by N. C. Lewis
Soon the words of the popular birthday song rose in tumbling, whirling waves across the plaza. Abay, with the passion of Sir Colin Davis conducting the London Symphony Orchestra, instructed the crowd to stand up and the clowns to play Queen's "We Are The Champions," Barry Battles' favorite song.
The clowns formed a small circle around Barry, marching clockwise as they played. Barry raised his arms like a prize fighter at the end of an eighteen-round fight. He, Barry Battles, was king of the financial world. His workers cheered and clapped. The atmosphere was carefree, giddy, light.
Another clown pushed through the crowd, bagpipes in hand, slipping into the tight circle marching around Barry. Barry beamed, his eyes gleaming. "I'm Barry Battles," he yelled, singing along to Queen's smash hit. "...Champions of the world…" He curled his right hand into a fist, pumping it in the air.
Around and around the clowns marched, Barry singing at the top of his booming voice until the song was done.
"Again," commanded Barry. "Play it again."
As the opening notes began, a clown reached into a pouch hidden by the bagpipes, pulled out a gun and shot Barry Battles twice between the eyes. In the chaotic confusion that followed, the clown slipped away muttering, "Some people never retire."
Chapter 13
As the first shot rang out, Amy fell to the ground, her instincts screaming at her to keep low, out of sight, and when it was clear, run for home, and to Nick who was waiting for her. Then, for a split second, she thought she'd overreacted. The sound couldn’t be gunfire, not in broad daylight at Barry Battles birthday celebration in downtown Austin!
For an instant, she looked up, her cheeks burning. "Sorry, I—"
The second shot rang out.
Events seemed to move in slow motion after that.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Gasps went up around the circle of employees that surrounded Barry Battles. Someone shouted, "Run." Then it was pandemonium. Chairs scattered as people scrambled to get away. Clowns ran in every direction—their kilts swaying, bagpipes clutched tight.
And at the center of the circle—where a few moments earlier Barry Battles had stood proclaiming himself champion of the financial world—lay his crumpled body, his arms flung out on either side of him, his right hand curled into a tight fist.
Amy was flat on the warm flagstone, beads of perspiration on her forehead. It took every fiber of her being to slowly lift her head. She stared wildly around for the source of the gunfire, but all she saw was people running.
Within moments the flashing blue lights of police vehicles surrounded the plaza. Paramedics came running. Barry Battles' body lay where he had fallen, a growing pool of blood surrounding his body. Without a second look, Amy knew it was too late for Mr. Battles.
Much of the remaining crowd dispersed. Amy felt compelled to stay. The police would want to talk to witlessness's. She wasn't sure what she had seen. One moment it was a boisterous and intense birthday party, the next moment, gunfire and everyone running and screaming. She'd answer any questions to the best of her ability but wasn't sure her statement would be of much help.
Within an hour, uniformed officers taped off the area surrounding the body and began to question bystanders as crime scene technicians searched the plaza for evidence. A young, uniformed officer with a lopsided smile approached Amy. "We'll get to the office workers later. But first, tell me what you saw," he said, flipping his notebook open and clicking his ballpoint pen.
Amy went over the events with her eyes half closed, trying to recall what she had seen and heard. She told him about the staff meeting, how the fire alarm had sounded, how the staff had hurried out into the plaza, and about Abay singing the birthday song with the crowd joining in as the clowns played bagpipes.
The officer took a quick step back as his eyes widened. "Clowns, bagpipes?"
"As part of the celebration. They played the 'Happy Birthday' tune, then one from the pop group, Queen."
"Which song?"
"We Are the Champions."
He scribbled in his book. "Before my time, but I think I know that one. What happened next?"
"Barry Battles asked the clowns to repeat the song."
"And after that?"
Amy's mouth became grim. "Gunfire."
"How many shots?"
"Two," she said softly.
The officer scratched his head. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Again, he scribbled. When he finished, he looked up. "Did you see the shooter?"
