by Philip Cox
‘Almost certainly, but if someone knows they’re on CCTV, they can do stuff like cover their faces, put up hoods, just to make identification difficult. We know what time window we have; we’re checking the CCTV now.’
Roberts turned to Chrissy, as Will stepped out of the kitchen to call his office. ‘And so,’ she said, ‘once you got to the scene, what happened?’
‘As I got to the top of the escalator, Louise ran up to me to tell me a man had been hurt in the men’s room; Will told me what had happened, and told me to take Louise home.’
‘On the way home, did your daughter say anything to you about the incident?’
‘Not really. She seemed rather quiet, so I just decided to leave it. She didn’t actually see anything, after all. Why? You’re not telling me you’re going to need to talk to her as well?’
Roberts shook her head. ‘I don’t expect we will. From your husband’s evidence, she wouldn’t have been able to add anything. We took a DNA sample from your husband yesterday, and there’s no match with the victim. By the way - did your husband tell you the man died at the scene?’
‘Yes, he did. My God, how awful. Who was he?’
‘I can’t quite say at this time. He was carrying ID, but until we’ve traced any family…’
‘I understand. Did you call the office?’ Chrissy asked Will, who had just come back in.
‘Yes. I asked for Dan, but it seems he’s out this morning as well.’
Roberts said, ‘Thank you for your time, Mrs Carter. If there’s anything else you remember in the days to come, here’s my direct number.’ She passed Chrissy a business card, then turned to Will. ‘So if you’re ready Mr Carter, we’ll head off.’
There was a knock at the front door.
‘I expect that’s Alvarez,’ Roberts said. ‘I didn’t take as long here as I thought.’
Will and Roberts said their goodbyes to Chrissy and Louise who was sitting at the top of the stairs, and left. Detective Alvarez was waiting outside.
‘We’re done here,’ Roberts said to her partner. ‘Let’s just take Mr Carter here uptown so he can give his statement and get back to work.’
The two officers led Will fifty yards or so to their car, and within twenty minutes they were pulling up at police headquarters. Will looked around as Alvarez parked. It was a four storey, beige coloured building, with a set of dark green double doors at each end. The front of the building, between the first and second floors, was emblazoned with metal letters midtown north precinct. Just above the o of north a flagpole protruded, on which hung the American flag. The building was sandwiched between an apartment block and its large parking garage and a five storey structure which at the time was covered with blue hoardings and canvas.
54th Street was comparatively narrow, and even with the traffic flowing one way, towards Broadway, clearances were tight. Other police vehicles were parked here, at a forty-five degree angle with the rear wheels parked on the kerb and sidewalk. Alvarez did the same. Once parked, Roberts and Alvarez led Will into the building and up to the Detective Suite on the second floor.
SEVEN
On arrival at police headquarters, everything seemed to go smoothly and efficiently. Will was ushered into an interview room, offered coffee, and dictated his statement as Detective Alvarez typed it. Alvarez passed the laptop over to Will so he could check for accuracy; once Will had confirmed it was, Alvarez connected the laptop to the printer by the wall, and printed the statement. Will read it one more time, and signed it.
‘Everything okay, sir?’ Alvarez asked. ‘Nothing you want to add?’
Will shook his head.
‘Or change?’
Will shook his head again. ‘No.’
Alvarez stood up. ‘I’ll just check with Detective Roberts that we’re done here, then you’re free to go.’
Free to go? Have I been under arrest or something? Will thought. He said, ‘Is it likely to be long? I really need to get back to work.’
‘I’ll be back presently.’ Will’s statement in hand, Alvarez left the room.
Will slumped back into his chair as Alvarez left. He stared around the room. Bare walls; minimal furniture - a table, three chairs, a smaller table for the printer - and a large mirror. He looked over at the mirror: fifty says it’s one of those two way things like you see on TV. He considered walking up to the mirror and trying to see though it or pulling a face, but resisted the temptation. Instead he sat in silence, arms folded. He could hear voices outside. He sat up slightly as Alvarez came back in.
