While Everyone Was Sleeping

by Donald Collins

  “Let us worry about that,” Danski said as he stood and headed for the door. “We’re also looking into some other information that’s come up.”

  Susan squeezed Danski’s hand hard when they reached the door. “Please tell me, Detective. Do you think you’ll ever find Jake? Do you think I’ll ever have him back here with me again?”

  “I can’t answer that,” Danski responded. “There are several areas we need to look into at this time. A few things have come up over the past few days that we’re looking into, and that’s all I can say at this time.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Susan really got riled and rattled when you asked about her love life,” Litchfield said when they got into their cruiser and headed back to the office.

  “Yeah, she got rattled alright,” Danski grunted.

  “Until then she was cool, calm and collected.”

  “The whole point of coming to see her this morning was to catch her off-guard and ask questions she wasn’t expecting or prepared to answer - ones that Latimer never asked.”

  “She explained a few things, but I still feel she’s holding out on us,” Litchfield said.

  Danski quickly agreed. “She came to us on the anniversary weekend of Jake’s disappearance, crying her eyes out five years after the fact, begging us to look into the case. She said she would do anything that was needed and answer any questions we had, but she reacted poorly and wanted to stop the interview when we asked about her relationship with her deceased husband.”

  Litchfield nodded grimly. “I can’t help thinking there’s something about Martin’s death that she doesn’t want us to know about.”

  “It’s difficult to believe that after five years she has no suspects and no idea how Jake could have gotten out of the apartment that night.”

  “None that she wants to share with us for some reason,” Litchfield said.

  “It may be a repressed memory,” Danski said.

  “In that case our job is to draw it out of her.”

  “Easier said than done,” Danski said as he slowed for a traffic light behind a taxi.

  “I’m curious about something,” Litchfield said “When I spoke with Lydia Montgomery she raved about Susan’s work and how she totally transformed her living room and two bedrooms. She called Susan creative and imaginative and her designs revolutionary.”

  Danski nodded. “I don’t doubt Susan’s very good at what she does.”

  “Montgomery said that she likes the changes Susan makes, but Montgomery lives alone and I’m sure it doesn’t take long before she gets bored with her furniture and she calls Susan and has her come back and change it again no matter how much it cost her.”

  “She’s a very wealthy woman. She has the means to have Susan come over and start all over again whenever she gets into one of those moods.”

  “Exactly,” Litchfield said. “And Susan always comes right over.”

  “Of course. Montgomery says jump and Susan says how high. It must be nice to have that much money.” Danski snickered. “Money brings control.”

  “For her it’s disposable money,” Litchfield groaned. “She said she enjoys Susan’s company and that’s an effective way to have Susan come to the penthouse to sit and talk with her when she feels the need. Susan shows her all the styles and accents - everything from traditional, industrial, contemporary, even Scandinavian. She trusts Susan to help her decide on the right style. The last time Susan was there she talked Montgomery into a mid-century modern style.”

  “Where are you going with this?” Danski asked. “You said you were curious about something.”

  “Yes, I’m curious about where all of her old furniture goes. Montgomery told me that Susan handled that end of their business arrangement.”

  “She might have donated it to some worthy cause or charity for all we know. Did you ask her what Susan did with the furniture she was replacing?”

  Litchfield shook his head. “I only became curious after I left there. This wasn’t their first rodeo together. Evidently Montgomery gets tired of looking at the old furniture very quickly. She just wants the old furniture out of her penthouse and new stuff brought in. She didn’t seem concerned with how Susan disposed of it. She just wanted it out of her sight.”

  “She apparently trusted Susan’s judgment and integrity and probably doesn’t care if she reuses the old furniture and turns a profit while she’s at it. If Susan is able to use a piece of furniture or an accessory again somewhere down the road with another client well then, so be it.”

  “As long as she doesn’t use it to redecorate the apartment of one of Montgomery’s friends.”

  “Again, where are you going with all this?”

  “I’m just thinking out loud,” Litchfield answered. “I assume most designers lease storage areas where they keep reusable items until they come back in style or they’re able to use them again.”

  “That makes sense, I guess,” Danski said. “I just don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.”

  “It’s just another part of Susan’s life we don’t know about.”

  “I’m sure there are many parts of her life we don’t know about,” Danski said.

  “Montgomery isn’t Susan’s only client. I doubt that all of her clients allow Susan to decide what happens with their old furniture.”

  “Some things might not be worth keeping,” Danski said.

  “If Susan is left with the job of disposing of the old furniture, it seems logical that she would lease a storage area to hold certain things in case she ever wants to use them again somewhere.” Litchfield gave a coy smile. “If she has such a place, I’m thinking she might keep more than used furniture there. She might have things there she doesn’t want us to know about.”

  “She’d need a climate-controlled storage area so her materials aren’t affected by changing temperatures,” Danski said. “And the area has to be large enough to store big items like recliners and couches, tables and chairs. Sometimes an entire apartment is replaced.”

