Chapter Nine
Eve headed straight down, and as she rode the glides, answered her ’link and Louise.
“I wanted you to know I spoke to Brad Chu. He’s shattered, Dallas, and I can confidently tell you he and the rest of the family have no clue why his father was killed.”
“As far as suspects go, they’re at the bottom. Did you know an Ezra Dent?”
“Well, the ‘did I know’ tells me he’s dead, and no, that’s not familiar.” Louise dragged fingers through her hair. “Is it connected?”
“I’ll eat Santiago’s cowboy hat if not. Have they set the memorial?”
“Brad said Morris hasn’t released the body—and I see there’s another, so that may be why. There would be no viewing in any case, obviously. They plan to hold a memorial tomorrow, and a private one when his father’s cremated.”
“What time?”
“Eleven. Charles and I will be there.”
“So will Peabody and I, unless.”
“I’ll send you the details, and see you there if you make it. Otherwise, at a much happier occasion.”
“Right. Thanks for letting me know.”
Could the killer be family? she wondered. But none of the victims’ families worked, or ever had, for the company. Her gut insisted the killer did or had.
She hadn’t yet spoken with Dent’s daughter, so that had to go on the next steps. Daughter’s husband, maybe an ex who’d considered himself family.
Then why the hell kill Chu, and first?
No, the killer wasn’t just connected to the victims, but to the company.
She swung into the bullpen. Jenkinson and his tie were absent, as were his partner, Reineke, and his no doubt coordinating socks.
Carmichael and Santiago weren’t at their desks.
The earnest Trueheart sat at his, scanning something on his screen. Baxter, in his slick suit, munched on a cookie.
“Jenkinson and Reineke caught one. Carmichael and Santiago are in the field on the one they caught yesterday. My boy and I are at your disposal if needed.”
“You could do a couple of runs. Lorilee Janis, exec assistant for Jacob Wyst at Banner-Wyst. Arleen Norse, ex-wife of Jacob Wyst.”
“Got that, partner?” Baxter said to Trueheart. “Take the assistant, I’ll take the ex.”
As he spoke, Nadine, camera ready in calm lake blue, stepped in.
Baxter lifted his hands. “What, no brownies, no cookies?”
“Your boss didn’t give me time.”
“You just ate a cookie,” Eve pointed out.
“From Vending, so really a substance that wants to be a cookie.”
Eve just turned to her office.
“Next time,” Nadine promised Baxter as she followed Eve. “This doesn’t happen often,” she said to Eve. “You requesting my presence.”
“I’m going to give you some ‘you can do what you want when you want,’ and some ‘you may need to hold until.’ ”
With a nod, Nadine stepped in, looked at the board. “I heard about the second murder before I left the station. But holy Jesus, I wasn’t ready for this.”
When she pressed a hand to her stomach, Eve jabbed a finger. “If you’re going to boot, get out.”
“I’m not going to boot, but I’m going to hit you up for water instead of coffee. I work the crime beat, Dallas, I see bodies and blood. But that’s a lot.”
“Take the desk chair.”
“And I will.” She sat, took the water Eve handed her.
She drank, and Eve noted those sharp green eyes avoided looking directly at the crime scene shots.
“Need a minute?”
Nadine shook her head, passed a hand over her streaky blond hair. “No. That had to be more than one killer.”
“Evidence points to one.”
Nadine took a breath, sipped more water. “Have you ever watched a boxing or mixed martial arts match?”
“Been in a few. Yeah, I’ve seen boxing and MMA.”
“There’s a reason they do rounds, give the fighters a chance to hydrate, catch their breath.”
“This one doesn’t do rounds. He does what he’s there to do, which is beat his target to death, and keep beating him after that’s accomplished. And wreck the space, the office for Chu, the lounge area for Dent. With one exception, which is—for now—off the record.”
“Understood.”
“In Chu’s case, a family photo on the desk, turned facedown. In Dent’s, two family photos on a shelf, turned to the wall. All undamaged.”
Nadine looked at the board again, and closely. “Considering the condition of those areas, that had to be deliberate. Both victims worked for Banner-Wyst. I did some digging on Dent on the way over. Two science types both working for the same company.”
“What do you know about the company?”
“Banner-Wyst.” Nadine set down the water so she could use both hands, like a scale. “Humanitarian efforts?” She moved her right hand up and down. “Profit and power.” Then the left.
She shrugged. “I’m not a science type so I don’t know much.”
“But you’ll find out more.”
“Well, yes.” This time Nadine smiled and fluffed at her hair. “It’s what I do.”
