31
Rowan
Professional Touch
“Do you notice anything specific?” asked Detective Caine.
Rowan hadn’t wanted to bring Vivian to the office.
He thought that, at minimum, it would be upsetting for her, and at most, it could be dangerous.
But the police detective, who had called shortly after Courtney, had been insistent.
Detective Caine had also banished Rowan to the hall, where he was reduced to glaring through the fractured glass sidelight.
The intruder had gained access through a side door in the company lobby, which made Vivian mutter something about having told Susan to change the code.
Obviously, Susan hadn’t listened. From there, the company only had security alarms on their documents’ vault, so when Howard’s office door had been kicked open, no one had known.
It wasn’t until building security got a repeated alert that the lobby door was open and went to check on it that the intrusion was discovered.
As it was a Sunday, they called Susan, the Office Manager.
Susan, perhaps unaware of the shooting on Saturday or perhaps not giving a damn, had delegated checking the office to Courtney.
Courtney, the only sensible person in the room in Rowan’s estimation, appeared to be the first one to connect the dots and call everyone, including the police.
Like Vivian’s cubicle, Howard’s office looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Every piece of paper had been dumped out of the files and distributed evenly as if someone had thrown them angrily in the air.
“I’d have to go through the papers,” Vivian said quietly, as she looked around the office again.
The computer had been thrown down and smashed.
The floor to ceiling pane of glass next to the door had also been kicked and broken.
The shelf full of awards that Howard called useless dust catchers in response to an impressed comment from Rowan had been swept clear.
That all seemed like someone was angry, but Rowan couldn’t tell if anything had actually been removed.
Vivian’s desk was similar. Her drawers had all been emptied, but Vivian said that nothing appeared to be missing.
Had someone been looking for something and then got frustrated?
That seemed to paint the portrait of someone juvenile and stupid.
His phone beeped with a text from Teddy, and Rowan hurried to check it.
Got a lead on the car. Will call you in a few.
Rowan felt relieved that there had been some progress. So far, his best recovery move was successfully getting Vivian to not argue about moving in. Which was no small feat and great for his life, but didn’t catch whoever had tried to kill her in the first place.
Vivian frowned and turned in a circle as if trying to take in the entire room.
“This is so pointless,” she said, sounding puzzled.
“Criminal acts often feel that way,” said Detective Caine soothingly.
Vivian hadn’t been upset in that comment. She’d been confused.
Rowan liked this detective better than Bodge, but this morning when they’d arrived together, he thought he’d detected the faintest whiff of condescension. It looked like Detective Caine had filed Vivian under B for Bimbo.
Rowan stepped away from the wall and leaned into the office.
“What do you mean, Viv?” he asked, earning a glare from the Detective.
“Did you talk to Nadine? Did someone try to break into their house too?” asked Vivian, still frowning at the mess.
“Not that we know of. Why do you ask?” Detective Caine’s tone moved from victim soothing to alerted interest.
“Well, they smashed things and that’s hurtful, but Howard never kept anything really important in the office.
None of this is valuable to him. I hate it and I want to fucking punch someone in the face, but he would be less angry than I am.
So, if they didn’t go to the house then they must have been looking for something that they thought would be here at the office, but… ”
Vivian trailed off and scratched her head, dislodging a stray wisp of hair from her bun.
“But what?” asked the Detective.
“Well, going paperless has long been a company initiative. Although it’s incredibly difficult in our industry.
But since the pandemic we’ve made massive strides forward as technology has become more legally acceptable.
Howard and I both take notes on these tablets.
” She pointed to a cracked device on the floor.
“We plug them in when we leave and they get backed up overnight. Documents get scanned and originals get destroyed or placed in the vault to be kept for the mandated legal period. If we do put something in a file,” she pointed to one of the folders from the floor, “it’s meant to be temporary.
So if it’s in a file, it’s defacto not that important.
I don’t understand why someone would break in and go through the files. ”
“Well, would there be any new paperwork that you didn’t know about? When was the last time Howard was in the office?”
