Murder.com

by David Deutsch

  Seth turned to me and ignored Ginny completely.

  "I really think I'm in danger, Max. Real danger."

  He was panicking.

  "I've had some close calls over the past two days. Yesterday, as I was walking back to my hotel, a black Town Car followed me, sped up, and almost killed me."

  "That happens all the time here. This isn't San Fran." I was internally questioning if Seth had lost his mind.

  "It was like the car was stalking me. Then it nearly ran me off the road. I had to jump into a pile of trash to avoid getting hit. I'm scared shitless. And I think Mike is behind it."

  "Mike Miller?" Imogen asked.

  "Yes! Mike Miller! I've told him to take a hike, that I'm not selling, and he threatened me."

  "What did he say?"

  "He's not prepared to take 'no' for an answer and that he'll own SCV by next year. One way or another."

  "SCV?" Imogen asked. A shocked expression came across her face. She looked at me with her eyebrows raised.

  "Yes, Miss Whitehall, my company: Silicon City Ventures. You know these people, Max. What do I do?"

  I was going to try to defuse this situation. Sure, getting run off the sidewalk by a car didn't happen every day here, but it did happen sometimes. People that drove in New York City were nuts. I was going to chalk this up to someone having a very vivid imagination.

  "First, I'd get myself some good attorneys. You can tie up any bid for the company in court forever," I said.

  "I'm not going to make it that long! I think they're going to kill me!"

  I had to be the voice of reason here. Seth was coming to me for counsel, for reassurance.

  "I don't think Mike is going to kill you. I mean, we're talking about a busine—"

  "How can you be so sure? Ted was murdered, and from what I'm hearing, BMC stood to gain a lot by killing him."

  "Seth. Listen to yourself. You're telling me that you think Mike Miller and the guys at BMC want to kill you. A bunch of multimillionaires want to knock you off like they're a bunch of gangsters. The BMC guys are bankers, not killers."

  "Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you. I've already talked to the police. They told me to grow a sac and told me that I'm delusional. There's nothing they can do just because I think some car tried to run me over. But that car did try to kill me!"

  "I know it seems like that, but this is New York. Cars almost hit pedestrians every day."

  "Yeah, well, I'm telling you, this one followed me then tried to run me down accidentally."

  "Listen, I think you should stop talking to Mike for the next few days. When do you head back?"

  "After their holiday party."

  "Forget the holiday party. Stop talking to Mike, get your ass on a plane, and head back to sunny Cali."

  "Maybe you're right. I need to get out of here. I can deal with them from California. At least I'll be safe there."

  All this holiday party talk had Imogen confused. She looked at me like I had ten heads. I had forgotten to tell her about the party.

  "In the meantime, I'll talk to Mike about SCV and see what he has in mind. I'll also give him my thoughts on what a bad investment it would be," I said, hoping that would reassure Seth.

  Seth appeared to be a little more relaxed. "Thank you, Max. Thanks."

  "My pleasure. Now you stay safe." With those words, it was clear to everyone in the room that it was time for Seth to leave. I tried to make him chuckle with my last comment, but it didn't work. He was too worked up. He stood, shook my hand, said good-bye to Ginny, and then walked out of the office.

  "Well, that certainly was a lot to take in. Where do I start?" Imogen asked.

  "With a drink."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  As soon as Seth was out of the office, Imogen turned to me. "Mike is the killer. He's a psychopath." She fixed herself a scotch and soda.

  I shut the door and walked over to the bar to get myself a scotch. I wasn't going to let Imogen drink alone. "It's certainly shaping up to look that way. Do you really think Mike had someone try to kill Seth?"

  "I do, Max. I really do. And now that I know Seth is the guy behind the SCV from the email, I'm doubly sure."

  "And what about Clarke? He was mentioned in the email too."

  "Exactly, he was mentioned. Mike is the orchestrator of this reign of terror. We know two things for sure. Kitty and Mike are an item, and one or both of them wanted Ted dead."

