“Thank you, Gene. Did you want to talk about Terry? This is all his fault.” Mrs. Bishop’s apparent remorse flipped into a filthy hatred, and steam may as well have blown from her ears from speaking his name.
“Yes, ma’am. Being who he is, he certainly is an important person in this case, and we need to understand as much about him as we can. Let’s start with the last time you talked to him.” Gene continued leading, while Marco sat back and wrote notes into his leather-bound notebook. So far he had marked that she definitely went out that night and, according to her mother, started her night at a bar in Dallas. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start. Sort of.
“Well the last time I spoke with him was Saturday. He called me in the afternoon after some police officers went to ask him some questions. He said they practically accused him of doing something to her, and then he asked me what was going on. Apparently he didn’t even know she was missing till they knocked on his door, and I believe it. After the divorce finalized, they quit speaking entirely.”
“You said he called to find out what was going on. He didn’t know she was missing?”
“That’s right. He sounded pretty surprised on the phone. He’s a real prick, but I should give him credit for sounding sincere. He almost sounded like he didn’t hate her,” Mrs. Bishop said, her speech now gaining speed and emotion, “Y’know she never did anything wrong to him. She was always ready and waiting for him to come home. She always missed him and was kind to him, and prepared meals for him. She always knew his schedule so that she could make his life as easy as possible.” Mrs. Bishop was now completely off topic, ranting, but Gene allowed her to continue. “And the prick threw her out of his life. It was completely out of nowhere, but when he did it, it absolutely crushed Zoey. Any small bit of self-esteem she might have had before the divorce vanished. He made her feel worthless and unappreciated. He called her clingy and fat, and every other immature and superficial insult you can think of. It crushed her. If he hadn’t been the asshole he was, she never would have gone out alone on New Year’s Eve. She would be the one having tea with me, not two detectives.” The rage dissipated and the tears returned, heavier than last time.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to hear that. Zoey sounds like a wonderful gal, and it sounds like you raised her perfectly. I’m sure any other man would be glad to have someone like Zoey to come home to.” Gene was disheartened to hear what happened to Zoey, just weeks before her disappearance. Changing the subject, Gene asked, “And how would you describe Mr. Edmund’s overall temperament? Would you say that he is inclined to violence?”
“As much as I’d like to say the bastard did it, there’s no way. Terry couldn’t hurt a fly. And I mean that literally. He didn’t like swatting flies because he was grossed out by seeing them squashed. He can verbally abuse someone with the best of ‘em, but he isn’t a violent person. As much as I’d like to see him behind bars for something - anything really - I can’t say that he has done anything to Zoey.” Marco made note of this. Because of Mrs. Bishop’s personal vendetta against Mr. Edmund, it was even more important to note that she vouched for his innocence.
“Thank you for your honesty, Mrs. Bishop. That’s all we care to bother you with for today.” Gene reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a simple card with his information on it and handed it to her. “If you can think of absolutely anything else that may be important to the case, give this number a call.” He pointed at the second number listed. “That’s my cell phone and you can reach me directly.”
Marco finished writing whatever notes he had yet to jot down, and then he and Gene stood up and made their way for the door. While walking to the exit, Gene started speaking again. “Even if you think it isn’t at all important, or it’s a very minor detail you might have left out, call me anyway.” Mrs. Bishop now stood back from the doorway, holding the massive door open for the gentlemen to walk out. “Thank you again, ma’am.”
“Thank you both. I feel better knowing that someone is working on finding Zoey. I’ll call you if I can think of anything.” Mrs. Bishop wiped away a couple more tears as the two men walked out, and she shut the door behind them.
Walking towards the car, Gene asked, “Get all that?”
Marco nodded and said nothing more, and that was that. At least the interview revealed that she definitely went out that night.
“Oh wait, I forgot something.” Gene turned around and walked back up the steps and knocked on the solid door once again. From the car, Marco watched Gene talk to Mrs. Bishop, his hands gesturing and head nodding, and then they shook hands again and Gene came back down the steps.
