Chapter Five
By the time they got to the car, Peabody had already started the run on Madeline Reece Banner.
“Okay, she grew up primarily in London, Brit father, American mother, two younger siblings. The family moved to Atlanta when she was fifteen. Looks like her father took a transfer with promotion for his work—international finance. She speaks Italian, French, Spanish, Portuguese, and Japanese.
“She went to Columbia University,” Peabody continued as Eve wove through traffic, “and worked as an interpreter at the UN. That’s not small potatoes.”
“I’m not going to ask why small potatoes when there are other food items that come in various sizes. Small watermelons, that makes more sense.”
“Okay. She’s got a couple of busts—protests, environmental and humanitarian issues. She’s for the environment and humanity, by the way.”
“Good to know.”
“After she married Banner, she went to work for his company as an interpreter, then did the professional parent thing with their daughter. Then, when they moved to Long Island, she didn’t return to the company.
She hosted or spearheaded fundraisers, activism, events for politicians, causes, and issues. A definitely leftward bent.
“After the divorce, she lived in Manhattan—a condo that was part of the divorce settlement. She still owns it, though her primary residence is London. Her parents moved back there when her father retired. Daughter, married, one offspring, also lives in London, and runs the Reece Family Foundation.
“The ex-wife’s not hurting financially—got a big chunk, and also inherited a chunk from her paternal grandfather. She maintains an interest in politics, causes, and issues, and puts her money and her time where those interests lie.
“She’s never remarried,” Peabody added, “but as of ten years ago lists a Marshall Petigue as cohab. Why is that name familiar?”
Curious enough, Peabody clicked on it. “Okay, yeah, he was the Brit prime minister back in like the forties. A widower. His wife died in a crash on a humanitarian mission in Africa. He raised their two kids—young teens—never remarried.”
“What does all that tell you?”
“It tells me if Banner-Wyst is screwing around and she knows something, she might be inclined to share. Although she hasn’t gone public with anything in a lot of years.”
“Maybe no one asked the right questions. See if you can set up a conversation with her.”
Five minutes later, Peabody pocketed her ’link.
“The ex, her daughter, her mother, and others are currently on an all-female, no-electronics retreat in the Himalayas. Contact to be restored next Monday.”
“Okay, we’ll keep her in the pocket.”
Eve swung around a maxibus, braked at a light.
“We’re going to play this as routine at Banner-Wyst, procedure, filling in background on the victim, who was obviously a valued member of the company. How we appreciate any help given in our pursuit to find his killer. Blah and blah.”
“Sort of glad-handing.”
Eve had to laugh. “Okay, that fits. You don’t get to head up a trillion-dollar company without being smart, or at least cagey. Push the wrong button too soon, we’ll be dealing with corporate lawyers and bogging it all down.”
“Being cagey, they won’t tell us anything they don’t want us to know.”
“That’s right. It’ll be interesting to see what they want us to know.”
Banner-Wyst housed itself in a steel and glass tower in Midtown. People glides circled the exterior, and on a sunny day people traveled up, traveled down.
That told her the glass, considering security, would be reinforced and one-way.
Since it boasted underground parking, Eve turned in, then sat at the gate.
A blue-suited security officer walked over to the driver’s window.
The sharp-eyed woman with a skullcap of black hair smiled politely.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, this parking facility is for staff and guests registered for appointments. I can direct you to other facilities.”
Eve just held up her badge.
“One moment.” The woman scanned the badge. “Lieutenant, may I ask the purpose of your business, and who or what you wish to see?”
“The purpose is the investigation into the murder of company employee Lawrence Chu. We could start off speaking with his direct supervisor.”
Those sharp eyes went wide and shocked. “Director Chu was murdered?”
“Yes, last evening. Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, investigating same.”
“Take visitor slot 3-A, turn right, straight ahead. I’ll be right with you.”
When the gate lifted, Eve drove in, made the right, and slid into the designated slot.
“Security Officer North, Lieutenant, Detective. I hadn’t heard about Director Chu’s death, needed to verify. Director Chu’s direct superior would be Director O’Brian, of operations. Otherwise Director Chu reported to Mr. Banner or Mr. Wyst.”
“Are either Misters Banner or Wyst in today?”
“I believe Mr. Banner is working at home today. Mr. Wyst is due in shortly. He arrived back in New York last night from meetings in our facility in Guatemala. I’ll contact Director O’Brian for you, have you cleared through.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Give me a moment.”
Tapping the comm at her ear, she moved away.
