A computer was on a desk against the far wall. April flicked it on. The screen flashed a beach scene of the North Carolina coast. April sat down in the black office chair in front of the screen.
“Think this might tell us anything?”
“We don’t have a password.”
“We may not need one,” April said. “Jerry might not have worried about anyone reading his mail.”
Various square symbols in blue, yellow, and red appeared on the desktop. April scanned them. One made her eyes widen. She moved the arrow over to the light blue square. The word ‘diary’ was beneath it. She pressed on the mouse.
“We may have something here, Clay.”
As he walked over, she pointed to the page. “That’s April of last year. He’s been keeping it for a while.”
“How many pages?”
April checked the screen. “Looks like about fifty-two. That’s not many to cover a year and a half. But it would take some time to read. Does he have a printer?”
“Don’t see one.”
“Maybe he never intended to print it out.”
“Or maybe his printer broke and, on his budget, he didn’t want to spend the money to buy a new one,” Augustine said.
“Shouldn’t the police have confiscated this?”
“Not if was not connected to the crime, and there was no reason to think it was. If the killer was worried about the computer, he could have grabbed the model while he was here and dumped it somewhere.”
April chewed on her lip. “Yes, guess you’re right.”
“The police probably had a computer guy up here. I’m guessing he didn’t find anything,”
She read the paragraphs on the computer, then skipped ahead to August, read a few lines more and skipped again to November. “At first glance, this seems more like a…spiritual diary. It starts with Jerry writing he’s become a Christian and has some notes on sermons and thoughts on scriptures. There’s some things about his daily life but not a great deal.”
“I still want to read it,” Clay said.
Her fingers skimmed across the computer.
“I can get into his email so I can send his diary to both of us. Who knows? It might yield a clue.”
“We need one. I’m going to do some late reading tonight.”
April tapped on the keys again, then gave a thumbs up.
“Check your email when you get home. It should be there. Let me do some more checking. See if there’s anything else on here that might help us.”
“You do that, and I will check the other rooms. I doubt there’s a clue there, but you can never be sure.”
A few minutes later they walked back downstairs. Clay looked at his watch. “I need to go home and give a late snack to the dogs. I usually have a late snack before going to bed. They think they need one too, now.”
April stared through the small window at the park across the street. It stretched for an entire block. Half was taken up with grass and tall trees. At the back of the green space were several picnic tables under shelters, a children’s playground, a basketball court, two tennis courts. The parking area was between the green space and the tennis courts. April tapped on the window with her finger.
“We might be wrong, Clay.”
“How?”
“We assumed there is something in Jerry’s past life that is linked to his murder. Maybe not. Maybe he just saw something, out there. Something that someone didn’t want him to see.”
Augustine walked and stood behind her. “What’s to see in a park?”
“I don’t know, but there have been cases where an average citizen saw something that got them killed. They walked onto a drug deal, saw two mafia guys at the scene of a crime, things like that. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jerry walked in the park, often early and often late, he said. Maybe in one of those walks, he bumped into something illegal.”
Clay took one step closer to the window.
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe.”
“If that’s the case, the killer will be almost impossible to find. Could have been people from out of town pulling into the park. They might have already fled the county, maybe even the state.”
The gravelly voice sounded especially gritty.
“We have to consider that possibility. But it’s only a possibility. I still want to read his diary.”
At her apartment, April mixed cinnamon apple tea, added two spoonsfull of sugar and sat down in her burgundy lounge chair. She clicked on the light behind the chair and spread the typed pages in front of her. She sipped the tea as she began reading.
Most of the diary was dull. Barton mostly mentioned items at his church, interactions with other members, highlights of the pastor’s sermons, insights into scriptures. He also noted that while he still had to be careful with money, his financial situation was looking up. He had paid off almost all of his debts, and now any extra cash could be placed in a savings account. He also mentioned both the dogs were young, so he didn’t expect many medical expenses from his pets. April didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she read that Barton was proud his current savings account held a hundred and seventy-six dollars and fifty-five cents. It wasn’t much, he admitted, but at least his checking account wasn’t in the red, and at least his savings account had three figures left of the decimal point in it.
