He pulled up behind an ambulance and police car already on the scene. “The chandelier is impressive,” Annie admitted as they hurried across the atrium to a waiting elevator.
"Pin your badge on,” he told her. “These guys won't know you."
"Right."
They took the elevator to the twentieth floor, where a uniformed patrolman was awaiting them. “What's the story, Rodriguez?"
"Attempted robbery. One man dead. In here."
They followed him through an open door into a small reception area. There was no desk for a receptionist, only a leather sofa with two matching chairs. On the wall was a sign calling attention to an intercom speaker. Another officer was inside, directing them to a small, windowless office with a thick wooden door. Two empty chairs faced a desk where a man was slumped facedown in a welter of blood.
A grayhaired man in a conservative pinstriped suit and blue tie followed them in from an adjoining office. “I'm Matthew Kirk, president of Essex Jewelers. The dead man is our vice president, Perry Valencia. I don't know what happened."
Sergeant Reynolds introduced himself and Annie. “Suppose you tell us what you do know, Mr. Kirk."
The forensic people were arriving on the scene, so they moved into Matthew Kirk's somewhat larger office. This one had a window, with a magnificent view of downtown San Diego.
"I was here in my office, going over some figures. None of us heard a thing."
"Who else was here at the time?” Annie asked, making notes. He seemed remarkably calm for someone who'd just had an employee killed in his office.
"There are usually five of us: myself, Perry, Jenny Presburg, Chris Fox, and Ashley Cooper. Ashley is out ill today. For business reasons, our offices are soundproofed, with thick doors.” He motioned toward a corner of the ceiling where Annie had already observed the tiny eye of a security camera. “We have cameras in every room, and each of us has a small monitor to observe the entrance. You understand, we don't sell jewelry here. Our business is buying gold, silver, diamonds, and other precious stones, mainly from estates. These are resold to dealers around the country."
"We're more interested right now in the killing of Perry Valencia,” Reynolds told him, trying to mask his impatience. “If you didn't hear the shot, you must have at least seen who was in the room with him."
"I didn't, but the monitors for the rooms are in Chris's office. He's our treasurer. He's the one who spread the alarm."
"I guess we'd better talk to him,” Reynolds decided.
Kirk called him in from the next office. He was a blond man in his thirties, with frown lines already deeply etched around his eyes. A small goatee seemed out of place on his face. “Tell them what you saw,” Matthew Kirk said.
Chris Fox was a bundle of nerves, taking a seat and then immediately standing up. “Have you caught him yet?” he wanted to know.
"Just tell us what you saw."
"Well, first I saw someone entering the office on the door monitor. We need magnetic key cards to get to the inner offices. Outside of us, the only other cardholder is Miguel, on the cleaning crew. He personally comes in each morning and empties our trash. I only caught a glimpse, but I knew it was him."
"Could anyone have come in with him?” Annie asked.
"I don't think so, but I wouldn't swear to it. Usually when someone enters the waiting room, whoever's free greets them on the speaker, asks their business, and then comes out to escort them inside. I don't do appraisals, which is why the monitors are in my office away from visitors.” He sat down again. “God, this is awful! I can't believe it happened."
"What did you see?"
"I'm not often watching the screens. They're out of my line of vision. But I suddenly became aware that Perry was slumped over his desk. I never heard the gunshot, but that's not surprising, with the soundproofing and the thick doors."
"Don't you have sound on the security cameras?” Annie asked.
"It's against the law unless there's a sign advising people they're being recorded."
"Had Miguel left by this time?"
"I don't know. I was more concerned about Perry. I called to the others, and we ran in."
"Knowing a killer with a gun was somewhere in the office?"
"We didn't know it then. We'd didn't even realize he'd been shot until we saw all the blood and looked at the tape."
"That's what we'd all better do right now,” Reynolds decided. “Where's this woman, Jenny Presburg?"
"She was sick at the sight of it. She's still in the restroom."
He turned to Annie. “See if she's all right, Sears."
The single restroom was next to the mailroom with its fax and copy machines. Annie knocked and tried the door. It was locked, but a voice called out, “Who is it?"
"Detective Sears, Ms. Presburg. Are you all right?"
She flushed the toilet, unlocked the door, and showed Annie an ashen face. “I'm sorry. It's not every day I see a friend with his brains splattered—” She turned back to the toilet, and Annie went in to offer whatever help she could. But the worst seemed to be over. The young woman flushed the toilet one more time and straightened up, washing her hands and face before retrieving her purse and brushing off the front of her blouse and pants. “I'm all right now,” she told Annie. “Let's go into my office."
Her office was much like the one the dead man occupied, fairly small and windowless, with a phone, computer, and a monitor to view the office entrance. On a shelf next to the desk were a high-powered microscope and a flat-topped scale, which she explained was for accurate weighing of gold and silver items. “You can usually tell if a piece of jewelry is pure gold simply by weighing it,” she explained. “The microscope is for close examination of diamonds and other precious stones."
"All the offices have these?” Annie asked.
"Just mine, Perry's, and Ashley's. We do the appraisals. Of course we check with Mr. Kirk on items of special value."
"What about Chris Fox?"
