Wrong Place, Wrong Time

by Andrea Kane

  “Everyone’s upset.” A quick rise to her boss’s defense. “I’m sure you can understand why.”

  “Of course I can—Ms. Jeffers, isn’t it?”

  Another nod.

  “Your CEO was just killed. That’s a huge blow to your company and to staff morale, considering how family-oriented Pierson & Company is. It would be strange if everyone wasn’t on edge.”

  Mr. Jeffers’s defensiveness eased. “I’m glad you recognize that.”

  “It would be hard not to. There are major reorganizational meetings taking place, and a ton of press hovering outside, ready to pounce on the Piersons. I feel sorry for them—for all of you, in fact. I’m sure Frederick Pierson was held in high regard.”

  “He was well respected. No one was more diligent or more dedicated.”

  Well respected. Nothing about being well liked.

  Monty pretended to glance through his notes. “From what I’ve been told, he worked Guinness book hours.”

  “He did.” The secretary relaxed a bit. Clearly, she was on more comfortable ground now. “He was always at his desk when I arrived, and when I went home. No matter how early or how late. He gave his all to the company.”

  “I’m sure that was especially true these past few years since his wife died.”

  “Losing her hit him hard. He devoted even more of his energies to the company after that.”

  “I can relate. Work is a great outlet when there’s no one to go home to.” Monty blew out a reflective breath. “With me, it was divorce. But becoming a widower? After decades of marriage? That must have really shaken him up.”

  “It did.”

  “I don’t blame him for practically living at the office. I’m assuming that’s how he and Ms. Chambers got together. She seems to put in long hours as well. It’s a typical scenario for two lonely workaholics to start dating.”

  Ms. Jeffers’s guard was back up. “I suppose so. I don’t know much about their relationship. They worked well together. And, yes, they socialized. Any more than that, you’ll have to ask Ms. Chambers.”

  “I plan to—after the funeral. The poor woman was too upset to talk this morning. I respected her request for some space. She and I are meeting later today.” Monty cleared his throat. “Just so you know, I don’t enjoy sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. I’m not expecting you to gossip about your colleagues. But my job is to keep everyone at Pierson & Company safe. I’m just trying to figure out where I should focus my energies.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “Let’s just say that if someone needs extra security, I mean to provide it.”

  Ms. Jeffers’s gaze widened as Monty’s meaning sank in. “And that ‘someone’ might be a person Mr. Pierson was close to or confided in.”

  “Now you’re getting the idea. You’re a smart woman, Ms. Jeffers. And a discreet one, too. Don’t alarm the staff by mentioning this. I doubt Ms. Chambers is in danger. I’m just covering all my bases.”

  “I understand.” There was new respect in her eyes. Good. That’s what Monty had been hoping for.

  Time to zero in on the real subject he wanted to pursue with her.

  “Let’s get to Mr. Rhodes,” Monty suggested, his concern over the staff’s well-being still fresh in the secretary’s mind. “He’s practically a lifer here. How many years have you worked for him?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Wow. So you’re his right hand. As he was Frederick Piersons’s.” A quizzical lift of his brows. “Right?”

  “I suppose so.” Ms. Jeffers propped her elbows on the desk, folding her hands beneath her chin. “Although I’m not sure I’d describe it that way. Mr. Rhodes reported directly to Frederick Pierson, yes. But the sales department works as a team, not a two-man show.”

  “And who heads the team?”

  “Now that’s a tough call.” Ms. Jeffers smiled faintly. “Because no matter how you slice it, Edward Pierson runs the show. You’ll hear that from anyone you ask. God bless that man, at almost eighty he has more moxie than most thirty-year-olds.”

  “So I’ve noticed. He’s a formidable guy. He also thinks a great deal of Mr. Rhodes.”

  “That’s not a surprise. He hired him—it must be twenty-five or twenty-six years ago.”

  “Just a few years after Frederick came on board.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Philip and Frederick were about the same age. Were they friends?”

