Sizzling Cold Case

by Rayna Morgan

  “Never!” he sneered. “That woman has never been inside a board room. The only office functions she attends are parties.”

  “What about Sam’s first wife, Sheila? She was a founding partner.”

  Martin made no pretense of hiding his scorn. “Sheila wouldn’t be welcome. She showed her true colors by forming her own company which competes with Tech West.”

  Tom folded his arms thinking the man had a low opinion of everyone but himself.

  “Still, she will be a major stockholder if Emma’s interest reverts to the parents under the terms of the trust.”

  Martin scoffed. “That would require proof that Emma’s death was other than accidental.”

  “You don’t believe such proof can be obtained?”

  “It’s another of Sam’s illusions. He can’t accept that life can be cruel. He needs to place blame to maintain his belief in a universe where righteous people are rewarded and evil people are punished.”

  “Do you believe in such a world?” Pat asked.

  “I believe money prevails, not goodness.”

  “That’s a cynical view, Mr. Becker,” she said. “There is still justice in the world.”

  “Ah, a true idealist,” he sneered. “I suppose that’s a trait required in civil servants.”

  Tom’s body tensed. He clenched the arms of his chair. “What do you mean by that crack?”

  Involuntarily, Martin drew back. “Simply that people in my position understand the world runs on greed.”

  Pat’s reply was curt. “Then I’m glad I’m not a person in your position.”

  Martin glanced at his watch. “Are we finished?”

  “One last question,” Tom said. “For a man who likes to be in control, how did you feel when Emma Swanson rejected your advances?”

  It was Martin’s turn to tense. His face reddened as he pounded the desk and rose to his feet. “How dare you!”

  “Sit down, Mr. Becker,” Tom commanded. “Your theatrics are wasted on us.”

  Becker unwillingly resumed his seat. He took a moment to compose himself, smoothing fake hair over the balding pate.

  “Brad must have been the one who told you.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “He’s the only one who knew of my”—his arrogance wavered—“impropriety, for lack of a better word. It was a meaningless episode which occurred years ago. He had no right to tell.”

  “We haven’t heard an answer to how you felt when Emma rejected you.”

  “Nor, shall you.” Spittle flew out Martin’s mouth. “I won’t dignify that question with an answer. This interview is over. If you have further questions, contact my attorney. Good day, officers.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he punched the intercom and issued instructions to his assistant. “Escort our visitors from the premises.”

  • • •

  Pat leaned against her car in the parking lot. “We’ve talked to four different people and heard four different stories. Who should we believe?”

  Tom stared over the roof of his car. “It depends on who’s the best liar. If we believe Brad, it poses a bigger problem.”

  She feared she knew the answer but asked anyway. “What problem?”

  “I need to talk to Jack. We may have an unexpected suspect on our hands.”

  She shaded her face to hide her expression. “Do you want me to come?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Tom said.

  “Jack’s not a suspect yet,” she reminded him. “There are plenty of roustabouts on those rigs.”

  “That’s what I like about you. Always an optimist.”

  He looked at his watch. “The bartender and the waitress at the Bobcat Room should be able to provide information, but the place won’t be open yet.”

  “I’ll go tonight, boss. You’ll be with Maddy.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Why not?” She winked. “You never know. I may even get lucky.”

  “It wouldn’t be you who gets lucky. It would be the guy who meets you.”

  She laughed before getting in her car. “Flattery gets you everywhere.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The next facility they visited was considerably smaller than Tech West.

  Sheila Swanson appeared in the reception area to greet them.

  Sam’s first wife was a classic beauty with high cheekbones and alabaster skin. Her flame-colored hair was cut short in a chic style.

  After introductions, she ushered them to a modest but comfortable office.

  “I was sorry to hear of Sam’s emergency, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. We’ve stayed in touch. I know of his diabetes. He told me complications triggered a recent episode with his heart.”

  “Any particular reason for your contact?”

  The question surprised her.

  Tom saw the need for further explanation. “We need to determine if an attempt was made on Sam’s life. To do that, we must know his activities and frame of mind in the days preceding the overdose. Any information you can provide will be helpful.”

  “I see.” She paused to take a breath. “In that case, I should tell you Sam’s marriage is falling apart. I felt badly when he told me, but I was hardly surprised. For a long time after Emma’s death, Sam was emotionally vulnerable. He wasn’t ready for the commitment marriage requires.”

  “Is that how your son felt about Sam’s second marriage?”

  She waved a hand in front of her face. “Young people can be judgmental. Brad was appalled his father married someone his age.”

  “What can you tell us about Sam’s partner, Martin Becker?”

  “At one time, Martin was my partner as well. I don’t mind saying, I’m glad he’s not any longer.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “When we started the company, Martin’s financial expertise and connections were vital in arranging initial funding. Once we were established, he continued as a catalyst for growth by overseeing expansion and acquiring smaller companies.”

  “He sounds like an ambitious guy.”

  “Very. Too ambitious for my liking.”

