by James Carol
Mary nodded. ‘Mr Galloway was a complete gentleman, just like his father. I couldn’t have asked for a better employer.’
‘What about you?’ I turned to Judy.
‘I’ve only been here seven months, so I didn’t know Sam that well.’
‘Still, seven months is enough time to form an opinion.’
‘I’d have to agree with Mrs Sanders and Mr Landry. Mr Galloway was a good boss. He always treated me well.’
I smiled at Josh, then Mary. ‘Thanks for your time.’
They looked at each other uncertainly then got to their feet. Judy made to follow and I waved her back down.
‘I’ve just got a couple more questions. It won’t take long.’
Judy watched Josh and Mary make their way around the large conference table and head for the door. She watched the door swing slowly shut, then looked back across the table at me. Her worried eyes met mine. She was holding her breath, waiting for that axe to fall.
‘You’re a liar. You might have only been here for seven months, but you knew Sam pretty well, didn’t you? Better than well.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘And that’s another lie.’
Judy stood up. ‘I think I’m going to leave now.’
‘No you’re not. You’re going to sit down and tell me how long you’d been sleeping with Sam.’
Judy slumped back into her chair. ‘I wasn’t sleeping with Mr Galloway.’
‘And that’s another lie.’
‘Why would he be sleeping with me? He was married.’
‘And married men never have affairs.’
‘I was not sleeping with him.’
‘The first time you referred to him as Sam, but every other time you’ve called him Mr Galloway. Now, you could argue that the first time was a slip of the tongue, you’d meant to call him Mr Galloway, and I could believe that, but not in the way you want me to believe it.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Okay, try this. You’re right down at the bottom of the food chain here at Galloway and Galloway. Josh has way more experience, and, even though Mary’s only educated to high-school level, she outranks you because she’s been here since the start of time. Now, I can see Josh using Sam’s first name because he knew him for a decade and would want to believe they were equals, even if they weren’t. For Mary, Sam is Mr Galloway, always and for ever. She’d never slip up and call him Sam because that’s not who he was to her. You, on the other hand, you’re the new girl, so when you were in the office you would have been very careful to call him Mr Galloway. However, when the two of you were alone he would have insisted you call him Sam.’
‘You’re wrong,’ she maintained, but there was no conviction in her voice.
I shook my head. ‘No, Judy, I’m not. The fact that you would accidentally call him Sam, even just once, implies familiarity and a degree of intimacy that goes outside the boundaries of the type of worker/boss relationship you should have had. So, I’ll ask again: how well did you know Sam?’
Silence fell between us, a long silence that filled the large high-ceilinged room. I was prepared to wait this out as long as it took because the outcome was a foregone conclusion. Judy was staring at her reflection in the table. Taylor was sitting quietly beside me, looking across the table at Judy. He was completely still, barely breathing. For such a large person, there were times when he left a very small dent on the world. He reached for his water glass and the rattle of the ice cubes made more noise than he did.
‘I didn’t want anything to happen,’ Judy whispered. She was still staring at her reflection.
‘And that’s another lie.’
19
‘I’m not a marriage wrecker.’
‘No you’re not. You weren’t Sam’s first. And, if things had turned out differently, you wouldn’t have been the last.’
‘It’s not what you think.’
I shook my head. ‘It’s exactly what I think.’
‘We were in love.’
‘That’s what he told you?’
Judy nodded. She looked up and stared defiantly across the table. I studied her for a moment, then shook my head and sighed.
‘And you believed him?’
Judy nodded again. A single tear slid down her right cheek, closely followed by a second one down the left, shiny wet tracks on her porcelain skin. Her bright green eyes were full of tears.
‘He told you he was going to leave his wife and family, didn’t he?’
Another nod. ‘He said they didn’t love each other any more. That they’d fallen out of love years ago. They slept in separate beds.’
‘And when exactly was he planning to leave her? Next week? Next month? Next year?’
‘He was going to leave her.’
‘No he wasn’t.’ I said softly.
‘How can you say that? You didn’t know him.’
‘Sam was never going to leave his wife, Judy. Do you really think that he was going to give up that big house over in McArthur Heights for you? No way. It was never going to happen. You deal with divorces here so you know how messy they can get.’
Judy was staring at her reflection in the table top again. ‘He said he was going to leave her,’ she whispered, but all the fight had gone.
I leant forward and placed my hands on the table. ‘Why don’t you tell me what happened?’
She spent the next ten minutes talking, detailing her affair with Sam in halting, tearful sentences. Her story was almost as old as time itself. A young girl gets her head turned by an older rich guy. He promises the moon and she believes him because she was brought up to believe that fairy tales can come true. In her world, Cinderella marries Prince Charming, and they live happily ever after.
Sam had told his wife he was working late the night he died because he was meeting Judy. Their liaisons followed a tried and tested routine. Judy would leave work somewhere between five-thirty and quarter to six and head home so she could shower and slip into her best underwear. Red was Sam’s favourite colour. Victoria’s Secret was his preferred brand. Sam would wait until the office was empty before locking up and heading out. Usually he’d leave by six-thirty, but that depended on how late Josh was working.
