Don't Be A Stranger

by Alicia Roberts

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Darren’s office was a large skyscraper in the middle of the financial district.

  Jerry called some of his friends and managed to find someone who worked in the same building. When he got off the phone, he turned to me and said, “The place is closed on Saturdays. But there should be a guard who can talk to us.”

  I nodded and we set out. I stopped by the Precinct first, to drop off the envelope – and made Jerry wait downstairs. I knew he was out on bail, but I still felt nervous taking him inside.

  After I’d asked Sara why she was working on a Saturday (a big, important case she couldn’t tell me about) and handed her the envelope, I went back downstairs to where Jerry was waiting for me, and we made a beeline to Darren’s office.

  The financial district was eerily quiet when we got out of the subway, and it felt a little creepy to walk through the revolving doors of an office on a Saturday.

  The two guards at reception watched us as we walked over. One was a light-haired man in his fifties reading a paper, and the other was a young, good-looking African-American reading something on his tablet.

  “How can I help you?” said the paper-reading guard, half-putting his paper away.

  “I’m a private investigator,” I said. “I’m trying to talk to the guard who was working here last Friday.”

  The two men glanced at each other, and the tablet-reader said, “Is anything wrong?”

  “Oh no, nothing in this building. But someone gave this place as his alibi – I mean, he said he was here that night.”

  “I know what an alibi is,” said the tablet-reader drily.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to imply that. It’s just that – alibi is such an ugly word.”

  Jerry coughed suspiciously and I glared at him. “Well, it is. It’s not like the man’s a suspect or anything,” I explained to the guards. “We just want to know if he was really here.”

  “Let me guess,” said the paper-reader. “His wife wants to know if he was actually working late, or if he was out with another woman.”

  I sighed. “Not exactly.”

  “For all we know,” said the tablet-reader, “you’re the jealous wife herself!”

  “She’s not,” said Jerry. “She can show you her PI license, if you want.”

  “It was a joke,” said the tablet-reader. “We were joking. Don’t PIs have any sense of humor?”

  “Anyway,” said the paper-reader, bringing up some files on the computer in front of him. “The man you’re looking for is Terrance O’Brian.”

  “Great.” I nodded and looked at Jerry. “Where do we find him?”

  “Well, I’m really not meant to give out contact details,” said the guard.

  “Oh.” I looked at Jerry, disappointed, and then looked back at the guard. “Can’t you make an exception? I mean, you would if I were NYPD.”

  “Cops are the worst,” said the paper-reader.

  “Yeah,” chimed in the tablet-reader. “All that racial profiling they do? It’s disgusting.”

  “Well,” I said, trying to find a way in, “It is disgusting. But I’m not a cop. So maybe you could tell me something?”

  The two guards looked at each other, and the tablet-reader peered over onto the computer screen and pressed some buttons.

  “Ok,” he said finally. “I can’t tell you anything. But you might want to come by the office tonight. Say, any time after nine. Make it any time after ten, just to be on the safe side.”

  “Thanks!” I said, smiling happily. “We’ll be here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jerry went off to the gym, and I made an important phone call.

  “Veronica Bates? Hi, you don’t know me, but you’ve probably heard the news about the lawyer who was representing you?”

  She had heard the news, and after I explained to her that I was a PI looking into the case, I asked if she’d be willing to meet me for a quick chat.

  “Ok,” she said, sounding a little doubtful. “How about this afternoon, for coffee?”

  “That sounds great! Would the Upper West Side work for you? It would? Excellent.” I gave her the address of a quiet café near my apartment, and we hung up, promising to see each other soon.

  I thought back to Kevin and Jerry telling me that Esme had claimed to have a boyfriend. Darren said he didn’t know anything about that, but I wondered if there was a smidgeon of truth to what Esme had told Kevin and Jerry.

  The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Esme did, in fact, have a secret boyfriend. Maybe Michelle would know something.