"No."
He went over his notes, flipping through the pages. "Anything else?"
"I don’t think so."
"Very helpful," said the uniformed officer. "And what is your relationship with Battles Equity Partners?"
"Mr. Battles hired my firm to stage his business and one of his private properties," Amy replied, handing the officer her business card.
He nodded and looked down at the card. "I see. That will be all for now."
Amy visibly relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. Better call Nick and Danielle. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Nick.
"Hello, darling." His voice was light and bubbly. "I've got some great news. The doctor has cleared me for—"
"Nick!"
Instantly he understood. "Amy, what's happened? Are you all right?"
"It's Barry Battles…" But she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
"Amy, take your time." Nick waited for a moment. "Now, explain what's going on."
Amy glanced toward the scattered chairs. Two paramedics slipped Barry Battles' corpse into a body bag, lifted it onto a stretcher, and carried it with slow careful steps to a waiting ambulance.
Amy drew in a long breath. "It's Barry Battles. He's dead."
Chapter 14
At one p.m. Nick pulled his car into a parking space on Congress Avenue and strode with quick steps to the Battles Equity Partners building. His first priority was to ensure the safety of Amy. His second, to help in any way possible with the investigation. He considered the killing as the territory of the executive protection unit. Officially, he would return to work in the unit after his meeting with Lieutenant Kostopoulos the following morning.
He spotted Amy sitting on the low wall that partially surrounded the plaza, talking on her cell phone.
"Yes Danielle, I'm fine... Yes, yes they can go home."
"Amy!" Nick called, jogging over.
"Got to go now, Nick's here. Let's touch base later today." Amy hung up.
"I love you," Nick said as he pulled her close to him.
They hugged.
After Amy had explained all that she had seen, she placed her head on Nick's shoulder and asked, "What do you make of it?"
"Don't know," he said bluntly. "Tell me what you think?"
"Well, at first I thought it was a random shooting. But the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that Barry Battles was the intended target, a pre-planned hit."
Nick's eyes widened. "Pre-planned?"
"Think about it. Clowns with bagpipes playing birthday tunes and Barry Battles in the middle. The person who killed him must have known he would literally be the center of attention today. They must have known someone planned an event for the plaza."
He listened politely, then gestured toward the building. "That could be anyone."
Amy thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. The employees ended up in the plaza when a fire alarm went off."
"A fire alarm?" he echoed.
"Yes, but it was just a trick to get people into the plaza."
"How do you know?"
"Doris, Barry Battles' secretary told me."
"So, the plaza party was widely known?"
"No, I don't think so." Amy thought for a moment. "At least, not by the reaction of most of the staff. There was a controlled exit, but it felt very real. I'd guess only a handful of people knew about it in advance."
Nick was about to ask something else when a hand tapped his shoulder.
He spun around.
"Detective King," said a familiar female voice, "what are you doing here?" It was Detective Mary Wilson. Her frizzy afro was swept into two tight bunches.
"Amy called to let me know what had happened," Nick replied. "Thought I'd better come down and see for myself."
"But you're on sick leave," Detective Wilson responded, watching a crime scene tech.
"Got the all clear from the doctor this morning."
Detective Wilson took her eye off the crime scene tech for a moment to glance at Nick. "Then be my guest; take a look." She smiled sweetly and nodded toward the taped-off area.
"I'll be back in a moment, Amy," Nick said, striding toward the crime scene.
He flashed his badge at a uniformed officer and ducked under the crime scene tape. A pool of drying blood lay where Barry Battles had died. Scattered chairs showed a panicked exit. Nick scanned the area, but nothing unusual stood out. He hoped the crime scene techs would find more. Amy's account was all he had, and he couldn't make sense of that, yet.
When he returned, Amy was explaining to Detective Wilson what she had seen. "That's a strange one," Detective Wilson said, writing in her notebook. While they drifted into small talk, Nick thought back to the threats against Barry Battles several years earlier. That case remained unsolved. Was it connected to today's events?
