by G. K. Parks
He seemed surprised, erroneously believing I was giving in so easily. “Good night.” He headed for the stairs, but I grabbed his arm.
“Thanks.” Despite the incident with Denton, tonight had more good moments than bad. I gave him a hug, and he wrapped his arms around me. “Good night,” I whispered in his ear and gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek before pulling out of the embrace and heading down the hall toward his office to stare at surveillance footage for a little while longer.
Twenty
It’s Monday, finally. This was the first thought that popped into my head when I woke up. I squinted to make out the time. It was just before eight. I rolled on to my back and stared at the ceiling, trying to collect my thoughts. Martin and I would get the manufacturing plant footage then check in with Mark and O’Connell to see if there were any new developments or if Mrs. Griffin had been located. If not, I would make sure a missing person’s report was filed. I also had to call Kate Hartley to check into Martin’s missing funds. It was going to be a long day.
I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Splashing came from outside, and I opened the drapes and stepped onto the terrace. It was the first time I used the French doors since arriving at Martin’s. He was already up and swimming laps. I watched him for a couple of minutes before heading back inside.
By the time I got downstairs, Martin was coming in from his morning swim. “Good morning,” he greeted too cheerfully for this early hour.
“Morning,” I mumbled in response.
“I have some good news.” He seemed excited, but he noticed my half-asleep demeanor and decided it best to turn down the cheeriness. “I’ll be back in twenty, and I’ll tell you all about it.” He practically skipped up the stairs.
Whatever he was on, I wanted some. Although, I was sure he just happened to be one of those morning people. How they existed was baffling. Thankfully, the coffee was already made, and I poured a cup and brought it into the living room. I noticed a missed call on my phone, but it was from a blocked number. Maybe it was just a wrong number.
Martin came back down the stairs in dress pants, a white shirt, and a tie. I stared at him expectantly, waiting for this supposed good news. “Jeffrey Myers called this morning. Guess who showed up to work today.”
“Griffin?”
“Yep, just like normal.”
“Wait. Did you call O’Connell?”
“He’s on his way. I have Myers keeping an eye out to make sure she doesn’t leave the building.”
I wanted to kiss him and also hit him for not telling me twenty minutes ago. “What are we waiting for?” I thought better of my comment. “Correction, you should stay here. I should go.”
“No, you shouldn’t. As far as Suzanne knows, you are not my security consultant. You are my girlfriend, and a girlfriend does not go traipsing down to the office to confront a suspect.”
“Person of interest,” I automatically corrected.
“Same difference.”
Okay, so the good news was we had a lead, a living, breathing opportunity to get answers. The bad news was I wasn’t supposed to go near her.
I narrowed my eyes. “O’Connell told you to keep me away, didn’t he?” I didn’t think Mr. Big Shot would waste an opportunity to get answers and his old life back sooner rather than later.
“Perhaps, but it makes sense.” He waited for an argument, but I didn’t give him one. I already decided I’d wait a couple of hours and then go to the precinct and see what I could find out. Maybe I’d bring Mark along. “In the meantime, we can get the plant footage and take it from there.”
“Fine, but we might need to make a stop on the way back.”
* * *
Marcal drove us to the manufacturing plant. It only took a few minutes to get the video footage. The problem was there was absolutely nothing helpful on it. The cameras in the factory were posted on the ceiling, and everyone on the floor wore the same jumpsuits and hardhats. Unless the saboteur looked directly up at the cameras, we wouldn’t be able to identify him.
“This was fun.” My sarcasm reared its ugly head again, but Martin wasn’t quite as quick to give up.
He turned to the worker helping us. “I need the sign-in sheets.” The man searched for the proper file folder and flipped through a few dozen pages before finding the one with the proper date. “Where can I get the payroll list for that date?” Martin asked once the sheet was provided. The man went back and found the corresponding payroll list and handed it to Martin. Martin copied the documents and handed back the originals. “Thanks.”
“Good thinking.”
Between the footage, the sign-in sheet, and the list of those who were paid for working the day, it would be easier to narrow down how many unaccounted individuals were loitering in the factory. Martin seemed pleased with himself.
We were heading back to the car when my phone rang. “Who is it?” he asked as I looked at the caller ID. Still blocked.
“I don’t know.” I hit answer and held the phone to my ear. “Hello?” No one responded. I tried again. “Hello?” I heard a click. Frowning, I put the phone back in my purse. “Apparently, it was no one.” I didn’t like getting unknown calls, and this one caused a funny feeling.
“It was probably just a wrong number or one of those automated things,” he suggested.
“Yeah, probably.” I wasn’t convinced. As I got into the car, I called Mark. Luckily, he answered. “Hey, Griffin’s back,” I told him.
“I know. O’Connell gave me the news,” he said. Great, I was the only one not included. “I’m heading down to the precinct now. Care to join me?”
“I’ll be there.” I hung up and leaned forward in the car. “Marcal, can you drop me off at the police station before taking Mr. Martin home?”
“Sure thing,” he replied, and Martin glared at me. Obviously, he wanted to be the one in charge of our destination.
