by Jason Starr
I fell back asleep and slept soundly until the alarm clock rang at seven o’clock. While Julie was showering, my curiosity peaked again. I turned on the radio to see if there were any reports of the murder on the news yet. There weren’t. I decided that it was silly of me to have thought that the body might have been discovered overnight. Since Ed wasn’t married and he didn’t have a steady girlfriend, there was no one to report him as missing, and the body probably wouldn’t be discovered until this morning.
As I got ready for work, I was still very relaxed. In retrospect, it was a good thing I was so calm because it gave Julie no indication that I knew anything about Ed’s murder.
Like any normal morning, we took the subway downtown together. She got off at Fifty-first Street and I continued to Grand Central where I transferred for the shuttle to Times Square. It wasn’t until I got out at Forty-second Street that the real panic set in. Suddenly, I realized that I had forgotten to hide one important piece of evidence, and that it could nullify my alibi and make me a prime suspect for Ed’s murder. I was ready to kill myself for being so stupid.
11
When I’d logged out of my computer last night the log-out time was recorded on the file I’d been working on. If the police thought that the murder was committed by someone who worked at the office, they might check the hard drives of all the employees and the company’s network files, and then they’d discover that my log-out time was after Ed was murdered.
I started walking faster until I was practically jogging up West Forty-third Street. I was afraid I’d been wrong and someone had discovered Ed’s body last night. The police could have been investigating the crime scene for hours by now and they may have already checked the computer files. They could be waiting to arrest me at the office, or at least waiting to question me.
There were no police cars in front of the building which brought me some relief, yet I was still nervous. Before the elevator doors slid open on the seventh floor, I took a deep breath, expecting to see detectives waiting for me in the reception area. Instead, Eileen the receptionist was the only one there. She was sitting at her desk, looking bored, tired and unhappy to be there. In other words, everything was normal.
“Good morning, Bill,” she said.
Even this was normal. Ever since I’d been promoted, Eileen had included me in her list of upper-level employees whom she said good morning to every day. But today her words took on a more than obligatory meaning. It was a good morning, at least it was so far. The police weren’t in the office yet which meant that the body hadn’t been discovered. Relieved, I went into my office and brought up the file I’d been working on. The log-out time – 7:07 – was in clear view on the main directory. I couldn’t believe I had left such an obvious piece of evidence. I recalled the file and saved it again, replacing the old log-out time with the current time. Then I copied the file on to my two back-up disks and the evidence was gone. For a few minutes, I was able to relax.
Then other problems occurred to me. They came so fast, one after the other, that I hardly started worrying about one before I started worrying about another. The thing I feared most was that Ed had spoken to someone else in the office before he spoke to me. If he told someone that he’d investigated my background and that he planned to fire me, it wouldn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that I had a motive for the murder. I also worried that Clara Daniels from the Personnel Department at Smythe & O’Greeley would hear about the murder and realize that she’d spoken to Ed just hours before he was killed. When the police found out what they’d spoken about, the trail would lead directly to me. I also worried if there was other evidence I might not have concealed, people who might have seen me, conversations that might have been overheard. I couldn’t believe that last night I’d thought my trouble was over. My trouble was far from over.
At about eight-thirty, Mike came into my office. When he said hello to me, I watched his reaction closely. I knew if Ed had told him about his intention to fire me, Mike would have loved to rub it in, get even with me. Mike didn’t have any unusual reaction, but just because Ed didn’t tell Mike didn’t mean he didn’t tell someone else.
I was hoping that Mike would go into the bathroom and discover the body. The faster things got started, the faster they would end. But Mike went into his office and started reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee.
I don’t know how I stayed calm. Toward nine o’clock, other people arrived. There was another bathroom on the other side of the office so the only people who were likely to discover Ed’s body were telemarketers and people who worked in the Telemarketing Department. Simon Peters, a young British guy with a punk haircut who’d been with the company for about a month, walked past my office toward the bathroom. I braced myself for the scream, the panic. It didn’t happen. A few minutes passed, then Simon returned and sat down at his cubicle as if nothing was wrong.
Several other telemarketers arrived and went to the bathroom without discovering the body. It occurred to me that this could go on indefinitely. Someone would have to want to use the stall Ed was in or be curious enough to open the stall door if they were going to find him. It was very possible no one would find the body all day, maybe not until the janitor came to clean again tonight. I didn’t know if I could wait that long. I kept thinking about Ed with his pulled down pants and smashed-in nose sitting on the toilet seat. It was starting to get me nauseous.
Mike came into my office and asked me whether Ed had called in sick.
“Nope,” I said. “Why? He’s not in yet?”
“No, and it’s past nine o’clock. I’ve never seen Ed late for work as long as I’ve worked here.”