"So, you are coming back," Detective Wilson said interrupting his thoughts. "When?"
"Tomorrow, I have a meeting in Lieutenant Kostopoulos' office."
"That's fast. Welcome back," she said, throwing the words over her shoulder as she walked toward a crime scene tech who had just bagged a piece of evidence.
Nick felt a sense of pride as he watched Detective Wilson in action. He'd encouraged her to join the force when she was a high school student, taken her under his wing when she was in uniform, and recommended her for the post of detective. She was passionate, persistent, and talented—a rare combination in a city detective.
"Are you sure you are all right, Amy?" Nick asked, gazing into his wife's eyes.
"I was a little shaken up earlier, but I'm fine now."
"And what about Danielle?"
"She's asked the workers to leave; we won't be doing the rest of the staging today. Oh, and she mentioned a uniformed officer has already told Mr. Battles' wife about the incident."
Nick hugged his wife again, took several steps back gazing up at the building. "Let's go inside and speak to one of the senior managers. Who is second-in-command to Barry Battles?"
"Abay Gómez," Amy said at length.
"Abay Gómez." Nick rolled the words around his mouth as if tasting a fine wine. "Must be new. I don't recognize the name."
Inside, Amy and Nick stood at the curved reception desk in the executive suites. After a moment, Doris appeared. "Can I help you?" Her voice trembled, and she appeared flustered. Nick flashed his badge.
"Oh," she said, relaxing. "You'll want to speak with Abay Gómez, as Mr. Battles is..." Her voice trailed off. "Take a seat. I'll let him know you are here."
She disappeared along a hallway Amy knew led to the large meeting room she'd visited earlier.
"What's down there?" Nick asked, following Doris with his eyes until she disappeared around a corner.
"The Great Room where they have their staff meetings. Looks like a theater, set up."
Nick got up. "Let's go."
"Where?"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Nick eased open the conference room door, and they slipped inside, seeing Doris at the last moment. She stood by the exit. A look of surprise crossed her face, but she waved them to a seat in the back row. It seemed to Amy there were more people in the room than when she had attended earlier. Her eyes searched for Noel but didn’t see him.
Abay stood center stage behind a lectern. "What happened today is incomprehensible. I'm still processing it, as you must be. Our prayers go out to Barry and his wife. Moments ago, I spoke with Detective Mary Wilson, and she assured me a full police investigation is underway." His voice energized, gay, almost joyful, didn't match the sobriety of the situation.
A clean-shaven employee with a baby face and crew cut hair raised his arm.
"Yes," said Abay. "Please speak up. What is your question?"
"Is it official that Mr. Battles is dead?"
Abay's eyes narrowed. "Lawrence Westwood, I've spoken to you before about spreading rumors. Mr. Battles has the best medical team in Texas caring for him as we speak. I expect him to make a full recovery."
"But I saw them put Barry in a body bag," protested Lawrence.
"What is your point, Mr. Westwood?" Abay snapped.
Lawrence Westwood seemed to lose confidence. "Just that—"
"Don't you answer me back with your nasty little rumors and lies," Abay growled, jabbing a finger in the air. "I'm now in charge of this organization. What I say goes." He strode in front of the lectern, placed his hands on his hips, and looked out at the audience with menace, his eyes eventually settling on Mr. Westwood. "Lawrence, I'm disappointed in you, very disappointed."
Lawrence shrunk back in his seat. "Err… sorry… sir."
Abay clicked his fingers. "Mrs. Stoughton, where are you?"
An overweight round-faced woman in a baggy, loose-fitting, gray business jacket and matching skirt, got to her feet. "Yes, sir?" Her mouse like eyes flittered about the room and finally settled upon a spot just above Abay's head.
"I want you to arrange a severance package for Mr. Westwood. He no longer works for this organization."
A low murmur rose from the crowd.
Mrs. Stoughton looked startled. "But..."
