Likely Suspects

by G. K. Parks

  Thirteen

  I checked on Martin twice during the course of the night. On my first trip, I brought him a glass of water and left it on his nightstand, along with a bottle of aspirin. I was relieved to find him still alive and breathing. The second time was during a routine walkthrough of the house. I was antsy and had started walking the interior of his compound as I pondered the best way to find the answers I was so desperately seeking. Having spent a good portion of the evening napping in my own apartment, I took advantage of the quiet and continued to work on those few fleeting thoughts from earlier.

  I settled into Martin’s office on the second floor and used his concept board to start listing suspects, motives, and opportunity – the holy trinity of crime. However, there were obvious gaps in the information, and I had no suspects at all. The only thing I could do was use broad categories to describe potential suspects. Ex-employees, co-workers, board members, personal relations, and random individuals seemed the most likely.

  I knew whoever was behind this had to have a reason, so I went once more for the typical motives: money, revenge, passion. Whoever was behind it either figured the best way to destroy Martin was to destroy his business or they only had access to him through MT. This made limiting the suspects and motives much more difficult.

  Under opportunity, I realized I needed a list of employees who were out of the office during the time of the explosion and those who had the ability or the means to compensate someone to create a bomb. I would need a breakdown of the chemical composition and the difficulty of ascertaining such materials. O’Connell might already have access to this information, so either Mark or I could potentially weasel it out of him. I batted my eyelashes as practice for that prospect.

  The brilliant thoughts from earlier were starting to unravel back into a mesh of uncertainties. The problem was there were still too many possibilities. Work backward, I told myself, but I couldn’t think clearly. A fog was settling in over the lightning storm of perceived progress. I glanced at the clock; it was almost six a.m. No wonder things were quickly coming undone.

  I could afford a couple hours of sleep, so I double-checked to make sure the security system was live and headed up to my room. I didn’t even bother to change out of my clothes as I got into bed. As I began to drift off, my mind wandered back to Martin’s story of Panama and the kiss. I never would have pictured this perfectly manicured, business professional to be the type ballsy enough to open fire in the defense of another. I also wouldn’t have expected to be so turned on by just one simple kiss. I forced the thought out of my mind. You’ve got a job to do, Parker.

  I drifted in and out of consciousness for a couple of hours, but by 8:30, I gave up since sleep was being too elusive. I got out of bed and took a shower, trying to refresh my mind. It was Saturday, so I put on jeans and a t-shirt. No more business attire needed. I went downstairs and made some very strong coffee and some eggs and bacon, figuring Martin needed something to soak up the remaining hangover.

  I retrieved the employee files and brought them into the kitchen and began crossing off those individuals who could not have been responsible. Unfortunately, there weren’t many names I could mark off. I was almost positive I wasn’t the mastermind behind the threats, but my name wasn’t on the list. Jeffrey had been working the desk, so he couldn’t have been in two places at once to set off the explosion.

  My mind seemed to have gotten the jump-start it needed. I realized I didn’t have the surveillance feed from the lobby. If I could get a hold of it, then I would know who left the building and possibly had time to set the bomb and get across the street. I wondered if O’Connell had gotten the MT surveillance feed or any video footage from the numerous cameras outside on nearby buildings. I made a note at the top of the page to call him and see what he had found. There might just be a break on the horizon.

  I grabbed another sheet of paper. The manufacturing sabotage and corporate espionage had to be an inside job. I hadn’t focused on either of those because they weren’t direct physical threats to Martin, but now I was positive whoever was doing this had to be an MT employee or ex-employee. How long did they keep surveillance tapes of the manufacturing plant? I was getting very excited and tapped my fingers against the table. How could I have missed all of this? I should have started with the manufacturing issues and went from there. I picked up my phone to call Mark and see if he had pursued this avenue, but I stopped myself. It was Saturday morning, not even ten a.m. yet; Mark would either be asleep or working. I put the phone down, trying to determine if the giddy jitteriness I was experiencing was because I was on to something or because I drank too much coffee this morning.

  “We will figure this out,” I said to what I thought was the empty room.

  “Well, it is why you’re here.” A response came from the next room. Martin walked in with his hair sticking up in a hundred different directions, looking like hell. “Do you think you can speak a little softer?” He stumbled into the kitchen and went straight to the coffeepot, pouring himself a cup. “I feel like I was hit by a train.”

  “Yeah, it was the Macallan express. I made some eggs and bacon, thought the grease might help with the hangover.” I wasn’t sure if he would be able to eat without getting sick. “There’s toast, too.” I went back to sipping my coffee. He sat down across from me, drinking his own coffee and looking absolutely miserable.

  “Strong coffee.”

  “Helps with hangovers and sleep deprivation.” I glanced up at him, unsure what he remembered about last night. It’d probably be best to act as if nothing happened.

  Yesterday had been an emotional rollercoaster with our fight in his office and then his confession later that evening. I was just going to pretend I didn’t know his deep dark secrets and we hadn’t kissed. That would be the best course of action, remain professional. He got up, after finishing his cup of coffee, and made a plate with eggs, bacon, and toast. He picked at it while I reread my notes.

