“Was Nora after Jack? Was it jealousy, maybe?”
Karen looked at me blankly. “I don’t think Nora liked Jack very much. I think she was afraid of him.”
“Afraid? Why?”
Karen stopped bundling her documents for a moment. “I don’t know, really. It’s just an impression. It’s as though he held something over her head.” She grew quiet for a moment, casting her mind back. “At least, that was always the feeling I had.”
Now that we were alone, this was an opportune moment to satisfy my curiosity. “I noticed you talking to Billy, the messenger guy, in the hall the other day.”
She shot me a dark look. “What are you asking?” Her tone of voice had changed. She was suddenly on her guard.
“Well, it looked like you had your heads together and you were whispering. I was just curious.”
“Billy’s a friend. We have lunch together sometimes. We live in the same building. Besides, I don’t think it’s any of your business,” Karen grumbled. “And if you’re wondering where we were when Jack was killed, we were both at home. The police have taken our statements.”
“I didn’t mean that at all, Karen. I was just asking …”
“We both live at the Hartford Arms on Sutter. We have rooms there, okay? And at least five other people can vouch for us if that’s what you’re wondering.”
I was familiar with the Hartford. It’s a convenient residence hotel, centrally located. People can stay temporarily or long-term for an extremely reasonable rent. In fact, it’s probably the best deal in town. A guest gets a room and two meals a day, plus phone, computer hookup, and a rec room.
“So you both live there?”
“Yeees, we both live there. Is there anything else you want to know? Otherwise, I’m done here.” There was a momentary flash of anger in her eyes that contradicted her usual manner. She turned and walked through the door of Ira’s office, shutting it more than firmly behind her. I can take a hint. I left and walked down the hall to David’s office. Adam had just stepped into the reception area. I glanced around and noticed that all the boxes we’d retrieved were stacked next to my desk.
“I’ve got to head back to the office to take care of a couple of other clients but I’ll come back in a few hours. Will you still be around?”
“As long as David’s here. I’m going to spend some time reading through the transcripts and pleadings in that case we were talking about.”
“I wish you luck.” His expression seemed to say he doubted I’d learn anything of value.
I stuck my head into David’s office. “I’m back.”
He looked up and nodded in a distracted manner. I was grateful Adam hadn’t told him about the events of last night. I really didn’t feel like being lectured. I vowed I’d find the right moment to tell David about it. I shed my coat, dumped my purse on the desk, and lifted the lid of the first box from Jack’s apartment. It held four expanding files full of handwritten notes on long yellow legal sheets and two folders of legal research on issues of law. Pretty dry stuff, much of it copies of cases against insurers heard before appellate courts. The second box was crammed with relevant court pleadings, starting with the initial complaint. The third box contained trial transcripts and deposition transcripts. That might be more revealing.
I scanned the pleadings that were available. Other than the initial complaint filed on behalf of the janitor’s widow, Rebecca Moulton, the litigation that followed over the next several years didn’t appear to reference her or her husband. These copies weren’t the complete file, but they were the salient ones that would have been important to Jack.
Rebecca Moulton, the wife of Max Moulton, the janitor killed in the blaze, had been paid a settlement early on. Her agreement was signed a year after the initiation of the lawsuit. The case had continued for several years after that, as each party or insurer was dismissed from the lawsuit. The fire had been particularly tragic because the employees in the building ignored the fire alarm, assuming it was a test. Fire exits had been blocked by trash bags collected by the cleaning crew and this resulted in the inability of Max Moulton, the young janitor, to escape the blaze. Who was his widow? She would still be young. Did they have children? Was she left alone to cope with the death of her husband? Did she have family in San Francisco to help her through? No doubt she’d been grief-stricken, but was she consumed with an illogical rage? Could she have focused her anger at anyone connected with that disaster, no matter how tenuous the connection?
