Oscar hurried over and punched some keys.
“Thank you, Mr. Moniz.” The pitch in the man’s voice disclosed his nerves from the need to address his superior.
Oscar turned his attention to Madison and Terry. “If you need a good place to keep your valuables or decide to change your banking arrangements, come and see me.”
Once the manager was out of earshot, the man behind the counter called out to one of the guards. “Retrieve box S-one-eight-one-two.” He handed him a slip of paper.
Madison was watching everything they were doing. She didn’t have a safe-deposit box and wasn’t too familiar with the process, but she had a feeling Stiles Investments and Savings took more precautions than did other establishments.
“Normally, the person taking out the box would sign that sheet.” The man must have caught her eyes and the inquisitive nature behind them. “Since the manager signed out the box for you, you don’t have to. Assume you have the other key?”
“Other key?” They had the one…
“You don’t have the key to the box? You won’t get in without it.”
Terry sidestepped closer to Madison. “By ‘other key’ he means Claire’s key. There are two required for most boxes, the bank’s and the box owner’s.”
“Oh.” She addressed the man. “Yes, we have the key.”
“If you get comfortable in room one—” he pointed toward a door numbered accordingly “—the box will be brought to you.”
“Okay,” Terry said.
“It has Internet access—no password needed—and faxing capabilities, scanning. You name it,” he said, walking along with them to the room.
Opening the door revealed a space of about eight feet square. Squeezed in the room were two chairs and a table with a multifunction machine.
The bank employee headed back to his post.
“This kind of reminds me of a movie I’ve seen,” Madison said, taking a seat in one of the chairs.
“It could be a lot of them. Banks make popular settings and safe-deposit vaults even more so. Adds some mysterious overtures. Not many people are familiar with them or how they operate. They figure it’s only for the rich.”
“You seem to know a lot about them.”
“Nah, not really. My dad had one for a while, though, and took me with him a few times. I don’t remember all the guards and security but his unlocked on a two-key system.”
“Well, at least you know a bit about all this because I’m oblivious.”
“Finally something the Great Grant knows and the Great Knight doesn’t.”
“Ha-ha.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Box S-one-eight-one-two.” The guard held a box approximately five inches deep, ten wide and twenty-five long.
“Yes.” Terry directed him to the table.
“Put your key in first,” the guard directed them.
Terry did as he’d said and twisted, and then the guard did the same with his key.
The guard lifted the lid on the box and said, “There you go.” He left the room then and closed the door behind him.
Terry locked it.
“Why are you locking it?”
“Are you scared to be in such close quarters with me?”
“Not quite. But after you ripped me off with the whole Starbucks thing you should be afraid of being in such close quarters with me.”
His hands were headed inside the box. He paused and looked at her. “Yeah, you’ve got a point.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t forget.”
“Why do I believe that?”
“’Cause you’re a smart man.” She got up and patted his back. “Now, get in that thing.” She leaned over the table, anxious to see its contents.
He pulled out a bunch of papers. “Partnership agreements.” He stopped talking as he read the names. “These are the same as the ones on the USB sticks.”
“Don’t tell me—” Madison took them from him and set them on the table. “So we went through all this for paperwork we already had. Now what?” Her gaze fell on the agreement at the top of the pile. “Elizabeth Windsor. Claire’s first victim,” she mused aloud. She went to put it back into the box and noticed there was a small manila envelope at the bottom. It was only about three inches by five. She picked up the envelope and could feel the impression of its contents. “It’s another key.” She held slid it out. “I’ll be damned.”
“What is it?”
“This key has the same logo on it. Wonder what secrets it’s holding.”
THERE WAS A RAP OF knuckles on the room’s door and Madison answered. It was the guard, and he was back with another box.
“S-one-five-one-zero.”
“Set it over here by the other one,” Terry directed him.
Terry and the guard repeated the process they’d gone through the first time.
With the box open, the guard asked, “Would you like me to take the other one away?”
“Not right now.” Terry pretty much pushed the guard out the door. “Thank you.”
“This one is about the same size.” Madison stated her observation as she dove right in. She pulled out more paperwork and spotted the name almost immediately. She held up the contract it was on. “Looks like we found Aaron.”
-
Chapter 38
“HUNTING AT ITS BEST. Interesting name for a business,” Terry stated as he and Madison walked out of the bank to the department car. “Coincidental that our girl was killed with a hunting knife?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” she said, reaching for the driver’s-side door handle. She was about to get in the car when her phone rang. “It’s probably the sarge wanting an update.”
“I’ll leave ya to it.” Terry had a smirk on his face.
“But you’re so good at teamwork.”
“Nope.” Terry got in the car and closed the door.
She stood on the sidewalk, shivering, before realizing how crazy it was to take her call outside… But she had to stop the constant ringing. “Detective Knight.”
“Maddy?” It was Blake.
“Why are you calling me?”
“I thought we were dating.”
