“I haven’t been able to confirm any of that,” ada Kim said. “And I can’t ignore a civilian employee breaking and entering a private business, especially when one of the two primary owners of the business is missing. It looks like we’re trying to cover something up.”
“Cover something up? She was trying to save the case!”
“Maybe she told you that’s what she was trying to do—”
“That is what she was trying to do! I was there!”
Kim scoffed. “You weren’t there the whole time. You came after Peter Grayheath had already found out that someone had broken in.”
“Grayheath? You took his word about what happened? He wasn’t even supposed to be there!”
“I’m not sure who’s in the right about this, Fenway, but I do know that Miss Patten shouldn’t have been in the building.”
Fenway drummed her fingers on her desk. “Okay, listen, what if I talk to the building owner and she tells you that Piper had permission to be there?”
“I’d say I don’t believe you. You can’t give retroactive permission to a trespasser.”
“I think you can,” Fenway said. “And besides, you wouldn’t have any way to counter the owner’s statement.”
“Why are you trying to make my life hard? Look, I gave Miss Patten a choice. Either she resigns, or we charge her with burglary.”
“Come on, Jennifer. You know intent plays into this. What kind of message will we send if you prosecute this?”
“That civilians shouldn’t take the law into their own hands, even if they work for the cops.”
Fenway pressed her lips together. “It’s almost like you want her to resign.”
“Given what she did, she’s lucky we gave her the choice. Look, you’re the one who pushed out Miss Patten’s colleague six months ago.”
“You can’t be serious. He was taking bribes from a murderer to install remote access software on our pcs!”
“Yes, and Miss Patten was caught breaking and entering.” She coughed. “Look, it’s out of my hands.”
“It’s out of your hands? You mean this decision comes from higher up?”
“I didn’t say that. In fact, I shouldn’t be talking about this anymore. You tell Miss Patten that I either have her resignation on my desk by the end of the day tomorrow, or I’ll draw up a warrant for her arrest. Either way, her career in the sheriff’s office is over.”
Kim hung up.
Fenway stared at the receiver for a moment before setting it on its cradle. She stood up and the weight of the situation hit her full force. She’d have to go in and tell Piper that she failed. That she couldn’t do anything. Piper would have to resign.
Her heart felt heavy as she walked to the it department. Migs and Piper were sitting in two office chairs, facing each other, Migs holding Piper’s hand.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Fenway said, “but ada Kim isn’t budging. Either you resign by end of day Friday, or she’s issuing a warrant for your arrest.”
Migs set his jaw. “Something else occurred to me.”
“Occurred to you?” Piper said.
Migs smiled sheepishly. “Occurred to Piper, and I think it’s possible. Scary, but possible.”
“What is it?” Fenway asked.
“Well,” Piper said, “I’ve connected the dots so far between these murders and Global Advantage Consulting.”
“Right.”
“In fact, the payments list for Global Advantage is the only thing tying these deaths together.” Piper straightened up and let go of Migs’s hand. “If I hadn’t found them, it would look like three unconnected murders.”
“Four,” Fenway said.
“Right, Jessica Marquez makes four.” Piper scrunched up her face. “So, I don’t know, this might sound crazy, but do you think the money launderer thinks that if they get me out of the way, they’ll be able to—I don’t know, get away with it?”
“You think they have some big last score they have to do, and then they’re out? This isn’t a heist movie.”
“Well, no—”
“The sale of the embargoed oil is netting them literally billions of dollars a year.”
Piper nodded. “Maybe that’s why they want to quit. It’s starting to get visibility. You can’t spend all that money if you’re in jail.”
“Or dead,” Migs said.
Fenway thought for a moment. “Okay, let’s say you’re right and they want you out of the way. I’ve tried talking to ada Kim. I can maybe get McVie to talk to her, but he hardly has leverage now that he lost the election and his term is up in eight weeks. How do we keep you employed here?”
Piper and Migs looked at each other.
“I don’t think you can,” said Piper.
“But you’re phenomenal,” Fenway said. “We couldn’t have solved the mayor’s murder a few months ago without you. We couldn’t have come as far as we did on this case without you.”
“There are other smart, computer-literate people out there,” Piper said.
“Not that we can hire two weeks before Thanksgiving,” Fenway said.
“Good luck trying to find a job this time of year,” Migs said. “Not only are they unfairly trying to force you out, but it’s right before the holidays. They’re evil.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Piper said. “I’ve got some savings. Plus, California is a vacation-accrual state, and I hardly ever took time off. I have six weeks of vacation to get paid out.”
“That makes me feel better about you,” Fenway said, “but I’m worried about the investigation also. We don’t have anyone else who can do this work.”
“Which is the point,” Migs said under his breath.
“You can get a contractor,” Piper suggested.
“Not someone who has access to things like arrest records and dmv data.”
“There are a lot of freelancers who wouldn’t need official access to stuff like that.”
Fenway shook her head. “If they don’t want someone with your computer skills and ability to piece together information,” she said, “they won’t replace you with someone competent. They’ll get someone who can fix Callahan’s blue screens of death and that will pretty much be it.”
