The Alex Shanahan Series

by Lynne Heitman

  “Dickie wasn’t an alcoholic?”

  “He was, but Dickie was a sweet man who got lost somewhere along the way. Something happened to him, I don’t know what, but it wasn’t because his wife left him. Twyla and the girls adored him. She never would have left him if not for the drinking.”

  “What about Lenny? What kind of manager was he?”

  “A deal maker. Lenny’s a very charming guy when he wants to be, but truth be told, he only cares about making the numbers and getting promoted. You’ll get along fine with him if you just make the numbers. That’s where Ellen got into trouble.”

  “How?”

  “Coming over from Majestic and being young and a woman and from staff, she was trying to prove herself. I think she tried too hard, went at it too fast, and tried to change everything at once. You have to work slowly around here, especially with the union.”

  “Is that when the abuse started?”

  “At first the union did like they always do when they get threatened. Slowed down the operation, delayed flights, set fire to the place. Equipment started disappearing or going out of service, and they wouldn’t come to Ellen’s meetings. The usual stuff.”

  “That’s the usual stuff?”

  She shrugged. Smoke drifted through her lips as she nodded toward the slightly crumpled faxes on my desk. “But then these type messages started showing up, and I felt like something changed. They were, like you say, more personal. And she started getting them at home. As far as I know, the union has never taken their grievances into a manager’s home. On the other hand, they never had to work for a woman before, either. Maybe that’s what really set them off.”

  “When did things start to get personal?”

  “Two, maybe three weeks ago. Around the time she found the dead rat in her mailbox.

  “A dead rat?”

  “Yeah, it was disgusting. Head was crushed, all stiff and dried out.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She took a picture.”

  “That’s certainly presence of mind.”

  “She wanted to have proof. I think that’s when she changed her locks and, if you ask me, that was the beginning of the end. Ellen was always so put together. You know what I mean? The hair, the nails, the clothes. But after that it was almost like she didn’t care. She put in more and more hours at the airport, most of the time in her office with the door shut. I think she was afraid to go home. I’m pretty sure she was losing weight.”

  “Tell me about her last day.”

  “She was here in her office by herself all morning with the door shut. She took a few calls, but mostly I think she was calling out. About one o’clock I saw the light on her line go off, the door opened, and she came out. She was trying to hide it, but her nose was all red and she had sunglasses on. She told me she wasn’t feeling well, packed up, and went home. I never saw her again.”

  “You have no idea what happened?”

  “No. And usually I know everything. Whatever it was, she kept the secret well.”

  “I wonder if she confided in anyone. You don’t know who she was talking to right before she left that day?”

  “No. She was answering her own phone. I do have a log of all her phone messages, if you think that would help.” She went out to her desk, this time taking her invoices with her. When she came back, she had yet another of her ledgers, which she opened on my desk in front of me. It was a single-spaced listing of callers, dates, and times of messages Molly had taken for Ellen.

  “Are you keeping tabs on me, too?”

  She turned to a page with my name across the top. Listed were all the messages I’d received since I’d been there.

  “Dickie used to accuse me of not giving him messages,” she said, “like he could even remember anything that happened from one day to the next. That’s when I started keeping track. It really comes in handy sometimes.”

  I studied the pages, several pages with Molly looking over my shoulder. “These non-Majestic people, do you know who they were to Ellen?”

  “When someone calls, I ask what’s it about. If they say, I write it down on the message. I don’t log that part, but I can remember most of them. Like this one”—her bracelets rattled in my ear as she reached across to point out an entry—“this was the woman who used to cut her hair. Here’s a call from her aunt on Ellen’s birthday. It was the only message I ever took from her. This woman here, I remember she wouldn’t say what she wanted and she never left her phone number. Said it was personal.”

  “Julia Milholland. Sounds very old Boston. She called three times in one week?”

  “She was trying to set up some kind of an appointment with Ellen.”

  I pulled out a pad, copied down Julia Milholland’s name, and checked out the rest of the list. “Matt Levesque. I know him. He’s a manager in the Finance department. We’ve done work together.”

  “He was usually returning Ellen’s calls. I think she worked with him on the merger. And he’s a director now, not a manager.”