"He writes the checks. He's our treasurer. We have a policy of immediate payment when we make a purchase. Usually it's by check, but we keep a supply of cash on hand, too, for clients who prefer it."
"So this was probably an attempted robbery."
"It must have been."
"Was Valencia here when you arrived this morning?"
She shook her head. “I was the first one in, around eight thirty. I had to finish up some work from yesterday. The others drifted in around nine, except for Ashley. She phoned to say she was sick."
Sergeant Reynolds entered just then. “The security camera caught it all,” he told us. “We have the murder on tape. Want a look?"
While the medical examiner completed his work and preparations were made to remove the body, they went into Chris Fox's office, where a bank of television monitors showed views of each office and the waiting room. Matthew Kirk had taken Fox's seat behind the desk. It was he who spoke first.
"Go on. Let's see it."
Chris Fox had rewound the tape, and he pressed the play button. The camera was peering over the shoulder of a slender man with a receding hairline whom Kirk identified as the victim, Perry Valencia. He was on the phone, and the time at the top of the photo showed 10:00, when the office opened for business. Then he was seen reading from a sheet of stiff red paper. “That's a weekly report we receive on the price of gold, silver, and various precious gems,” Matthew Kirk explained. “It's invaluable in this business."
Fox fastforwarded the tape, then went back to play. “Here it is. Here's something just before eleven. See the door opening just a crack, and somebody says something.” On the tape, Valencia glanced up and waved them away.
Annie's eyes were glued to the monitor. “They have these cameras running all day?"
"They can have me shut them off, but no one ever does. I keep the tapes for a week and then record over them."
Annie kept watching the monitor. She saw the heavy wooden door open and a figure in a long black coat and gloves
enter. His or her head was completely covered by a rubber Batman mask. Valencia looked up, startled. The Batman figure never spoke but simply raised a long-barreled target pistol and fired two quick silent shots. The screen flared for an instant, then cleared to show the masked figure exiting the office, pausing only long enough to drop the weapon. The time was 11:09.
"The gun!” she exclaimed, pointing to the screen. “He dropped it!"
Sergeant Reynolds nodded, “We found it in the wastebasket next to the desk. He didn't want to be caught with it on his person."
"That seems like a gang killing,” Annie ventured. “An execution. Did it have a silencer? We couldn't hear the shots."
"The cameras don't record sound,” Chris Fox verified.
Annie turned toward Matthew Kirk. “Have you had any dealings with organized crime?"
"Certainly not!"
"Drugs? Illegal immigration?"
"I run a respectable business here!"
"I'm sure you do,” Reynolds acknowledged, taking over Annie's line of questioning. “But that doesn't mean your employees might not be into something shady. What about Valencia? Does he have a wife, family?"
Jenny Presburg answered. “He's unmarried. I always thought he might be gay."
"Why's that?"
She shrugged. “Just a feeling I had."
The sergeant turned back to Chris Fox. “What about the rest of the tapes? What do they show?"
"Not much. We had no clients in yet this morning."
"You mean you four were the only ones in the office?"
"Miguel came in to empty the trash, like he does every morning."
"Let's take a look."
"I usually don't turn the security cameras on till we open at ten o'clock, but we have him when he came back after that.” The tape of the reception area showed a shapeless person in green work clothes using a key card to open the inner office door. The timer at the top of the screen showed it to be 10:56. “Is that Miguel?” Reynolds asked.
"It sure looks like him,” Jenny said.
"Why doesn't he come at night?"
"We don't allow anyone in here when the office is closed,” Kirk explained. “His key card only works during regular office hours. The offices are cleaned between nine and ten each morning, before we start receiving clients."
"Are you certain Miguel came in earlier?"
Chris Fox nodded. “He emptied my wastebasket.” Kirk and Jenny Presburg agreed. He'd been in all their offices shortly after nine. “We don't allow the cleaning people in unless one of us is in the office.” He motioned toward a closet door. “We have a vault in there that often contains jewelry and large sums of money. Even with all the security devices we can't take any chances."
"What makes you think the killing was part of a robbery attempt?” Annie asked. “On that tape the killer never said a word about money or anything else."
Matthew Kirk was growing impatient. “Of course it was robbery! What else could it be? If some enemy wanted to kill him they'd have done it at his home or on the street, not in this office with security cameras everywhere."
"But the security cameras prove one thing,” Reynolds reminded him. “You three were in the office when he was shot. No one else was here. Therefore, one of you must have killed him."
"What about Miguel?” Chris said. “He came in at 10:56."
Reynolds turned to Annie. “Find this Miguel and bring him up here if he knows anything."
She took the elevator to the lobby, now cluttered with news people and TV cameras. The word had traveled fast. One young man about her age headed for her at once. “Pardon me, Detective—” She realized he'd spotted her badge. “Pardon me, I'm Paul Goodhue from the Union Tribune. Can you tell me what's happening here?"
"An ongoing criminal investigation. We'll issue a statement in due course."
"We saw them take a body out—"
"Sorry, no comment."
She hurried over to the lobby reception desk. “Where can I find Miguel? He's on the cleaning crew."
"I'll page him,” the woman said.
