Harry entered the house, hoping for a quiet evening. He was looking forward to his run in the morning to work off some of the stress that the week had caused.
Maybe I’ll do four miles, Harry thought. Running always cleared his head and made things look brighter.
However, his hopes for peace and quiet were destroyed when he walked into the kitchen—it looked like a tornado had just passed through. Dirty dishes were everywhere.
It looked like....oh shit, Harry realized.
Earlier in the week, Sandy had told him she was planning a special dinner for tonight. Jeremy’s twelfth birthday had been two days earlier.
“Sandy?” he called.
There was no answer. Harry walked into the family room, finding it dark. Sandy sat in the leather recliner with her Good Housekeeping magazine folded open in her lap. A full glass of red wine was on the table next to her, but the bottle next to the glass was empty. Her malevolent stare spoke volumes.
“I’m really sorry about tonight,” Harry started.
“You know, Harry,” Sandy said, sarcasm dripping, “It’s pretty sad when you can’t make it home in time for your son’s birthday dinner. It’s only one night a year, but you can’t seem to manage it.”
Harry started to protest, but knew that’d be futile. As usual, Sandy made it sound like he constantly disappointed. Harry spent plenty of quality time with Jeremy, more than most fathers. But he needed to take his lumps now if any part of the weekend was to be salvaged. A small party was planned on Saturday afternoon for Jeremy and his few friends. Harry didn’t want the whole weekend to be tense.
“Again, I’m sorry. We had such a bad day at work. The SEC served the firm with a subpoena. Kaspar was ballistic. The lead investigator also asked me about Julie Monroe. They think that her death was work-related, but that doesn’t make any sense.”
“How do you know it wasn’t?” Sandy replied testily. She took a long sip of wine. After a moment’s pause, she finished the little that remained in the bottom of her glass.
“Come on, Sandy, the people I work with might be cutthroat when it comes to getting ahead in their careers, but they’re not thugs. They don’t go around killing people.”
Sandy wouldn’t let it go. “You’re not a mind reader, Harry. You really don’t know what motivates these people. Just because they’re friendly to your face doesn’t mean they aren’t plotting behind your back. Look at Kaspar. He can be as devious and mean as anyone I know. Don’t you think he crushed a few competitors on his way to the top? And if someone in his way refused to step aside, how far would he go to remove that person? In my opinion, he would do just about anything.” Sandy rose shakily from the chair, wavered a bit but then straightened. “I’m going to bed,” she announced. “You can clean the kitchen.”
Harry watched her head upstairs to their bedroom. He walked over to the bar and poured himself two fingers of scotch. Downing it quickly, he poured another glass.
He thought about what Sandy had said.
She’s right, I really don’t know what people think or say behind closed doors.
But he refused to believe Julie’s death was anything more than a robbery or assault attempt gone bad.
Because the police wouldn’t provide a lot of details on the circumstances around the crime, Kaspar had called a friend in the police department, who told him that Julie’s body was found in the trunk of her car with her hands tied. The cause of death was drowning.
Harry shook his head knowing that Julie’s last minutes must have been filled with terror, for herself and her unborn child. Harry watched rain drops start to spatter against the family room’s large picture window. He thought again about Sandy’s comments.
“No way,” Harry said out loud. He finished his drink, turned out the lights and headed up to bed. The kitchen could wait.
Chapter 20
Friday, October 31
Jerry Haskins sat on the couch in the darkened office, across from the man behind the desk. The lights from the office building across the street provided dim illumination, and Jerry could only see the outline of his partner’s head. The man’s face remained in shadows. The piercing siren of an ambulance rushing by on Franklin Street below was the only sound that broke the frosty silence. Smoke rose lazily from the cigar stub that was perched precariously in a glass ashtray that rested on the corner of the teak desk. The man who’d been smoking it leaned back in his large leather chair, cracking his knuckles. He was trying to regain his composure, but it wasn’t easy. They had been arguing.
“Look,” Jerry said in a placating tone. He was glad the room was dark because he could feel the saliva building in the corners of his mouth. He was perched on the edge of the leather couch, legs crossed, nerves apparent from his jiggling left foot. He held his hands in front of him in a beseeching manner. “I didn’t sign up for this. No one was supposed to die. That wasn’t part of our agreement. You offered me some money to help you get rid of Kaspar, and I agreed to that. I’m really nervous with the police crawling around this place. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
The man behind the desk reached forward and crushed the cigar stub into the ashtray. He glared across the office at the man on the couch.
“Too fucking bad,” he snarled. “You knew the risks when we started this. There’s no backing out now. You’ll do what I need you to do, when I need you to do it. If you perform well, there’ll be an additional ten grand for you when this is over. If you fail... well, I hate to think what might happen to you then…”
The threat hung in the air like the cigar smoke had moments earlier.
Jerry loosened his tie. He reached for the brandy snifter that sat on the coffee table in front of him, downing the brown liquid in one gulp. The liquor warmed him but it didn’t make him feel any braver. He tried to be a tough guy, but that was only the image he wanted to project towards others. There were meaner guys out there, like the one sitting behind the desk. He knew he had to see this through, or at least pretend to cooperate until he saw an escape. At the moment, all routes were blocked.