‘Well?’ he asked.
‘We’re done here, Mr Carter. Detective Roberts says you’re free to go, and thank you for your help and patience.’
Will stood up. She said somebody would be able to give me a ride to my office. It’s on 45th.’
‘Somebody will, but you might need to wait a while. She and I have to go visit some witnesses right now, and the fellas in uniform are stretched at the moment. You’re welcome to wait here: would you like another coffee? Maybe a doughnut?’
Don’t bother,’ said Will. ‘I’ll get a cab, or the subway.’
‘As you wish, Mr Carter. I’ll just need to log you out of the building.’
*****
In the end, Will walked the nine blocks to his office. There were no cabs around, and by the time he would have found a subway station, gotten down to the platform, waited for a train, climbed back to the street and then walked some more, he could have made the short distance down Ninth Avenue several times. So walk he did, taking twelve minutes door to door.
C & G Estates occupied part of the third floor of a modern, brownstone building. Next door stood a two-storey shop. Fronted in bright yellow bricks, it comprised apartments on the second floor and a small esoteric supermarket below. A bright yellow sign reading amish market stood out on the glass canopy. The apartment building the other side was undergoing refurbishment, the front being hidden by scaffolding. On the other side of the street was another residential building, the first two floors being taken up by a parking garage. C & G Estates rented two spaces here, and it was here where Will would have parked had he gone in by car. Will hated driving in heavy and congested traffic, which was unfortunate for somebody living and working in Manhattan, as Dan Gleave would tell him, but he had always preferred to use the subway. It was only if he was due to travel out of the Borough that he would use the car.
Feeling vindicated by his decision to walk, Will strode past the stationary traffic on 45th. All three lanes were blocked, and horns were already being sounded. Somebody must have been moving either in or out of one of the apartments, as a large removals truck was parked. No less than four FedEx trucks were also parked here, three on Will’s side, and one on the other. A brown UPS vehicle had joined its compatriots, as had a white Post Office truck.
Will looked up the street to see what was causing the gridlock. Only the centre lane was in use, and it looked as if a van was trying to turn into one of the parking garages further up the road, but part of the entrance was being blocked by a parked vehicle. Up ahead, he could hear raised voices under the constant horns. The benefits of not bringing in the car. He wondered what Alvarez or Roberts would have done had they given him the ride they had promised. Dropped him at the end of the street, or switched on the siren?
Still in brisk walking mode, Will eschewed the elevators and bounded up the stairs to the office. May met him at the door. ‘I thought you were never going to get here. I thought for one terrible moment they’d arrested you.’
May following behind, Will strode into his office. He took off his coat and hung it over his chair back. ‘The thought had crossed my mind I was waiting for so long. I walked here.’
‘Walked?’ asked May, a horrified look on her face. ‘I thought you said they were going to give you a ride here.’
‘It was only nine blocks,’ Will explained. ‘From West 54th. And yes, they did say they’d drive me here, but it seemed something came up and they had nobody to spar
e.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah. Between you and me, I think once they’d got what they wanted from me, they lost interest. Anyway, the traffic’s gridlocked down there, so it was probably quicker to walk.’ He looked up. ‘Anything going on? Any calls? Where’s Dan, by the way? You said he wasn’t coming in this morning.’
May sniffed, as she was wont to do when she disapproved of something. ‘He said he’ll be in around lunchtime. Said he had some personal business to take care of.’
Will laughed. ‘Personal business? What’s her name?’
May sniffed again. ‘I – er…’
Will waved his hand dismissively. ‘Just joking, May. What about Eddie? Where’s he?’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Eddie’s had to go over to Queens. You were supposed to collect some keys from Ms Pierre.’
Will slapped his head. ‘Shit, I clean forgot all about that. The police! She called, then?’
‘No. I saw it in your diary, and got Eddie to go over there.’
