by Blake Banner
“Now look at the bottle.”
“Son of a bitch! It’s two thirds empty.”
“So who’s been drinking the wine?”
“What does it mean? There was somebody else there? But why would somebody else drink their wine, Stone? It doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t make sense.”
The internal phone rang. Dehan snatched it up, nodded a couple of times and said, “Yes, sir, we’ll be right up.” She hung up. “The chief wants us to put him up to speed. Varufakis is there.”
“He’s there, already?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Boy’s keen.”
I picked up the printed copies of Am Nielsen’s message to me and we climbed the stairs. The inspector’s door was open. Dehan knocked and we went in. The Assistant DA was seated opposite the inspector at his desk, and stood as we entered. He was smiling a little too hard.
“Detectives! You certainly move fast. It seems it was just a few hours ago!”
I shook his proffered hand and said, “It was.”
The inspector was also on his feet, gesturing at chairs. “Please, close the door and sit, and tell us what’s been happening.” As we sat, he added, “I don’t have to say that, until we have assessed the evidence and come to some kind of determination, whatever we discuss in this room is utterly confidential.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “No, sir, you don’t need to say that.” I looked at Varufakis. “We are well aware of the sensitive nature of the case, sir, but I am still very far from clear as to what is relevant evidence and what is not.”
The ADA nodded. “Why don’t we assess it as we go along, John? Believe me when I tell you that I am not sure myself, as yet.”
Dehan leaned forward in her chair, with her elbows on her knees. “We went to the Dare 2 Dream Club last night. There we met a guy who goes by the name of Mohamed, but whose real name is Daniel Brand. He was Dr. Jose Robles’ lover. Apparently they were quite serious, until Robles met you, sir, and you started your relationship. Then he broke up with Brand. Brand remembered you and identified you from a photograph.”
The inspector half stood. “You showed him a photograph of the assistant district attorney?”
I nodded. “Of course I did. There were no identifying features, except his face.” I turned to Costas. “Brand recognized you, sir, from dancing with Robles.”
He seemed to sag into his chair. “It wasn’t my finest hour, Detectives.”
I shrugged. “It’s not an issue, sir. But you need to decide whether you want to keep it secret or not. As long as you keep it secret, but continue to go to clubs like the Dare 2 Dream, you are at risk, and your professional integrity is compromised because you expose yourself to blackmail.”
Varufakis nodded again. He looked sick. “You are right, of course, but I am married, John, and I have two young children. The Greek community is not the most tolerant on this issue.”
Dehan sighed. “Brand was here this morning, shortly after ten. He made a statement.”
The inspector looked mad and flopped back in his chair, eyeing the Assistant DA. “Which brings us to the events of this morning.”
I handed them each a copy of Am’s suicide note and let them read it. When he’d finished, the ADA said, “This is a confession.”
I gave my head a slight sideways jerk that said it was and it wasn’t. “Technically it’s a confession because he says he killed Dr. Robles. It is on his phone, but it is not signed by him. We’re checking to see who the last person was who typed on that screen. Whether it is a true confession is still a moot point.”
He frowned. “What do you mean? You have reason to doubt the veracity of it?”
“I’m not satisfied. There are a number of things about it that worry me.”
The inspector scratched his chin. “Like what, John?”
“Small things that could be significant: for a start, his language.”
He narrowed his eyes. “His language?”
Dehan answered. “Am was a self confessed clown. He used to adopt different personas. When he first called us, he adopted the persona of a black gangster from the Bronx, but when we went to see him, he claimed to be from Colorado and he acted the part of a Colorado redneck trying to integrate into the Bronx black community. He was a very complex character, sir. When we surprised him with his friends, at the university, his speech was perfectly normal, and so was his behavior. However, Stone thinks, and I agree, that the language in the note is affectedly redneck. It’s not authentic.”
Varufakis burst out laughing. “That is hardly reason to dismiss his confession, detectives!”
I said, “That is just one thing. The other is the wine. It seems to me the glasses of wine were staged. The lab tells us neither Robles nor Agnes drank from their glasses, yet both glasses have only a small amount of wine in them, and the bottle is only a third full. Yet Robles had contempt for American wine, and Agnes knew this. She would not have given him California wine. The wine in her house and in his house is all Spanish. She was at pains to please him. Nor would she have allowed Nielsen to give him California wine if she was trying to help him win Robles over. So what is that wine doing there—and who drank it?”
The Assistant DA sighed heavily. “OK, knowing Jose quite well, I can confirm that he did consider California wine beneath contempt and would not have drunk it. But it was an affectation. He played the arrogant, aggressive, control freak, but underneath he was actually a kind, humane person. It is entirely possible that Nielsen brought a bottle with him, Jose sniffed it and refused to drink it while Nielsen and Agnes drank a glass each. After shooting Jose, he would have washed his own glass and, as he said, set the scene to frame Agnes.”
I nodded. “Yes, that is an explanation, but it’s not what happened.”
“Excuse me? Based on what?”
“Based on my knowledge of the characters involved.”