  "I'm not so sure Mike and Kitty are a couple."

  "We saw them leave BMC," she said, and sat back down in the chair across from my desk, sipping her drink.

  "All we saw was two people leaving BMC in Kitty's car."

  "Dutch, you're not going to let this guy pull the wool over your eyes, are you? He's a cold-blooded killer."

  As we were arguing the merits of Mike in the role as Ted's killer, I received an email.

  From: Delator

  Subject: Ted Baxter

  To: Max Slade

  Sequor Sequi Secutus.

  Delator

  "Imogen, get over here and look at this."

  Ginny got up out of her chair and walked around the desk. She bent over my shoulder so that she could get a good view of my laptop.

  "What the hell does that mean?" I asked.

  "It's Latin," Ginny responded. "Let me see if I can figure it out." She paused and stared intently at the screen, lost in deep thought.

  "Google it," I said, impatiently standing next to her.

  "Give me one second."

  "Just Google it! This isn't a test!"

  She read the email again and then turned to me. "Mike's the bloody killer."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Sequor Sequi Secutus. Follow the trail."

  Maybe she was right.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The next day, my mind was spinning. I needed to talk to someone. And, as much as I didn't want to call John, I knew that I had to. For starters, I hadn't spoken to him since I was almost locked up. And now, after my last few encounters with Kitty, Mike, and now Seth Cohen, it was time that I filled him in on some of my musings. I owed him that much. He had helped me out of my cell when all seemed lost. He was the one who was fighting the powers that be, namely Sergeant Williams, all on a hunch. He was trusting his gut. Risking his career. For me.

  "Carrington." That was how he answered the phone.

  "John, hi. It's—"

  "Max. Glad you called. I was just about to call you."

  "Yeah?"

  "I've got some bad news. We need you to come down to the station."

  Not again.

  "There's been a development. That, well, isn't good."

  "What does it have to do with me?"

  "Seth Cohen is dead."

  "What?"

  Seth was dead? I wasn't sure that I had heard Carrington correctly. Carrington must have sensed my disbelief.

  "Seth Cohen is dead. They found him last night. On the sidewalk by his hotel. Seems he was run over a few times."

  Holy shit. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was right. He wanted my help. He needed my help. And I dismissed him. Tossed him out of my office. To his death.

  "Oh my God!"

  "We know that you knew him, Max. We know that you had met with him yesterday."

  Were they watching me? They must have been. How would he have known that?

  "Yes, he met with me. He called me and then came by to tell me that he thought someone was trying to kill him. He wanted my help."

  "And what did you do?"

  "Nothing. I did nothing. I told him that it was nothing and that he should go back to California. He'd be safe there. I never imagined that someone was really trying to kill him!"

  "Well, Williams thinks it's related to Baxter's death, and he wants you down here so we can talk to you about that."

  There wasn't any chance in hell that I was going back to that station. They'd have to come get me. Arrest me. Drag me there in the back of a squad car.
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  I was appalled that Williams thought I was responsible for killing Seth too.

  "I'm afraid I can't do that, John," I said

  "You don't have a choice. You need to be here today."

  "Buy me some time, John. I've got information for you. I think we know who killed Ted, and who probably killed Seth."

  "You're out of time, Max. Williams is going to issue an arrest warrant if you don't show."

  "Make up some excuse. Create some diversion. John, you've got to buy me a couple of days."

  We were now entering the desperation portion of this ongoing drama. They were going to come for me. Throw me in cuffs, escort me out of my office, and push me into the back of a police car.

  "Even if I could, Max, I don't know if it would even help." He paused. Maybe he was thinking. Planning a diversion. "What do you have for me?"

  "Not a whole heck of a lot."

  "Max!"

  "OK, I've met with Miller a few times."

  "Well, that's something."

  "I've seen him lose his temper, and he's not exactly warm and fuzzy."

