Cavanaugh's Missing Person

by Marie Ferrarella

  He laughed softly. About time, he thought. Out loud he said, “You act surprised.”

  “I am,” Kenzie answered honestly, then decided to go a little further. “It doesn’t go with your swaggering image.”

  He considered her response. “Maybe my ‘swaggering image’ doesn’t really go with the person I am.”

  She was going to need a lot more evidence before she was convinced of that, Kenzie thought. Merging into the far lane on the right, she made a turn at the end of the block.

  “Yeah, well, we’ll see,” she told Hunter, backing away from the subject. She had only one final thing to say. “One robin doesn’t make a spring.”

  Hunter congratulated himself for not laughing out loud. “Very clever,” he told her. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “Why do I even bother?” Kenzie cried, figuratively throwing up her hands as they arrived at the bank, pulling up in front of it.

  “Because,” he told her as they parked, “in my case you’ve already played judge, jury and executioner and now you’re having second thoughts that maybe you were just a little bit too hasty passing the sentence.” He looked at her for a moment before getting out of the car.

  She didn’t answer Hunter, mainly because she felt he did have a point and she hated admitting that she was wrong, especially to him. Besides, the man did act as if he was God’s bonus prize to all women—just like Billy had, she thought, setting her jaw hard.

  Granted, Brannigan was better-looking and, in the grand assessment of things, he had at least a few redeeming qualities, but that still didn’t change things—or make her any less on her guard against any sudden moves on the detective’s part.

  Holding the glass entrance door open for her, Hunter nodded at Kenzie as she walked through.

  “Thanks,” she responded, her lips barely moving.

  “That’s pretty good,” he told her, following her in as he let the door go. “With a little bit of practice, you could become a world-class ventriloquist,” he told her. When she shot him a withering look, he said innocently, “What? I just gave you a compliment.”

  She didn’t answer him.

  Instead, Kenzie looked around and approached the first banker she saw in one of the cubbyholes that were scattered throughout the floor. “Detectives Cavanaugh and Brannigan,” she said, identifying herself and Hunter for the banker’s benefit as she held up her ID. His nameplate said his name was Aaron Jacobs. “We’d like to speak to the branch manager.”

  The man stood partially up from his chair and pointed toward the enclosed office at the far end. It was slightly larger than the others in the room.

  “That would be Ms. Murphy,” the banker told them. He pulled his shoulders back a little, a soldier ready to go into battle. “Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked.

  Kenzie offered him a hint of a smile before turning him down. “I’m afraid not,” she replied.

  The click of her heels against the beige travertine floors sounded like the rapid fire of a discharging rifle as she made her way over to the person who had been pointed out to them.

  Jacobs had apparently had a change of heart and decided to precede them.

  “Ms. Murphy, these two detectives would like to speak to you,” the young man announced, looking a little uneasy as he spoke.

  Kenzie tried to figure out if Jacobs was intimidated by them, or by the woman he was talking to.

  Ana Murphy was impeccably dressed, wearing a light gray jacket and matching straight skirt that flirted with her knee line when she rose ever so slightly from behind her desk. Her jet-black hair was pulled back from her face and her makeup looked perfect. Kenzie had a feeling that Ana Murphy was one of those women who would look exactly the way she did right now even in the middle of an unexpected tornado.

  The branch manager limply extended her hand to them. Kenzie thought the woman’s hand felt cold to the touch as she shook it.

  “Please, sit down,” Ana Murphy requested. She waited until they did, then asked in a measured tone, “How may I help you?”

  “We’re interested in viewing any surveillance tapes you have from August 7. Especially the tapes that you have giving a view of the street directly in front of the bank,” Kenzie told her.

  The term Ice Princess came to mind as Hunter sat observing the branch manager. There seemed to be no sign of any emotion registering on the woman’s face or evident in her behavior.

  “That sounds very specific, Detective,” the woman noted. “May I ask why you want to see tapes from that day?” she asked.