  “There are plenty of storage places on both sides of the river,” Litchfield said, “I can think of three or four off the top of my head.” He rattled off the names of the ones he recalled from his patrol days in Astoria. “There’s Access Self-Storage, Life Storage, American Storage and Moishe’s Storage just to name a couple that I’m familiar with.”

  “It would be a lot cheaper on the Queens’ side, but it would be inconvenient for her to get to,” Danski said. “I don’t think she would want to go to that much trouble. She doesn’t have a car as far as we know, so she probably has a storage place right here in Manhattan that she can access easily whenever she needs to retrieve something or bring new articles there.”

  “I didn’t buy her story about getting rid of Martin’s hunting gear and rifles because she didn’t want Jake to find them,” Litchfield said.

  “And you think she held onto them for some reason and has them stored somewhere mixed in with some of her clients’ old furniture?”

  “It makes sense to me. We noticed there wasn’t one single thing in her apartment to help us find Jake. Latimer had the same problem. If Susan has a storage place we need to find it and see what’s there.”

  “It would take all day for us to call every storage place in the phone book,” Litchfield said.

  “That’s where Shameka comes in,” Danski said. “It will make her feel useful.”

  “You love to find work for that girl, don’t you?”

  “I’m just expanding her resume is all.”

  Chapter Ten

  Shameka looked up when the chime sounded and Danski stepped out of the elevator the next morning. “I called all those storage places on your printout like you asked me to do, Detective.” She flashed a quick, satisfied smile as she handed him the printouts marked in yellow and pink highlights.

  “The ones marked in yellow are climate controlled and large enough to hold bulky and oversized pieces of furniture. The ones highlighted in pink ha
ve electric power. You’ll see that some have both colors.”

  “Excellent, Shameka, thank you,” Danski said. “You go to the head of the class. I realize it was a tough assignment with a lot of details to sort through, but I knew I could count on you to get the job done.” He thought of joking that she might see a little extra in her paycheck this week, but he was afraid she’d think he was serious and hold him to it.

  He reviewed the printout sheets when he got to his desk. Four places looked promising. Two were in Queens and two were in Manhattan. He reached for his desk phone, ready to call one of them when Litchfield got to the office. He headed straight to a credenza on the left side of the doorway and poured his first cup of coffee for the day.

  Danski told him that Shameka had sorted through the list of storage facilities and separated them by different categories. “I’ve narrowed the possibilities to four specific places. Two of them are in Long Island City and two right here in Manhattan.” He handed the sheets with the Queens locations to Litchfield and kept the Manhattan ones for himself.

  “I’m more inclined to concentrate on the Manhattan places, but we might as well check out all four. I’ll try ‘Chelsea Storage’ first, it’s in the Tribeca area and has everything from a four-by-four unit to a ten-by-ten. If that’s a no-go, I’ll try the other one, ‘Harlem Self Storage’ on West 141st Street.”

  “We’ll have to physically go to these places if they don’t feel like going through their records,” Litchfield said.

  “Bingo!” Danski called out after disconnecting from a call five minutes later. “We’ve got a winner. Susan rents space at Chelsea Storage.” He stood and grabbed his sports jacket from the back of his chair.” Now we need to go down there and see if they’ll let us take a look at her unit.”

  “Relax,” Litchfield said. “Let me finish my coffee.”

  ***

  Danski identified himself as a detective. “I called an hour ago and asked about a space leased to Susan Whitlock. I spoke with Larry; is that you?”

  “Uh huh,” a thin, dark-haired clerk answered without looking up from his Galaxy-8.

  “We want to take a quick look at her unit. We’ll be in and out of here in five minutes.”

  “No problem,” Larry said, finally looking up. “Customers have to sign a waiver saying the contents of their lockers are subject to inspection at any time.”

  “Really?” Litchfield said. “What about security?”

  “We’ve got cameras all over the place around here. They’re motion-activated. Whenever someone opens a door in the storage area the cameras go on. That way nobody messes with anything.”

  “I like that,” Litchfield told him. “Strict accountability.”

  “Whatever,” Larry commented. “Whitlock’s in block B-217. She’s got two eight by ten areas. I’ll take you there,” he said and then snapped his phone shut and stood.

  “This is what I pictured,” Danski said as Larry turned the key in the lock and pushed the overhead door up. He scanned the location and saw a variety of lamps, statues, a stack of neatly folded sheets, comforters and pillows, three headboards and an assortment of bric-a-brac. He pointed to two stuffed animal-head wall mounts.

  “Those are apparently Martin’s trophies. Susan probably figured she might be able to work them into a design for a client that’s into big-game hunting, somewhere down the road.”

  Litchfield chin-nodded to a tall cedar cabinet. “What’s in there?”

  “It’s not locked,” Danski said as he tested the handle and pulled the door open. “Well this explains what happened to Martin’s expensive rifles and hunting gear. She didn’t sell them; they’re all right here.”

  Litchfield pointed to a large freezer in the corner and eyed it warily. “I’m almost afraid to open it,” he said.

  Danski stepped past him and twisted the handle. Both of them let out a sigh of relief when he raised the top cover and found it empty.

