Her fingers missed a button, and she had to start over. “What makes you think that?” She pushed the door open and allowed him to go through first.
“Am I right?”
She lifted her shoulder in a half shrug. “A few times.”
“Is that allowed here?”
“Tony did pretty much what Tony wanted to do, but he never, you know, abused it. He just had that kind of personality. I don’t know why anyone would want to kill him.” Unshed tears brightened her golden eyes.
Ben studied the receptionist. “How was your relationship lately?”
“It was fine.”
The tremor in her voice indicated their relationship was definitely not fine. “When did you last see him? As in a date?”
“About six weeks ago.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “Tony had been acting a little strange lately, but he’d been busy getting his sister and her son settled in, so he didn’t have much personal time.”
“Did that bother you?”
“Of course it bothered me, but I didn’t kill him over it. I knew sooner or later, he’d be back. Of course, now . . .” She heaved a sigh.
“Who do you think will get Tony’s job?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Geoffrey Franks. He’s been eying Tony’s job ever since he worked his way into management. Not that he would’ve ever gotten it as long as Tony was around.”
“This Franks, has he worked at Maxwell Industries long?”
“He was here before I came, and I’ve been here eight years.”
Ben nodded. “That’s a long time to work as a receptionist. I imagine you see a lot that goes on.”
She sniffed. “Well, you know, I do more than just sit at that desk and greet people. I coordinated Tony’s flights, and not just Tony’s. I book everyone’s commercial flights and hotels. It’s kind of my specialty, you know.”
“Did you book Tony’s room at the Peabody last night?”
She shook her head. “Is that where it, uh, happened?”
Ben nodded.
“It wasn’t company business, so I wouldn’t have booked it.” She walked past him. “His office is down here on the right.”
Tiffany unlocked the wooden door. “Like all the offices, it’s—oh!” She stopped, and Ben almost bumped into her. “Geoffrey, I didn’t know you were in here.”
Franks looked as startled as Tiffany. His fingers flew over a keyboard and his computer screen darkened, then he swiveled his chair around to face them. “Can I help you with something?”
“Geoffrey Franks, I presume?” Franks imitated the dress code of his boss Ian, differing only with a bow tie rather than a necktie. Ben reached his hand out. “I’m Ben Logan.”
“The sheriff,” Tiffany added.
“I know who the sheriff is.” Franks unfolded from the chair and stood. He was a couple of inches shorter than Ben, but compact. The accountant adjusted his black-rimmed glasses then clasped Ben’s hand with a firm grip. “Yes, I’m Geoffrey Franks.”
Tiffany’s nostrils flared. “Well, no one told me you had already taken over Tony’s office.”
Ben didn’t know if Tiffany’s indignation stemmed from not being told or from Franks already commandeering Tony’s office.
“I wasn’t aware that upper management informed the receptionist of every change in job description.”
Ouch. The man’s pleasant appearance belied a sharp tongue. Ben turned to Tiffany. “Thanks for showing me the way. I’ll stop by your desk on my way out.”
“You’re quite welcome, Sheriff.” She leveled a frosty glare at the interloper as she walked out the door.
Geoffrey huffed a breath and shook his head. “Sometimes I think I should have accepted the accounting job with the school district. When one starts out on the line in a factory and moves into management, one never receives the proper respect.”
“So you started with Maxwell Industries out in the plant?”
“Yes, in the shipping department, loading trucks. Then I moved to drilling the barrels on the rifles, the receiver building, you name it, I’ve done it here. Put me through college, though.”
“And now you have Tony’s job.”
He nodded. “Not that I wanted it this way. Tony was a good guy.”
“What exactly was Tony’s job?”
“He kept up with inventory—every piece made each day, every Maxwell .270 and AR-15 assembled—it’s all tracked. And he kept all the books, like payroll, federal deposits, insurance.”
“Do you know of any enemies Tony may have had?”
“Other than Billy Wayne? I heard he’s the one who killed Tony.”