  "I had the same feeling when we spoke with him. I'll tell you what, he strikes me a bit funny, that one, a nasty prick. But being a prick doesn't necessarily make you a killer."

  "I also think he's having an affair with Kitty."

  "Yes, well, you've already told me that, Max. That's not new information."

  "But I actually believe it this time."

  "You didn't believe it when you told me on the steps of the station?"

  "Not exactly—it was just a hunch then. But now I think it's true. And I've received two emails over the past few days from someone anonymous basically telling me that Mike's the killer. I'll send them over to you."

  John paused. You could almost hear him thinking. "Is there some way you can trace where the emails came from?"

  "There is. You must be learning something from those computer geeks that you work with. But I had a few of my guys here try. They couldn't come up with anything. The sender must have spoofed the IP address."

  "Whoa, Max, slow down, spoofed? IP address? Do me a favor, just send them over here and I'll see what we can do. That reminds me, we did find out something about that other email. We ran Latin phrases against the SCV and ACAE from the body of the note. We came up with one phrase: Aut Consillis Aut Ense, which means either by meeting or the sword. Seems appropriate for the tone of the email and the content. So whatever Overlord is, we figure Mike is determined to see it through. We drew a blank on SCV, though."

  "John, SCV is Seth Cohen's company: Silicon City Ventures."

  There was silence on the other end of the call.

  "John?" I asked. I thought that the line had gone dead.

  "Yeah, I'm here. SCV. Huh."

  "Weird, huh?"

  "More like very curious. Look, Max, I have—"

  It sounded like he was going to hang up on me. "Wait, John, who knows I'm involved in this investigation?"

  John's answer was immediate: "Me and you. That's it."

  "And Kitty," I added.

  "Yes, you're right, Mrs. Baxter." He paused another moment, as was his phone etiquette.

  "Do you think Kitty sent those other emails to me?"

  "I know I didn't send you the email, and you didn't send it to yourself, so it would stand to reason that Kitty sent you the emails."

  "That's what I thought too. But, umm, I met with her and asked her about it."

  "Jeez, Max. Why would you go and do something like that?"

  "I wanted an answer."

  "Let me guess. She denied it?"

  "She did, and I believe her."

  "She bat her eyes at you too, kid?"

  "C'mon, John. I don't care a lick about Kitty. If she did send the email, she certainly wants Mike nailed."

  "I agree. It's strange. But she gets the money if she finds the killer, assuming the killer isn't her."

  We both had a good chuckle over that one.

  "I've got one more confession."

  "I'm not a priest."

  "Humor me. I told Mike that I'm working with the police."

  "Max. You're a man of many surprises."

  I'd take it. At least he wasn't going to yell at me.

  The line went silent again.

  "Hello?"

  "I'm here. Just thinking."

  I let him think.

  "Let me see what I can do here. You don't have much time, Max, if any."

  "I'll take whatever I can get."

  "You might want to get a lawyer."

  "I've got faith in you, John."

  "I'm glad someone does."

  John disconnected.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Seth was dead. I couldn't wrap my head around it. I sat in my chair that overlooked the street. Dead. Run over a few times. That was what John had said. I sipped my coffee. Probably a nondescript black Town Car. Plowed right over him. Backed up and then rolled over him. A few times. I was nauseated.

  Imogen walked into the room. Saw me sitting in the chair. I must have looked very dejected.

  "What's wrong, luv?"

  I was on the verge of tears. I didn't know why exactly. I didn't know Seth all that well. Hell, I barely knew him at all. But something about his death shook me to the core. Somehow his death made all of this very real. I had been plodding along as if Ted's murder was some sort of a game. A real-life mystery to decipher. A joke. Like the fact that I was on the verge of being arrested for murder was some sort of inconvenience that I could just brush aside if it actually came to pass. I was wrong. This was all very serious. Deadly serious.