  “Not socially, no. But as colleagues, they worked extremely well together. In many ways, they built this company. Along with the senior Mr. Pierson, of course. Back then, the company was solely a food services business. Many of its key contacts were made during that time—by Frederick and Edward Pierson, and Mr. Rhodes. They established the foundation of the company, then built on it. Now we’ve got three divisions, all of which are still expanding.”

  “Would you say the food services division is the mainstay of your organization?”

  “I’d say so, yes.”

  “So its sales team is front and center. Where does James fit into that team?”

  Ms. Jeffers’s smile was indulgent. “James fits into every team. Certainly sales. He’s sharp as a tack. He’s a first-class charmer. What better assets for someone in this department to have?”

  “Good point. And you’re right. I just spoke at length with James. He’s quick. Not to mention versatile. After hearing everything he does—and apparently excels in—I feel like a slug.”

  “We all do,” Ms. Jeffers said with a chuckle. “No one can keep up with James. He never wears out, not in business or on the show circuit.”

  “He’s got endurance, all right. I envy him. Smart, talented, and unfazable.”

  “Not so unfazable,” Ms. Jeffers amended in a placating tone. “Oh, I know he comes off that way. Like I said, he’s quite the salesman. But beneath that cool veneer, he’s very intense. He pushes himself hard. That’s how he manages to excel at so many things.”

  “It’s nice to know he has at least one fault.”

  Monty was ready to abandon the subject of James. After spending an hour with the guy, he’d already formed an opinion. The rest he’d learn tonight, after James’s dinner with Devon.

  Right now, he had other fish to fry.

  Putting on a concerned expression, Monty lowered his voice. “Did Mr. Rhodes have any unusually long or intense meetings with Frederick Pierson last week? Anything that you noticed?”

  Ms. Jeffers got his message loud and clear, and worry creased her forehead. “Oh, dear. You don’t think Mr. Rhodes is in danger, do you?”

  “I can’t be sure. But it stands to reason that if Frederick Pierson’s murder was triggered by something business-related, his closest in-house colleagues might be at risk. In which case, I plan to protect them.”

  “Of course.” Ms. Jeffers gave a firm nod, then turned to the computer, punching up her electronic calendar. “Mr. Rhodes and Frederick Pierson had three meetings last week: Monday afternoon at three, Tuesday morning at ten, and Wednesday late afternoon. I don’t have an exact time on the final one. Mr. Pierson set it up last minute. If I remember right, it started around four. I have no idea when it ended. They were still in Mr. Pierson’s office when I left for the day.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Six, maybe six fifteen.”

  “Who else attended that meeting?”

  “It was just the two of them. James was in Wellington. Edward Pierson was up at the farm.”

  Monty was on the verge of asking Ms. Jeffers if she remembered any particular tension prior to that meeting, when he was interrupted by the buzz of the intercom.

  Ms. Jeffers lifted the receiver. “Yes, Mr. Rhodes? Of course. Right away.” She hung up and gestured toward the door. “You can go in now.”

  “Thanks.” Monty rose, gathering up his notes.

  “Mr. Montgomery?” The secretary’s expression was still troubled, and she leaned forward to touch Monty’s arm as he passed by
her desk. “If there’s anything else I can do, please let me know.”

  “I will. In the meantime, keep this conversation between us, all right? The last thing we need is for people to panic.”

  “You can count on me.”

  “Good. I will.” With a warm, grateful smile, Monty walked over and knocked on Rhodes’s door.

  “Come in.”

  In the blink of an eye, Monty’s smile vanished.

  Different people. Different tactics.

  He stepped inside and shut the door.

  Philip Rhodes was sitting at his desk, a manilla folder lying open in front of him. His tie was as straight as his posture. Every one of his neatly styled gray hairs was in place. His concentration was fixed on the file he was perusing.

  Ostensibly, the essence of composure. Clearly, anything but.

  “Mr. Rhodes. Thanks for your time.” Monty started the dance, subtly calling for Rhodes’s attention.

  The other man’s head snapped up. “Oh. Yes, of course. Have a seat.” He indicated a leather chair. “Edward mentioned he’d hired you, and that you’d be stopping by to get some information from me. What can I help you with?”