  This was not going to be easy, Kenzie thought. “According to what one of your tellers told Connie Kurtz, Mr. Kurtz’s daughter, that was the day her father closed his accounts and withdrew all his money,” Kenzie told the woman.

  Something flickered in the woman’s dark eyes. Murphy was protecting her territory. The next words out of the woman’s mouth convinced Kenzie she was right.

  “Our customers are perfectly free to close their accounts at any time,” the branch manager informed the two people at her desk.

  “We’re not trying to dispute that, Ms. Murphy,” Hunter informed the woman in a sterner tone than Kenzie could recall hearing him use. “We just need to view the tapes.”

  Ana Murphy raised her chin. “Do you have a warrant?” the woman asked. “Our clients rely on this bank to maintain their privacy and we—”

  “Mr. Kurtz is dead,” Hunter told her shortly.

  There was no sign of surprise in her behavior. “I am aware of that, Detective, but—”

  “And are you also aware of what it means to be charged with obstruction of justice?” Kenzie asked. “In case you didn’t know, it can be applied to anyone interfering with a murder investigation, so unless you are prepared for some really bad publicity for your bank in general and your branch in particular, I suggest you let us review those tapes.”

  Long, carefully manicured nails clutched at the edge of her desk as Ana Murphy thought and then made up her mind.

  “Very well,” Ms. Murphy replied coldly. Picking up the phone on her desk, she pressed a button on it. Someone on the other end picked up instantly. “Matthew, I need you to come in here.”

  She’d no sooner hung up than Matthew materialized in her doorway.

  Matthew was a beanpole who looked as if he was barely out of high school but apparently he was currently taking college courses and interning at the bank. That meant that he was at the branch manager’s beck and call, ready to do whatever needed doing.

  “Matthew can help you get what you need,” the woman informed them. Her tone indicated that the interview was over and she wanted them to leave her office.

  Kenzie and Hunter were more than happy to leave the woman’s presence.

  “We need to see the surveillance tapes from August 7,” Hunter told the young intern as they walked out of the woman’s office.

  Away from the branch manager, Matthew was gregarious and eager to help.

  “I can’t let you take them, but you can definitely see them here,” the young intern said.

  He took the two detectives into a back room equipped with multiple monitors. The monitors viewed not only every angle of the bank’s interior, but the parking lot and ATM machine that faced it, as well.

  “Wait here,” Matthew told them. “I’ll be right back. You’re lucky you came early. The tapes are only kept on-site for ninety days.”

  “What happens to them then?” Kenzie asked. “Do you tape over them?”

  “Oh no,” Matthew assured her. “They get batched. The really old ones get archived.”

  “But you do hang on to them?” Kenzie asked, wanting to be sure that they would be able to view the tapes.

  Matthew laughed. “One way or another, we’ve got every single tape ever made since the bank started keeping an eye on its clients to make su
re they were safe.”

  That was a very rosy way of saying that the cameras were spying on people. Although, she reminded herself, if there were no surveillance monitors, there would be that much less of a chance of finding whoever stole John Kurtz’s money, perhaps even his life.

  Kenzie made herself comfortable at one of the viewing monitors.

  “How do you want to do this?” Matthew asked a few minutes later as he returned with a box of SD cards. “You want to split these up? Or do you want to view these together because, you know, two sets of eyes don’t always see the same thing,” Matthew cheerfully told them. The friendly young intern was prepared for them to make either choice.

  Hunter looked into the rectangular box. “That’s an awful lot of SD cards,” he commented.

  Matthew’s head bobbed up and down. “We’ve got a lot of cameras at the bank, taking multiple views.” He reached into the box to pluck an SD card as a visual aid. “Each of the cameras has an SD card.”

  Hunter glanced at Kenzie. There was no other way to do this except to do this. “Then I guess we’d better get started.”