Barton noted a few conversations with his cousin and wrote that the chess game he was playing with ‘C’ might be moving his way. He had lost the previous two games. Her eyes glazed over the next half dozen paragraphs. Then a line jolted her.
Barton had written: ‘‘C’ upset today. Feels Stephenson is slow about possible discrepancies in the company. C is usually calm, has a serene friendliness. Surprised he’s so upset. But boss informed district attorney. She’s cold and officious. Not like C. But what more could she do?’
She sipped the tea. Sounded interesting. The district attorney informed of “discrepancies” at Coltran-Nash, one of the largest financial firms in the United States. “Possible,” the diary said. Possible discrepancies. Which meant it could be a series of mistakes.
She picked up her cell phone and called Clay. He answered immediately.
“Let me guess. You’re on page 49 of Jerry’s reflections,” he said.
She hadn’t looked at the page number. When she did, she saw the ’49.’
“Yes, I am. That’s the only thing I read that’s interesting in his diary.”
“Agreed, but it might not help us with the case. The district attorney was notified. I don’t see how Jerry is involved. He certainly didn’t know anything about the discrepancies, whatever they were. If ‘C’, whoever he is, knows about the problem, probably other staffers knew about it, too. I see nothing that could put Jerry in jeopardy. The drug deal in the park is still a viable option.”
“‘C’ is a guy named Chance who works at Coltran-Nash. Jerry’s cousin told me he played chess with a guy named Chance there. He and Jerry became friendly. But I see your point. Whatever it was they’re talking about, law enforcement officials are aware of it.”
“Who is Stephenson? Is she the boss?’
“Yes. Lois Stephenson is the head of Coltran-Nash’s local office. Did a story about a year ago on women in top business/tech positions and interviewed her. I didn’t think she was cold, but she wasn’t overly talkative either. Other tech people told me Ms Stephenson was brilliant and as knowledgeable as anyone in the nation in high finance.”
Clay frowned. “That doesn’t leave us with much. Why don’t I ask Chance a few questions? If he liked Jerry, he should want to help with the investigation.”
“Sounds like a plan. Jerry went to the New Covenant Church which he mentions in his diary. I think I’ll drop in and talk to the pastor tomorrow. If Jerry was troubled by something, he might have discussed it with his pastor.”
“Yes, of course,” Clay said. “Good idea.”
“After that, I’ll go say hello to the district attorney. Although i
f this is a pending investigation, he’s going to stay silent.”
“Probably. You may need a crowbar to pry information out of him.”
“I’ll try to use my feminine wiles.”
“That might work if you wear a short skirt. Your legs are fantastic.”
She smiled. “Thank you for noticing. But this is the 21st century. You’re supposed to admire me for my mind, too.”
“I do. But I would never be shallow enough to like you for your mind alone. The body that carries it is a twelve on a scale of one to ten.”
“With lines like that, I might take my blouse off for you. A few more such compliments and the skirt will be part of the discussion.”
She heard Clay’s deep laughter. She had gotten away with another risqué comment.
“But I’ll always love your mind too.”
“A likely story,” April said, laughing.
“It’s the Daily News’ ace reporter. There’s no news today, April. Everything is quiet.”
She closed her car door at the municipal parking lot and looked around. Cliff Burrows, the police department’s public relations officer stood about six spaces from her. He had opened the door to his car and stood with his arm on the hood of his car.
“Cliff, how are you?” She pointed at him. “Don’t tell me. You’re exiting because there is a big mystery at the local golf course that you have to look into.”
He laughed. “Yes, I may have to play all eighteen holes to find clues. It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it. So, what are you here for?”
She walked toward him, going around a longer and wider than the average off-white van. It was dirty and had a couple of small dents on the fender.
“I need to ask a few questions of the district attorney,” she said.
“Good luck getting the answers. He’s not the most talkative person around. Not really a friendly atmosphere in his office either.”