“Are we? I haven’t heard from you in days,” she fired back harshly, but why should he expect anything different? He hadn’t talked to her in days and then there was the matter of a brunette…
“We need to talk.” His voice was solemn.
“There’s nothing we need to talk about.” She tried to sound callous even though pain chewed on her insides.
“I can come over tonight.”
She wanted to end things with him, tell him that she needed space, but her heart ached. She hated being so vulnerable, but she couldn’t quite get herself to end things right now. “I can’t tonight. Work—”
“Tomorrow night, then. It’s Friday. Maybe we could go—”
“Can’t tomorrow night, either.” Maybe she’d just keep the excuses coming.
The line went silent.
She added, “I’m in the middle of an investigation.”
“Fine. You let me know when it’s good for you, then.” He hung up on her.
“Argh.” She snapped her phone shut. Why the hell did he call if he had nothing meaningful to say? Why was it so hard to just confront the issue head-on? He wasn’t in love with her, and he never would be. No, instead he plays this psychological mind game. “We need to talk.”
She paced in a circle on the sidewalk. With her heart and mind battling for dominance, the cold air lost its bite.
“You coming?” Terry had gotten out of the car and walked toward her.
She looked at him with more determination than ever. Maybe if she poured herself deep into this case, the voices in her mind would go silent. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
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“WE’RE DETECTIVES WITH STILES PD. We’d like to speak with Aaron Best.” Madison addressed the man at the front counter of Hunting at Its Best. No sign of a woman in sight. Although one would assume that the hunting world would cater primarily to men.
The man’s hazel eyes fell to the badge Madison had on, clipped to the waistband of her pants. “Of course.” The man picked up the phone, and Madison turned to Terry.
“I’m feeling a little outnumbered in here,” she said to her partner.
“You shouldn’t—” he leaned in closer to her “—you have bigger balls than some men I know.”
Maybe she should take offense to his comment, but she didn’t. If anything, she was flattered by it. She’d rather be seen as tough as opposed to the weak and vulnerable individual she felt on the inside some days.
She looked around the reception area. Wood-paneled walls, an old couch, a coffee table, and a magazine holder that was overflowing with newspapers and magazines. A large painting over the couch depicted a peaceful setting of two deer grazing on long grass beside a river. All in all, the place had a masculine feel to it. There wasn’t a retail storefront, which Madison found odd.
The man behind the counter hung up the phone and said, “Aaron will be out in a minute.”
“Sure,” Madison said. “I’m curious. You don’t have a storefront, so who is your target market?”
“We—”
“Detectives.” An attractive man about six feet tall wearing a collared shirt and pressed pants stepped into the room. He was lean and muscular, but not to the point where bulging muscles strained against his shirt. His eyes were a deep brown, his jawline sharp and angular like Darren’s. He extended a hand first toward Madison.
“Mr. Best?” Madison asked.
“Please call me Aaron.” He flashed a smile, which exposed crease lines and two deep-set dimples.
After formal introductions, Madison said, “We’d like to speak with you in regards to your business partner, Claire Reeves.”
Aaron glanced at the man behind the counter and cracked his knuckles. “Could we talk in private?”
“Yes, of course.” Madison was still struck by the look he gave the other man. Were they hiding something? Possibly Claire’s murder? Was the knuckle-cracking threatening? It didn’t seem so, but she’d need to talk with him before she jumped to any conclusions.
Aaron led them into an office to the immediate right, but before they entered he called out, “Bring us a couple chairs.” He went inside and turned to them. He clasped his hands, unclasped them, clasped them.
Why is he so nervous?
“Sorry about this. Don’t get too many visitors.” He slipped his hands into his pockets, as if becoming aware of his fidgeting.
“Here you go.” The assistant handled two chairs by their backs, dangling them on an angle as he moved them into the small office.
The chairs, just like everything else, were outdated. Claire’s money hadn’t evidenced itself in plain sight as of yet, and they’d entered their contract about a year ago.
The walls in Aaron’s office were wood paneling, but they’d been painted a rich toffee. More paintings of wildlife adorned the walls. On a filing cabinet, a frame showcased Aaron beside a caribou. When the assistant left and closed the door behind him, a ski jacket swayed on a hook.
Aaron took a seat at his desk and leaned toward them. Based on that body language alone, he showed interest in what they were going to say.
“We’d like to start by saying that we’re sorry about the loss of your business partner, Claire Reeves,” Terry said.
Aaron shifted in his seat at the mention of her name. His eyes softened with seeming grief. Madison attempted to read them further. Was there any sign of guilt or regret?
“Thank you.” Aaron tightened his jaw and swallowed hard.
“What does your company do here exactly?” Terry relaxed back into his chair. “I mean, obviously it has something to do with hunting,” he tossed out with a smile.
Aaron pinched the tip of his nose and sniffled. He was visibly affected by Claire’s death. His hand came down to rest on his mouse, where it sat a moment before he clasped his hands, his thumbs circling around each other in slow motion and then stopping. “We manufacture all types of hunting knives.”