  Monty kept his expression carefully blank. “I’ll keep it brief,” he said, sitting down and flipping open his notes. “It’s a difficult day, and you have a funeral to get to.”

  “Right.” Rhodes nodded, stealing a quick look at his watch. “It starts at noon. I have to be there early, for Edward and Anne.”

  “You’re close with the Piersons.”

  “I’ve worked for them most of my life, so yes, I’m close with them.”

  “Personally? Or just professionally?”

  Rhodes slid forward in his chair. His right leg was pumping, the heel of his shoe making a rat-a-tat sound on the floor. “To the Piersons, it’s all one and the same. There’s no dividing line. Not with Edward. And not with Frederick. This company’s everything to them. That’s why their family makes up most of the board.”

  “And you’re a part of that family.”

  “I like to think so.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Monty jotted something down. “You said you were expecting me. So you know what my job here is.”

  “To safeguard the place.” Rhodes fiddled with his pen. “That’s your official role, at least on paper.”

  “You don’t believe it?”

  “Oh, I believe it’s part of why you’re here. The other part is to figure out if someone here killed Frederick—or has any idea who did.” Beads of perspiration dotted Rhodes’s brow, but he pressed on, determined to expose Monty’s hand. “I’m not an idiot, Montgomery. Edward didn’t hire any old security guard. He hired a PI, a retired police detective who’s worked every kind of violent crime, including homicide, in one of Brooklyn’s worst crime districts. He didn’t do that just so you could patrol the halls and make sure no bad guys with machine guns storm the place.”

  Monty didn’t so much as blink. “That’s a pretty dramatic assessment.”

  “Are you saying I’m wrong?”

  “Nope. You’re dead-on, although I think you’re underestimating how worried Edward Pierson is about his family. As for the rest, my credentials aren’t a secret. Neither is what I’ve been hired to do. I’m just keeping a low profile so no one here freaks out. But, yeah, I’m not only patrolling the place, I’m investigating the murder. So’s the Warren County Sheriff’s Office. I’m just doing it a little more up close and personal. That’s the way Mr. Pierson wants it. Is it a problem?”

  Rhodes’s jaw worked. “No. No problem. In fact, knowing Edward, I should have expected it. I’ll help in any way I can.”

  “Good. And I’ll keep an eye out for your safety.” Monty paused. “Any thoughts as to who’d want Frederick Pierson dead?”

  “Not a one. He was a tough businessman. A real ball-breaker when he had to be. That causes friction, jealousy, and resentment. But murder? No way.”

  “What about in-house?”

  “That’s even more far-fetched. We haven’t had so much as a resignation in the past several years. So it’s a leap to think an employee killed the company CEO.”

  “Speaking of employees, what was the scoop with Louise Chambers and Frederick Pierson?”

  A shrug. “They dated. Steadily, over the past six months. But they weren’t—what’s the word?—exclusive. They each saw other people. Obviously you knew that, since one of those people was your ex-wife.”

  “True.” Monty nodded. “So, to your knowledge, there was no animosity, no lovers’ quarrel, going on?”

  “Frederick was a private person. He kept his feelings to himself. As for Louise, she’s the consummate professional. So I wouldn’t know if they were on the outs. But, even if they were, Louise is no cold-blooded killer. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  “I hear you.” Monty shut his notebook and rose. “That’s it for now. You’ve got a funeral to get to. I’ll find you later, and we can get down to brass tacks.”

  “Brass tacks?”

  “You know, the things that produce leads. Details of your current business ventures. Specific events and phone calls. Recent discord among family members. Special favors that went sour. Nothing the cops won’t ask.”

  Rhodes didn’t reply. But his silence spoke volumes.

  CHAPTER 11

  Devon put on a touch of mascara, then stepped back to assess her reflection in the bedroom mirror.

  Not too done up. Not too casual. Classic black silk slacks and a pale pink cashmere sweater.

  Perfect for a date with the oh-so-smooth James Pierson.

  A quick glance at the clock. Six forty-seven. Almost showtime.