“I think I know Jose somewhat better than you do, Detective!”
“Yes, and your view is subjective and your judgment biased. Agnes would not have allowed Dr. Robles even to see that bottle. If she called him to come to her house, at that time of night, to intercede on Am’s behalf, she would have had a bottle of Rioja or Ribera del Duera Reserva or Gran Reserva. I saw bottles of both in her kitchen. It makes no sense that she would allow that bottle of California wine to be served.”
He shook his head and his eyes were bright. “It’s absurd.”
I looked at the inspector. “I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Varufakis has a vested interest in having this case closed without his relationship to Dr. Robles becoming public knowledge, and if I can avoid that, I will. But I am not going to close a case on the strength of an unsigned confession which I believe to be unsafe.” I looked Varufakis in the eye and added. “I also think that your relationship with Dr. Robles gives you a conflict of interests and you should not be involved in this investigation.”
“I was the one who pressed for this investigation, for God’s sake!”
“Yes, and now you need to distance yourself from it, sir.”
The ADA was about to reply, but the inspector cut across him. “They’re right, Costas. You know yourself that they are. We will do our level best to keep your name out of it, but this is a murder investigation and we have to follow the evidence—wherever it leads.”
He was quiet for a long while, then looked at me and his eyes were angry. “You have a confession!”
“I have a confession I believe to be unsafe. And frankly, Costas, you should have come clean about your involvement from the start.”
He stood and moved to the door. Dehan stopped him. “Mr. Varufakis?”
He turned. “What is it, Detective?”
“You’re asking us for latitude and understanding, to bend the rules for you, but I want to ask you something. If a colleague of yours had done what you have done, only with a woman instead of a man, would you expect us to be understanding and give him latitude?” He stared at
her, but didn’t answer. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “A man who cheats on his wife is a rat and deserves what he gets, it makes no difference if he cheats with a man or a woman. If you have kids, that makes you twice the rat because you’re risking their happiness and their wellbeing too. Go home to your wife and kids and pray your affair isn’t relevant to the investigation. And while you’re about it, grow up. You’re a big boy now.”
He left and closed the door behind him. We were quiet for a moment, then Dehan shrugged. “I got no time for cheats. You make a commitment, you stand by it. End of story.”
“Indeed.” The inspector nodded. “I can’t argue with you on that. But where does this leave us? Are you serious about this confession? You know I’ll back you up whatever you decide, but I have to agree with Costas, you have a confession, and your doubts seem to be founded on some pretty slim evidence. The wine and the language… Both may have perfectly simple explanations.”
I nodded. “Oh, I agree, sir, we could probably come up with a number of explanations, but they would not satisfy Occam’s razor. They would not be the most simple answers. We would be making the evidence fit the answer, not the other way around.”
“Well, what is the most simple explanation, if not that the confession is true? Either Agnes Shine killed him, and for some reason this Am Nielsen is confessing to the crime, or the confession is true and Dr. Shine is dead too. It has to be one or the other, surely!”
Dehan nodded. “I agree. Besides, Stone, you said yourself in the car that you knew Am Nielsen had shot Robles. I am getting pretty confused about what you think happened here.”
I shook my head. “No, the most simple explanation is that Am Nielsen shot Dr. Robles, but Agnes Shine was not there to advise him about the wine.” I looked at them both in turn and smiled. “We need to find Agnes Shine.”
FOURTEEN
The deputy inspector’s eyes had glazed over and he had nodded a few times as though he had some idea of what I was talking about. Finally, he’d told us to carry on, we were doing a fine job and to keep him posted. We had left him shaking his head at the cold, gray window, and Dehan had followed me downstairs with the wooden motions of a string puppet, staring at her feet as she took each step. We had sat at the desk and she had watched me pick up the phone and call Dr. Patricia Meigh, with a small frown on her forehead.
“Dr. Meigh, this is Detective John Stone.”
“Good afternoon, Detective, how can I help you? I hope you found what you were looking for the other day, or not, as the case may be.”
“Thank you,” I said, somewhat ambiguously. “Things have moved on a little since then.”
“Are you any closer to identifying Jose’s killer?”
“Oh, yes, indeed we are, but there are a few things which I am not one hundred percent clear about, Dr. Meigh. I was wondering if you would be willing to come in before you head off for Maine, and just tidy up a few loose ends for us.”
“Of course, Detective. I would be happy to. When would suit you?”
“Could you manage it this afternoon?”
“In about an hour?”
I made a ‘well, that’s surprising’ face at Dehan and said, “An hour would be superb. Thank you, Dr. Meigh.”
Dehan said, “She is very cooperative,” and sounded worried. “Are you sure you’re on the right track?”
“No.”
“You’re not?”
“No, because I don’t know what track I am on. I am just following the inconsistencies.”
“Yeah, you say that, and then you say,” she put on an absurd male voice, “‘Oh, yeah, well, I knew all along that Am shot him, that was obvious!’”
I smiled. “Well, it was kind of obvious, you must admit. But I didn’t know why and I still don’t. Just as I am convinced Agnes was not there when Am killed Robles, but I don’t know why, or where she was.”
