Chapter Nine #3
She got up first to go out to the bullpen and Peabody. “I’ve got something. Feeney’s on his way down. My office.”
“What did you get?” Peabody sprang up. “What is it? A suspect?”
“Yeah.” Eve walked to the board, tapped Redman’s photo. “That’s what he looked like thirteen years ago.”
“Steven Redman. Okay, who is he, why don’t we have a current ID, and why is he a suspect?”
“He was the director before Chu. His pregnant wife and son died in a gas explosion and resulting fire in their apartment building. He went into severe shock, catatonic state, institutionalized until six years ago. We don’t have a current, because he poofed. Why he’s a suspect should now be obvious.
“Three coffees.”
“Got that, got the obvious. He turns the photos away,” Peabody said as she programmed. “He doesn’t want the family to pay. Why would he blame the company for a gas leak?”
“Feeney investigated. We’ll ask him. What I’m asking me?
Why didn’t Wyst bring this up? Oh, we gave those two dead guys a big pile of money because our bright young director suffered a terrible tragedy and had a breakdown.
We compensated them for stepping up and giving their all to blah-de-blah project. ”
“One answer is he’s just a my-business-is-none-of-yours shithead, but I think the winner is he didn’t want us to know. How come we know?”
“His ex-wife. She remembered Redman, the accident, the breakdown. There’s more—I need to write it up—but this is the big one.”
She heard Feeney coming toward the office, picked up the coffee Peabody had set on the desk. Held it out as he walked in.
“Let me have a look first.” Gulping coffee, he stepped to the board. “Callendar’s starting to pull out those files. Meanwhile, holy shit, somebody had to be hyped on something to do this. Twice. No weapon?”
“Hands and feet.”
“Hyped up good.” In his baggy dung-colored suit, he narrowed his eyes on the board. “No forced entry, used their own codes. Had to know them. And you’re looking at this guy.” He tapped Redman’s ID. “I remember him. Jesus, that was one terrible night. And terrible day after.”
He shoved fingers through his wild and wiry hair. “You got pieces of people after something like that. Plenty of gone-to-nothing pieces of people.”
He blew air between his teeth, gulped more coffee.
“Family building. Kids, grannies. FDNY saved a few, and a few more they got out didn’t make it. Blew up going on to two in the morning, so you’ve got everybody inside in bed.”
“Why wasn’t Redman?”
“Okay.” Feeney circled his head on his neck, eased against her desk.
“I tried talking to him, but got most from wits. He was heading back to the building, and boom. The boom tossed him back, slammed him into a parked car. Minor injuries there. What they did, according to the wits, is a couple people held him back from running into the building after he got up. He went down again, on the sidewalk, screaming at first, then nothing. Blank, right? They took him in to treat him for shock, but he never came out of it.”
“Why wasn’t he already inside?”
“Pregnant wife. He went around the corner to a twenty-four/seven to get her ice cream. Confirmed with the counterman.”
“He could’ve used that as an alibi.”
“Could’ve, didn’t. Didn’t play, kid. They both had families and friends in New York. Every one of them corroborated. Crazy about each other, crazy about the kid, couldn’t wait to have the next. Also confirmed? He’d stop in and buy ice cream for the wife at odd hours.
“Strawberry Chocolate Ripple. Jesus, the shit you remember.”
“Okay.”
“I went in to try to interview him a few hours later, and got nothing. Docs said he should come out of it, but he never did. I went to the mental health facility a couple weeks later, to try again, and nothing.”
Feeney chin-pointed to the board. “What’s his connection?”
“Six years ago, he vanished. His father filed an MP after they discovered his bed empty. They’ve never found him.”
“Okay, I follow.”
“What about the explosion? Nothing hinky there?”
Feeney puffed out his cheeks, blew out the air.
“We didn’t like it, me or Susan. The building had regular inspections and was well maintained.
The owners? Nothing off there. We didn’t like it, and she dug hard.
I dug on my end. But there was nothing, no evidence of anything but a fucking horrible accident. ”
“You still wonder.”
“I’m wondering more now. But I’d say, either way, he blames those two, maybe more.”
“Chu, vic one, went from Redman’s head assistant to his replacement—with a pile of money tossed in. Dent, vic two, he worked with Redman, then Chu, and also got a big pile.”
Nodding, nodding, eyes flat, Feeney drank more coffee.
“That’ll make you think. You don’t blow up a building with a bunch of people inside to get a promotion. Easier just to off the one in your way.”
“I don’t think they blew it up, but I think—and Redman sure as hell must think—they knew.
They took the deal, the money, kept right on working while he lost everything.
His family. Banner-Wyst’s hiding something, Feeney, and this is part of it.
I know it. Maybe Redman knew it, too. Maybe he tried blackmailing them.
Maybe he found out and decided to blow the horn on them. ”
“Whistle,” Peabody put in. “You blow the whistle.”
“A horn makes more noise.”
Eve gave Feeney a quick punch on the shoulder. “Right? They’re hiding something. Wyst is scared shitless, but when we ask about what happened in this time frame, why the big bonuses to each vic, he doesn’t say anything about this. Gave us the boot, went crying harassment to Tibble.”
“That makes him not just an asshole, but a dumbass. Doesn’t want you to know, thinks you won’t find out.” He gave her a punch back. “As if.”
Eve looked toward the door as she heard the bounce. Not McNab’s, she thought. Callendar.
“Callendar hit,” Feeney said just before she stepped to the door.
“Figured I’d pop down for this. Hey, it gets crowded in here real fast.”
“What’d you get?” Eve demanded.
“Still pulling, but I knew you’d want this. He kept really stellar records. Had them in a digital vault, but I’m a digital vault cracker supreme. Can I get in on the coffee while I lay it out?”
“Peabody.”
“A yay and a thanks. So, Roarke got you the first hit, the two mil? He’s been getting the quarter of a mil annually just like the first vic, only he gets another two hundred K that goes straight into the Caymans account. It’s all in his records.
“Thanks double,” she said when Peabody passed her the coffee. “Same deal even after he went to the part-time gig. Now, who pays the same bonus—about half of it under the table—for part-time consulting?
“Hell, sign me up. Who’s that guy?” Callendar asked, nodding toward Redman.
“Fairly certain he’s the guy they didn’t pay,” Eve told her. “And blew up his apartment building, and his family, instead.”
Callendar sipped some coffee, said, “Harsh. Extreme harsh.”
“When you’re in that digital vault, see if you can find anything on a major project—has to be major—in the time frame. Anything about Steven Redman, the explosion.”
“I’ll work that with you.” Feeney set down his empty mug. “I’ve got an investment here. Dallas, I’ll tag Susan Washington. I know her, and she’ll go through it all again. I don’t see how we missed anything, but she’ll go through it.”
“They’d be good at it. Or whoever they had cause it—if it was deliberate. Science.”
She looked back at the board. “Yeah, they’d figure out how to make it look like an accident.”