Will paused. ‘May, you’re a treasure. What would I do without you?’
‘Let’s not go over that ground again.’ She handed Will a list of three phone numbers. ‘These are your call-backs. I’ll give Dan his when he gets in, although…’
‘Mm?’
‘This one’s rung three times already. Says it’s urgent.’ She waved a small slip of paper in the air.
‘I’d better call them then.’ Will held out his hand and looked at the number. ‘I recognise this number. It’s old Mr Clay. Yes, I’d better call him, as Dan’s not in yet. Get me his file, would you? I’ll call him now.’
‘Sure.’ Just as May turned to leave, the telephone outside rang. It was an external call.
Will stood up. ‘Don’t worry, you get that. I’ll get the Clay file.’
As May took the call, Will went into Dan’s office. It was virtually a mirror image of Will’s, exactly the same dimensions. When C & G took up the lease of the premises, that was one of Dan’s stipulations: that their offices must be exactly the same size. Will suspected that if his had been larger than Will’s that would have presented no problem, but then Dan always did have ego issues.
Will tugged at one of Dan’s filing cabinets: it was locked. Will cursed and looked around. Key? He went over to Dan’s desk and pulled out a small tray which fitted above the top drawer. It contained little inserts for paperclips, pens, treasury tags and cabinet keys. Hoping that this was the right key, Will took it out and tried it. Success. He pulled out the Clay file, under C, and locked the drawer, and returned the key to the pull-out shelf. What’s the point in locking a cabinet with a key you keep in an unlocked desk, he thought, shrugging. As he pushed the tray shut, he tested the top drawer. It was unlocked. So were the other drawers. He looked up to check May was occupied on the phone, then looked through Dan’s drawers, one by one, and being sure not to disturb any contents.
There was nothing of any significance in the drawers: pretty much as the same as his, files, stationery, chargers. Will paused as he saw a red file in Dan’s bottom left drawer. It stood out as it was not the same type of file stationery that they used. Will checked for May again, and opened the file. He heard May finish her call, so took a quick glance at the top sheet of paper and closed the file and drawer. He picked up the Clay file and left. ‘Found it,’ he said to May as he walked back to his own office. He sat down and called Mr Clay. After two rings, it went to voicemail. Will left a brief message for them to call back and that Dan would be back in this afternoon.
He leaned back in his chair and skimmed though the Clay file. He whistled: Clay was indeed one of the high net worth clients Dan was always talking about. He shut the file and looked out of his office. He could see Dan’s open door, and felt a little guilty and ashamed about snooping through his partner’s desk. Not that he found anything. In any case, there was something more pressing on Will’s mind.
If only Louise had not needed the bathroom yesterday afternoon, then all this stuff with the police would not be going on.
And that was something else that puzzled him. They had told him he was not a suspect, there was no DNA match, he had given his statement, both verbally and written. Both times, the statements he had given were accurate.
So why did Detectives Roberts and Alvarez keep asking him if he wanted to add something?
EIGHT
It was just after one when Dan finally arrived at the office. Eddie had been back from Queens about an hour; May had instructed him to pick up his lunch on the way back, and now she had herself just gotten back with her own lunch and a salt beef sandwich for Will. Will was struck by the difference in how their two employees spent their lunch break. Eddie was always out for the full sixty minutes, normally entertaining a girlfriend in a coffee shop or deli somewhere; May, on the other hand, was never out for more than ten minutes: just a quick trip to the 7/11 on the corner.
In some ways, Will seemed sorry for May: her husband had been in the Army and seemed to be always away on tours of duty; three years back he was killed by an IED in Iraq, and since then May devoted all her time to C & G Estates. She never discussed any social life she might have, never any mention of anyone she might have been seeing. She had always been a private person, and Will did not want to jeopardise the good working relationship they had, or her value to the company, by going somewhere she clearly did not want to go. Such a shame, he always thought, she was still on the right side of fifty: she and her husband had had no children, and to be alone at such a young age was just not right.