“Remember,” Piper said thoughtfully, “I said this went pretty high up.”
“You did,” said Fenway, “and now I think you were right.”
“But high up might only go to ada Kim. Or her boss. It doesn’t mean hr. It doesn’t mean the head of it. You should talk to Jordan. He’ll want to replace me with someone competent. He knows how important that is.”
Fenway nodded. “Okay. Jordan is a good guy.”
“Best manager I’ve had, and I’ll see him right now,” Piper said, a determined look on her face. “See if he’ll authorize a ton of overtime for tonight. I may have to resign by the end of the day tomorrow, but I can get a lot of research done between now and then. That’s if I don’t have to go home.”
Chapter Fourteen
Piper said she would text Fenway as soon as she finished with Jordan, so Fenway bit the bullet and went to the jail to see her father. As she left her office building, she noticed the streetlights coming on, casting shadows that shrank and lengthened as she walked through them. The shadows stretched and shortened, elongated then snapped back, with the painfully blue leds that illuminated the plaza.
Fenway had a lot on her mind, turning over how she’d find a replacement for Piper—or how in the world she’d close the case without her.
Quincy greeted her as she walked into the foyer of the jail building, in front of the metal detectors. Fenway was lost in thought and missed the jokes about Aunt Dez; she didn’t even give Quincy an empty promise of coming over for Sunday dinner one of these weeks.
“You okay, Fenway?” Quincy said, snapping her out of her reverie.
Fenway blinked and looked at Quincy. “No, not really. The murders are piling up, one of the best people I’ve been able to count on is getting forced out o
f her job, and my father was arrested for murder.”
Quincy winced. “You’re here to see him, I take it.”
“Yeah.”
“Official capacity?”
“Sure.”
Quincy looked at the logbook, flipped around a little, and then looked up. “Room one. I’ll have him in there in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Quincy. Sorry. I’m not myself today.”
“You’ve had a rough week.”
Fenway shrugged. She had at least won her election.
In the jailhouse interview room, Fenway felt claustrophobic. Room one was the smallest of the four rooms available, with one of the walls at a forty-five degree angle, cutting off a good chunk of space.
The man who came in wearing the orange jumpsuit was much more like the rich, confident, arrogant businessman she knew from the outside than the meek, depressed man she had seen on the inside the day before. Nathaniel Ferris nodded at Fenway and quickly sat down, his back straight, his knees bent, leaning forward slightly. Fenway studied his face. His eyes had lost every trace of the haunted look that had worried her the last time she had seen him.
“You seem like you’re ready for a fight, Dad,” Fenway said.
“I’m ready to stop feeling sorry for myself,” Ferris said. “Do you know the name Imani Ingram?”
“I don’t think so. New witness?”
“My new criminal lawyer. She loves the law, she doesn’t trust the system, and she believes I’m innocent.”
“That’s refreshing. Usually defense attorneys don’t want to know.”
Ferris grinned, one of his million-watt disarming smiles. “Okay then, she believes she can get an acquittal. Same thing.”
Fenway paused. “Are you drunk?”
Ferris guffawed. “Where in the world would I get a drink?”
“From bribing a guard. Or maybe Charlotte slipped you something. Or you’re making jailhouse gin. I don’t know.”
Ferris stood up and rocked back on his heels. “None of the above. Just excited because I see a few ways out of this, and they all go through Imani Ingram.”
“Well, you’ll get out of here in just about an hour.” Fenway scrutinized Ferris’s face, but found little to go on. “Why do you think you’ll be acquitted?”
“Because they have nothing,” he said. “No evidence on the body of the professor. No photos, no receipts, no money trail. It’s a circus. Everyone knows that the d.a. is in need of a big win.”
“The d.a. just got reelected in a landslide,” said Fenway. “There’s no need for a big win.”
Ferris waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a ‘what have you done for me lately’ constituency. It’s ridiculous and combative, and I’m caught in the middle.”
Fenway’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her purse. It was a text from Piper.
Jordan signed off on overtime but I have some bad news for you
“Hang on, Dad, I need to deal with this.”
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere until the paperwork is done.”
She texted:
What’s the bad news?
Three dots appeared, meaning Piper was typing, then they disappeared—had Piper deleted everything? Then:
I found a payment going from one of your father’s accounts to Peter Grayheath
Fenway thought for a moment.
How much?
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but Piper replied almost immediately.
$50,000
Fenway’s eyes went wide. Her father noticed.
“Fenway? What is it?”
She turned and looked at him. “You paid Peter Grayheath fifty thousand dollars.”
“What?”
“Peter Grayheath. Does that name ring a bell?”
“Sure it does. He works for me. Or he used to. He was on the security team at Ferris Energy. Got a better offer somewhere else.”
“Why did you pay him fifty thousand dollars from your personal account?”
“What? I never paid him a cent beyond his salary.” Ferris crossed his arms.
“Did he go to Bellingham on the company dime around the time Professor Delacroix was murdered?”
Ferris grimaced. “He was the one who drove your car from Sea-Tac.”
Fenway stiffened. “Grayheath drove my car to Estancia?”
