by Cassie Page
“What do we have at risk, Olivia? Lay it out for us.”
Then, realizing she had interrupted Olivia, she turned to everyone and said, “Sorry, but we know each other. We can dispense with the pleasantries, right?”
Olivia stood at the mantle in the enormous room Charles had furnished with her help. The mantle came from an old chateau outside of Paris. She realized as she chose fabrics and furniture that he was testing her business sense, taste and whether or not they could work together on the museum. Today, though was the first time she had seen Charles entertaining, the first time she saw that even though the room was elegant, it was homey. Like Charles, Sonia had slipped off her shoes.
Olivia spoke. “Look, I’m not an expert in murder cases, but you all know I’ve been here before.”
She looked at Sonia as if to remind her that she wouldn’t have her job if Olivia had not discovered her predecessor’s deception that ultimately helped the police solve three murders.
“Detective Richards has indicated that Mr. Fisher’s death is suspicious pending results of the autopsy. I asked him bluntly if he was going to shut down construction and he said for the time being, but it was too early to tell for how long. It is a crime scene and, as you all saw this morning, cordoned off with crime scene tape. None of us can access the property.”
She didn’t think it was worth mentioning her recent visit to the property. She turned to Scott, who was red-faced with frustration. “That means you have to tell your men that until further notice, they have to stay away from the site.”
Scott took some visible deep breaths then forced himself to speak in even tones. Everyone could tell he was straining to hold his temper. “Olivia, I have twenty men on my payroll right now who won’t be able to feed their families if this job gets shut down. Are you going to explain that to them?”
She noticed that he had not mentioned the lapse in the insurance coverage if there was a shutdown. Who was going to pick up that tab if the crime scene tape remained up much longer?
Next, Al, the pesky assistant art curator, jumped on her. “It seems to me that there was a serious security lapse, Miss Granville. Can you explain that to us?”
She saw several heads nodding. This took Olivia by surprise. They were nailing her for the death? After all she’d done to make sure things went off without a hitch? And how dare that pipsqueak question anything she did on the site? What did he make, ten dollars an hour mailing out brochures in Pierre’s gallery? Yet she refused to lose her composure in front of this crowd. She said politely,
“I assure you, Al, I did all that was required of me and more.”
He broke in petulantly. “It’s Alistair.”
Olivia just ignored him. It took more than an intern with illusions of grandeur to rattle her chains.
She sent a smile around the room to smooth the troubled waters. Why wasn’t anyone coming to her defense?
“As you all know, I was responsible for security at the groundbreaking ceremony. Scott, however, took care of general security during evenings and weekends.”
Al broke in again, this time focusing his anger on the contractor. “Perhaps you should have provided more than a malnourished poodle, Scott.”
Scott stood up and pointed his finger in Alistair’s face, but Sonia pulled him back.
“I’ve used that security firm on many projects,” he said, “and they provide excellent watchdogs.”
Olivia came to the pooch’s defense. “Do you mean Venus, the Italian Shepherd? Trust me, you don’t want to meet her in a dark alley.”
Russ rolled his eyes at Olivia. “I think you mean German Shepherd, Olivia. There’s no such thing as an Italian Shepherd.”
He looked around at the group to show off his expertise. “I raise champion show dogs, you know. I know my breeds.”
Scott, still glowering, said, “Oh, yeah, you know everything, Bowers? That rendering we put up? Looked like a school kid printed it.
Russ then sneered at Olivia. “I told you the font on the drawing would comeback to haunt us.”
“Russ,” Olivia said, “this isn’t about the rendering. Venus likes Italian food.”
Olivia wanted to get back to the agenda, but needed to explain.
“I used to have a Shepherd when I lived in LA. I guess I have a feel for the breed. I fed her some of my pizza one day when we were there for a lunch meeting and Venus has been my girl ever since. As long as I bring pizza or meatballs. You know how women are. It’s all, what have you done for me lately.”
But nobody laughed.
“That’s why I call her an Italian Shepherd.”
Scott added, “She’s trained to attack. The service I use is top notch. They use armed guards and ferocious dogs, Al. In case you want to test it out, try sneaking around the site after dark.”
Al jumped up. “Are you threatening me?”
Olivia got him to sit down. He reminded her of a petulant teenager, needing to have the last word.
He was still glaring at Scott. “Was she scarfing down meatballs last night, Scott? Was she? She certainly wasn’t doing her job.”
Scott said, “Jed Fisher had to have been killed between quitting time and six pm when security releases Venus from her pen. They don’t do it before then, in case there are still some workers on the site. I checked with the guard on duty last night. He didn’t hear anything. Otherwise, at the first sign of an altercation Venus would have been all over an intruder.”
Russ Bowers broke in. “We are wasting our time talking about dogs when we need to figure out how to control the spin on this situation. Need I remind everyone that my firm’s name is all over the project and we have ads in all the professional journals listing the site as one of our designs? If this becomes a media circus it will do untold harm to my reputation.”
Scott raised his voice again. “I’m sick of you, Bowers. You seem to think this whole project is all about you. I’m on the line, too, you know.”