As always, news traveled fast in Logan Point. “Maybe. I’m just checking out a few other leads.” He glanced around the paneled office. Smaller than Phillip’s. A painting with bold red strokes drew his eye. Someone had good taste. “Did Tony download a lot of his work?”
“Oh no, sir. Any type of portable storage disk is totally forbidden here. Industrial espionage is a very real problem in the rifle industry. And there are very strict guidelines we follow. There was no reason Tony would download anything, especially since the new Maxwell .280 is in develop—” Geoffrey swallowed hard. “I should not have mentioned the .280.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t pass it on.” Ben jotted a note on his pad. “Did Billy Wayne have access to information on the computers?”
“No, he mostly worked on the networking end, or if one of the computers crashed, he’d get it going again.” He scratched his jaw. “Although anyone that good with computers could probably access anything he wanted to.”
“One more thing. Did you ever play cards with Tony?”
“I’m not a fool, Sheriff. Tony had a photographic memory—knew every card in play. It wasn’t a fact that everyone knew, but if you were around him for any period of time, it became obvious. Of course, Billy Wayne didn’t have a clue. I never understood how anyone could be almost a genius when it came to computers and be such an easy prey for Tony. Do you think that’s the motive for his murder?”
“Could be.” Ben glanced around the room. Nothing indicated Tony had ever inhabited the room. His gaze rested on a gray plastic tub in the corner. On the side someone had written “Tony’s Personal Effects.” Geoffrey, no doubt. “Were Ms. Davis and Tony an item?”
Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Tiffany would have you believe they were, but Tony was too married to his work and his hobbies to get serious about anyone. And then his sister and nephew took his time of late. I don’t think Tiffany was too happy about that.”
Ben didn’t think the woman-spurned angle was worth pursuing. Unless Tiffany was psychotic, and she didn’t seem to be, there didn’t appear to be that much of a relationship between them. He put away his pad and pen. “Well, thanks for your time, Geoffrey. If you think of anything that might shed light on his death, I’d appreciate a call.”
After exiting Geoffrey’s office, he stopped at Tiffany’s desk to thank her for her help.
She leaned forward in her chair. “I don’t know if you picked up on it,” she said, keeping her voice low, “but Geoffrey really wanted Tony’s job.”
“Do you think he would have killed him to get it?”
The corner of her mouth twitched, and her eagerness deflated. “No, I suppose not.”
“I don’t, either. But if you come up with anything else, run it by me. It could be important.”
Her eyes widened. “I’ll definitely do that.”
“Is Junior Gresham here today?”
“He was, but he went home with his mother. That poor woman. I feel so sorry for her.”
“Yeah,” Ben said, thinking about her other son who had died. “So do I.”
Ben took his time walking back to his truck. This trip had netted little information, and his thoughts went back to the flash drive. What could have been on it? Tony had indicated he had something the feds would be interested in, but so far Ben hadn’t found a single clue as to what it was.
&n
bsp; Maybe he wasn’t killed over the flash drive. According to Geoffrey, Tony had a photographic memory, something he needed to check with Leigh about. Could that be why he was killed? Because someone lost a lot of money to him in a poker game?
But where did Billy Wayne Gresham fit? All the evidence pointed to him. Ben just didn’t buy that he killed Tony over gambling debts. But if it wasn’t gambling debts, what was it?
“Okay,” Ben said. “If you were calling the shots, would you go with Billy Wayne acting alone in Leigh’s shooting and killing Tony?”
They were in Wade’s office, and Ben sat on the edge of the chief deputy’s oak desk as the late afternoon sun filtered through the window. Photos of the chief deputy with his hunting dogs adorned the gray wall behind his chair.
Wade leaned back in his chair and juggled a Rubik’s Cube. “You’re not putting that monkey on my back. You’re the sheriff, you make the call.”