“Me neither,” I said. “If it happens two more times I guess we’ll have to send him home without pay.”
Mike smiled, leaving the office.
We held the morning meeting without Ed. Afterwards, I was so worried that the body wouldn’t be discovered all day that I thought about going into the bathroom and discovering it myself. I would have, except I decided it was too risky. I had no way of knowing what my actual reaction would be when I came out of the bathroom, how convincing I would seem, and I didn’t want to say or do anything that could give me away. Some acting ability would have helped. I’d only acted one time in my life, in a play in high school. It was a Shakespeare play, I think The Merchant of Venice. I played a messenger. I only had one line, but when I came out on stage I was so nervous, thinking about all the people staring at me, that I messed it up. I felt the same way now. I felt like everyone in the office was staring at me, waiting for me to mess up my line. Just like in high school, I swore that after this was over I’d never put myself in this situation again.
I booted up on my computer and tried to get involved in my work. I just sat there, staring at the screen. Mike came into my office again. He looked a little more worried than before, a little more serious.
“I think I’m going to try Ed at home,” he said.
“Good idea,” I said. “Let me know if you find out anything.”
I hoped I was acting worried enough. On the other hand, I didn’t want to act too worried or that might give me away too. I had to deliver my lines carefully.
Mike returned.
“No answer. It’s really weird, isn’t it?”
“Let’s not get carried away,” I said. “Ed lives on Long Island, right? The Long Island Railroad has delays all the time. I bet that’s what happened.”
“You think so?”
“I’m sure. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“I guess you’re right. I just think it’s really weird though, Ed O’Brien late for work. I never thought I’d see the day.”
Mike left. I was proud of my performance. I’d mixed the right amount of concern with the right amount of nonchalance. Now if I could only keep it up.
During the ten o’clock break, a few people went into the bathroom. Again, the body wasn’t discovered. I started getting para
noid, thinking maybe something happened to it. Maybe the police found it and moved it, hoping it would make me crack up, confess. Or maybe Ed wasn’t dead. Maybe I only knocked him out and then he woke up and now he was playing a sick game with me, getting his revenge.
I had to go to the bathroom anyway so I decided to check. While I was using the urinal, I looked back over my shoulder at the reflection of the stalls in the mirror above the sinks. I couldn’t see the bottom of the stall I’d put Ed in, but the door was slightly open just like I’d left it. After I washed my hands, I casually kneeled down to tie my shoes and glanced under the stall. I saw Ed’s rolled down pants and underwear hanging off his legs. I tasted the stomach acid in my throat and I left the bathroom before my nausea got any worse.
The morning dragged on. People went to the bathroom, came back, discovering nothing. After the eleven o’clock break, Mike came back into my office.
“Still no word, huh?”
“You?” I said.
“Not a thing. You really think he’s stuck on a train?”
“What else could it be?”
“Who knows? Car trouble? He drives to the train station in Long Island, doesn’t he?”
“It could be a lot of things, I guess.”
“But why wouldn’t he call?”
“Got me. Maybe he can’t get to a phone.”
“Are you sure he didn’t have some sort of appointment or something today?”
“He didn’t tell me anything,” I said. “Maybe Nelson knows. Want to ask him?”
“Sure. Why not?”
I went with Mike to Nelson’s office. He had someone in with him, so he didn’t talk long with us. He said he hadn’t heard from Ed, but to let him know when Ed arrived, that he wanted to speak to him about something important. I hoped the important thing he wanted to speak to him about wasn’t me. If Ed had told Nelson that he was planning to fire me then...well, I didn’t want to think about that.
“I guess there’s nothing we can do but wait,” Mike said to me in the hallway. “I’m sure he’ll show up eventually.”
“I agree,” I said. “Let’s just forget about it.”
That’s when the screaming started. It was a male voice first and then there were other voices and soon the whole Telemarketing Department was in chaos. Marie Stipaldi came running down the hallway.
“Get an ambulance! Call the police! Quick!”
“What?!” I screamed back, convincingly alarmed.
“It’s Ed,” she said. “He’s in the men’s bathroom. They say he’s dead! He’s dead!”
Mike and I ran toward the Telemarketing Department. There was a crowd in the hallway leading to the bathroom. People were screaming and crying. Mike and I pushed our way through. The stall door was in the same partially closed position.
“Where is he?!” I yelled.
“In the stall,” a guy behind me said. “The first one over there.”
Mike went to the stall door. When he looked inside he lost his balance and stumbled backwards. He started shaking. A few seconds later he was crying. I went to open the door to see for myself. I knew my reaction was important. If I didn’t seem genuinely shocked and disturbed, someone could remember it later and tell the police. As it turned out, I reacted perfectly. After I swung open the door and saw Ed’s body with his eyes staring right at me, I felt the urge to vomit again. This time I didn’t hold back. I let it go, uncontrollably. Mike came over and put an arm around me, then someone helped both of us out of the bathroom.