The last box contained more trial transcripts and the depositions of Fire Chief Herbert Belding and Arson Inspector Ted Warren, both of whom had been witnesses at trial. They testified that the fire had started from a short in the work done by the electrical contractor, Terrence Ward. Improper insulation leading to a circuit box had been the culprit. It was clear from reading the transcript that Jack had pounded it into the jury’s mind that the negligence of the electrical contractor was to blame. Reading through the exam and the cross-exam, I could almost visualize the exchange in the courtroom. Ward was tongue-tied, he stumbled, he made excuses and backtracked in his story. The man had been demolished and ripped apart under Jack’s questioning. The transcript was damning.
I’d settled in on the sofa with the files spread out around me. Engrossed in my reading, I’d lost all track of time. I checked the clock. Almost six. David must still be in, but his office was unnaturally quiet. I stacked up the files I’d read in one pile on the floor and put the others on the desk. I planned to repack the boxes when I was finished. I tapped on David’s door and walked in. He was staring at his cell phone and jumped when he saw me.
“Oh, Julia. You’re still here? I thought you would have gone by now.”
“I’ve been reading Jack’s old files about the bank fire.”
“You still think that’s related?”
I shrugged. “It certainly could be.”
“Find anything interesting?”
“Well, yes and no.” Before I had a chance to say anything further, David interrupted.
“Listen, Adam’s on his way up. What do you say we call it a day and grab some dinner. Can you join us?”
Dinner sounded great. I was starving. “I’d love to. Where are we going?”
“How about we walk up to North Beach and grab something there? I’ll let you pick the restaurant. You know all the best ones.”
“Let’s go to Franco’s. I haven’t been there for a while.”
Adam tapped on the door and joined us. “Hi,” he said with a smile.
“Hi.” I felt my cheeks warm. I hoped David hadn’t noticed. “I guess we’re heading to North Beach for dinner. I’ll get my things.”
The three of us walked in single file down Montgomery Street, doing our best to avoid the crowds pouring out of office buildings and heading to bus stops. At the Broadway-Columbus intersection, North Beach was brightly lit and every street log jammed with traffic. A local group of Chinese musicians playing traditional instruments had taken over the wide sidewalk by the traffic lights. We joined the crowd and listened to their exotic music for a few minutes. Adam dropped a five dollar bill into a basket and we continued on our way to Franco’s.
The doorway was wide open. Inside, pots of geraniums stood on the windowsill and strands of woven garlic hung from the ceiling. The décor is a little tacky but the incredible food more than makes up for the interior. I was instantly hungry. We were the first diners of the evening and had Franco’s complete attention.
“Julia, comé stai, cara?” Franco is a dark-haired, stocky man in his fifties who runs his restaurant with the help of his wife, son, and daughter. He likes to serenade his customers while they eat. It’s often hard to dine and keep a straight face. What Franco lacks in singing talent, however, he makes up for in sheer force of personality. He also makes the most fantastic tortellini in Alfredo sauce.
“Bene, et t
u? Et tua moglie?” I replied.
“Molto bene. Grazie.”
Adam held out a chair for me. “Friend of yours?” he asked.
“Oh, I’ve known Franco for years. I grew up just a few blocks away.”
“Ah, so I can’t impress you with my knowledge of North Beach restaurants, I guess.”
“No need to.” We smiled at each other and I could feel my cheeks grow yet warmer. This was not lost on Franco, who discreetly bustled away to the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of Pinot Grigio and three wineglasses. The specialty of the evening was rotelli alla gamberi, a squiggly pasta served with shrimp in a lemon and white wine sauce. I opted for my favorite, after the tortellini Alfredo, that is—broccoli tortellini in a creamy marinara sauce.
David said, “This is fantastic. I’m sorry we have to spoil it with shop talk tonight.”
“It’s probably a good idea if we do most of our talking away from the firm anyway,” Adam replied.
“So, Adam,” David began, “what have you been able to learn? Have the police come up with anything?”