It was well known around the county that as Sheriff Tom Logan’s chief deputy, Wade had expected the board of supervisors to appoint him as acting sheriff after Tom’s stroke on the operating table. To Wade’s credit, Ben hadn’t detected any animosity from him in the intervening six months.
Ben snagged the cube. Wade had just worked the thing in under a minute. Again. He scrambled the squares before he looked up. “Not asking you to make the call, just a little input. Livy said the ballistics fingerprinting wouldn’t be available until at least Thursday, and Leigh wants an answer today.”
The deputy shrugged. “Don’t see that you need it to confirm what you already know. You have two shootings, and we found two guns that could possibly match the types used in both crimes in Billy Wayne’s bedroom. How many people do you know with a Sub-2000? Add to that his online journal where he vented about losing a substantial amount of money to Tony, and his stalker script for a new video game that paralleled the two shootings.” He shot an imaginary basketball. “Slam dunk.”
That was what bothered Ben. It was too easy. Except no one could’ve known Billy Wayne would slam into that oak tree this morning. A lucky break in the case. Maybe he should just be thankful. “Okay, pull the deputies off Leigh’s detail, but have someone on each shift do random drive-bys.”
“Will do.”
Ben stared at the Rubik’s Cube in his hands. He twisted the top row of squares to the right, then flipped the middle row and succeeded in totally messing up the pattern. Wade took the cube from him and soon had all six sides lined up. “How do you do that?” Ben asked.
He tossed the cube back to Ben. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Wade’s cell phone dinged, and he checked his watch. “Oops, got to get to the park.”
“For?”
Wade grinned. “Since you wouldn’t help, Andre roped me into helping him coach.” The chief deputy raised his eyebrows. “You know, I don’t get it. You were a really good ballplayer, and the kids would learn a lot from you. So why aren’t you helping?”
Ben’s mouth went dry. Why did everyone keep harping on what he should do? “They don’t need me when they have you.”
Wade cocked his head. “Someday, Ben, you have to put Tommy Ray’s death behind you. It wasn’t your fault.”
“That has nothing to do with it. I don’t have time.” He glanced away from Wade’s still-raised eyebrows. “Look, here at the office, I have three of Dad’s file cabinets to try to make sense out of, and since his stroke, I’ve taken on a lot of the things he used to do at home. And I have the Sunday school gig until Jeremy returns.”
“You can lie to everyone else,” Wade said, “but you can’t lie to me.”
“You’re crazy.” Ben waved him off. “I have to get started on those files—you’ve seen them and the crazy way he filed things.”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.”
6
Leigh shifted her weight as yet another person enveloped her in an embrace and murmured words of comfort. “Thank you for coming,” she said, glancing at the receiving line that stretched around the wall, out the door, and down the Stafford Funeral Home hallway. She had no idea so many people loved Tony or that he’d helped so many.
“Doc, I’m going to miss your brother.” The wizened farmer clasped her hand in his gnarled fingers. “He kept me from losing my farm last year to back taxes.”
At least now she had an idea of what he’d done with his money. It made her feel bad that she hadn’t really known her brother at all, and that she’d thought Tony stayed in their grandparents’ house because he gambled his money away. “Thank you,” she murmured again as the farmer shuffled on to TJ.
She’d been surprised when her son wanted to stand in the receiving line and thank people for coming. Tony would be amused to see his nephew dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt and tie, his straight hair tamed under her hair spray. Leigh turned to meet the next person and flinched when she spied Ben’s mom near the door. And behind her was Ian. It surprised her that Danny wasn’t with him. The two seemed to be joined at the hip.
“TJ, would you get me a bottle of water?”
A thin arm slipped around her waist. “Honey, why don’t you sit down?” Sarah Alexander whispered.
Leigh patted her friend’s hand. Sarah had come all the way from Jackson to be with her. “Not just yet.”