The next hour or so was very frantic and confusing. Everyone was shouting at once, giving different theories about who could have killed Ed. Most people were saying that Greg had done it. It had occurred to me that Greg would be the most likely suspect, if he didn’t have an alibi for the time of the murder. After all, everyone had seen Greg attack Ed in his office, and it figured that he might have been mad enough at Ed for pressing charges that he came back and finished the job. What I hadn’t known was that Greg had been at the office yesterday afternoon. Eileen told the whole story. Greg had come to the office, wanting to see Ed. Eileen told him that Ed was away in a meeting and Greg made a scene, yelling and threatening her, demanding his commission money, and promising to come back again. It was enough to convince the crowd. I honestly believe that if Greg had been in the office, everyone would have torn him to pieces.
At some point, the police arrived. I don’t know exactly how many officers were there, but there were probably about ten or twelve. I recognized two of the officers who had come when Greg had attacked Ed. There were paramedics too. The police sealed off the entire telemarketing area and instructed everyone to remain on the other side of the office. There was an officer near the elevator and another near the stairwell, I guess making sure that no one left the office. People were still extremely upset. I remember seeing Nelson, red-faced, tears streaming down his face, as a few people tried to console him. I thought it might look strange if I didn’t say anything so I went over and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Bill, who could have done this?” he said. “Why? Why did they do it?”
I don’t remember what I said, if I said anything at all. I was still wondering whether Nelson would suspect me or not. So far he didn’t, but he might have been too upset to think about it clearly.
A gray-haired detective in a suit and tie announced that he and his staff were going to speak with people individually. He also said that if anyone felt they needed medical attention for trauma, they should go with him.
The people who were crying the most, including Nelson, went with the detective.
More police and medical personnel arrived, including a man I assumed was a medical examiner. I knew they were going to try to figure out what time Ed died by testing his body temperature or however they did it. About an hour went by when a police officer came from the Telemarketing Department and asked if there was a Bill Moss here. My heart skipped a few beats, although I wasn’t nearly as worried as I might have been earlier. Now that Ed’s body had been discovered and the police had arrived, I was confident that everything would turn out all right.
“I’m Bill Moss,” I said.
“I understand you installed the computer network here,” the officer said. “Is that correct?”
“I didn’t install it personally,” I said, “but yes, I coordinated the project for the computers in the Telemarketing Department.”
“If you’d come with me for a few moments I’d appreciate it.”
Following the officer, I asked him what was going on.
“Detective Figula wants us to check all the employee files,” he said, “to see what time people left here last night.”
“Is that important?” I asked. “I mean doesn’t he have the time cards?”
“If Detective Figula wants it done it’s important.”
“But people were using their computers today,” I said. “The times from last night might be erased.”
“We understand that, but Detective Figula wants the information anyway.”
I had a list of everyone’s password in my office. The officer and I went through all the available files and made an approximate timetable of when people had exited their computers last night. According to our information, Mike was the last one to leave at 5:16. I’d left a file I’d been working on earlier yesterday afternoon in the computer system so my log-out time was 4:42.
The officer told me to wait in my office while he brought the information to Detective Figula. Through the glass window, I watched two detectives searching Ed’s office. They were both wearing long rubber gloves and looked like they were collecting fingerprints and searching for other evidence. It was amusing, watching them work so hard, knowing they wouldn’t find anything. In the hallway, a couple of young police officers were talking to each other, laughing. It was obvious that they had no idea I had anything to do with the murder. The computer files were the only way I could have been caught. Now I was home free.
The gray-ha
ired detective who had addressed everyone before came into my office.
“Detective Sal Figula,” he said, shaking my hand. “You must be Bob Moss.”
“Bill,” I said.
“Sorry,” he said, smiling without looking at me. “It’s been a long day. Mind if I sit down?”
I told him to make himself comfortable. He was short, probably no taller than five-six, but sitting down he looked taller. His chest and back were wide, as if he worked out, and he had a very large head. His sideburns went below his ears. After he unbuttoned the bottom button on his jacket, he started flipping pages in a note pad. Attached to the clipboard on his lap I noticed the list of times the officer and I had compiled.
“I know everyone’s very upset around here today and for good reason,” he said, “but I hope you understand why we have to go through all of this.”
“Do you know how he died yet?” I asked.
“Strangulation,” he said.
I grimaced, feeling nauseous again. My reaction must have seemed very convincing.
“He was also beaten badly in the face,” the detective said. “We don’t know if this had anything to do with his death.”
“I get the picture,” I said, looking at my lap.