  He then took a seat in front of one of the monitors and inserted the first SD card.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Kenzie felt as if her eyes were becoming crossed. Crossed could also aptly describe her disposition, she thought, rubbing her hand along the back of her aching neck.

  “I don’t think I’m ever going to watch anything on TV ever again,” Kenzie complained. She also had an uneasy feeling about the search they were conducting. “Maybe Connie got the date wrong,” she said to Hunter. “Maybe it wasn’t August 7. Maybe it was some other date and she got confused.”

  Hunter briefly raised his eyes from the monitor’s screen. “You wouldn’t last a day in the Cold Case Division,” he told her.

  Kenzie swallowed a retort. She just shot Hunter a dirty look.

  “Is that supposed to get me angry enough to buckle down and go on screening this grainy tape?” she asked.

  His mouth curved just the tiniest bit as he turned his head in her direction. “So, did it work?” he asked Kenzie.

  Actually, it did, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. What she did say was, “If you can do it, I can do it.”

  The corners of his mouth curved further. “I figured as much,” he said under his breath, although just loud enough for his voice to carry.

  “What you ‘figured,’ Brannigan, is of no interest to me—Hold it!” Kenzie suddenly cried, her whole body becoming rigid.

  Stopping the tape, she leaned forward for a closer look at the frozen screen. Unfortunately, closer didn’t make the photo appear less grainy. It made it more so.

  Instantly alert, Hunter shifted in his chair, physically moving it in closer to hers.

  “Did you see something?” he asked, already scanning the screen.

  “I don’t know. You tell me,” Kenzie answered.

  She turned the monitor so that he had a better view of the screen. Once she had it in position, she pressed Play.

  Hunter watched the screen intently. There was a tall blonde in the distance across from the ATM machine. The woman appeared to match the description that Kurtz’s neighbor had given them. The blonde was restlessly moving around and then she walked closer to the entrance. She seemed to be debating something with herself, then she appeared to have made up her mind and came inside.

  Another camera picked the woman up as she opened the front door, walking inside the bank.

  At no time did she approach Kurtz while he was inside the bank. But it was obvious that she was watching his every move intently.

  “Watch her body language when he finishes his transaction,” Hunter told Kenzie. He rewound the tape, playing the last ten seconds again. “For just a second there, she looks like she’s beaming, like someone who had just won the lottery.”

  “Maybe, as far as she was concerned, she had,” Kenzie told him.

  Playing one tape to another in sequence, they watched Kurtz finish filling out all the required paperwork the banker had given him. The banker took the forms, disappeared for a couple of minutes, presumably to have the forms okayed, and then returned with a rectangular piece of paper. He handed it to Kurtz. The latter’s hand seemed to be shaking ever so slightly as he accepted it.

  “That has to be his life’s savings,” Kenzie said.

  “That would be my guess,” Hunter agreed.

  “And there’s the vulture,” Kenzie commented, “swooping in to get at the check.”

  As they watched, the blonde rejoined Kurtz just before he exited the bank. When they walked out through the entrance, the woman immediately wrapped both her arms around one of his like a schoolgirl welcoming her boyfriend home after a long vacation spent apart.

  “Wait, that’s not John Kurtz’s car,” Kenzie realized, watching Connie’s father and the woman who had completely bewitched him getting into a vehicle she didn’t recognize. “Connie said he drove a ten-year-old Honda Civic.”

  “Well, if I don’t miss my guess, that’s an all-terrain vehicle,” Hunter told her.

  “Being a little modest here, aren’t we?” Kenzie asked with a laugh.

  One of the first things her brothers told her about Hunter Brannigan was that he was into cars. He could identify a variety of different makes and models and, according to Finn, Hunter was an absolute wizard when it came to taking those cars apart and putting them back together.

  “I thought you might like that,” Hunter told her with a grin, “given that you think I have a swelled head.”