“You sound like you dislike him? Is that strictly your view or does the police department share it too?”
He stepped back and slammed the car door. “There are rumors that the DA will be stepping down soon and going into private practice. I don’t know if the rumors are true but, if they are, the police department and, for that matter, the sheriff’s department, will not be disappointed.”
“Don’t think he’s a good DA?”
“No, he’s average at best. Nothing more. He’s not as aggressive as I would like. I know the county people think he lost a few cases he should have won.”
“I’ll remember that.” She looked toward the van.
“And who does that monstrosity belong too? That’s an odd-looking van.”
Burrows laughed, “That belongs to Perry Hocken himself.”
“The DA drives that?!”
“Not usually. His car must be in the shop. Hocken uses that mostly for hunting. He’s got a couple of pals, and they go off for a weekend or week-long hunting trip occasionally. Think they go to a place up near Black Mountain, grab a crate of whisky and guns and go up to a cabin for a week.” He gave a sly grin. “Perry uses it for other things too.”
“Your voice has an R-rated tone to it. What’s going on?”
“Another rumor about our DA—It’s said he has a new girlfriend who he is hot and passionate about, and the van, it is said, has a mattress in it.”
“Why don’t they get a motel like everyone else?”
He chuckled. “Don’t know. Perry is going through a divorce so his house might be off limits. As DA, he might not want to slip into motels because someone might recognize him. I’ve been told the van has been seen in some out-of-the-way spots in the city. Who knows? Maybe his girlfriend just doesn’t want to be seen with Perry.”
“That would make a guy feel proud.”
Clay coughed while waiting for the answer to his question. The ventilation in Captain Wolfson’s office was not good. The stale cigarette smoke floated in the air. The door was open, but the smoke had a snail’s speed as it drifted into the corridor. Clay crossed his legs and shifted in his chair.
“You know, technically, this a non-smoking building. That’s a standard regulation for all city and county buildings.”
Sitting back in his cushioned chair, Wolfson held a cigarette between his fingers. He yawned. “Because I’ve worked here almost thirty years, the city allows me to bend a few rules. Some people get citations or awards for their work. I get to smoke in my office. Works out rather well.”
“Those things will kill you,” Clay said.
“That’s what my wife tells me, and I’m trying to quit. Just never been too successful at it. But thanks for inquiring about my health.”
“That’s due to my compassionate nature.”
“Sure it is.”
Wolfson flicked his cigarette knocking the ashes into a large green ashtray. “As to your question, you will be delighted to know the Sea Oak Police Department read Mr Barton’s diary, so your tip is appreciated but not needed. Our officers stayed about five hours at his house the morning of the murder and went through his computer. We went through everything for that matter. His diary was printed out and was on my desk when I returned to the station.”
“You dazzle me with your efficiency,” Clay said.
“We don’t like to waste taxpayers’ money. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate you coming in. We need tips in our work, but we already had this covered. The district attorney told us the matter at Coltran-Nash is being looked into, but there doesn’t appear to be any criminality in the matter. He said a press release will be forthcoming in a few days.”
“My associate is over there now asking him questions.”
“Ms Longmont is?”
“Yes.”
Wolfson snorted. “Good luck to her. Perry’s never been much of a conversationalist.”
“You don’t sound like you have confidence in him, Captain.”
Wolfson took another long puff on his cigarette and blew even more smoke into the room. “Officially, the last thing this department wants is tension or friction between us and the district attorney. Unofficially, let’s just say I’ve seen better prosecutors in my time.”
“Could that note in Jerry’s diary have any connection to his murder?”
“I don’t see how. He didn’t mention anything that law enforcement officials didn’t already know. He knew no facts about a matter that is not even a criminal matter. So how could that put his life in jeopardy? Also, that diary entry was written weeks ago. If someone was upset by it, why did he wait to murder Barton? And if the killer was upset about the entry, why not put a bullet through the computer? Even in our high-tech age, it’s difficult to retrieve info from a computer that has one, two, or three bullets damaging the hard drive.”