“I didn’t figure Mr. Edmund would be home right now, so I asked her the address for his office. We’re going back to Dallas.”
The two men rolled out and headed back to Dallas, this time a much less eventful ride. They talked less and laughed less; they were more serious now after that rather emotional visit. They talked some about the case, and discussed possible directives and strategies, but concluded it was useless to think about until after they interviewed the ex. The rest of the ride to Dallas was mostly just seventies rock - this time not quite so loud.
---
The Mercedes wheeled up and stopped, perfectly centered between its two white lines, and the two investigators stepped out of the car, onto the concrete floor of the multi-level parking garage. Together, silently, they walked to an elevator and rode it down two levels to the bottom, and then walked across the street to Terry’s office building.
Terry’s office happened to be thirty levels up in a skyscraper in downtown Dallas, and on the long elevator ride up, Marco was already imagining the view at night. The Dallas skyline was something to behold, and was easily his favorite part about the city. Often, he wished he had enough money for a penthouse somewhere in Dallas with an excellent view of the city at night, but that time had not yet come and may never, considering his chosen career path.
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened to reveal a bustling office, void of cubicles, but rather had desks scattered neatly around in the open, kind of like the police station, but much larger and more aesthetically pleasing. Just out and to the right of the elevator, a receptionist greeted them.
“Here to see Mr. Terry Edmund.” Marco stepped forward and continued, “We are detectives for Dallas Homicide, and we have just a few questions for him. It won’t take any time at all.” Marco looked back at Gene, who was smiling at how professional Marco sounded. Realizing then how serious he did sound, he accessed a mental note he made while watching Gene lead: smile and let their guard fall; be polite. He flashed a handsome smile at the receptionist.
She returned a pretty smile of her own and said, “Right away, sir. I’ll tell him.” She got on the phone and muttered into the receiver, slightly turned away from the two men, so they couldn’t hear the conversation. She set the phone back into its dock and cleared her throat before speaking again. “He’ll be right out to greet you,” then she turned back to her computer. She was dressed well, wearing a white button-down dress shirt and knee-length black skirt. Marco caught himself looking at her for a little too long, then refocused his attention on the man walking towards them.
He was a rather plump, plain looking man, who was neither ugly nor attractive. His hair was short and very dark brown, and his eyes were blue. His neck hung just below his chin, and his cheeks were slightly puffy and red, as if he just got done screaming at someone. He looked flushed and nervous, but that did not stop him from being professional. He, like everyone else in the office, was dressed very well, wearing an all-black three-piece suit, including a black dress shirt underneath, and a purple tie. It was very well fitted, and even though it seemed overkill for a business setting, it made him look very nice. His spiked-up hair drew more attention to the sweat that soaked his forehead and beaded down both of his temples.
“How are you gentlemen this morning? Terry Edmund,” he said sticking out his short arms for a handshake. Marco shook hi
s hand and was unpleasantly met with a moist palm, so he discreetly wiped his hand on his pants afterward. He looked over at Gene, who also noticed the sweaty hand, and did the same. “Follow me to my office, this way p-please.”
He was obviously nervous, and they made mental notes of that.
Inside the office, Terry rounded the corner of his desk, which was centered in the room and faced the door, and sat down in his burgundy leather throne. Marco and Gene took their seats on the other side of the desk, in their matching leather chairs, and admired the office for a moment before speaking.
The office was an impressive one. The entire back wall was glass, which showed off a glorious view of downtown Dallas, and everything in the office was either wood or leather. The floors were even hardwood, which seemed weird for an office. The massive desk was made of a dark cherry wood, and a large pane of glass laminated the top of the desk to protect the natural wood. A couch in the right corner behind Marco and Gene, next to the door, looked like it belonged to a matching set with the three chairs currently being sat in, and a TV hung on the left wall, in view from every chair in the office. The room came together so nicely, and looked so old-fashioned and rustic. The furniture and decorations in this office alone looked like they were worth more than everything Marco has in his life - from his apartment furnishings to his car - and that both impressed and disheartened him.