  “I never said that,” she denied. Then, when he continued to look at her, she added, “Exactly.”

  He let that slide. “But you thought it.”

  “Are you back to mind reading again?” Kenzie asked with a touch of exasperation.

  “Nope, not me,” he denied, his eyes sparkling as if he already had her number.

  “Because if you have mind reading powers, why don’t you put them to good use and see if you can make out a license plate number on that car.” She tapped the screen with the tip of her nail.

  “We’d probably have better luck trying to see if there’s another view of the vehicle on any of the other tapes,” Hunter said.

  Twenty minutes later, after reviewing every possible shot of the parking lot and that particular vehicle, they managed to piece together only three of the numbers out of seven.

  “Three is better than none,” Hunter said, trying to make the best of it.

  “And seven would be better than three, but maybe we’ll get lucky,” she said, not sounding very optimistic.

  “Well, it’s worth a shot,” he said. “As it happens, ‘Lucky’ is my middle name.”

  “I just bet it is,” she said under her breath as she took out her cell phone and proceeded to make copies of the pertinent videos they had found.

  Chapter 14

  They brought both the partial license number and a copy of the video of the woman who had accompanied the slain victim to empty out his life savings to Valri. Swamped as usual, the computer tech still looked as if she had expected to see them coming in again.

  “What do you have for me this time?” she asked patiently, putting her hand out.

  “How does a partial license plate and a surveillance video of the mystery woman sound?” Hunter asked.

  “Like work,” Valri answered crisply. But she stopped what she was doing to look at the video, moving it frame by frame in an attempt to get a better look at the woman’s face. “If she was ever arrested, her likeness is probably in the database, but matching it can get a little tricky. I’m making no promises,” she told them, looking back at the video and continuing to advance it one frame at a time.

  Kenzie did her best not to sound impatient. Offering Valri a pained smile, she told her cousin, “We understand.”
r />   With a nod, Valri got back to work, her fingers once again flying across the keyboard.

  “Well, if we don’t hear from you,” Hunter said to the computer tech as he edged out of the lab, “see you at the party next Sunday.”

  “Sure,” Valri answered without looking up.

  Kenzie’s head shot up. “What party next Sunday?” she asked as she walked out with Hunter.

  Hunter appeared mildly surprised by her question. “The one the chief’s giving to celebrate his son Shaw being made chief of police.”

  “I know who Shaw is,” Kenzie retorted between gritted teeth. “And Shaw was appointed chief a while ago,” she reminded the man walking next to her.

  Reaching the elevator bank, she hit the button for the elevator with the flat of her hand.

  “Yeah, I know,” he agreed. “But this is the first opportunity that everyone’s had to get together to celebrate that fact,” Hunter told her.

  The fact that Brannigan knew and she didn’t annoyed Kenzie more than she could possibly put into words. “How is it you know more about what my family’s doing than I do?”

  He had a simple explanation for that. “Maybe I just pay more attention. I don’t have a huge family to distract me,” he added. The fact was all he had these days were memories. Both his father and his younger brother were gone. “You are going, aren’t you?” Hunter asked. “I’m only asking because you’ve missed the last few gatherings and I think it would mean a lot to your uncle if you showed up for this one, especially given the reason why he is throwing it.”

  Getting into the elevator, she stared straight ahead at the closing door, her back up. “You realize that this is none of your business, don’t you?”

  If she was expecting him to say yes, she was disappointed.

  “Well, the Cavanaughs are a large part of the police department,” Hunter said, “and the police department is my business, so in a way, yes, it is.”

  “Wow, talk about double-talk,” she marveled. “I’m not going to bother trying to unscramble that. I’ve got enough on my mind trying to find whoever is killing men, chopping them up and scattering them in parts unknown.” Kenzie could feel Brannigan’s eyes on her and she knew he was waiting for an answer to his question. So, finally, as the door opened on her floor, she sighed and said, “Yes, if there is a celebration—”