  “I used your office last night. It’s a bit of a mess right now. Sorry.” I didn’t sound very sorry, and he simply grunted. Nodding was probably too painful.

  “You brought me water and aspirin last night?” He watched me flip pages.

  “Yeah, I checked on you to make sure you were still alive and figured might as well, since I was already on my way. Not a big deal.” I put my plate and mug into the dishwasher. Being a bit cold might be the most professional course of action to follow.

  “Thanks. I hope I didn’t make too much of an ass of myself last night.” His eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of alcohol. But I could tell he was trying to determine what he did or didn’t do. Maybe he thought I was angry.

  “Not any more than you do on a regular basis.” I smirked.

  “I’m going to take a shower.” He got up and headed for the stairs.

  I straightened up the kitchen and organized his office, but I left my notes on the concept board. I was trying to keep busy until he came back down. I wanted him to be functioning, so we could get to work. Dragging him to the MT building today didn’t seem like a good idea, but I wanted the surveillance footage now.

  An hour later, he re-emerged, looking slightly more human. His hair was brushed and styled. He had shaved, doused himself with cologne, and probably used half a bottle of eye drops to erase the red inkiness from around his green irises.

  “Feeling better?” I asked, and he made a so-so gesture with his hand.

  “Getting there, slowly.” He retrieved a bottle of water and a couple of aspirin and swallowed. “What’s going on?” He took a seat across from me at the kitchen table, eyeing my notes.

  “They have to be MT employees or ex-employees,” I blurted out. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. The manufacturing sabotage, it’s where we need to start.” The words spilled out of my mouth, and he put up a hand to halt my verbal onslaught.

  “Hang on. I’m only slightly functional right now.” I sat quietly, staring at him. He realized this was a lo
sing battle since the dots weren’t connecting for him the way they had for me. “Why?” he finally asked.

  “Who has access to your manufacturing plant and knows what to do to sabotage it?” I wasn’t really asking; I was just pointing out the obvious.

  “Anyone could have walked in off the street.” He still seemed confused. “We don’t have much security in manufacturing. It’s a separate building across town from the MT building, and people come and go all the time. Deliveries, exports, imports, repair guys.” This was why I hadn’t started there, because it was the most accessible place to attack.

  “True, but they,” I was using the term they because we didn’t know the gender of the assailant or the number of those potentially involved, “also knew where to find your corporate design secrets. They had to have access to that data or know how to get access, and they also had to know your daily schedule. Whoever is behind this has to work for you.” I realized during my explanation it must be a current employee or else they wouldn’t be aware of our daily lunch dates. Before I began working for Martin and playing the role of doting girlfriend, he rarely went to lunch, like most of the other higher-ups.

  He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. His head was pounding, but I needed him to focus. The longer we waited, the greater the chance whoever was behind this would either get away with whatever they were after or succeed in eliminating him. Although, in all actuality, the reason I was so anxious was because I just realized I was five steps behind and wanted to play catch up to make up for my blunders. I had been working for almost two weeks, and now it dawned on me what was really going on and who could be behind it.

  “I need the surveillance footage from the manufacturing plant from the day the sabotage occurred. I also need a report of exactly what happened and who in the company possesses the knowledge to know what to sabotage and how to do it, and I need the surveillance from before we tried to leave the office on Thursday. A list of who called in sick would be great too. I don’t know how well you monitor your employee attendance, but you must keep records to determine paychecks, right?” I rambled. Way too much caffeine, Parker.

  Martin looked a little pale, as if he might pass out or throw-up. Luckily, he didn’t do either. “Okay.” He swallowed unsurely. “Go down to MT. Tell whoever is working security to give you a copy of the surveillance from Thursday. There should be a few extra copies on disk in the security office because the cops and the other alphabet soup agencies wanted our video footage as part of their investigations. Take my ID with you, just in case you encounter any problems. I’ll give them a call and let them know you’re on your way to pick it up.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll make the call and then probably throw-up a few times.”

  I didn’t want to leave him alone, but if I was right, whoever was threatening him didn’t know where he lived. So it should be safe to leave. “Okay.” I was about to ask about the manufacturing footage, but he read my mind.

  “We’ll have to go to the plant to get the other tapes. Separate systems. Today things are shut down, so that’ll have to wait until Monday.”

  “All right.” I got my keys and picked up our ID cards. “Make the call. I’ll be back soon. If there is any problem, call 911 first, then me or Mark.” I pointed at my handgun sitting on the kitchen counter. I had started keeping it with me at all times. “Worst case, point and shoot. Don’t hesitate.”

  * * *

  It took about an hour to get to the MT building. Saturday traffic was never fun to negotiate. I arrived and scanned my ID as I entered the building.

  “May I help you, ma’am?” the security guard asked.

  “I hope so.” I gave him my winning smile, even though he called me ma’am. “I’m here to pick up some things for Mr. Martin, surveillance footage and a list of the employees in attendance from Thursday. I believe he called earlier about this.”