  “I’m in the Hamptons tonight,” Michelle said when she answered her phone, “But maybe we can meet tomorrow. I’ve got a brunch at that place, Jane’s, near the High Line?” I didn’t know it, but I figured I could look it up online. “I can meet you afterwards, at twelve?”

  “Great, I’ll be there!”

  We hung up, and I flipped open my laptop to find the café she was talking about. Although I hadn’t found out anything concrete yet, I got the feeling that I was making headway in this investigation.

  I wasn’t sure what it was, but I could just tell that I was about to make an important connection. It was a strong, gut feeling, and it just wouldn’t go away.

  ***

  I took Jerry with me to meet Veronica Bates. It was a perfect spring afternoon, but as I closed the apartment door behind us, we glanced at each other and then down the hall.

  There was nobody there, and nobody seemed to be watching us as we stepped out the building and across the street. I wondered if the psychopath only stalked on weekdays. Well, we’d find out in a few hours.

  The café I’d picked was a little run-down, and only served so-so coffee and a small selection of pastries. The furniture consisted of a few plain wooden tables and chairs, but it was a better place to meet for a chat than the busy Starbucks a few blocks down the street.

  Veronica Bates was already waiting for me when I got there. She was a stunning woman with inky-black hair and sharp features, and she blinked in surprise when she saw Jerry.

  “This is my associate,” I explained half-apologetically, hoping that she wouldn’t be scared off. “I should’ve mentioned over the phone, we’re working the case together.”

  “Oh, ok.”

  So far, she hadn’t run off in fear and suspicion, and I plunged straight in. “I’m trying to find out about Esme. I feel like I’m missing a part of the picture, and I was hoping you could tell me what she was like.”

  The conversation paused for a few seconds, as a waitress came by to take our order. We ordered cappuccinos each, no food, and when the waitress was gone, Veronica said, “Esme seemed nice enough. She was a really good lawyer, and I felt comfortable with her, because you know, she was also a woman.”

  “Right.” I nodded. “What was the case about?”

  Veronica glanced at Jerry and I said, “He can leave if you’re not comfortable.”

  Veronica shook her head. “No, it’s fine. It was a… well, I brought charges against my boss. Former boss, I mean.”

  “Oh.”

  She spoke slowly, trying to find the right words. “He was… always very complimentary. He was always saying things, and they made me uncomfortable. So I went to HR, and they said they’d have a word with him. But he didn’t change.”

  I frowned, not liking where this was going. It was uncomfortably like what had happened to me, and how I’d gotten fired two years ago.

  Veronica stopped talking when she saw the waitress approaching us with the coffees, and she waited till the waitress had left before she started talking again. “I thought HR hadn’t said anything to him. So I spoke to him myself. I said I didn’t like some of the things he said. He laughed about it, but then I got angry and said that I’d speak with his boss.”

  I pursed my lips and nodded. “How’d that go?”

  Veronica smiled bitterly. “Well, next thing I know, I’m being fired. For
tardiness! I’ve never been tardy in my life!” Her eyes clouded up. “And of course I can’t get another job. Because they won’t give me a recommendation.”

  I reached over and squeezed her hand. “That must be so tough.” I knew just how tough, but I didn’t mention that.

  Veronica nodded. “It’s not like I want a lot of money. I just want to be able to pay my bills, and get another job.”

  I pushed aside my memories, and forced myself to concentrate on what she was saying, but it was hard. When she stopped talking, I couldn’t find anything to say. Thankfully, Jerry jumped in. “That’s terrible. But was Esme helping you get a settlement?”

  Veronica nodded. “Oh, yes. Esme did a lot of digging and found out that my boss had been in trouble with HR at his previous job. And then she said that if the HR person I’d spoken to was subpoenaed, they’d admit in court that I’d complained about it a few weeks before getting fired.”

  “Wow.” I was impressed, and proud of Esme.

  Jerry said, “So you were just about to settle?”