Did he just open with hunting knives?
“What kinds?” Madison asked.
Aaron tugged on his collar and ended up undoing the top button of his shirt. “Sometimes it can get hot in here with the door closed.” They kept their eyes on him as he rambled. “In an old building like this, there’s no balance with the heating and cooling system. Poor insulation.”
Madison bobbed her head. “What kind of knives, Mr. Best?” she pressed.
“Like I said, we make all types here. Skinning, gut hook, drop point, Bowie, caping. They’re all assembled by hand. That’s what sets us apart from the competition. If you want a standard knife, go to a mainline hunting store or order it online. But what we offer is special, unique, one of a kind. The blades are forged using only the finest stainless steel and the handles are burl wood.”
Terry pressed his lips, seemingly impressed. “Fine materials.”
Aaron’s eyes lit with pride. “Only the best quality here.”
“So how did Claire Reeves figure in?” Terry straightened out in the chair, leaning forward a bit. Madison noticed that as he moved forward Aaron moved back. His hands remained clasped on the desk, though, his thumbs continuing to twirl around each other.
“I don’t understand the question.”
“Well, it seems like you’ve got a pretty good thing going here. You have a high-end quality product. Why bring in a woman?” Terry let out a small laugh, trying to act as if he were chauvinistic. Madison played along and shot him a glare.
Aaron looked between the two of them but settled his gaze on Madison. “Women have a lot to offer.” The tone of his voice carried offense to Terry’s attitude. “I shouldn’t have to point this out to you. Look at your partner.” Aaron unclasped his hands and waved one in her direction. “She’s a beautiful woman, but she’s intelligent. I could tell that right off. I’m pretty good at reading people, always have been. Your partner is strong, she’s determined, and she gets whatever she wants. She’s not one to be messed with and neither was Claire.” His hands clasped again, the thumbs spinning quickly around each other again. “Claire—” His voice choked up. “She was a terrific asset to this company. She brought in a solid business perspective. As you can tell, she wasn’t here to pretty things up,” he said, referring to the business front as a whole, not just his office. He looked at Madison. “I’m sure you picked up on that right away, and most women have an eye for that sort of thing, but Claire didn’t. Not that she didn’t like things to be nice, to be pretty, but when it came to business, that’s what it was. Business, nothing more. The dollars she could make.”
“Then you can understand why someone wanted her dead,” Madison fired back.
Aaron’s thumbs stopped moving. “No.” His voice was gravelly and his eyes were unfocused, exposing the fact he wasn’t convinced of his verbal response. “Can you excuse me for a moment?” He rose to his feet.
“Sure,” Terry said.
Aaron left and Madison turned to Terry. “Easy access to hunting knives. And did you notice the coat on the back of the door? Expensive ski jacket. Maybe the down found under Claire came from that coat.”
“I don’t know,” Terry began. “Something tells me he cared about her more than—”
“Sorry about that.” Aaron entered the room again. His white shirt showed wet spots that hadn’t been there before. He must have sensed Madison’s eyes on them, and he ran a hand down the front of his chest.
Madison envisioned him splashing his face with cool water, resulting in the pattern. People did that to calm their nerves.
So what is Aaron nervous about?
“What are you suspicious of? Me? I see the way you’re looking at me. You don’t believe me when I say no one wanted her dead?”
“Mr. Best, it’s obvious that Claire’s killer was fueled by a lot of anger and emotion. They wanted her to die. They didn’t just want to nick her, make her bleed a little. They wanted her dead.” Her statements carried such weight that they sank in the air.
“What Detective Knight is trying to say,” Terry said, warranting a glare from Madison, “is we know that she wronged a lot of people along the way. Like you were saying, she was very business orientated, money driven.”
Aaron’s thumbs moved slowly. “It wasn’t that way with me. You hear rumors, everyone does, but I couldn’t believe them about her. Just couldn’t. But she was starting to benefit this company. I wasn’t really on board when she first approached me.”
Madison noted that she had approached him, just as she had approached Darren Taylor. Claire seemed to have a way of sniffing out either opportunities or struggling companies and sweeping in to their quote, unquote rescue.
“The company wasn’t turning the profits it used to. Everyone wants something for nothing these days. With the economy the way it is, the customer wants everything and a cheap price tag to go with it. Well, something has to be sacrificed.” He unclasped his hands long enough to press a fingertip into his desk. “And here it’s not going to be quality.” His resolute stance weakened as his straightened finger bent and then lifted. “But Claire helped me to see the bigger picture. You don’t have to sacrifice all quality for price. If I streamlined in some areas, used her negotiation skills to get good deals on the raw product. Then with the cost of goods down, I could lower my selling price. Be even more competitive. She also started putting a marketing plan into place. She suggested that we expand our line and approach large gaming corporations to boost sales, offer specialty touches such as engraving on handles. She had a beautiful vision.” Seemingly caught up in a memory, he half laughed. “I do admit that I was blinded by the sales figures she had projected.”
Justified Page 22