  Turning back to the dresser, Devon picked up her brush and ran it through her hair until it tumbled down her back like a silky curtain.

  The telephone rang. Someone else in the house picked it up.

  A minute later, there was a knock on Devon’s door and Meredith poked her head in. “For you. It’s Dad.”

  “Of course it is.” Devon grimaced. “I’ll be with him in a minute.”

  Meredith walked in and plopped down on the bed, reaching for Devon’s phone. “Dad? Hang on.” She was about to push the hold button, then paused, the receiver still pressed to her ear. “What? I’m fine. Yes, I got your message. I have a ton of work to do. We’ll see. Maybe. Yes, I’ll get back to you tomorrow. Here’s Devon.” She handed her sister the phone. “You look beautiful,” she told her.

  “Thanks.” Devon studied Meredith pensively. “Can you wait here a sec? I’ll be off as soon as I’m prepped for battle.”

  “Sure.” Meredith settled herself more comfortably and propped a pillow behind her head.

  “Hey, Monty.” Devon tucked the phone under her chin and applied her lip gloss as she spoke.

  “Hey, yourself. All set?”

  “Yup. Dressed and ready. And you’re in the car—again.”

  “On my way to Edward Pierson’s apartment. I was summoned. Time to report in on my first day.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “As expected. No major surprises. Except Louise Chambers, who was too broken up to talk to me. She went home right after the funeral. I’ll have to track her down tomorrow. It’s too bad, too. Funerals make people vulnerable.”

  “And easier to interrogate.”

  “Right.” Monty went on to fill Devon in on his chats with Marjorie Evans, Alice Jeffers, and Philip Rhodes. “That was my morning. My afternoon wasn’t productive. No one got back from the service until three. And even then, they arrived in a trickle. The major players showed up for an hour or so and then took off. Again, more to come tomorrow.”

  “What about James and Blake?”

  “As expected. James is the center of the universe. He’s also insecure as hell when it comes to his cousin Blake. With good reason. James has the flair. Blake has the substance. He’s got great instincts and a big-picture mentality. There’s no doubt that Blake is the future of Pierson & Company. And
that’s a lot more long lasting than a gold medal. By the way, did Blake ask you out?”

  “Uh-huh. Dinner tomorrow night. I haven’t done this back-to-back weeknight thing since college.”

  “Yeah, well, at least you’ll get some good food out of the deal. Where’s Blake taking you?”

  “To be decided. We’re talking tomorrow.”

  “What about James?”

  “We’re going to the Gedney Grill, right here in White Plains.”

  “Good choice. Get the baby back ribs. You’ll be covered in barbecue sauce. Too slimy to touch.”

  Devon chuckled. “I like their sirloin. But thanks for the thought.”

  “No problem. I’m not worried anyway. You two won’t be alone.”

  She blinked. “You plan on being there with your binoculars?”

  “Nope. Not necessary. Edward’s got security on his grandson, remember?”

  “That’s right. I’ll keep that in mind, even though James has no idea he’s being guarded like Fort Knox. I’ll check out the place, see if there’s some burly guy with a toothpick in his mouth peering at us over the top of a newspaper.”

  “Like I said, you watch too many cop shows. More likely, he’ll be a young punk who’s wolfing down a sirloin and guzzling imported beer so he can charge an expensive meal to Edward Pierson.”

  “Good point.” Devon finished applying lip gloss. “Anyway, I appreciate the reminder.”

  “Sure thing. Now go figure out what makes Golden Boy tick. Use the personal angle. Poke around about his family relationships, his view of Philip Rhodes. You know the drill. But soft-pedal it. I’ll do the heavy-handed stuff.”

  “I’ll be cuddly as a kitten.”

  “Just keep your claws ready.”

  “Yes, Monty.”

  “Explore his other world—the show circuit. What’s his mind-set in the saddle? Who are his competitors? Who’d have an ax to grind?”

  “I get it, Monty.”

  “Call me when you get home. I don’t care what time it is.”

  “I will, Monty.”

  “Oh, and one more thing—”

  “Good-bye, Monty.” Devon hung up the phone.