  The security guy looked pleased. “Sure did. I have it all right here. Can I see your identification?” I showed him both cards, and he looked from my picture to me. Granted, I did look somewhat different in casual dress, but he seemed to be doing his job very thoroughly. “Oh,” recognition dawned on him, “you’re Mr. Martin’s new girl. I remember seeing you leave with him in the afternoons. Tell him Todd said hi, and we can’t wait for him to be back at work.”

  “Thanks, Todd. I will.” It was better to make friends with the security personnel and continue the ruse than to be enemies or arouse suspicion.

  I left the building and headed back to my car. The police tape was still out front, but only a couple of officers remained. By Monday, things would appear to be completely back to normal. I went to my car feeling paranoid and decided to take a circuitous route to Martin’s. It never hurt to be cautious.

  An hour and a half later, I pulled up to the compound and entered through the garage. As I went up the stairs, I resisted the urge to call out honey, I’m home. “I’m back,” I announced loudly to make my presence known in case Martin decided to be a bit trigger-happy and shoot any and all intruders. There was no response, so I put my belongings on the coffee table and headed up the stairs. Maybe he didn’t hear me.

  “Martin?” I tried again. Still no response. I was beginning to worry and stopped in my room and glanced around. Nothing looked like it had been touched. I took out my backup handgun and continued to the fourth floor, knocking on his bedroom door.

  “Martin?” I heard a muffled response, so I opened the door slowly with my left hand, my gun held in my right. He was lying in bed on top of the covers, apparently trying to sleep off the rest of the hangover. At the sound of the door, he opened his eyes. The nine millimeter I left him was on the bedside table. “Still alive in here?” I hid my weapon against my thigh, glad he had taken my suggestion seriously; at least he listened some of the time.

  “For the moment.” An icepack was pressed against his forehead. “Did you get what you needed?”

  “For now.” I shut the door.

  Fourteen

  I set up shop in the living room. I was seated on the couch, avoiding the scotch-stained sofa cushion and watching the surveillance feed on Martin’s big screen television. The employee manifest was opened, and I kept hitting pause every time someone exited the lobby. It was slow going, matching names with faces, and I desperately missed the facial-recognition software the OIO used. I was making a list of employees who had exited the building from 10:30 until the time of the explosion.

  So far, there were fifteen people who left the building from 10:30 to 11:00 a.m. However, the same fifteen people returned to the building within a fifteen to thirty minute time span. I got up and retrieved Det. O’Connell’s business card and dialed his number, hoping to discover what time the hot dog vendor parked in front of the MT building.

  “O’Connell,” he responded after the third ring.

  “Hi, this is Alexis Parker. I work for James Martin.”

  “Yes, Ms. Parker. Did you remember any additional details you wanted to share?” He sounded suspicious on the phone, probably realizing I was only calling to get information from him.

  “Just wondering how the investigation is going, Detective.”

  “Okay.” There was an awkward silence. “What do you need?”

  “Any idea what time the hot dog vendor set up shop outside the MT building?”

  “Hang on,” I heard some papers being shuffled around, “10:45, why?”

  “Just needed a good starting place,” I replied, somewhat unhelpfully.

  “Yeah, well, you come up with some persons of interest, you pass it along.”

  “Absolutely, Detective.” I debated if I should ask about the bomb materials but decided to wait and see if Mark had gotten any news yet. After all, he would have the resources to track down the bomb maker. “Maybe you could do the same.”

  “Have a good day, Ms. Parker.”

  At least my arbitrary starting point wasn’t quite so arbitrary after all. I cont
inued through the rest of the footage until the explosion occurred. I had a list of sixty-one employees in total who left the building between 10:30 and noon. Of those sixty-one employees, forty-three returned within fifteen to thirty minutes. I circled the remaining eighteen names on the list.

  I just pulled out the employee attendance sheet to see who was scheduled to leave early or work half a day when I heard footsteps behind me.

  “Feeling better?” I asked, not bothering to turn around.

  “Yeah.” Martin sat down on the couch. “What are you watching?” He stared at the paused, grainy, black and white surveillance footage.

  I turned to see if he was attempting to make a joke or if he really was clueless. “Surveillance from the lobby.”

  He looked at the list I made. “You sure do like to make lists, don’t you?”

  “It helps.” I didn’t know why I did it. It was just part of my process since I didn’t necessarily trust myself to remember things that might seem innocuous but turn out to be important.

  “What do the circles mean?” He seemed interested, so I explained what I was doing. “Are these the timestamps?” He pointed to the times written next to the names.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think you can cross these off.” He took my pen and marked off six more names. “Lunch is thirty minutes. They left too close to the explosion to have set a bomb.” I tended to agree with his rationale. Maybe he was more than just a snazzy suit.

  “So, out of the twelve suspects on the list, recognize anyone as potentially dangerous? Holding a grudge for something? Smart enough to create a bomb?” I hoped he could point us in the right direction.

  He reread the names. “I don’t know everyone, but really, Suzanne Griffin?” He gave me a look. “Come on, don’t you think you can mark her off as a suspect?”

  I had been so consumed with identifying people that I hadn’t consciously realized her name was on the list, but I was getting a bad feeling. “Have you seen her since the explosion?”