“Well, Mr. Edmund, this is quite the office you have here. I’m impressed,” Gene said, slow to get to the point. “Can I ask what it is this company does?” Gene already knew what Terry did for a living, but decided to ask anyway, thinking that these rich types like to talk about themselves. Maybe he liked himself enough to let down his guard.
“Well we are one of the largest loan agencies slash investment firms in Texas. We offer all sorts of personal and business loans, but we also offer large capital investments in exchange for an equity stake in a startup.” Terry was smiling now, not at all to the surprise of Gene, who expected the boasting. He continued, “Most guys move to New York or Silicon Valley to start this sort of business, but we are almost entirely online. The loans are also processed online through either automatic approvals, or they are revised by one of the guys out there. But if someone wants to offer an equity stake in their business for an investment, then we meet with them, personally, here.” Terry looked to be calming down, not sweating quite so profusely anymore. But that may have been due to the outrageously low temperature that the air conditioning unit was set on.
“That’s very impressive, Mr. Edmund. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with this kind of thing. I don’t know anything about computers or business. So, hats off to you for your success,” Gene said, patting his ego, but eager to get on with the interview. Build him up, build him up.
“Well thank you for that, sir. I’m sorry, I never caught your name at reception. What are your names again?” His gaze panned from Gene to Marco and then he waited, slouched back in his seat, with his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, and his chin resting on his own arm.
“My name is Gene Maxwell and this is my colleague, Marco Moretti. We are detectives for Dallas Homicide, and we just have a few questions for you concerning your ex-wife. I appreciate you seeing us so quickly, and on no notice whatsoever. Some people get grumpy about this sort of thing,” Gene said.
It amazed Marco how cool and collected he was in front of people. His personality was so different when talking to the interviewees, versus talking privately with Marco. With Marco, they talked like pals. Gene used slang, and his native Texan accent was very apparent and played heavily in the role of his grammar. But with other people, he talked so professionally, and that Texas accent faded into the most basic American accent possible, with an indistinguishable region. Although, with Mrs. Bishop, Gene did turn on a little bit of his southern charm to make her feel at ease.
“Ah, it’s no problem. Nice to meet you gentlemen. What can I answer for you?” Terry began fiddling with his tie.
“Well, Mr. Edmund, I understand that you were interviewed a few days ago. On Saturday.” Gene stopped and just looked at Terry, waiting for a response, and Terry looked back, expecting him to say more.
After the pause, when Gene never spoke up, Terry said, “Um, yeah. Two guys came to my house, but only one of them did the talking. He was a real ass, too. He didn’t ask me anything that might be helpful. He basically just came into my house to insult me and accuse me of something, but he wouldn’t come right at and say it. Needless to say, I wouldn’t stand for it, and I threw them both out. They weren’t there long, and all they did was insinuate I had motive to hurt Zoey because she got some of my money in the divorce. That’s about all that happened.” Terry quit fiddling with his tie.
“Right. Officer Jacobs. We had a talk with him, and you won’t be dealing with him anymore. I sent him in my place, hoping he could ask the appropriate questions while I was busy with another case. Clearly, he couldn’t handle something so simple, and I was naive for thinking he could. I apologize for his behavior,” Gene said with utter sincerity. He really did believe that Jacobs was too much of a buffoon to handle the simplest of tasks without messing it up.
“Well that’s alright. It’s good to hear that he wasn’t the best and brightest you could send,” Terry said chuckling and sitting back in his chair. He looked relaxed now, and much less nervous. Of course, this was entirely what Gene had planned: to put his guards down and open him up to reasonable questions.
After the small talk and apologies, and after Terry was visibly loosened up, Gene started with the real questions. “Now, let me ask the proper questions, without insinuating anything. First, do you know where Miss Edmund was on the night she allegedly disappeared?”