  She walked over to a wall of pictures and pointed to one of her and Sam.

  “Sam and I were a great team because of shared motivation and vision. Our goal was to be the best, not the biggest. We were interested in satisfied customers and happy employees, not fatter bank accounts. Our biggest joy was giving back to the community and funding scholarships for future entrepreneurs.”

  “Your company is renowned for the supportive environment it provides women pursuing management,” Pat said.

  Sheila nodded. “I’m proud to contribute to the advancement of female executives.”

  She pointed to a photo of Martin Becker at the ribbon-cutting for Tech West. “Martin never shared my views in that regard. It was always a point of contention between us.”

  “Was that the reason you left Tech West and started your own company?”

  “It was one of several factors. The main reason was that Sam and I couldn’t stay together after the death of our daughter. Even divorced, seeing each other at work was a daily reminder of what we lost.”

  “Was Sam resentful of your leaving?”

  “Not at all. He encouraged me to get on with my life.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “Sam had a terrible time getting over Emma’s death. He became reclusive, stuck in a place where no one could help. But he never wanted to pull Brad and me down with him. When I suggested striking out on my own, he offered his full support.”

  “Was Martin supportive as well?”

  “He had no idea what Sam and I went through. He accused me of abandoning ship during a period of weakened leadership. During one particularly distasteful scene, I reminded him-cruelly, perhaps-that he dreamed of taking over the business. My leaving and Sam’s weakened state provided him the opportunity.”

  “What was his response?”

  “He knew what I was saying, but pretended to be insulted.
We parted ways amid bitterness and recrimination.”

  “Were you aware that Martin made advances toward Emma during one of your daughter’s breaks from school?”

  For several minutes, she didn’t speak.

  “I suspected, but Emma never came to me about it. I decided if something had occurred, Emma preferred to deal with it on her own. She was certainly strong enough to do so.”

  “Did Sam know?”

  “I wouldn’t think so. Such a foolhardy act on Martin’s part would have ended the partnership. That never happened.”

  The intercom buzzed. Sheila pressed a button on the console and listened to her assistant. “Excuse the interruption. Your next appointment is here.”

  Sheila looked at Tom. “How much longer, detective?”

  “One or two more questions.”

  “Did you hear, Nancy? Ten more minutes.” She pressed the button and turned back to Tom.

  He presented his next item as delicately as possible. “We need to know your whereabouts Wednesday night.”

  She looked surprised and took a moment to respond. “Let’s see. I worked late, well past closing. My assistant ordered takeout and had it delivered before she left. Other than that, I’m unsure of the time. I lose track when I’m here by myself.”

  Tom waited for Pat to scribble a note before asking his next question.

  “Are you still vested in Tech West or was your interest terminated through the divorce?”

  Again, she looked surprised. “I retain an interest in Tech West. In addition, there’s another piece of ownership still pending.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Sam always worried a man would marry Emma for her money since her trust is of significant size. He insisted Emma include a special provision in her will.”

  “What kind of provision?”

  “Regarding her interest in Tech West.”

  “Spell it out in layman’s terms, if you would.”

  “In the event of Emma’s death by other than natural causes, her trust fund and her interest in Tech West revert to the family.”

  “What happened when her death was pronounced accidental?” Pat asked.

  “Both her trust fund and her interest in the company would have gone to her spouse. However, Sam tied up distribution based on inconclusive evidence of accidental death.”

  “Are you aware of Sam’s latest investigation into Emma’s death?”

  She nodded. “Sam informed me the last time we talked. He wanted me to know if he’s successful, Emma’s interest in the company will revert to us. He plans to demand immediate distribution of her estate to prevent the widower getting his hands on it.”

  “It was generous of Sam to preserve your share in Tech West.”

  “It was a calculated move to assure Martin would never possess a controlling interest.”

  “That was unlikely as long as Sam stayed involved in the business.”

  “Sam wasn’t a pessimist but considering the condition of his health, he planned for the worst. It stemmed from his desire to maintain the family legacy.”

  “If anything happens to Sam, Brad will still be in the picture.”

  “Assuming Brad stays on as chief executive officer. Without Sam there, he may choose to pursue his music.”

  “So you think Brad will bolt without his father’s presence.”

  “I don’t know, nor do I care. We’re not guardians of our children’s happiness. Unlike Sam, if my son is happy trekking around the country playing one-night stands, I won’t stand in his way.”

  Tom’s voice hardened. “Could your motivation stem from the fact that Brad’s departure would give you control of Tech West? Merging Sam’s company with your own would create a powerhouse and establish dominance in the tech world.”

  She matched his tone with a harshness of her own. “You’re off base, Lieutenant. Sam and I love and respect each other too deeply for me to have designs on his company.”

  “Yet you divorced and went out on your own.”

  “Only when I realized Sam could not put Emma’s death behind him. Of course, Emma was taken from us much too soon. But rather than being grateful for our years together, Sam turned into a morose human being seeking revenge. My staying wouldn’t have helped.