"Are you our human resources officer?"
She stroked her face. "Yes."
"Then arrange the package, and escort Mr. Westwood from the premises, now!"
Slowly, she stood up, shuffled over to Lawrence Westwood, took him by the arm and led him from the meeting room. He offered no resistance, following her like a stunned goat heading to be slaughtered.
Abay surveyed the audience. "No more rumors. Do you understand that?"
"Yes," the employees responded.
Just then Amelia Dubois stood up. This was her chance to stand out. With Barry Battles dead, Abay would need a deputy. She was what he needed. It was in her goals notebook, part of her five-year plan. "Please give a round of applause for our new leader," she said, clapping her hands. There was a hesitation, then everyone joined in. The front row stood up.
Abay raised his right arm, scrunched his hand into a tight fist and punched the air. "I'm the main man now!" Then he caught himself. "Dismissed," he said with a sheepish smile.
Chapter 15
Abay strode out of the conference room, passing by Nick and Amy with long, loping, confident strides. At the door, he nodded at Doris. She followed him.
"Quick," Nick whispered to Amy. "Follow me."
He sprung from his chair, hurrying after Abay. In the receptionist area, he caught up. "Mr. Gómez, can I have a word?"
He turned, eyeing Nick and Amy with a superior eye. "Are you employees?"
"No," Doris blurted, "Amy King is the stager Barry hired—"
"Oh," he interrupted, waving a hand, turning back to his office. "Not important, you deal with it."
"Detective Nick King," Nick boomed. "I'd like to speak with you for a moment."
That stopped him. Slowly he turned around and smiled. "What about?"
That surprised Nick, but he didn't show it. "Barry Battles," he said without hesitation.
Abay grunted. "Found his killer?" His tone was mocking.
Nick let that go. "It will only take a few minutes, sir."
"Doris," Abay whispered. "I'll be taking over Barry's office as of today. Can you arrange the details?" He turned to Nick and Amy. "This way, please."
He led the way into a large office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Texas capitol building only a few blocks away. Shelves of investment books and magazines lin
ed one wall and framed photos of Barry Battles with politicians and celebrities lined another wall. Amy recognized many of the faces.
"Please, take a seat." Abay pointed at two chairs, that sat next to a round table. "As you can see, this was Barry's office. As the new leader of the organization, it is my space now."
Amy wondered at the speed of the transition. Barry Battles had only died a few hours earlier, and the man in front of her had fired an employee for stating that Barry was dead.
As if reading her mind, Abay uttered an explanation, "In the investment business, uncertainty leads to losses, and rumors cripple. I've had to take immediate charge to avoid that. A press release explaining the leadership transition went out an hour ago." He glanced at the clock on the desk. "And in about ten minutes, our press office will release a statement about the death of Barry Battles."
"That is fast," Nick said somewhat reflectively.
Abay folded his arms. "Failure to move with speed is death in this industry. It is a tired cliché, but we really have to take the bull by the horns."
"That is understandable, especially in this market," said Amy.
Abay glanced at her with a look of surprise as if he had only realized she was also in the room. "Yes, yes. I see you understand. Nervous investors equal redemptions, and no investment firm wants that."
The office door eased open. "The senior team is waiting for you in The Great Room," whispered Doris.
Amy noticed the energy that passed between Abay and Doris. If she had a word for it, it would be profoundly sexual. Is Abay involved with Doris? Abay was in his late forties. Gold digger! Amy chastised herself for the thought. "Mr. Gómez, I suppose the death of Barry must have come as a terrible shock to you and your wife?"
Abay gave her a long curious look. "I'm single," he grunted at last. "It was a shock, yes."
Nick took out his police notebook. "You worked closely with Mr. Battles?"
Abay sniffed and placed a hand in his jacket pocket. "This job demands long hours, and over those hours friendships naturally arise. Lasting friendships are rare in this industry, but I suppose what I had with Barry was as close as one gets to that."