  “No, Esme said to keep pushing for more. But the talks were going well.”

  “That’s great!” I felt happy for her. It would’ve been easy for me to envy her, given the similarities between how we’d lost our jobs, but my situation had been different. I’d had no legal options, and nobody other than my family had believed me. Veronica had a whole group of people supporting her and I was glad that for once, an innocent woman wouldn’t have to suffer.

  Jerry said, “Did you and Esme get on well?”

  “Of course,” said Veronica. “She was very good to me. Always went out of her way for me.”

  “Like how?” said Jerry.

  “Well, one time, when things weren’t going well, and the case had just started, I wanted to give up. I called Esme and told her I’d just drop the whole thing. But then she took me out for drinks, and convinced me to stick it out.”

  “Where’d you go for drinks?” asked Jerry.

  “Belvedere’s.”

  Jerry nodded. “Fancy.”

  “Yeah. We hung out for a few hours, and then she had to leave because she had dinner plans.”

  I sat up a little straighter. “Do you know who with?”

  Veronica looked at me, amused by my sudden alertness. “No. But I’d assume with a boyfriend.”

  Jerry and I exchanged glances, and I said, “What makes you say that?”

  Veronica shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. The fact that when she was leaving she said something like, ‘I have to rush off to my dinner date.’ Why’d she call it a date if it wasn’t a boyfriend?”

  Why indeed?

  “I told you she was seeing someone,” said Jerry triumphantly.

  Veronica gave me a puzzled look.

  “He asked her out, once,” I explained to her.

  She smiled at Jerry sympathetically. “Well, I’m pretty sure she had a boyfriend.”

  I nodded. Even though we didn’t have any concrete evidence, I felt that way myself.

  ***

  After a quick dinner at home – for once, Jerry agreed to have takeout! – we headed back to the financial district.

  The earlier creepiness of the morning was nothing compared to how empty and silent the streets were on a Saturday night. I was glad I had Jerry there with me – it seemed like the perfect hangout for rapists and murderers.

  When we got to the building, the revolving door refused to move. So we walked over to the side, where there was a glass door, and a big red button labelled, “After Hours Visitors, Please Press.”

  As after-hours visitors, we pressed the button down for a few seconds. It took almost two minutes before a wide, middle-aged guard with wiry brown hair opened the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you Terrence O’Brian?” I said.

  He looked at me suspiciously. “Yes?”

  “My name’s Valerie Inkerman, I’m a private investigator.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I explained to him that I was investigating a murder, but his enthusiasm level didn’t go up one notch. I suppose anyone who goes into the financial district on a Saturday night is someone to be regarded with skepticism, but the reasoning didn’t make me feel any better.

  “Did you see anyone leaving work last Friday night, at around midnight?” I asked.

  Terrence gave me a funny look. “That’s more than a week ago.”

  “I know,” Jerry said. “But it was a Friday night, and midnight. I’m sure most people don’t leave work then.”

  Terrence pursed his lips and looked from Jerry to me.

  “Please think back,” I said. “We’d really appreciate it.”

  “Ok,” he said. “I’ve thunk back.”

  “And?” I said hopefully. His words would exonerate Darren.

  Terrence shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t remember seeing anyone.”

  I stared at him, shocked.

  “Really?” said Jerry, sounding overly happy. “Are you sure? No-one left around midnight?”

  “Nope.”

  “Maybe he left a little earlier,” I said desperately. “Or a little later. Let me find a photo for you.”

  I fished my smartphone out of my bag, and Terrence crossed his arms over his chest as I Googled up images of Darren. Thankfully, I found one that seemed pretty recent.

  “Have you seen this man?” I asked, shoving my phone in his face.

  Terrence stared at it for a few seconds, and then shook his head. “Nope.”

  I looked at Jerry. “Maybe it’s an old photo. Maybe you’ve got a better one?”