Judy’s apartment was a five-minute walk from the office, a couple of streets back from Main Street. Sam always walked there because Judy lived in the sort of neighbourhood where a Ferrari or a top-of-the-range Mercedes would stand out. His wife had told him to be discreet. That was the deal, and Sam would have complied. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass her. He had a good thing going, and there was no way he was going to screw it up.
So he’d sneak around to Judy’s place, being careful to make sure he wasn’t seen. They’d do whatever it was they did, then Sam would sneak back to the office, pick up his car and head home to McArthur Heights. Back into the warm embrace of his loving family.
Except last night Sam never made it to Judy’s apartment.
I sent Judy out and asked her to send Mary back in. The door swung shut and I stood up and stretched. ‘So where was Sam abducted?’
‘It’s got to have been here at the office,’ Taylor replied. ‘Snatching someone off the sidewalk is too risky. This isn’t New York, or one of those other big cities where, even when people do see something, they don’t see it. If Sam had been bundled into the back of a panel van, someone would have seen, and within five minutes everyone would have known about it.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I figure.’
‘How did you know Sam drove a Testarossa?’
Before I could answer there was a gentle knock on the door. Mary came back in and took the same seat as earlier, but only after she’d tidied the other two back into their rightful places under the large oak conference table. It was a habitual response, one born from years of conditioning. Mary had spent a large part of her life tidying up after people. Her husband, her kids. Her employer.
She looked me straight in the eye, de
fiant and challenging. ‘Mr Galloway wasn’t a bad person.’
‘But he was an adulterer. That’s one of the big ten. It’s right there at number eight, one place after don’t kill and one place before don’t steal.’
‘He was a happily married man.’
‘A happily married man who had affairs.’
‘Just the one affair.’
I shook my head and Mary sighed.
‘I never understood it. He had a beautiful wife. Beautiful children. A beautiful home.’
‘His wife knew about the affairs.’
‘And I don’t understand that either. I’ve been married for thirty-three years. For better or for worse, and forsaking all others. Those were the vows we made, and we’ve stuck to them all these years.’
‘Those vows don’t work for everyone.’
‘Evidently.’ Another sigh. ‘His father was the same. He was married to a beautiful woman who turned a blind eye. Rich folk just live by different rules, I guess.’
‘Was it always with the staff?’
‘No, not always.’
‘But there was always someone, wasn’t there?’
A nod. ‘Most of the time. He was always discreet, though.’
‘That would have been part of the arrangement he had with his wife.’
Mary sighed again and shook her head. ‘How can you live like that? Sharing your bed with a man after you knew that he’d been with another woman?’
‘Judy said they slept in separate rooms.’
Mary raised an eyebrow.
‘I didn’t buy that one either. Anyway, back to your earlier question. Barbara Galloway accepted the situation because of the money. Like you said: rich folks live by different rules.’
‘She could have divorced him. Mr Galloway would have made sure that she and the children never wanted for anything.’
‘But then she’d have lost the status that comes from being married to one of Eagle Creek’s most important men.’
‘Is status really that important?’
‘For some people, yes. Okay, according to your interview with the sheriff’s department you left after Josh last night.’
‘That’s right. I left at around twenty to six.’
‘So, aside from the killer, you were the last person to see Sam alive.’
Mary’s eyes widened and she put a hand across her mouth. She looked shocked, like this had only just occurred to her.
‘Was there anything about Sam’s behaviour that struck you as out of the ordinary?’
Mary shook her head. ‘No.’
‘So he didn’t seem stressed or worried? Frightened?’
Another shake of the head, and another ‘No’.
‘Where was he when you last saw him?’
‘In his office. If he was still here when I was leaving, I’d always go and say goodnight.’
‘Can you show me his office, please?’
20
Like I thought, Sam’s office overlooked the park. It would have belonged to his father, and, before that, his grandfather. If Barbara Galloway had her way, one day it would belong to her son. I parted the blinds with my hands and peered through the crack. From this angle all I could see was the back of Randall Morgan’s head, but it was easy to imagine him staring back at me, as disapproving now as he had been when he was alive and breathing nearly a century ago.
Mary was hovering in the doorway. She looked worried, like she was witnessing a grave robbing. I sat down in Sam’s big leather chair, rocked back and put my feet up on the big old mahogany desk. Mary just stared at me like I was the one wielding the shovel.
‘Please sit down.’
I waved her into the seat opposite me. She hesitated then sat down.
‘Most interviews follow a tried and tested course. The interviewer asks questions and the interviewee answers them. The theory is fine, but the reality is that a lot of details are missed or skipped over. Worse still, answers are occasionally censored, with the interviewee saying what they think the interviewer wants to hear. Sometimes they do this because they’re trying to be helpful. Other times they’re being disingenuous.’
Mary nodded like this all made perfect sense. Keen to please. Keen to give me the answers I was looking for.
