see me there and not him as well.” Chapman rattled this information off like fact.

  “What did he want you to say to them?”

  “He didn’t specify. He just wanted to go over a few things.”

  “And he didn’t say where he was going later in the day?” I kept pressing. Liars get details wrong the more you ask for.

  “No, he didn’t. I think he had a meeting with someone from his campaign.
He was planning on announcing his candidacy in a few weeks, so I assume that was where he was going. Other than that, I have no idea. I’m sorry.”

  “Do you have a name of someone in his campaign? Someone he might have been going to see?”

  He started typing on his keyboard. “William, William Rogers. They had been meeting a lot. I assume, that if he was going to meet someone about his candidacy, Rogers would be the man he would see. You want his number?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  He gave it to me. I didn’t bother writing it down, because I had it on tape. Chapman’s phone rang. He pressed a button, to turn on his speakerphone. “Yes,” he said.

  “Mr. Chapman, there is someone here to see you,” the secretary said.

  He picked up his phone. “Who is it? Okay. I am still with Detective Keegan. Tell him I will be a minute.” He hung up the phone.

  “Am I holding you up?” I asked.

  “Not really.” He took another drag from his cigar. “Was there anything else?” He made it sound like he hoped there wasn’t.

  There wasn’t. “That’s it, unless there is something you feel I need to know.”

  “Nothing I can think of.”

  I got up. “I appreciate your time, Mr. Chapman, and I look forward to your future cooperation.”

  “Of course.”

  We shook hands, and I walked out of his office, depressed. My mouth tingled; the effects of the Novocain wore off. I had nothing, nothing that would keep Agnelli from shutting me down. Everything turned to shit. Geiger was going to be upset that I didn’t come up with anything. He counted on me, I knew that. He liked to have little wars with Agnelli, and he hated losing. I didn’t look forward to letting him know I had let him down. On top of that, Rick was pretty much out of commission. I didn’t mind working alone, but I would have appreciated someone with me when I spoke to Chapman. Maybe I missed something.

  The secretary in the lobby saw me come from Chapman’s office, and punched a few keys on her keyboard. The middle elevator opened again. I got in, without saying a word to the secretary, and descended to the first floor.