Russ jumped up and put his nose in Scott’s face. “Need I remind you that I came up with the design? I create the plans and you just follow orders.”
Olivia groaned. These two were at it again. This was a replay of almost every design meeting.
Scott jabbed a finger into Russ’s chest. “I’d like to see how well you dig a foundation with those plans, or erect rebar or figure out how much load to put on the crane so it doesn’t topple over when it’s building up the floors.”
Russ turned and threw his glass at the fireplace, sending a shower of water and shards of glass into the room.
5:2
Olivia had been afraid something like this would happen. Russ had a reputation for hot headedness and this situation was too volatile for short tempers.
Charles separated them. “Guys. Settle down now. Go to your neutral corners.”
The two men looked shocked, as if they suddenly realized they had an audience. Scott was clearly embarrassed.
Russ took a seat grudgingly. “Sorry folks. Charles,” he said meekly, “send me the bill if the there’s any damage here.”
Charles said, “Fagetaboutit,” and Olivia asked each person to state any concerns about the situation. From out of nowhere, Maria, the maid, appeared with brush and dustpan to clean up the mess.
Nervously now, the environmental engineer whose name Olivia could not recall, said, “I handed in my report, Dr. Lauren signed off on it and the State approved it. I had nothing to do with security or anything like that. Unless he died of toxic waste, my ass is covered.”
Toxic waste? Was that what Jed Fisher had uncovered on the land? Olivia had never considered that possibility. Was there some leakage from an old dumping site the environmental guy had missed? He hadn’t spent much time on the site, as Olivia recalled. He had poked around, taken some soil samples, and completed his work in his office. She had met him only once before, but out of courtesy to his agency, which had fast tracked their report, he’d been invited to the groundbreaking.
Olivia looked
around the room. How many more people could have a stake in making sure nothing stopped the project? Olivia shuddered. Was the killer in the room? Of course, suspicion could fall on her, as well as Charles. She would have to be very careful to make sure things didn’t get out of control any more than they had.
She had decided not to mention the conversation between the two workers she’d overheard. Without proof, it was hearsay. It would not do to have unsubstantiated rumors circulating around the case. Matt was in charge of investigating that tidbit and releasing sensitive information to the public.
But she did want to give Scott a chance to clue them in to any problems. They deserved a heads up, even if Scott had to admit being behind schedule.
“Scott,” she said in a neutral voice, “do you have anything to tell us about the site? Anything we should know that would cause someone to target a workman? I’m not saying you do, but just in case there is something we all should know, this would be the time.”
The contractor had changed back into his muddy khakis and denim shirt, the clothes he usually wore on the site. Olivia was not surprised that he was on edge, tapping his foot obsessively, constantly running his hands through his hair, chewing on his bottom lip. The only people who were not anxious on a building site were those who didn’t have skin in the game. The government overseers. Like the environmental folks. What difference did it make to them if the job got shut down? It wasn’t going to affect their paychecks.
Scott answered Olivia. “Of course I have nothing to report. If I knew anything, I’d have told the police. This is as much of a mystery to me as it is to you all.”
“Okay, thanks, Scott,” Olivia said, though she didn’t entirely believe him.
She addressed the whole group. “Listen, we have to present a united front. I will handle the media and I’ll report back with anything I hear from the DVPD. I don’t think it’s a good idea for any of you to make any individual public statements without clearing it through me.”
A general cacophony ensued, everyone insisting on the right to handle their own press. Charles had said very little other than trying to separate the combatants. Olivia noticed his bewildered expression, could all but read his mind. How had his tribute of love for Ellie, his Taj Mahal have turned into such a disaster?
Olivia was still standing at the mantel. Alistair walked over to her and planted himself in front of her with his hands on his hips. “Before this goes any further, we MUST talk about new acquisitions and expanding the design space.”
Olivia wasn’t sure she heard correctly. “What business is it of yours what we acquire or don’t acquire? And really, Al? Like, timing?”
Scott approached her with a demand that Charles cover his payroll for the days the site was shut down. The meeting ended with nothing accomplished, the group dangerously fractured.
5:3
Monday Evening
“None for me, thanks. I’m still on duty.”
Matt Richards stretched out on Olivia’s couch and closed his eyes while she poured a small glass of Pinot for herself and settled into the chair opposite him. She wasn’t surprised he refused a drink. This day had been unconscionably long for both of them, and for him it was not over yet. Here it was ten-thirty and he’d have to head back to his office when they finished. She knew his cardinal rule: no drinking while on the job.
He was chief of detectives in Darling Valley and, naturally, among other things, he oversaw unexplained deaths. There had only been three since he and Olivia met. But it was up to him to sort out thefts, as well, white collar crimes, and the various types of assault and battery, domestic and child abuse that surfaced regularly among the upscale and lower scale residents, as well as the growing instances of drug traffic in their bucolic town.
Each case earned his complete attention, and unless they were open and shut, there was always a point when he was physically present, but mentally miles away, searching for answers someplace deep inside himself. She sensed he was in that place now.