  “I don’t know what this means,” Danski admitted as he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and snapped off a dozen pictures.

  “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything,” Litchfield said. “I’m just relieved we didn’t find Jake’s body here somewhere.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Perseverance paid off,” Danski said as they drove back to the office. “We’re learning a little more about Susan every day. Who knows how long Martin’s rifles and hunting gear have been sitting in Susan’s storage areas?”

  “But we don’t know what that means,” Litchfield said. “Yes, it’s unusual, but I don’t see any connection to Jake’s disappearance.”

  “Frankly, neither do I,” Danski admitted. “But it’s another time that Susan was less than honest with us. Guilt by omission.”

  Litchfield shook his head. “She outright lied to us. She didn’t tell us about the storage space she leases, but she told us she got rid of all of Martin’s rifles and hunting gear, and it’s all there sitting in B-217.”

  ***

  The detectives passed Quinn on the stairwell when they got back to their building.

  “Making any headway on the Whitlock case?” Quinn asked.

  “We’re still trying to connect the dots,” Danski answered.

  “Keep me posted,” Quinn said.

  Danski hung up his coat and then pulled a large eraser-board from behind a row of tall file cabinets. On the left side of the board he wrote the names that came up in the investigation so far. Jake’s name came first, followed by Susan’s, Martin Whitlock and his brother Peter, then Francine, Delores DeMarco and Lydia Montgomery. After studying the names, he erased the last three.

  “We were led to believe that Jake disappeared overnight,” Danski said. “Wednesday night going into Thursday morning. But based on our interviews with Delores and Francine we have reason to suspect he might have gone missing the previous week.” Danski paused a beat. “And, the storage area she leases. I find it odd that she never mentioned it to either us or Latimer.”

  “It might not mean anything,” Litchfield said. “If she’s innocent, she really had no reason to bring it up.”

  “Be that as it may,” Danski said and then moved on to Susan’s husband. “Martin was a millionaire, but not a self-made one. According to Latimer’s notes he and his brother inherited the majority of their wealth.”

  “Latimer also said the brothers had a fallout that had everything to do with their inheritance. When their parent’s estate was settled, Martin got a house in the Catskills and a whopping three million. Peter got the house in Cold Spring Harbor and a summer place in the Hamptons.”

  “Both very sizeable inheritances,” Danski said. “I’m not sure which I’d take if I had a choice.”

  Danski tapped his finger against Peter Whitlock’s name. “Peter told Latimer he never saw or met Jacob and hadn’t spoken with Martin for several years. Unfortunately, that’s about all we really know about the man.” Danski grimaced and ran his open hand across his mouth. “We don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

  “Susan hasn’t given us any information about their fallout,” Litchfield said. “She claimed she only met Peter a few times and all she really knew about his personal life was what Martin told her.”

  “She might be holding back information about the brothers’ relationship,” Danski said.

  “Lying by omission, again,” Litchfield said. “Let’s see what we can find out about the brothers on our own. I’ll dig into Martin’s past. I’m curious about his life insurance policy. I’ve got a feeling it paid off bigger than Susan was willing to admit.”

  “While you do that, I’ll do a background check on Peter and see what I can learn.”

  ***

  Danski finished his phone calls and computer records research ahead of Litchfield. He reviewed his notes while he waited for Litchfield to conclude a phone conversation that seemed very intense.

  Danski took in Litchfield’s coy grin when he hung up.

  “You first,” Litchfield sai
d.

  “Peter and Martin were both stockbrokers,” Danski said. “Just as Peter told Latimer. What he didn’t tell Latimer is that they were partners at one time. They split up when the stock market took a nosedive. Martin stuck with the business, rode out the storm and rebounded solidly while Peter left the field and took a teaching position in the Economics Department at City University. Peter is still alive,” Danski said and then dropped his note pad on his desk.

  “So is Martin,” Gregory said dramatically.

  Danski squinted back. “What? Are you sure?”

  “No death certificate was ever filed in his name, and no insurance payout was ever recorded. He has a valid and current passport, but he hasn’t left the country during the past ten years. According to the IRS he has filed income tax without fail his entire adult life including the past five years. He renewed his New York State driver’s license and registered two vehicles in his name. Those documents show an address in Wilson Corners, New York.”

  Danski smiled smugly. “Wilson Corners – the property in the Catskills he inherited.”

  Litchfield smiled. “Correct. I called the Wilson Corners police and was told it’s a quiet town, population just under two thousand. It’s two plus hours from Manhattan.”

  Litchfield googled the address he was given and brought up a photo of Martin’s property on his computer screen. “He’s got a little over twelve acres up there.”

  “This changes everything,” Danski said. He pushed himself away from his desk and stood. “Let’s get up there right away,” he said as he grabbed his coat off the rack. “If we leave now, we can be up there before dark.”

  “Calm down,” Litchfield said. “Tomorrow’s soon enough. Martin’s not going anywhere. Besides, we’d better run all this by the boss before we do anything.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’ll drive,” Litchfield said as he grabbed the keys to one of the cruisers following their meeting with Quinn the next morning.