“So how can Meigh help?”
“I think there’s an at least even chance she knows where Agnes is.”
“So there is something in my theory?”
“I told you, it was a brilliant theory, Dehan.”
Today was my day for being subtly ambiguous.
Forty-five minutes later, Dr. Meigh showed up in a gleaming white Audi and was shown up to interrogation room one. We followed a couple of minutes later. She was sitting at the table in a pale blue suit with a white blouse and a string of pearls around her neck. She had a dark blue cashmere coat folded on the table. Her hair was carelessly perfect and she smiled as we came in. I was struck again by how large her presence was, considering how petite she was.
Dehan returned the smile and said, “It is very good of you to come in, Dr. Meigh. We know how busy you are.”
“I am happy to help.”
We sat and I leaned my elbows on the table. “Dr. Meigh, let me come straight to the point. Where is Agnes Shine?”
Her eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t lose her smile or her cool. “I have no idea! What on Earth makes you think I know?”
“Because you lied to us about how close you were.”
“I certainly did not.”
“You led us to believe that you were little more than acquaintances, Dr. Meigh…”
“I believe what I said was that she was as close to me as she was to anybody, except Jose. And that is true.”
“Which was actually a misleading answer. We asked you how close you were, but you didn’t mention that she went to stay with you every weekend.”
“Why should I? I don’t see how that is remotely relevant.”
“Is that where she is now?”
“Don’t be absurd!”
I sat back and Dehan frowned. “In what way exactly is that absurd, Dr. Meigh?”
“Do you really think I would risk my career and my position at the university by harboring a fugitive from the law?”
Dehan’s frown deepened. “I don’t know. Would you?”
“Of course not! Look here, is this what this interview is going to consist of? You bullying me about my friendship with Agnes?”
I smiled amiably. “No. You were friends then? More than simply acquaintances?”
“Yes, of course we were.”
“Had she told you about Dr. Robles’ visits to the Dare 2 Dream Club?”
She hesitated. “She hinted that his attraction for Alicia was possibly a front.”
“And what about Am Nielsen?”
“What about him?”
“You were initially against his joining Dr. Robles’ research team.”
“Well, he was a bit of a clown.”
“You told us you didn’t know who he was.”
“You reminded me and I refreshed my memory. As I say, he was a clown.”
“But he proved to be an asset in the end.”
“He was a good student, and Jose seemed to like him. Jose was effectively leading the research, it was his choice of team.”
“They were close.”
“Quite close, yes.”
“Do you think they were lovers?”
She looked genuinely startled. “Good heavens, no!”
“You seem very certain.”
“Well, it just never occurred to me…”
“Dr. Meigh, where is the missing part of Dr. Robles’ research?”
“What?”
“What you showed us the other day was incomplete. The developments he was working on with Am Nielsen were not there.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Where is the rest of his research?”
“What I showed you is everything we have. There is nothing else.”
I sighed and drummed my fingers on the table for a moment. “You described Dr. Robles as brilliant. You described both him and Agnes as brilliant.”
“They were. I hope she still is.”
“Yet what you showed us at your house was nothing but a very pedestrian review of existing technology. That is not exactly what you could describe as brillia
nt.”
Her cheeks colored. She drew breath, hesitated and looked away. “Look, Detective, I am a scientist, but my position at the university means that most of my work is administrative. You might even say political. I represent the interests of the university. I deal a lot with Washington and major industrial interests. I quite simply have no time for actual research. So I delegate it. My team’s published work will credit Dr. Patricia Meigh et al. But the truth is it is the et al who do the actual scientific investigation. I employ people like Dr. Robles, they benefit from the university’s reputation and financial clout, and I benefit from their brilliance.”
I nodded. “You’re an academic. Your interest is in the corner office.”
“That is a little uncharitable, but yes, essentially that is how it works. My point is I have not actually examined Jose’s work in some time. I know in general terms what it is about and what it aims to achieve, but I have not reviewed it for several months. We were due to go over it in January, in fact.”
I grunted. “Well, if I were you, I would review it a damn sight sooner than that, because all the key developments are missing.”
I waited for her to say something, but she just stared at me. Dehan said: “While we are on the subject, Dr. Meigh, perhaps you could explain something to me.”
Meigh’s eyes shifted. She was beginning to look alarmed. “What?”
“If you are not personally involved in the research, why was it at your house? Why wasn’t it at the university, or at Dr. Robles’ house?”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “You are determined to see me as a villain in all this, and you are going to pick on every tiny irregularity.”
Dehan shook her head. “Not at all, we are just asking you to explain. Can you?”
“Yes, of course I can. I just told you we were planning a review of the team’s work in January, immediately after Christmas.”
I said, “When you got back from Maine.”
“Yes. I was planning a get together with the team for a long weekend. We would eat, drink, discuss the work and do a bit of brainstorming. Science is a creative business, and we work best in a relaxed environment like that. So we had started shipping the research over. It is entirely possible that the more advanced stuff is in electronic format at the lab in the university.”