He took a deep and ragged breath. “Alright,” he said, trying to sound contrite and cooperative, “what do we do now? The police have been all over this, and they’re going to figure out what happened to Julie.”
“I don’t think so,” the other man replied smugly. “If we steer their interest in a certain direction, it’ll work in our favor. I have some ideas to make that happen. But I’ll need your help.”
The man unwrapped another Cohiba and lit it, pulling deeply on the cigar. The lit end brightened like an ember in a campfire that refused to be doused. He blew a smoke ring towards the ceiling—he was enjoying himself now. He knew Haskins wouldn’t back out—couldn’t back out. He knew too much, and he was too invested in the money he could earn to blow any whistles.
But the real reason the man wouldn’t walk away?
Haskins was a coward. He acted as a bully toward subordinates in the office, and was a pandering sycophant toward management.
How had this asshole survived so long here?
He stared across the office at Haskins and felt nothing but disgust. He took another long puff from his cigar.
This moron will do exactly what I want, he thought to himself. It was time to wrap this up and head home.
Chapter 21
Saturday, November 1
Overnight rain had passed to the east, leaving dark puddles trapped in the street gutter. Harry stood in his driveway, spending an extra couple of minutes stretching. With the temperature hovering around forty degrees, he didn’t want to pull a muscle, as he had done twice before when he failed to stretch sufficiently.
He looked down the street towards Jim Winslow’s house and felt a pang of guilt. He still hadn’t invited Jim over after running into him last weekend in the park.
I’ll make it a point to ring his bell after my run, Harry thought. Maybe they’d have a drink during Jeremy’s birthday party that afternoon.
Har
ry started jogging slowly. As he rounded the corner of his street and headed towards the park, he heard a car horn from behind. Harry looked over his left shoulder, and was surprised to see Nora pull up alongside. He glanced uneasily towards his house but knew he had gone just far enough to be out of sight. Besides, it was only 8am, and Sandy would still be sound asleep.
“Hi there, mister!” Nora called. ”What a great day for a run!”
Harry leaned into the passenger window of her Acura. “This is a surprise,” he said uneasily. “What are you doing here?” He wondered how Nora knew where he lived. He was sure that he hadn’t given his address to her.
“I’m meeting a friend for coffee. She lives in Weston. Then I’m going to do some shopping. When I realized I would pass through your neighborhood to meet her, I looked up your address online. I know you run early so I just took a chance on meeting you. What luck! I also want to get a little present for Jeremy for his birthday. Could you give me some ideas?”
Harry brushed the hair back from his forehead. He tried to remember if he had mentioned Jeremy’s birthday to Nora during their dinner at the restaurant on Thursday night. The night was a bit hazy after the second martini, so he wasn’t sure.
Or maybe I mentioned it last week when we went to lunch? Harry thought.
“I don’t know...” he started to reply. Harry was thinking how he would explain another gift to Sandy.
“Oh come on, it will just be a little token. You can just say it’s from you.”
“Okay. Let me think.” He glanced at Nora. She was wearing a tight pair of designer jeans that were glued to her legs. Her pink turtleneck sweater was very form-fitting too. “Jeremy’s getting interested in football. He’s even been watching the Patriots games with me. But he doesn’t have a football. Maybe you could pick one up?” Harry was trying to pick a gift that would seem appropriate coming from him as well.
“That sounds great!” Nora replied. “I’ll look for it today, and I’ll give it to you on Monday. Or I could drop it off at your house later, if you’d prefer?” she teased.
Harry was momentarily panicked.
“I’m only kidding,” she reassured. “I would never do that. I better get going. She reached across the front seat and gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ll see you on Monday, right?”
Harry tried to hide the discomfort he felt from her unexpected visit. He squeezed her hand back. “See you on Monday.” Harry pulled away from the car and Nora drove off. He watched her glance into the rearview mirror. She gave him a little wave, then blew a kiss. Harry gave her a short wave back. He started jogging slowly. Harry didn’t like this. He couldn’t have Nora showing up unannounced.
I have to speak to her about this, and set some boundaries. Immediately.
Chapter 22
Saturday, November 1
Nick sat at his kitchen table sipping coffee and sorting through bills that needed to be paid.
He felt rested for the first time in a week. No nightmares last night. The first year after the death of his wife and daughter had been so traumatic. He felt like he was sleep-walking through life: he made poor decisions, drank way too much, gained about twenty pounds. He had pushed his friends away; he was lucky that most of them ignored his self-pity and kept in touch.
Now, two years after Ellie and Emma’s deaths, the pain remained but the sharp edges had dulled. He could think about his family without remorse or self-recrimination. He remembered the good times more often than the bad. He knew they’d been a gift in his life, and he began to deeply appreciate the brief time they’d had together. He would never forget the awful event that had spun his life into an abyss, but he started looking forward to a future that had the possibility of holding happiness again.
He’d even begun to think about dating again. He hadn’t so much as gone out with a woman since Ellie’s death, but at least he no longer felt doing so would be a betrayal to her memory.