Adam reached for the wine bottle and poured some into each of our glasses. “The police have told me that Karen Jansen came into the building on Sunday. She’d agreed to work a few hours that day. She’d called Jack earlier and her phone records back up her call. She came in around three fifteen. She says that when she got to the office, Jack had changed his mind and told her he didn’t need her after all.”
“What? She told me today she was at her residence all day,” I said.
“Well, she lied. She was in the office. She said nothing unusual happened. Jack was grumpy and insisted he didn’t need help. She left and walked home. She swears Jack was alive when she left. We know Nora Layton was supposed to come into the office to talk to him about the case they’re working on, but she called him and claims he decided there was no need.”
Franco returned to our table with a huge tray of steaming dishes. We fell silent as he served each plate. Adam waited a discreet moment before speaking. “The police checked Suzanne’s parking record. She arrived at 4:15 and left at 4:35. She says she found Jack, already dead, in his office. But that’s twenty minutes. Seems like a long time to just walk in, discover Jack, and leave.”
“Not really,” I replied. “Maybe she parked on a lower level and had to wait for the elevator up to A-level and then went to the other bank to take an elevator to the 41st floor. Plus she’d have to sign in at the guards’ console.”
“Maybe,” Adam conceded reluctantly. “There’s one more thing. Roger admitted to being in the office Sunday too. He drove in, so it was easy to check. He didn’t speak with Jack. He just needed to pick something up from his office and left, he said. But he did see Karen leaving and Jack was still alive.”
“Did Suzanne see anybody else while she was there?” I asked.
“No. The police have taken her statement and she says she saw no one. She was pretty upset when they questioned her. The other known entry to the building was a delivery guy from Giuseppe’s Pizza. That was on the up-and-up apparently because the security guard even called up to the office on the 16th floor before he let the guy up to deliver the pizzas.”
I decided this might be the opportune moment to fess up to David. I took a deep breath. “Listen, last night I got into the building and up to the 41st floor without being seen by the guards. They caught up with me as I was trying to leave, but I did make it up there without their knowing.”
“Why did you do that?” David sputtered. “That could have been dangerous.”
“Please don’t be upset. I had a bee in my bonnet about it and just decided to check.”
“David’s right, Julia,” Adam remarked softly.
David turned to Adam. “You knew about this?”
Before Adam could answer, I said, “I know you’re both right, but I couldn’t resist. There’s a truck tunnel used for deliveries that connects to two other buildings. One on Sutter and one on Market.”
“That’s right,” David remarked. “I’d forgotten about that. You mean the tunnel door to our building wasn’t shut?”
“Nope. Interesting, isn’t it? Adam told me it’s supposed to be closed at eight o’clock during the week and all weekend, but each guy thought the other had taken care of it.”
“So, it’s possible the same thing happened on Sunday?” Adam asked.
“Could be. If the metal door was up for a Saturday delivery, maybe the guards didn’t even think to check it on Sunday.”
“They’re supposed to make rounds on all four parking levels at some point in their shift,” Adam said angrily.
“Hey, the reality is maybe they don’t and say they do,” I replied. “Anyway, I just wanted to prove to myself that it was possible, that’s all. But there’s more.”
“More?” David asked.
“Somebody else was there. In the litigation section. I heard something, and then I was hit and knocked down.”
“Julia, what did I tell you?” David’s face grew red. “You’re making yourself a target and you could have been really hurt. I think the police ought to know about this.”
“Listen to me, David. What’s more important is that one of the guards went down to B level to close off the tunnel while the other one escorted me to my car. So, whoever was in the office that night couldn’t possibly have left the building without being seen.”
“This is sounding like Phantom of the Opera. You mean someone might have been inside all night?”
“Sure, why not? I already told you what I think. There’s a good chance our murderer is a female, perhaps even an employee.” David remained silent, but he looked uncomfortable.
“And where does this come from?” Adam asked.