  “Besides, Sam and I didn’t consider ourselves in competition. That’s why he supported me when I left. We knew there was room for both of us in the industry. Sam even sent job applicants to me if he had no positions available.” She glanced at Martin’s picture. “Only Martin views companies like mine as a threat. He’s convinced himself Tech West’s position will be weakened unless he takes over.”

  “To what extremes might Martin go to prevent that from happening?”

  “Tech West is Martin’s life. Make your own assumptions, detective. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a company of my own to run.”

  On their way out, Pat confirmed Sheila’s presence at the office the night of Sam’s emergency.

  She commented as they stood in the parking lot. “It’s looking worse for Martin, boss. Sheila had zero good things to say about the man.”

  “I wouldn’t say it looks good for either of them. You verified Sheila’s presence in the building to the time her assistant left, but that leaves hours unaccounted for.”

  Pat shook her head as she unlocked her car. “Rich people have complicated inheritance problems. If I kick the bucket, all my family will get is a beat up Chevy and a cantankerous cat.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Pat almost walked past the Bobcat Room hidden among shops a block off State Street.

  The interior was cozy and dark, a throw-back to glamorous bars of the fifties and sixties. Each table contained a small, fringed lamp. The fabric on all the chairs was blue velvet.

  Pat took a seat at the bar. Realizing she hadn’t eaten all day, scanned a menu of drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

  When the barman came, she ordered a plate of vegetables, goat cheese, and olives to go with a vodka gimlet.

  She read the name on his tag. “Hey, Bobby. I understand customers have access to the nightclub next door.”

  “That’s right. My boss owns both places.”

  He placed a drink in front of her and nodded toward the back. “When the music starts, you can walk through the patio to get to the Wildcat. Take your drink with you. Come back for a refill, or when you want a break from the noise.”

  “Sounds good.”

  When he brought the food, she spread cheese on a slice of bread and ate hungrily.

  Bobby made conversation as he rinsed and dried glasses. “This is the first time I’ve seen you here. Are you a tourist?”

  “I’m embarrassed to admit I live down the freeway in Buena Viaje. I don’t venture past city limits often.”

  “What brought you this way tonight?”

  “I was hoping to run into a guy I met who works on the oil rigs. I figured there was a better chance of seeing him here than in Buena Viaje.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  She concocted a lie. “Lynn Swanson told me his name is Jack. Do you know either of them?”

  “Sure, I know Lynn. She’s usually here with her friend, Margo.” He stopped drying and threw the bar towel over his shoulder. “Jack has come in several times. The first time, he took a seat beside Lynn and Margo and struck up a conversation. He stayed after they left. That’s when he told me he was here on assignment from Long Beach.”

  “Did you see Jack and Mrs. Swanson together again?”

  “The next time, her stepson came in. I remember because Brad got drunk and ended up being rude to the guy. I told Brad to go next door and cool off.”

  Pat considered Brad’s neglect to mention the confrontation.

  “Were they here another time?”

  When he looked at her oddly, she knew she couldn’t ask more questions without flashing her badge.

  “The last time, she came alone. He arrived shortly after. They had one drink and left togethe
r.”

  The phone at the end of the bar rang. “I’ve got to get this.”

  When the bartender returned, she reached for her badge. At the same moment, Bobby looked toward the entrance and pointed a finger at her.

  “Hey, Jack. This lady is looking for you.”

  • • •

  “Well, well. If it’s not my brother’s sidekick.”

  Everything about him was fluid, from his smile to the way he slid into place beside her.

  The greeting she squeaked sounded lame. “Hi, Jack.”

  “A bourbon neat for me,” he told the bartender. “And another of whatever she’s drinking.”

  Bobby reached for a bottle on a shelf above the bar.

  Jack turned to face her. “I was afraid I hadn’t impressed you at the station. You coming all this way to see me tells a different story.”

  She willed herself to meet his laughing eyes. “I’m here on business.”

  “What business does a policewoman conduct in a bar?”

  Bobby returned in time to hear the question. He raised an eyebrow as he slid a glass in front of her. “So that’s why you were asking questions.”

  She smiled weakly as the bartender placed a new drink on the coaster.

  “You want anything to eat, Jack?” he asked.

  Pat slid her plate toward Jack.

  “There’s plenty here,” she offered. She pointed at the half empty plate of vegetables doused with dressing.

  Jack wrinkled his nose. “No thanks. Bring me some sliders and a basket of fries, Bobby.”

  He looked at her with a playful smile. “I can answer your questions, but wouldn’t you rather discover the answers by getting to know me better?”

  She felt like a flustered school girl and hated herself for blushing. She hated more that he noticed her discomfort.

  “I don’t mean to embarrass you,” he said. “I’m sure my brother sent you, but…”

  She wanted him to continue. “But what?”

  “I was hoping you’d come for personal reasons.”

  She shouldn’t have agreed to take Tom’s place. She wanted to tell Jack he was right. Her reason for coming was to see him again.