He came off the elevator a few minutes later, a short, somewhat overweight man in his forties. “You looking for me, lady? I'm Miguel Fernandez."
"Detective Annie Sears. I just want to ask you some questions."
He was immediately on the defensive. “I'm legal. I got my papers."
"It's not about that. There's been a killing at Essex Jewelers on the twentieth floor. You clean and empty their wastebaskets, don't you?"
"I know nothing about a killing!” he insisted.
"You entered their office around eleven this morning."
"No!” He shook his head violently. “I clean between nine and ten, always between nine and ten. I don't go there again."
"I saw the tape from the security camera. It looked like you."
"Not me!” he insisted, and Annie had to admit that she hadn't seen the man's face clearly on the black and white tape.
"Where were you around eleven o'clock?"
"On my lunch break. We start early."
"Where did you go for lunch?"
"We have a room in the sub-basement. My wife, she fixes a sandwich for me. And there's vending machines for us."
"Anyone see you there?"
"Sure, there were people around."
Annie opened her notebook. “I need their names, Miguel."
He shrugged. “I don't know names. I know I didn't kill anybody."
"You have a key card to open the Essex office door. Did you loan it to anyone?"
"No. I got it right here.” He showed her the plastic card with the Emerald Plaza logo.
"All right, Miguel. We'll want to talk with you again later."
"I got nothing to hide."
She left him there and took the elevator back upstairs. Kirk, Fox, and Jenny Presburg were seated in the reception area with Rodriguez, the patrolman who'd been first on the scene. “What's up?” she asked him.
"The sergeant and two officers are searching the offices,” he told her.
Reynolds came out and asked about Miguel. “He insists it wasn't him,” she reported. “He was taking a lunch break then."
He nodded without comment. “We're searching this place top to bottom. We found that black coat the killer probably wore."
"It's Ashley's raincoat,” Kirk explained. “She wore it one day months ago when it rained, then forgot about it. She decided to leave it here in the closet. The gloves were in the pocket."
"Ashley?"
"That would be Ashley Cooper,” the sergeant told her. “The woman who's out sick today."
"It points to an inside job,” Annie said. “Someone had to know the coat was here."
Chris Fox stirred in his chair. “Miguel would have seen it when he cleaned the office."
"What about the Batman mask?"
"That's what we're searching for,” Reynolds explained. “Our on-screen killer had four items. He dropped the gun in the wastebasket. We found the coat and gloves in the closet. But the mask isn't here. We've searched every desk drawer, filing cabinet, and closet. The ceiling and walls are solid. The windows can't be opened. I'm going to request that you three submit to a body search. Annie, please take Ms. Presburg into the bathroom and check her out."
Jenny shrugged. “I have nothing to hide."
"Bring your purse too,” Annie told her. “I'll have to search that."
She had no Batman mask or anything else hidden beneath her blouse and pants. Her purse yielded only a handkerchief, lipstick, nail file, manicure scissors, wallet, and key chain. “All right,” Annie said. “I guess you're clean."
"Nothing on the men,” Reynolds told her when she returned to the treasurer's office while the others waited outside.
"She's clean too. Could we test their hands for nitrate, see if they fired a gun lately?"
He shook his head. “You're forgetting the killer wore gloves."
"Then where are we?"
"The Batman mask i
s missing. It's nowhere in this office and none of these three left the office. If I can play Sherlock for a moment—"
She smiled slightly. “Do you frequently?"
"—if the mask is gone, the killer had to remove it. Therefore, the killer is the only person we know left the office—Miguel Fernandez or someone posing as him."
"Maybe we think differently in El Paso, Sergeant. There's one place in this office that hasn't been searched, and that's where you'll find the missing mask."
"Where's that?” he asked with a frown.
"The vault."
In the best of all possible worlds, Annie Sears would have solved her first murder case with the San Diego force in a matter of two hours. The missing mask would have been in the vault, and Chris Fox would have confessed to the killing.
But there was nothing in the vault except currency, carefully wrapped diamonds, several pieces of gold jewelry, and a few contracts with buyers and sellers.
No mask.
"Go out and talk to this Ashley Cooper,” Reynolds suggested, aware of her disappointment. “It was her raincoat. Find out if she's really sick. Meanwhile, I'll collect the videotapes from the security cameras and take them back to headquarters."
She didn't argue, feeling a bit foolish over her failed solution. She got the woman's address from Matthew Kirk and set off for an apartment on Grape Street, eight blocks away on the north side of downtown.
* * * *
Ashley Cooper answered the door in a pink bathrobe, holding a tissue to her nose. “It's not a cold,” she assured Annie. “Just a bad asthma attack. My doctor can't see me till morning.” She was an attractive blond woman, perhaps in her mid thirties, who was a bit shorter than Annie in her bare feet. “Come on in."
"I'm Detective Sears, the one who phoned you. Mr. Kirk told you what happened this morning?"
She nodded, curling up in an armchair across the room from Annie. “I couldn't believe it. That office has every sort of high-tech security device there is!"
"How well did you know Perry Valencia?"
"Well, only five of us work there, so naturally we're close. I had lunch with him a few times."
AHMM, March 2007 Page 5