I hesitated for a moment. “Adam, I’m not really a legal secretary. I mean, I used to be. I used to work for David a couple of years ago, but I have my own business now. I’m an astrologer.”
“An astrologer?” Adam’s incredulity was obvious and both eyebrows went up.
“Yes.” I watched his face carefully as he digested the information. “I have my own business. I have a private clientele, I lecture, and I’ve published a few things.” I heard a defensive tone creeping into my voice.
Adam was silent. David smiled. “And I’m one of her clients,” he said. “I can vouch for Julia. I wasn’t a believer either, but she’s turned me into one.”
“Well …” Adam trailed off. I could see the surprise on his face.
“Trust me, it works,” I said. “David and his family have been clients of mine for some time.”
Adam shrugged. “Well, it’s one way to come up with clues. I can’t knock it. I don’t have anything better. I’m planning on checking up on the Deklon Management guys. The two charming Farraday brothers. Find out what they’ve been up to lately.”
I realized belatedly that I hadn’t asked Adam for his birth information. I was as negligent as Gale. If I asked now, it would be obvious to David why I was asking. I’d have to wait for an opportune moment. “Oh, Adam, before I forget, the plaintiff in the Bank case … her name was Rebecca Moulton.”
Adam pulled a small notebook and pen out of his jacket pocket. “How do you spell that? M-O-U-L-T-O-N?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He sighed heavily. “I’ll try to find out where she is or whatever happened to her.”
When the dinner plates were cleared away, we ordered espresso. I knew I’d need the caffeine to wake up after the heavy meal and be able to concentrate on charts. As we left Franco’s, the bells in the twin towers of Saints Peter and Paul across the park were chiming the eight o’clock hour.
“Julia, do you need a ride home?” Adam asked. His smile was warm and suggestive. David glanced over at me. I could feel a blush starting and turned away. Adam’s interest was flattering, but I wasn’t appreciating the though
t bubble I could see over David’s head. I’m a very private person. Was I ready to get involved with anyone? No matter what, I didn’t want to have to explain myself.
“No need. My car’s in the garage.”
“I’ll walk you to your car in that case. Doesn’t hurt to be cautious,” Adam replied.
The night was chill and damp. The streets glistened with moisture that reflected the garish neon signs along Columbus. Most of the restaurants had cleared their outdoor seating in deference to the cold while diners stayed warm behind plate-glass windows overlooking the sidewalk. We reached the corner of Kearny and Sutter, where the streets were now silent and deserted. Sandwiched between David and Adam, I could feel the warmth from Adam’s body and detect a hint of aftershave. I hadn’t had this kind of reaction to a man in a very long time. Maybe I’d just been dateless for far too long. We entered the building from the street level using David’s building card, and, in unison, glanced up at the security cameras by the front doors. David pushed the down button to A-level on the elevator console.
“We’ll have to sign in and out before we can go down to the levels where we’ve parked our cars,” David remarked. Sure enough, as we stepped out of the elevator, the building guard approached us. This was a different man from the ones I’d encountered the night before. I breathed a sigh of relief. Although I’d confessed my explorations to David and Adam, I didn’t particularly want to remind them of the incident. The guard recognized David but asked that he, as well as Adam and I, sign in for the few minutes we were in the building. I was relieved to see that the guards weren’t leaving anything to chance, and I was willing to bet that the steel door to the truck tunnel was closed and locked tonight.
David spotted his car immediately as soon as we exited the elevator on B-level. Mine was against the far wall, tucked into a corner. We said good night to David as he pulled out of his space and drove up the ramp. Adam followed me across the parking area to my car. I fumbled in my purse for the keys and unlocked the driver’s side door. I turned to say good night, but Adam was standing so close I had to look up at his face. His hand rested on the small of my back. He pulled me close and bent down to kiss me. Intense warmth spread through my body and I silently prayed that my cheeks were not bright red.
Tail of the Dragon Page 14