“Yes. As part of the job. Ferris Energy reimbursed his expenses for the trip—meals, hotels, gas—but I didn’t pay him anything that he didn’t get through salary or bonuses. If someone says I paid him fifty grand, they’re lying.”
“No payments from your personal accounts?”
“No.”
“Not murder for hire?”
“Is this what they’re using as evidence? A payment to Grayheath when he was in Seattle? And they’re saying I hired him to kill your professor?”
“I don’t know what they have on you, Dad. I’m saying there’s a money trail to a man who was in Seattle the same day Solomon Delacroix was murdered. I don’t know how the police are connecting the dots.”
Ferris sneered and shook his head. “I never hired Peter Grayheath to kill anyone.”
“But you sent him to Sea-Tac to pick up my car.”
“Yes.”
“Is he another one of your super-secret executive vice-presidents in charge of security? Maybe another one who takes special measures into their own hands?”
“Come on, Fenway. That’s not fair.”
“Well, is he? You sent him there in your private jet.”
Ferris ran his hands through his hair and stared at the table. “Holy shit,” he said under his breath, lifting his head. “I’m being framed.”
Fenway looked into her father’s face. He didn’t seem like he was lying, but the facts weren’t in dispute. Grayheath went to Seattle. The next morning, Professor Delacroix was murdered. The next day, fifty thousand dollars transferred from an account in her father’s name to Grayheath.
Yes, it was circumstantial, and yes, Grayheath would need to testify to convict her father of murder for hire, but Fenway couldn’t think of another scenario that fit all the facts.
“Did anyone else stay with Grayheath in Seattle?” Fenway asked.
“No. The pilot and the staff of the plane were with him only until he disembarked.”
Fenway shook her head. She knew it cost him over twenty-five thousand dollars for the plane to take off and land, and she couldn’t believe he just snapped his fingers and sent a lackey there.
Ferris kept talking. “He was supposed to go right to Sea-Tac to get the car, get dinner, get to the hotel, and start driving down the next morning.”
“Why did you pick him?”
“I thought I could trust him. I was—look, the whole thing was kind of spur-of-the-moment.”
“Did the guy have a particularly good interview with you?”
“I don’t remember. You’d have to talk to hr, I guess.”
“I thought you were hands-on with your security staff. Picked people you trusted.”
Ferris narrowed his eyes. “Some people wanted to have a little more oversight into my hiring practices.”
“Are you talking about the board of directors?”
“Yes.”
“Cynthia Schimmelhorn, or someone else?”
“I don’t know who started the idea. I got a memo from the board that all security personnel would be vetted by hr before hiring.”
“But you still interviewed them, right?”
“The high-up people, yes, of course, but not someone like Peter Grayheath.”
“You had a complete stranger drive my Accord two thousand miles from Seattle.” Fenway paused. As unlikely as a frame-up was, she couldn’t contain her curiosity. “Could he have gone up to Bellingham to kill Professor Delacroix without you knowing about it?”
“If you mean whether he had time to do it—I guess he could have. I wasn’t tracking him. I figured he’d stop for a good meal and dawdle a while, stretch his legs ev
ery couple of hours. Upgrade his hotel room on the company dime, maybe.” Ferris shook his head. “But I don’t think he’d drive to Bellingham and murder someone.”
“It’s almost two hours from Sea-Tac to Bellingham,” Fenway said. “Plus he had to find the professor, kill him, take his body to the Squalicum Waterway, dump it, and make it look like an accident. That would take an extra five hours. You didn’t notice?”
“He didn’t arrive late.” Ferris scratched his head. “Listen, I told him I wanted him on the road by nine or nine thirty. I figured I didn’t want him fighting through rush-hour traffic. I suppose he could have gotten up early.”
Fenway nodded. “Yeah. He could have gotten up at four or four thirty, been to Western Washington in time for the Professor’s swim.”
“And there wouldn’t be much traffic that early.”
“On the way back, there would be, though. Even if the body was in the waterway at seven thirty or eight—which is pretty fast, if you ask me—that puts him in that shitty Seattle traffic.”
Ferris shrugged. “Maybe it puts him two hours off schedule. So he grabs fast food instead of a sit-down place for lunch and dinner and makes it to the hotel in Ashland in plenty of time.”
Fenway nodded, though the timeline did nothing to prove her father’s innocence. “Yeah, that works.”
Ferris looked down at the table. “Did he provide any details? Did he confess to what he did?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. I think the Bellingham police are the ones who followed the evidence on this one.”
“Didn’t that black detective question you?”
“Black detective, Dad?”
Ferris coughed. “You know what I mean. That detective down from Washington. He had the deep voice, kind of like Barry White.”
Fenway closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Yes, Dad, I know who you’re talking about. Detective Ridley.”
“Right. Ridley. That was his name. You talked to him a few times. Maybe you built a rapport with him.”
“A rapport, Dad? You think since we’re both black we built up some kind of rapport with each other? Maybe we have some secret jive handshake? Or bust into an improvised rap contest?”
The Upstaged Coroner Page 16