“Here’s more. When Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody of the NYPSD, the investigators on this pair of homicides, interviewed Jacob Wyst in his offices regarding this tragic second murder, they asked about large payments made to both victims, and both thirteen years ago.”
Head angled in thought, Nadine picked up her water, sat back. “That’s not nothing.”
“More yet. Payments to Chu continued to be made annually. I haven’t dug into Dent yet, but I’m all surprised if I don’t find the same.”
“Okay.” With a nod, Nadine took a slow sip. “I’ll be all surprised with you.”
“Wyst became uncooperative, had the investigators removed from the building by security with orders to bar them from entering again.”
“Oooh.” Nadine let out a laugh. “Someone’s either very, very stupid, or very, very scared.”
“Wyst then attempted to pressure Chief of Police Tibble into reprimanding and removing the primary from the investigation. And has accused her of attempting to enhance her husband’s—that would be Roarke—business interests by pursuing a connection of Banner-Wyst to the brutal murders of two of its key and longtime employees. ”
“Wow. Okay, stupid and scared. Do you suspect Wyst killed them?”
“No, I suspect—strongly, off the record—he’s a future target. Lieutenant Dallas will proceed . . . You should ask me how I intend to proceed.”
“All right. On record.” Nadine took a recorder out of her elephant-sized handbag. She switched it on.
“Lieutenant Dallas, in light of this lack of cooperation from the victims’ employer, Banner-Wyst, and the accusations levied by Jacob Wyst against your integrity, how do you plan to proceed with this investigation?”
Pleased, Eve shot out a finger. “Yeah, see, that’s good.
Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, and the NYPSD will proceed with any and all avenues of inquiry pertinent to the investigation of the murders of Lawrence Chu and Ezra Dent.
The NYPSD does not, and will not, compromise its duty, regardless of attempts by wealth and influence demanding it does so.
Lawrence Chu, Ezra Dent, and those they left behind deserve our best, and that’s exactly what they’ll get. ”
Nadine shot out a finger in turn. “Yeah, see, that’s good. Follow-up?”
“Okay, quick. I need to get back to it.”
“Lieutenant, how do you respond to the implication you might weigh this investigation in order to damage one of your husband’s business competitors?”
“It wasn’t an implication, since it was said straight out. I say beyond the insult to me, my badge, to this department, to Roarke and his business acumen, it’s a sign that Jacob Wyst is worried about what Detective Peabody and I may find during the course of our investigation.”
“Is Jacob Wyst a suspect?”
Eve gave Nadine a look, got back an easy smile. But she answered. “In the murders of Lawrence Chu and Ezra Dent? No, he is not.”
“Are—”
“That’s it, pal.”
“Okay.” Nadine turned off her recorder, slipped it back into her elephant, rose.
“I’m on this. I need to get back, do some research, write it up, talk to the producer.
I figure a couple of hours because I’ll push it.
I’ll push it because it’s a good story, and I’ll push it because he took a swipe at friends of mine. ”
“He may take a swipe at you.”
“Oh, he’s welcome to try.” Her smile could have cut steel. “He may have money, but I have the First Amendment. And ratings. Add in a goddamn Oscar.
“If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you at the Big Bash.”
“Yeah, people keep saying that.”
“We dropped by to see the place, and Mavis made lemonade, Peabody made lemon bars—from actual lemons.”
“Summerset takes them over.”
“Yeah. We’re bringing potted lemon trees for both sides of the house.”
“They’ll like that. We already gave them stuff.”
“I saw. Well done, too. Later.”
Two minutes after Nadine walked out, Trueheart and Baxter came to her door.
“Got your runs,” Baxter told her, then pointed to Trueheart. “Go.”
“The assistant? Crazy smart, Lieutenant. Graduated from Brown at twenty with a double major. Business-slash-communications and biotech. Got her masters in both by twenty-two. No criminal, originally from New Hampshire. Employed by Banner-Wyst for five years. She moved up to the top floor fast. She’s got a crazy smart younger sister doing a double major at Carnegie Mellon, physics and public relations.
She’s a junior, and eighteen. Oh, and the assistant volunteers at a women’s shelter two weekends a month. Yours, sir. Dochas.”
“Okay. She’s working for the wrong company. Next?”
“Arleen Norse,” Baxter began, “age sixty-seven. Springs from the Norse family of the Hudson Valley, where she now lives. They made their money, and lots of it, in paint. You know, house paint. She doesn’t come up to pretty, big-brained Lorilee’s level, but she’s no slouch.
Yale grad, lawyer, practiced up until the birth of her first kid, then did occasional pro bono work, steered a lot of committees, helped run the Norse Family Foundation.
No criminal, since we don’t count speeding tickets. She’s racked those up.