Clay nodded. It looked like another dead end.
Because she waited twenty-eight minutes in his waiting room, April wore an exasperated frown when she entered Perry Hocken’s large office. He was a big man but wore his extra-large shirt, tie and coat well. His doctor had probably told him to lose thirty pounds. He had light blond hair and an ordinary face which had no distinctive features. His blue eyes indicated he didn’t like being interrupted. He dropped the pen in his hand on a yellow tablet on the desk and gave April an unenthusiastic greeting. She sat down in a chair in front of his desk. There was impatience in Hocken’s voice.
“I’m very busy, Ms Longmont, so I will dispense with pleasantries and ask you what you want.”
OK, April thought. No pleasantries. So, I won’t tell you that for a fat guy you don’t sweat much.
“As you know, I’m with the Daily News, and I am looking into the murder of Jerry Barton. He was a classmate of mine.”
“You should leave that to the police. Reporters only solve crimes in badly-written novels. That’s especially true in these high-tech days. Police have scientific tools that are not available to the average citizen.” A trace of impatience remained in his voice.
“In spite of that, I’ll giv
e it my best shot. Jerry had a second job as a security guard at Coltran-Nash. He became friends with one of the firm’s associates and even played chess with him. In his diary, Jerry mentioned the associate was upset that the head of the firm hadn’t moved faster on some apparent “discrepancies” in the company’s accounts. The matter had been referred to the district attorney. So, are you conducting an investigation into Coltran-Nash?”
His eyebrow lifted slightly in surprise when she mentioned Coltran-Nash. But nothing else on his face moved besides the minor twitch of his lips.
“If this office was conducting such an investigation, I could not share that information with you. It would be confidential.”
“I find it strange that a man who noted the possible investigation is now dead, murdered in his own home.”
“That may be strange, but that does not mean the two events are connected. I was aware of Barton’s murder having read about it in the newspaper. The police do not bring me into an investigation until I can provide some assistance. There is nothing yet for me to do in the Barton case and I don’t know the details of it.”
“But shouldn’t the two events raise a few eyebrows if not suspicions?”
Hocken growled. He started to speak, then hastily pressed his lips together. April wondered if she really did need a crowbar to pry them open. Hocken picked up his pen and tapped it on the desk.
“OK, may I tell you something in confidence, not to be used in print? I think it will explain a great deal. What I tell you will only need to stay confidential for about a week, maybe ten days.”
April thought for a minute then nodded. The pen’s point disappeared into the cylinder as she flicked it shut.
“All right,” she said.
“A matter involving Coltran-Nash was brought to the attention of this office. Because an investigation is ongoing, I must be generic in telling what happened without providing specific details. Because of the nature of the business, two white-collar investigators with expertise in financial crimes were needed. It took a short period of time for them to come into Sea Oak due to involvement in other cases. The field is very specialized, so white-collar agents can’t get to a scene as quickly as local police. A few days ago, they gave me a preliminary briefing on their investigation. It is their belief there were a series of fiscal mistakes, some of them major, at the firm. But they do not believe there was criminal intent or criminal actions by employees at Coltran-Nash. This is not a Bernie Madoff situation. The situation at Coltran-Nash was more like a string of dominoes being pushed over. One mistake led to another which led to a third which led to others. But our investigators say no fraud or embezzlement occurred. The staffers who made the original mistakes should have reported the matter immediately to superiors instead of trying to ‘fix’ the situation themselves. The investigation is not complete. Our two men are still reviewing several matters, and I’ll be given a final report in about a week to ten days. But right now, I doubt any criminal charges will be filed. Coltran-Nash officials are embarrassed about this and hope they can avoid any publicity. But if there was no criminal behavior, how they handle the outcome of this matter is their concern, not mine. When I receive a final report, this office will issue a brief statement saying we conducted an inquiry and found no laws were broken and no charges will be filed.” He flopped the pen back on the desk. “But as of today, I have no official public comment.”
A Sea Oak Mystery Boxed Set Page 15