But she, too, needed answers. She was as involved in today’s tragedy as much as he was. She needed to draw him out, so she asked gently, “Do you have any news?”
He avoided answering, changed the subject. “Where’s Tuesday?”
Olivia sipped her wine and stretched her back. She longed for sleep.
“She’s had a harrowing day herself and turned in early.” She told him about the cattle stampede on the freeway.
Matt burst out laughing. “Cows on the freeway? That could only happen to Tuesday.”
Then Olivia said, “One of the Jersey’s apparently took out a fender on the airport shuttle.”
Matt grimaced and said, “Scary.”
Tuesday was the biggest supporter of her relationship with Matt. Months earlier, after she got a look at his dark, exotic Punjabi-American looks, she’d said, “Get on that, girlfriend!”
Tuesday’s enthusiasm balanced the objections of Tazmania, Matt’s sister. Though he was born and raised in Chicago and educated at Harvard, Matt’s sister and mother wanted nothing more for him than to produce an heir. Olivia suspected that Taz was eager for this outcome to take the pressure off her own childbearing responsibilities to the family.
Matt had revealed that Taz had offered him advice. “If Olivia won’t say yes, then you should find someone else.”
Taz liked Olivia, so Matt suspected his mother had put her up to it. Olivia knew this because Matt shared the information with her. Matt shared everything with her. He had been slow to reveal himself when they first started dating, but after a few months the floodgates opened.
Olivia knew what he ate for dinner last night and how often his mother emailed to find out if he had found a girl worthy of him yet.
Those were the words she used, “a girl worthy of you.” Olivia said, “TMI, way TMI, dude,” when she heard that.
Why couldn’t she say the words that were on the tip of her tongue, that she wanted a life with Matt? She didn’t really know. Tuesday blamed it on a series of bad breakups. All with the same guy. Brooks Baker, one of the reasons she had left LA behind.
When Tuesday slipped into matchmaking mode and nagged her about it, Olivia always said, “When the time is right.”
Once Matt had told her that his mother would be happy to find a nice Punjabi girl for him if Olivia were not willing. They were on and off, neither of them seem to know what they wanted, except for each other, which is why Matt was stretched out on the couch with Olivia sitting straight up in the club chair opposite him, instead of curled up with each other as was usual. Recently, they decided to take a timeout, or Matt had. Olivia feared that he was tired of waiting.
Unexpectedly, this case brought them together again.
Olivia gave him a few moments and then he came to, rubbed his eyes and sat up. He reached over and took her glass out of her hands. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” she said, as he took a swig. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Another reporter. She ignored it.
“The media have been after me all day. I don’t know what to tell them so I ignore them, which just stirs up a feeding frenzy.”
“Okay,” he said, rejuvenated by his brief rest. “Here’s what we know.”
He described the facts already familiar to Olivia. The victim was an hourly worker with a good record, as well liked as anyone else on the job. The crew hadn’t been working together long enough to form close friendships, yet. But in the year ahead as they finished the museum, that would no doubt happen.
Jed was in charge of logging operations. Basically, they had cleared the site, cut down some trees and hauled them away, all done on overtime to get the ground prepared for the groundbreaking. Then Mother Nature threw a monkey wrench into things. Some bad spring storms hampered them from finishing the job.
As far Matt could gather, Jed had told a few of the guys he was going to stay behind for a few minutes to finish marking the trees they would clear the next day. He was very conscientious and
wanted to make the site presentable for the ceremony. No one knew how long he stayed working after everyone left, no one saw him leave. We found his truck where he had parked it when he arrived for work yesterday morning.”
Olivia thought of something. “You know, I went to the site about six this morning, just to make sure things were in order. You know me. So I walked by that clearing and found a chainsaw lying in the mud along with a shovel. It annoyed me, that carelessness. I just imagined one of our guests tripping over them. Those tools should have been locked up for the night. You can ask Scott, but I think Jed, as the logger, would be the only worker using the chainsaw.”
Matt sat forward, eager for more information. “Did you touch them? We’ll want to go over it check for prints. Where are they?”
“Not a clue. I put them by the fence. The saw was a heavy puppy. Never thought any more of them.”
Matt grimaced. “If the killer touched either one we could fingerprint the crew and eliminate the workers’ and your prints, then maybe we’ll have something.”
Olivia said, “Sorry. I wouldn’t make a very good investigator, would I? I should have thought of them earlier.”
Matt reached over and touched her knee, which seemed to surprise them both. He sat back his side of their imaginary line and continued.
“We’ve ruled out an accident. There were no holes he could have fallen into. The site for the groundbreaking had already been prepared.”
Olivia nodded, remembering how smooth and soft the ground was when she had tested it.
“As you know, he was a family man with a wife and daughter. We’ve decided to give Mrs. Fisher the night to recover. We’ll question her tomorrow.”
Olivia asked if he had news from the coroner.
“He had a head wound, but the coroner said it didn’t look severe enough to kill him. He’ll do the post mortem tomorrow and then we’ll know more.”
Olivia was disheartened. “So it’s definitely not an accident.”