“You are going back to the house and staying put until I get back. Mark can give me a ride,” I said.
“I wasn’t going to argue. I need to go over the expense reports again and maybe conference call with the accounting department to get things straightened out.”
“Okay. If not, I’ll call Kate and see if she can look it over for you,” I promised.
Marcal dropped me off at the precinct, and I met Mark in the lobby. “Are they here yet?” I asked, hoping Mark knew more than I did.
“Yeah, O’Connell has her in the back.” He drummed his fingers impatiently against the counter. “I’m waiting for him to escort me up.”
While we waited, Mark filled me in on the digging he had done. My Friday afternoon call requesting backgrounds on the ex-employees and any and all possible gang or drug ties had turned out to be completely fruitless since it was now very obvious our suspect list was down to current MT employees only, and no ties to gangs had turned up. I felt ridiculous for having made the call in the first place, seeing as Martin and I had been in the middle of a knock-down, drag-out fight which was what led to my hysterical plea for assistance. I admitted this to Mark, and he laughed. Evidently, he understood how irritating Martin could be.
I checked my watch and impatiently tapped my foot against the tile floor. The precinct was quiet, probably because it was a Monday morning. Finally, I spotted Thompson and O’Connell. They appeared to be joking about something. O’Connell saw us waiting and came over to the front desk.
“Ms. Parker,” he didn’t seem surprised, “Agent Jablonsky. I’m guessing this is a package deal.”
I shrugged. “If you want me to stay out here and wait, that’s up to you.”
O’Connell turned to Mark. “Let me guess, whatever you see or hear, you’re just going to tell her, right?”
“Most likely.”
“Fine, you both go up, stay on the other side of the glass, and have no contact with Griffin. Do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Detective,” I replied.
He led us upstairs to the observation room
on the other side of the interrogation room. A police tech recorded the video and audio of the interview. Mark and I stood in the back, watching as Detective O’Connell asked Griffin a few questions.
“Ma’am,” O’Connell was seated across from her, his back to us, “there was some concern over where you disappeared to since you didn’t show up to work, and there had been no word from you after the explosion on Thursday afternoon.”
Griffin seemed startled. “Am I in trouble? I didn’t do anything wrong.” I was beginning to have doubts she was the criminal mastermind behind this.
“Can you tell us what happened Thursday afternoon?” O’Connell asked gently, and she cleared her throat.
“I went to lunch and walked a couple of blocks to get a sandwich when I heard a really loud noise. With all the dust and people screaming, I hightailed it out of there. I went straight home. I thought it was some kind of attack.”
Mark and I exchanged glances.
“Why would you think that?” O’Connell asked, standing up and slowly pacing the length of the room.
“Mr. Martin has a target on his back.”
I leaned closer to the glass, watching her expressions.
“You seem to know a lot about that.” O’Connell feigned intrigue.
“I am the senior personal assistant at Martin Technologies. I know what goes on with all the board members.” She puffed herself up with false importance.
“She can’t be serious,” Mark whispered.
“She thinks she’s some hot shit,” I replied.
O’Connell tried a redirect tactic. “Was anything missing from your office today when you returned to work?”
Griffin seemed slightly flustered. “I’m…I’m not sure. I wasn’t in my office very long.”
I didn’t believe a word she said.
“Really?” O’Connell baited his hook. “There were reports of a break-in on the seventeenth floor from Friday night. Your office and Ms. Parker’s were both hit, according to the surveillance tape we watched.” How far was O’Connell going to take his fictitious scenario?
“What was taken from her office?” Griffin tried to play innocent, but we weren’t falling for her act. What was her motivation for asking that particular question?
O’Connell opened the file folder, flipping through the pages and pretending to read the report. “Nothing of any significant value. A company laptop and coffeepot were missing, but I shouldn’t be discussing this with you.”
“Really, he thinks she’s going to believe someone stole my coffeepot?” I spoke out loud to myself, but Mark chuckled. Perhaps O’Connell didn’t want to tell her what really transpired in case she got caught in a lie of her own creation.
“What a shame.” She tried to appear sympathetic. “My computer was untouched, Officer.”
“Detective,” he corrected.
“She just lost some brownie points,” Mark commented, and I tried not to laugh.
“What about everything else? Was anything missing?” he asked again.
She considered the question, internally debating if she should say anything. “I don’t think so,” she concluded.
“I see. That’s good to hear.” O’Connell sat across from her. “So, where have you been these last few days?”
“I went on a trip,” she answered a little too quickly.
“Where did you go?” O’Connell leaned against the table in front of Griffin.
“I was going to visit a friend, but I decided at the last minute to go on a road trip. I stayed at a lovely B&B not far from here.”
“Where does your friend live?” O’Connell asked, seeming curious and friendly and not at all interrogative. Maybe he practiced his good cop/bad cop routine in the mirror.
“Nova Scotia, Canada, but I thought it’d be too cold to go up there this time of year.” Griffin had all the answers, didn’t she?
“That’s understandable.” O’Connell continued to play the friendly role. “What B&B did you visit? My wife is always pestering me to take her somewhere nice.”
“It’s called the Cat’s Cradle, just off Route 9.”