“Friday afternoon,” said Vivian, slowly. “He left early to go play golf with a client. I left a little bit early too, to finish up some things for the gala, but everything was quiet. There wasn’t anything new except for the card for the Tates. But that was on my desk.”
Abruptly, Vivian hurried from the office, brushing past Rowan and hurrying to her cubicle. She hesitated at the entrance.
“Can I touch things?”
“We’d rather you didn’t,” said the Detective following her. “CSI hasn’t had a chance to go over it.”
“Well, take some photos or something,” snapped Vivian. “I need to find something important. Who has gloves? Courtney!” Vivian had an impressive bellow when she wanted one. Mark might be onto something with his idea that Vivian had missed her calling as a drill instructor.
“Yes?” Courtney popped into the hallway like she’d been hovering and waiting for her summons.
“I need some rubber gloves. Go grab some out of the first aid kit in the break room.”
“I have some,” snapped the Detective, pulling them out of her pocket.
Vivian snatched them up and pulled them on as the detective snapped photos of the cubicle with her phone and made swearing noises under her breath.
Vivian got down on her knees and began to gently lift the drifts of paper, trying to disturb them as little as possible. Rowan admired the way her ass looked in leggings, which was probably the wrong time to be thinking sexy thoughts, but it wasn’t his fault that Vivian was so goddamn hot.
“Got it,” murmured Vivian, gently pulling out what looked to be the pieces of a torn Hallmark card.
“Hey!” exclaimed Courtney, peering over the cubicle wall. “I picked that card out specially.”
“And then someone went and tore it up,” said Vivian. She looked around at the other papers on the floor. “They didn’t tear anything else up.”
“What is it?” asked Detective Caine.
Rowan finally put the pieces together the way Vivian had.
“It’s Charles Tate Senior’s get well card, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes, it is,” Vivian said, looking up at him grimly.
“Has anyone checked on him?” asked Rowan. “Did he make it through his cardiac event?”
“There was an email from his assistant this morning,” said Courtney, with a gasp. “I saw it when I logged in. Mr. Tate passed away yesterday in the hospital!”
“Email him back. Be polite, but find out what time,” said Rowan. “And, if you can, ascertain Chucky’s whereabouts both yesterday and today.”
“Do you two mind?” snapped Detective Caine. “I will be doing the investigating here!”
“But,” said Courtney, “Chucky’s an idiot. Why would he do this?”
“Howard went golfing with Charles Tate Senior on Friday. He swore he was going to get Senior to sign the new will. Chucky has been back-steering his father’s will revision for the last month.
The current version, the version Howard was trying to get signed, reduces Chucky’s inheritance to barely a quarter of the estate. ”
“What happens if that version didn’t get signed, or we can’t find it?” asked Detective Caine.
“Then it would revert to the previous signed version which leaves Chucky as the executor and outside of specific bequests, he would get everything.”
“That sounds like a hell of a lot of motive,” said Detective Caine.
“Over two-hundred million dollars-worth of motive,” said Vivian, reaching out a hand toward Rowan. He used his good arm to help her off the floor. He suspected the bruise on her hip bothered her more than she would willingly admit.
“But it’s kind of a big jump from a torn get-well card to breaking and entering, let alone attempted murder,” said Detective Caine, backing up, probably to give Vivian room to leave the cubicle, though it felt like a physical step away from Vivian’s theory.
Vivian looked at Rowan. He knew damn well she was getting discounted because of her age and job description and he couldn’t fix it for her. On the other hand, they didn’t need the Detective’s permission to investigate.
“I think we should talk to Nadine,” he said. “She’ll know if Howard came home directly after golfing and she might know about the will.”
“You will do nothing of the kind,” said the Detective. “I am investigating and I will speak to the relevant parties. You will stay out of it.”
Vivian’s hand tightened in his. “Of course,” she said using her work voice and smiling at Detective Caine. “You’re the professional.”