“Media’s got to have the story by now,” Peabody commented.
“Yeah. Not everybody pays attention to the media.”
North came back. “I’m going to escort you to the elevator. Director O’Brian’s on forty-six east. Someone will meet you.”
“All right.”
“Can I ask how he was killed?”
“No media flash this morning, Security Officer?”
“No. Grab breakfast, haul the kids to school, get to work.”
“He was beaten to death.”
“Well, God. Mugging?”
“No. Did you know him?”
“Yes. That is, to say good morning, good evening to. He was friendly. Pleasant. I’m sorry this happened. This elevator will take you directly to Director O’Brian’s floor.”
“Thanks for your help.”
The elevator had a hum of earwormy music and smelled faintly of roses. It ascended smoothly, silently.
Eve noted the security camera, wondered if the car also recorded audio.
“Hopefully, Director O’Brian has some of the details from media reports. It’s a hard story to keep telling.”
For an instant, Peabody looked baffled, then quickly caught on. “Pleasant and friendly, the security officer said. That sure jibes with everything we’ve learned so far. Somebody got juiced up, decided to target Chu. Seriously bad luck.”
“Yeah, but we have to follow through. We can’t close off work-related until we follow through where he worked. A lot of years here.”
“His whole career. Yeah, we have to talk to people here. Maybe somebody wanted his job bad enough to kill him. Hell of a way to get promoted.”
Eve let out a half laugh just before the elevator doors opened.
The woman who stood in front of them would barely reach five-two without the three-inch needle-point heels. Her hair, a dense, thick black, fell razor straight and sharp to her jawline. She had skin the color of gold dust, eyes as black as her hair.
She extended a hand. “Lieutenant, Detective, I’m Director O’Brian’s coordinator. I’ll escort you to his offices.”
“What do you coordinate?” Eve wondered.
“Appointments, meetings, schedules.”
Eve supposed they stood in a kind of lobby. On the small side, a glass wall to the east—it held a couple of chairs, a workstation where one man zipped away on a muscular comp.
The coordinator led them past the glass wall, into an area of offices, cubes, small conference rooms.
A door at the end of the section opened into more offices, one on each side of double doors.
A woman rose from a workstation, stepped out. “Thank you, Mae.”
With a nod, Mae moved to the side.
“Margaret Reynolds, Director O’Brian’s executive assistant. We’re all simply flattened by what happened to Director Chu.”
She didn’t look flattened, Eve thought, but . . . gray. The blond hair coiled into a tight knot had gray undertones. The suit, military in style, a dove gray, the heels, deeper gray. The eyes, direct and humorless, a blue that leaned gray.
“We’re sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. It is, a very deep loss. I know of no one in the company who didn’t hold Director Lawrence Chu in the highest regard.”
“Did you know him well?”
“I’ve worked for Banner-Wyst for nearly twenty years.
I actually served as his coordinator when he was made director.
A brilliant man, if I may say, and one devoted to his work and his family.
He was well respected and regarded with affection by those who worked with him.
This is a tragedy for his family, and for us, his work family. ”
She held up a hand. “My apologies for keeping you from your duties. I’ll show you into Director O’Brian. Can I have Mae bring you a beverage?”
“How’s the coffee?”
Reynolds smiled, but it didn’t do much to soften her narrow, angular face. “It’s quite good. Director O’Brian spoils us.”
“Black for me, coffee regular for the detective. Thanks.”
“Mae?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll take care of it.”
“Sparkling water with lime for the director. Come with me.”
She walked to a set of double doors, rapped twice, then opened the one on the right. “Director, Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody.”
“Come in, come in.”
He rose from behind a massive desk in the corner office with two glass walls. A beefy man with a white lab coat tossed over a pin-striped suit, he circled the desk, held out a thick hand.
“Jack O’Brian. I heard only this morning. I haven’t absorbed the news, the shock of it. I’ve only just come back from Larry’s lab, from talking to his people.”
He had a ruddy complexion and eyes of pale blue, a short, curly sweep of hair around a wide face.
“We appreciate you seeing us.”
“Of course! We—all of us—want to do anything we can to help. Please, sit, sit. Margaret, let’s get the NYPSD some coffee.”
“Mae’s bringing it. Do you want me to sit in, sir?”
“No need, no need, thank you. If you and Mae would continue to work on adjusting my schedule? Larry leaves a hole both wide and deep.”
Mae brought in the drinks, kept her head down as she served them, then slipped out again.
“Let me know if you need anything.” Reynolds walked to the door, shut it behind her.