‘I want to try a cognitive interview. The difference with this sort of interview is that you revisit the incident through sense memory. Sight, sound and smells are explored to build up a more accurate picture of the event. Because of the way we access memories, a secondary benefit is that it’s much easier to spot a lie.’
‘I don’t lie.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ I said, even though this was a lie. We all lie. Politicians, priests, everyone. From our first words to our last we’ll tell a million lies. And the person we lie to most is ourselves. ‘I’d like you to close your eyes, please.’
Mary gave me a concerned look. Modern society has conditioned us to trust our sight above the other four senses, so when a stranger asks you to make yourself temporarily blind, you’re going to be suspicious. She looked at me for a few seconds more then shut her eyes.
‘Talk me through what you do when you’re getting ready to go home.’
‘I always check my emails one last time before I shut my computer down. Then I tidy my desk and switch on the answering machine. Like I said earlier, if Mr Galloway was still here, I’d go and say goodbye.’
‘Okay, let’s go back to last night. You’ve shut down your computer and put the answer machine on. Mr Galloway is still working, so you head along to his office. How fast are you walking?’
‘Quickly. I need to get home to cook dinner. We’re having lasagne and that always takes a while to prepare.’
‘What can you hear?’
‘My footsteps echoing on the wooden floor.’
‘What can you smell?’
‘Museums.’ A faint smile. ‘It’s a dusty, old smell. I think it’s from the wood. This place has always reminded me of a museum.’
‘Okay, you’ve reached Mr Galloway’s office. Do you walk straight in?’
A shake of the head. ‘No, never. I straighten my skirt, make sure I’m presentable, then knock on the door and wait.’
‘Is that what happened last night?’
Mary’s head dipped three times. Three barely perceptible nods as she checked each action off against her memory. This was where I wanted her, living and breathing the past.
‘Yes.’
‘Then what?’
‘Mr Galloway calls out for me to come in and I open the door. He’s busy with some paperwork so I say a quick goodbye and leave.’
‘Does he say anything?’
A shake of the head. ‘No.’
‘Does he seem stressed or worried?’
‘No, he’s just his normal self.’
Mary smiled.
‘What?’ I prompted.
She opened her eyes. ‘When I closed the door he started humming to himself. It was something he did when he was concentrating. It was one of those unconscious habits, like a child biting their tongue when they’re trying to solve a math problem.’
‘Thanks. You’ve been really helpful.’
21
The first thing I did when we got outside was light a cigarette. The second thing I did was put my sunglasses back on. Even though my eyeballs were melting under the relentless onslaught of the sun, that’s the order it happened. Cigarette then shades. It was the prioritisation of an addict.
‘The interview with Mary Sanders was interesting.’
Taylor came to an abrupt halt and stared at me, eyes narrowed, brow furrowing. ‘You’re not joking, are you? Okay, this I’ve got to hear.’
‘Well, for a start, we know that the spirit of Martha Stewart is alive and well in Eagle Creek, Louisiana. I mean, how many people do you know would go home and bake a lasagne after a hard day at work? You just wouldn’t. You’d open the freezer, take out that plastic container, pierce that film lid and a few minutes later you’d be sittin
g down to eat.’
‘Seriously, Winter, how does any of what Mary Sanders said help us?’
‘Well, we now know with absolute certainty that Sam Galloway did not see this coming. What happened to him came as a complete bolt out of the blue. You don’t make a date with your lover if you think there’s even an outside possibility that someone’s going to abduct you, douse you in gasoline and set you alight.’
‘Great. But you got that from Judy Dufrene, not Mary Sanders.’
‘You’re the lead investigator here, you figure it out.’
I took a long drag on my cigarette. It was nine minutes to seven. I pictured the countdown in my head. White numbers on black. 05:08:32. In my mind’s eye, I saw a snaking line of 1,851 stick figures queuing up to climb the gallows. The line disappeared into the distance, stick figures getting smaller and smaller until they were just a pixelated blur.
Unless we found this unsub soon someone else was going to die. There was still time, but that time was running shorter and faster with every passing minute. I would chase this one down to the very last second, but I was enough of a pragmatist to acknowledge that things were not looking good.
I called Shepherd. It took ten rings before he picked up, which didn’t surprise me. Shepherd was old school. He didn’t strike me as someone who would walk around with a cellphone surgically grafted to the palm of his hand. I could see him in my mind’s eye, harassed and harried and stroking that neat moustache, while he tried to be in a dozen places simultaneously.
‘Have you found the crime scene yet?’
‘We’re working on it, Winter. I’ve got everyone out looking. The police department is out searching, too. We’re checking factories, storage units, the old refinery plant. We’re even looking at residential garages. But these things take time, you know how it is.’
I did. My perfect universe was a place where I had unlimited resources at my disposal twenty-four/seven. It was a complete fantasy. There was no way that was ever going to happen, but that didn’t stop me dreaming.
‘Have any missing person reports been filed recently?’
‘No, why?’