“No, I don’t. I haven’t spoken to her since the divorce finalized. The agreement was I would cut her a one-time check for half of my net worth, and I wouldn’t pay alimony. So, after I handed her the check and left, I never saw, or talked, to her again.” Terry said this without a bit of reservation in his voice. There was no stuttering or trembling, and no sweat. He realized that he had nothing to fear, because he was guilty of nothing. So, if he could just get through the questioning, everything would be over.
Marco marked this in his pad, and Gene continued.
“Alright, understandably so. Okay, so can you tell me where you were the night of New Year’s Eve, and the early morning hours of January first?” Gene met Terry’s eyes, and neither wavered from the staring contest they locked themselves into.
Terry broke first and said, “I hate that question, because it sounds like I’m a suspect or something, but yeah. That was a Thursday and Friday, right? Thursday night I was at this office alone, because almost everyone goes home around five o’clock. I stayed for a while and did some paperwork until I think I went home around seven or eight. Then I stayed home alone and ate a dinner, then went to bed before midnight. I don’t have anyone that can vouch for me being home alone, though, because I was alone.” Terry was aggravated at the question, so he answered it in a slightly sarcastic manner.
Gene picked up on the slight hostility, and realized he had to ease his temper before getting thrown out. “Mr. Edmund, I didn’t mean to sound like we’re implicating you in anything. It’s a standard question for someone who might have any motive whatsoever. To be clear, Marco and I don’t see you as a suspect because of the testament to your character that we received from Barbara Bishop.” At this, Terry seemed surprised, but it eased his nerves anyway, so Gene went on. “Do you have any idea to where Miss Edmund had planned to go that night? She made it clear to her mother that she was going to a bar to celebrate the New Year, but she never mentioned the name of any bar in particular.”
“No, like I said before, I haven’t talked to her since the divorce. I have no idea where she decided to go. And can you please stop calling her Miss Edmund? I asked her to take back her maiden name.” If Gene were like Officer Jacobs, he would push Terry’s buttons by putting emphasis on ca
lling her Miss Edmund, but Gene would never stoop to such a level.
“Absolutely,” he said, “I’ll just call her Zoey, then. I only have one question left for you today, Mr. Edmund. Do you think Zoey would be inclined to running away? Just dropping her things and starting a life somewhere else? We’re kind of at a dead end here, and any detail to what she might have been doing or planned to do, would help greatly.”
Terry paused. He sighed and thought about it deeply before speaking.
“Alright, I wasn’t the greatest to her. In fact, when I divorced her, I think it caught her by such surprise that it broke her heart.” Terry paused again, and cleared his throat before continuing. “And after I filed for divorce, she acted different. Completely different personality, and just seemed so defeated all the time. If there was one person who would want to just drop everything and leave, I think it would be Zoey.”
Gene and Terry locked eyes once more.
“Alright, well that’s all we needed to-”
“But, Zoey is terrified of everything. When she asked me to buy her a condo in the city, I was totally caught off guard. She wasn’t one to be in the center of everything. She hated crowds, and she was kind of scared of everything, really. Zoey might have felt the need to move to the city and start fresh, and go out on New Year’s Eve, which she always hated doing in the past, but Zoey would never just disappear without telling anyone. Zoey would never run off to a city she’s never been to, without family or friends, or any of her personal stuff. She would be too scared. So, no. I wish I could say that I believe she just ran off and she’s fine somewhere else, but I just don’t see that as being possible.”
Terry looked at Gene, then to Marco, and then back to Gene, and sat forward in his chair, putting his elbows on his desk. “Is that all, now?”
“Yes, that’s everything. Thank you for your honesty. We’ll be on our way now.” Gene stood up and shook hands with Terry, while Marco remained seated for a moment, still finishing his notes. Finally, Marco stood up as well, shook hands with Terry, and made for the door along with his partner.
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