Will heard Dan’s voice outside as he was halfway through his sandwich. He was wiping his mouth with a napkin as Dan stuck his head round into his office.
‘Hey there, buddy,’ Dan said cheerfully. ‘Sorry I was so long.’
‘I’ve not been here long myself.’ Will told Dan what he had been doing that morning. ‘We were all out yesterday afternoon – well, Chrissy, Louise and me; I needed to take Loulou to the bathroom, and while we were in the stall, this guy got attacked. Well, more than attacked - he died later. So I had to go Uptown first thing to make a written statement.’
‘Jesus!’ Dan exclaimed, stepping into Will’s office and flopping down in one of the chairs across the desk. ‘And all this was because of a trip to the mall?’
‘That was a good guess,’ Will said. ‘Yes, we were in the mall. The one up by Columbus Circle. All because of a trip to the mall, and all because Louise needed to take a wiz. How was your morning, by the way? May said you had to take care of some personal business.’
Dan adjusted his jacket collar. ‘Yeah, it’s an account I’ve been trying to court. A guy’s trying to sell some warehouse in Jersey, but the buyer’s mortgage company’s disputing the value of the place. We were talking about how to smarten the place up; you know, raise the value a tad.’
Will laughed. ‘Sounds promising. And there was me thinking you were with some broad.’
Dan laughed too, reddening slightly. ‘Funny.’ He stood up. ‘Any calls for me while I was out?’
‘May has yours, I think. Although there was one urgent one - a guy called Clay. I tried -’
‘I got him earlier. He called me on my cell this morning.’
‘Okay. As long as you got him.’
Just then, Dan’s phone chirped. ‘I gotta take this,’ he said, leaving Will alone with the remains of his salt beef sandwich. He finished the sandwich and the bottle of water May had brought back for him. Then returned to his personal computer and pressed a few keys. Dan had inadvertently made a valid point: since the 2008 recession, both prime and sub-prime lenders, those that were still in business, were far more cautious than they had been before. Sub-prime lenders were those who cared very little about the status of the people to whom they were lending money, relying more on the assumption that the value of the property would increase. Prime lenders, such as Fannie Mae - a colloquial name for the Federal National Mortgage Association - and Freddie Mac - the Federal
Home Loan Mortgage Corporation – had always been more prudent, but these days they could be more cautious than Will would have liked. They were particularly pedantic around values of properties, which could and frequently did affect the selling price, and therefore the commission C & G Estates earned.
Will called up a spreadsheet of his pending clients, and filtered down to those where they were waiting for a positive answer from the mortgage company. Then he would check to see if the property value had been questioned. There were twenty-eight cases to review. Will groaned and clicked on the first.
After the thirteenth, he sat back and stretched. He checked the time - it was 3:05 - and dialled home. It rang half a dozen times before going to voicemail. Will left no message, just hung up and dialled Chrissy’s mobile.
‘Hey there,’ Chrissy breathed down the phone.
‘Hey back,’ replied Will. ‘You out?’
‘U-huh. We’re just walking back from Gelson’s.’
‘But you went shopping yesterday.’
‘I know, but there were a few things I still needed.’
‘Hm. Get everything done this morning?’
‘Er – yes. Yes, I did.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing much. Just a few things about the house. Why?’
‘Just wondered. Is Louise with you, then?’
‘She is, yes, skipping on ahead as usual. I picked her up just before two, then we went to the store. We’re on our way to the park right now. How did this morning go? With the police, I mean.’
‘It went, I guess. They kept me waiting around some, I told them the same as I told them yesterday, and they told me I could go.’
‘You got another ride in a police car? Did they sound the siren?’
‘Not after my statement. They said - Roberts and her partner - they had to go to another crime scene, and there were no uniforms to spare. So I walked.’
‘Walked?’
‘Why not? It’s only nine blocks. Small blocks at that.’