  It was a desperate hope – there was no reason for Jerry to carry around photos of Darren, but I tried.

  Jerry shook his head. “Nope. Sorry.”

  I looked at Terrence again. “Are you sure you haven’t seen him? Are you sure?”

  Terrence sighed and gave Jerry a long look. I turned just in time to see Jerry shrugging slightly.

  “Maybe you fell asleep,” I suggested. “It must get boring working nights, and midnight is pretty late.”

  Terrence gave me an angry look and was about to step away. “Please don’t leave!” I said. “I didn’t mean that you were lazy. I mean, I didn’t, uh…”

  I looked at Jerry hopefully and he rescued me. “Is there any chance at all that you could’ve dozed off for a second or two, long enough for the man to leave without you noticing?”

  “There’s a slim chance,” said Terrence. “I was on some cold medication.” He gave me a harsh look. “I’m not lazy.”

  “No, I didn’t say that you were! I said that you weren’t lazy.”

  “Uh-huh.” Terrence looked back at Jerry. “But even if I didn’t see him, he’d be on the surveillance footage.”

  “Great,” said Jerry. “Thanks for your time. We really appreciate it. And I hope your cold got better.”

  I walked away with Jerry feeling glum.

  “I can’t believe this,” I moaned. “Darren was so confident when he said the guard had seen him.”

  “Hey,” said Jerry as we headed toward the subway station. “Maybe he did fall asleep. And even if Darren had left early, it doesn’t mean he killed Esme. Or was even in the Hamptons.”

  “Exactly. He wasn’t at the party. And if he came in later, someone would’ve seen him.”

  “Unless he broke in. And was planning to get away because everyone would suspect the guests and caterers, but not someone who broke in.”

  “How could he break in?” I shook my head. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Maybe. But maybe something was going on.”

  “Why would Darren lie about what he was doing?”

  “Because he didn’t think you’d follow it up?”

  I shook my head. “No, I think the guard just fell asleep.”

  But my voice lacked conviction.

  I knew I’d have to talk to Darren – I needed to find out what was really going on.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The next
morning, Jerry and I avoided talking about Darren for all of thirty minutes. Finally, over the pancakes he’d made, Jerry said, “Are you gonna call him?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I have to think about it.”

  Jerry nodded. “I’ll try to find someone who can let us watch the surveillance tapes.”

  “Do you know anyone in the security firm?”

  “Not really. But maybe I’ll know someone who knows someone. Wow, this is PI stuff is really forcing me to get in touch with everyone I’ve ever met.”

  I smiled. “At least they’ll still talk to you.”

  ***

  I turned up five minutes early to the brunch place Michelle had mentioned.

  Jane’s was a super-trendy, light and airy café with creamy wooden tables and chairs. The outside tables had large potted palms interspersed between them, and it was easy to spot Michelle – she was sitting at one of the tables with three other women, wearing dark sunglasses and air-kissing her friends goodbye.

  I went up to her as soon as her friends had left. “Had a good brunch?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “But I’m a little hung-over. Had too much to drink last night.”

  Well, that explained the sunglasses.

  A waiter materialized and began clearing up the used plates. Michelle and I asked for two coffees, and he nodded reluctantly and left. Once we were alone, I said, “You party a lot?”

  I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I sounded condescending and bitchy, and I hated that. I’d meant it to be a polite question, not a judgment on how she lived.

  Michelle shrugged. “The friends I was out with last Friday said you didn’t talk to them.”

  “I didn’t. I went to the club instead, and watched the video footage.”

  There was a brief, awkward silence and then Michelle said, “You must think I can’t grow up.”

  She sounded hurt and embarrassed, and I shook my head. “No. I don’t – I don’t know what to think, honestly. I’m sure lots of women your age, with your kind of money, behave the same way. Isn’t Paris Hilton almost forty now?”

  Michelle sighed. “I never wanted to be Paris Hilton. Believe it or not, I wanted to be a doctor.”