The people of Logan Point had come out to pay their last respects to her brother. The least she could do was receive them. Thankfully, the funeral director cut off the receiving line before Marisa reached her, moving everyone to the chapel. Her frozen smile cracked a little as the service began with “In the Garden,” Tony’s favorite hymn. Then the pastor talked about how he’d come to know Tony, and what a fine man he was. Leigh hadn’t known who the pastor was when he called and offered to conduct the service. She needed to remedy that—someone had to take TJ to church. Would Sarah consider . . . What was she thinking? Asking a seventy-three-year-old woman to move away from friends and the home where she’d lived for fifty years would be unconscionable. Almost as though she’d read her mind, Sarah squeezed her hand.
Numb. It was as though someone had injected her with a huge dose of novocaine. There was a clinical name for what her emotions were going through—acute stress reaction. She closed her eyes. Tony’s death was so senseless. A gambling dispute. So, what part did the flash drive play in the whole thing? Their house had been ransacked—by Billy Wayne Gresham? Ben had said no flash drive had been found at Gresham’s house. What if Billy Wayne hadn’t acted alone? Only time would tell if the nightmare would end with the funeral today.
Leigh forced her mind back to what the pastor was saying. Something about Tony being the apple of God’s eye, that he sees the hidden compartments of our hearts. Hidden compartments. A memory tugged . . . she and Tony, playing in the attic . . . a false wall . . . all those little cubicles. Could the flash drive be there?
Finally, the service ended and Tony’s body was whisked away to the cemetery. She and TJ and Sarah would go later. TJ walked with the funeral director as he led Leigh and Sarah to the front reception area where more people waited to give their condolences. Leigh didn’t know if she could do this one more time. Her father’s funeral replayed in her head, and her mother’s voice spoke from the past. “You are a Jackson. These people loved your father, and they want to pay their respects.” She and Tony had stood in the receiving line together that day. Tears blurred her eyes. Today she stood without him.
Ian stepped toward her and took her hands in his. “I want you to know, if you need anything at all, I’m here. I want to help you and TJ.”
Ian had caught her off guard. She had not yet fixed a smile on her face, and her bottom lip quivered. “Thank you. But we’ll be fine.”
Danny materialized on the other side of Ian. “If you want to live in someplace besides your grandmother’s house, I have a couple of places. Or you can pick one of Ian’s.”
Danny’s kindness almost undid her. “Thank you.” She blotted her eyes with a tissue. “But we’ll stay where we are.”
She caught a whiff of Ben’s outdoorsy cologne before he touched her arm. She hadn’t seen him enter the room. Her heart thumped against her ribs.
“I wish I could change your mind about staying in your grandmother’s house. My folks would be glad for you to move in with them,” Ben said.
Evidently voices carried in the cavernous room. Leigh clenched her jaw. “Why would I want to do that? You said a couple of days ago that Billy Wayne Gresham was the shooter.” She’d caught a glimpse of Ben’s truck a few times when he drove through her neighborhood, but he hadn’t bothered to stop. And now he wanted her to move in with his parents?
“He may not have acted alone. I’d feel better knowing you were with someone.”
“I am with someone. TJ is with me.”
“All the more reason.” Exasperation tinged his voice.
Leigh looked him up and down. Ben wore no gun today, but the authority of the sheriff’s office rested in his stance, feet slightly apart, shoulders squared, and eyes seeming to take in every detail. She lifted her chin and used the voice she’d cultivated to deal with her male classmates in med school. “I see no reason for leaving my house.”
He took a step back and held his hands up. “O-kay.”
Next to Ben, Wade Hatcher nodded his condolences. More people moved forward, and one by one, Leigh thanked them for coming. Each person spoke first to TJ, then Sarah, and finally Leigh. Then Ben was at her side again, his cologne making her think of a meadow far away from this funeral home. “I had no idea Tony had so many friends,” she murmured to him as the next person moved toward her.
“A lot of these people are here for you too.”
That hadn’t occurred to her, and the thought warmed her heart. “Oh, and thanks for driving by and checking on me.”
“Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?” Ben asked.
A Promise to Protect (Logan Point Book #2): A Novel Page 7