He would check to see if she had been there. “Thanks. I’ll have to make a reservation. We’re almost through here. I just need to see if my partner finished his paperwork. Can I get you a glass of water or some coffee?”
“Coffee would be nice with cream.”
“Sure thing,” O’Connell said and headed out of the room. He opened the door to our room and told the tech to get a coffee with cream and bring it back.
“Perks of being a detective,” I commented.
“Damn straight,” he replied. “So what do we think?”
“She’s involved.” I didn’t hesitate. “I just don’t think she’s behind it.”
“Griffin was uncomfortable when I told her about the break-in,” O’Connell pointed out, “and her plans for leaving town don’t make sense. Why would someone waste a plane ticket and bus ticket just to drive to a B&B forty miles from here?”
“It’s almost as if whatever was supposed to have happened on Friday failed, and she had to come back,” I pointed out. “Did you ever find out if anyone used the bus ticket?”
“It was never cashed in or redeemed. Anything else you think I should ask?”
Something still didn’t sit right between her and Martin. “Bring up the acting-CEO, Blake Denton. See if anything shakes loose.”
O’Connell took the coffee the tech brought back and headed into the interrogation room. “Almost done, ma’am.” He handed her the cup. “I just have one last question before you go. How do you like working for the new CEO?”
“Oh, Mr. Denton is lovely.” She was practically giddy about the prospect.
“Good to hear,” O’Connell said, throwing a quick glance at us.
“Yes, he’s always been the most considerate when it comes to the assistants, Christmas gifts and bonuses. He even gave me his airline miles to use.”
Bingo.
Twenty-one
“Really?” O’Connell asked.
“Oh yes, I believe it was two…no, three years ago,” Griffin responded.
“Dammit.” I hoped the dots would connect. The tech guy turned to me; unmistakably, my outburst startled him. “Sorry,” I apologized.
“Well, thanks for your time. If we have any further questions, we’ll let you know.” O’Connell stopped at the door. “Just between you and me, Mr. Martin seems like a blowhard. Is Denton any better?”
Griffin pondered the question for a few moments. “Mr. Martin is a sweet man, but he’s too easily distracted from the important things. Don’t get me wrong, he’s been a great employer, but Mr. Denton is better for the company.”
I turned to Mark. “Does Martin strike you as easily distracted from work?” I asked, considering the Martin I knew was a workaholic.
“Maybe he has an evil twin brother we don’t know about,” Mark suggested.
Griffin left the interrogation room and tossed the paper cup into the trash receptacle on her way out. O’Connell motioned to the glass before following her from the room and leading her presumably out of the building. The tech put on a pair of gloves and grabbed a plastic bag to retrieve the cup. At least we’d have some fingerprints or DNA in case we ever needed to make a comparison, even though this was definitely not the break I had been waiting for.
O’Connell returned to the observation room a few minutes later. He wasn’t pleased by the way things had gone, either. “Why’d you think it was so important to look for her on Saturday?”
“It doesn’t add up. She has to be connected. Did you see the surveillance tape with the mystery box, her unexplained disappearance, the fact that she enjoys working for Blake Denton?”
“I’m with you on the first two points. But why does it matter what she thinks of Denton?” O’Connell asked.
I quickly explained what occurred the night before.
“We can check into Denton just to see if there have been any complaints, but
it sounds like he had too much to drink.” O’Connell dismissed my story easily. “But I agree. There is more than what she’s saying.”
“We need to find the box,” Mark said.
Yeah, but that’s not likely to happen, I thought miserably.
“Look, I have a stack of reports to read on the explosion from Thursday, but without knowing the intended target, no obvious motive, and no one coming forward to take credit for it, there’s not much more I can do. I have a ton of open cases on my desk that need attention, so unless you have something more concrete, I’m just working this in the background, at least at this stage,” O’Connell said. I knew exactly what that meant; there would have to be more threats or worse before he could step back in to investigate.
“Okay,” Mark shook his hand, “thanks for doing what you can. If you hear anything else, let me know. If my guys uncover anything, you’ll be our first call.”
I didn’t know what to say. I understood O’Connell’s predicament. “All right, but if something important turns up, I’d appreciate a call next time.”
Today was turning into a huge disappointment. We headed back to Martin’s house, and I leaned back in the passenger seat and closed my eyes. Mrs. Griffin had to know something. I just didn’t know how to get her to break.
“Where’s her husband?” I asked.
“Whose husband?”
“Griffin, Mrs. Suzanne Griffin.” I emphasized the Mrs. “Is she married? Divorced? Widowed?”
Mark shrugged. We had read her employee file and found nothing on her in any of the criminal databases, but as far as marriage was concerned, we were severely lacking in information.
“You’ll have to ask Marty. Maybe he knows.” We rode in silence for a while before Mark spoke again. “So, last night, you kicked that prick’s ass, right?”
I tried to hide my grin. “Something like that.”
“Good girl.”
We arrived back at Martin’s compound, and Marcal buzzed us in. I was just about to ask Mark if he was going to hang around when my cell phone rang. I looked at the phone, annoyed. The caller was still blocked. I hit answer.