Nick’s thoughts turned to yesterday’s big event: the execution of the SEC subpoena at Jordano Funds had gone off without a hitch. The Jordano management team had acted a bit like chickens with their heads cut off; the lot of them had runaround with little direction. Nick wished that he’d been introduced to Kaspar Jordano, but the CEO had stayed hidden behind closed doors all day, and they couldn’t force his appearance.
But at least he had met Harry Wainwright.
It helps give me a better measure of the man, he thought.
Nick remembered the question that he’d asked Wainwright about Julie Monroe. It was interesting to think there might be a possible connection between the Monroe murder and the SEC investigation. On the surface it didn’t appear the two events were related, but Nick reminded himself to do what he always pushed his team to do: dig deeper, dig harder. The timing of these events was too close. One could never know what gem might be unearthed with the next shovelful of dirt.
Nick had spoken to Detective Scanlon after the Jordano visit. He wanted to hear what the police had learned so far in their investigation of Julie Monroe. If it was Scanlon’s opinion that she had been kidnapped, what was the motive? Although the interviews with the Jordano staff didn’t yield much insight into the crime, Scanlon said the Jordano management team was hiding something—he just didn’t know what.
When Nick asked Scanlon who’d been evasive, the detective replied, “I didn’t like Jordano. What a prick. I wanted to take a shower after talking to him. I didn’t care much for Wainwright either. He’s a company man, and he’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect the firm.”
Nick knew he couldn’t divulge the extent of the SEC investigation to the police, but he didn’t see any harm in giving Scanlon the highlights. It might result in greater cooperation that would help both of their investigations.
“Our investigation is focused on operational irregularities that may have occurred in Jordano’s transaction processing department. We’ve received information from someone —a senior exec at the firm apparently— and we think the information is sound.”
Scanlon thought about this information and connected the dots. “And Monroe just happened to be a key person in their operations group. Very interesting. Maybe we need to trade notes as our investigations move forward.”
“I agree.” Nick made a mental note to let Pete Mitchell know about this arrangement before sharing anything further with the police. “Maybe we’ll find more common threads.”
“Right. Keep my phone number on your speed dial.” Scanlon hung up.
Nick looked at the clock. He regretted skipping his run that morning. It was part of the healing process, and it always made him feel better. But exercise would need to wait until tomorrow. He had errands to run, including hitting the dry cleaners and the grocery store. He was planning to have dinner and see a movie with friends. It was the first Saturday night in a long time that he had decided to go out—and he had to admit, he was looking forward to it.
Chapter 23
Monday, November 3
Harry felt a tension headache building in the back of his head before he even got out of bed. He knew this week would be a pivotal time in the history of the firm. If the SEC continued their investigation into Sierra Health, they might stumble upon the cover up of the $3.4 million discrepancy. Even though the transaction adjustments were not strictly illegal, they would be considered unethical by government regulators and the board of trustees, as well as the public.
There will be no mercy if the transaction adjustments come to light, Harry thought glumly. That’ll be the end for all of us.
The police were another concern altogether. They were only interested in solving Julie Monroe’s murder, and couldn’t care less about Jordano’s operational mistakes.
But I need to make sure their attention is deflected from Sierra Health, he thought. He decided that he’d speak to Nora. They needed some fresh ideas. He also wanted to talk about her unplanned visit to his neighborhood on Saturday. He couldn’t let that happen again.
Harry s
howered quickly and left the house at 6am. He pulled up to the first traffic light on Route 20. Isaac, the newspaper vendor that worked the area, sauntered slowly toward his car. Isaac had been a fixture at this intersection long before Harry moved to Wayland ten years ago. He had Harry’s paper folded in half, ready to hand to him.
“Hey, Mr. Wainwright, how was your weekend? Ready for ‘nother Monday?” Isaac’s cheeriness was usually a pleasant way to begin the morning, but today Harry was in no mood.
“Morning, Isaac.” Harry handed him a dollar for the seventy-five cent paper. The newspaper man knew enough to keep the change. Harry had been overpaying for years.
“Your comp’ny is gettin’ some bad press.” Isaac pointed a meaty finger towards the bottom of the front page. Harry read the headline with growing dismay. ‘Jordano Funds under Investigation’. There was a two column paragraph that continued inside on page four. “Hope you ain’t in no trouble.”
“It’s nothing to worry about, Isaac. Typical corporate stuff. Happens all the time.”
Harry waved goodbye as the light turned green. He quickly pulled through the intersection and into the parking lot of the Dunkin’ Donuts that was across the intersection from where Isaac sold his papers. He grabbed the front page and started reading. The article cited ‘an inside source’ who described irregularities in the operations group at Jordano. The newspaper article didn’t provide many specifics, but the innuendo was clear: something fishy was going on at the company.
Harry banged his hand against the steering wheel.
“Goddammit,” he said out loud. “What a shitty way to start the week.”
He rubbed his chin and realized in his haste that morning he had forgotten to shave.
The stubble will look good on my mug shot, he thought sarcastically.
The tension in the office was going to be severe—Harry just knew it.
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