  "Seth is dead."

  Imogen gasped. She raised her hands up and covered her mouth. "What?"

  "I just spoke to Carrington. He told me."

  "Oh my God, Max!" She started to tear up. Maybe this was hitting home for her as well.

  "I know. It's hitting me pretty hard too," I said. "I've got some more bad news for you."

  "What? I don't think I can take any more."

  "I'm pretty sure there's going to be a warrant out for my arrest."

  "Max!"

  "Williams thinks Seth's death has something to do with Ted's murder."

  Imogen stared at me. Her eyes dried and her demeanor changed. It was if a light had gone on in her head.

  "I think so too," she said, stone-faced.

  "What?"

  "I think there is a link."

  "Why? How would you know?"

  "After we met with Seth yesterday, I did a little digging. About SCV. I wanted to see what they did. What they invested in. Did you ever check?"

  "No, I didn't care that much."

  "Shows what kind of detective you are."

  "C'mon, Ginny."

  "Curiosity got the better of me. So I spent the better part of the rest of yesterday researching them. Reading press releases, articles, checking patents."

  "And what did you find out?"

  "Well, there were a bunch of press releases that SCV put out, about two years ago, for some proprietary hologram technology that they'd invented. They claimed it was going to revolutionize the way we communicated. Would kill the cell phone."

  I interrupted her. "That is pretty cool."

  "I know. They got a patent on the technology and were building some consumer interface for it. Then there was nothing about it. It was like it just disappeared."

  "That's weird."

  "I thought so too. So I kept digging around. Lo and behold, a year later, I find an article about the future of video chat and communications. In the article, I see Ken Clarke of BMC quoted saying that they had acquired the patent for some hologram technology that was going to change the world."

  "Hmm." I was taking it all in. That would be a big deal. It would create an entirely new industry. Could you imagine if you owned the patent for something that eight billion people would use? It would make you the richest person on the planet. By leaps and bounds. You would be worth trillions. Maybe
even hundreds of trillions. You would be worth more than some countries' GDPs.

  "Here's the weird part. I couldn't find anything about a sale or an investment from BMC into Seth's company."

  "Maybe they kept it quiet? But I agree—that doesn't make any sense."

  "It didn't make any sense to me either. So I kept looking."

  "Imogen, you're amazing. This is amazing," I said.

  She smiled. "I know. You're lucky you've got me."

  She was right.

  "And then I found a lawsuit."

  "What?"

  "Public record. I found a lawsuit filed around the time of the quote between SCV and BMC. Seth was suing BMC for patent infringement, fraud, conversion, and other assorted not-very-nice legal things."

  "Holy shit."

  "Indeed. So I found the patent number in the court papers and looked that up. It was a mess. Somehow, Clarke ended up on the patent. Not BMC. Only Clarke."

  "Oh my God! Do you think he was trying to take over SCV so that he could get Seth out of the picture once and for all?"

  "It certainly appears that way," Imogen said. "He could get rid of the lawsuit and SCV in one fell swoop."

  This was all just too fantastic to believe. I was falling into the same trap that Sergeant Williams had fallen into. Jumping to conclusions. Hanging on to any scrap of a fact, no matter what it was, and running with it until I reached the conclusion that made sense for me. Building the facts to reach the end result that I wanted.

  Believing this meant believing that Mike Miller and Ken Clarke were stone-cold killers. Bankers gone mad on a quest to rule the world. I wasn't sure if I was ready to buy into the fantasy. Ready to suspend my belief in the decency of mankind. That someone, anyone, could be that evil. Regardless, I needed to find out more. And time was running out for me.

  The rich always want more.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Imogen was a genius. The information that she had compiled was compelling. I needed to see what else I could dig up before a police car showed up at my house. Or, even worse, one showed up while I was out and about. In between my snooping I was going to pick up the engagement ring. I was getting engaged. Hopefully before I ended up behind bars.