  “Ellen worked on the merger?”

  “She came here from that assignment, some kind of a task force.”

  I opened the drawer and pulled out the empty hanging file labeled NOR’EASTER/MAJESTIC MERGER. “Do you happen to know where this file is?”

  “I don’t know where it is now, but she had it on her desk a couple of weeks ago.”

  I copied down Matt’s number. “I think it’s time I called my old pal Matt and congratulated him on his promotion.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’ve got Lenny on line one,” Molly called from her desk, “and Matt Levesque on line two. Matt says he’s only going to be in for a few more minutes.”

  I checked the time. It wasn’t even six o’clock in Boston, which meant it was still early in Denver. “Tell Matt I have to talk to my boss and it’ll be maybe ten minutes. Ask him to please wait.”

  I took a moment to review my list. I’d been keeping track of things to tell Lenny, or things he might ask me. There was the freight forwarder who’d had his shipment of live lobsters stolen out of our freight house for the third time in a month. There was the ever escalating incidence of sick time and corresponding overtime on the ramp. There was the FAA inspector who we’d caught trying to sneak a handgun through our checkpoint—a surprise inspection we’d passed. And there was Angelo. His was the first name on the list and the only one I’d done nothing about. I knew I’d end up bringing him back, but so far I hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. Dan was probably right, I was just being stubborn. I picked up. “I know why you’re calling, Lenny.”

  “You do?” He had me on the box again.

  “I’ve been a little slow in following up on Angelo, but I’m going to get to it this week and I’ll make a decision. You have my commitment.”

  “That’s good, Alex. It’s not why I was calling, but it’s good to know you haven’t forgotten my request. Hold on for me, would you?”

  I slumped down in my chair and eavesdropped as he signed something for his secretary and asked her to send it out right away. I should have known better than to open with a mea culpa. It set exactly the wrong tone and who knows? He may have gone through the entire phone call and never raised the issue. Damn.

  “I see we think alike, Alex.” Lenny was back.

  “In what way?”

  “I just got off the phone with Jo Shepard out in California.”

  Uh-oh.

  “She tells me you two had a nice chat.”

  I slumped down in the chair even more. I was close to horizontal, and the Angelo issue was starting to look more and more workable. At least with Angelo, my sin was in having done nothing. I couldn’t make the same claim with Aunt Jo. I almost blurted out my second mea culpa, but decided to wait for his reaction first. “I spoke to her last week.” I said. “Human Resources called from Denver and needed some information.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you and Ellen knew each other?”

  “We did
n’t. Did Jo Shepard tell you that we did?”

  “No. But I surmised that the two of you must have been friends. Otherwise, why would you be interested in gaining access to her house?”

  “Well, it wasn’t that so much as I thought I could help her with Ellen’s personal effects. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else.”

  “Is that why you went up there on Friday? To help with her effects?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Did everyone know everything that I did? I might as well post a daily schedule. This was getting out of hand. I didn’t want to be lying to my boss. “No. No, that’s not why I went up there, Lenny. The truth is that Dan has a theory—”

  “That Ellen was murdered by the union in Boston. And he wants to get into her house to find the proof. Am I close?”

  “You’re right on target.” I should have guessed that he would have known.

  “Alex, listen to me. You should have called me before doing something like that … and I suppose I should have warned you about Fallacaro.”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s bad news, Alex. He’s already ruined a couple of careers, including his own. And he didn’t do Ellen any favors. He’s always got his own agenda working, and I’m sure he does here, too.”

  I sat up straight. “What do you mean by that?”

  “He’s the one who encouraged Ellen to take such a hard line with the union. She got caught in the cross fire. Now he blames himself, and his way of dealing with it is to deny the obvious, to insist that she was murdered.” Lenny’s Southern accent grew deeper and richer as his frustration grew. I’d promised myself when I’d called Aunt Jo not to regret it later, not to do that to myself. Fat chance. As I listened to Lenny, I felt the guilt like a clinging vine growing around that defiant resolve and squeezing the life out of it.

  Lenny was still going. “And I’ll tell you something else. He’s destructive. This ridiculous story is destructive for the airline, and as the Majestic Airlines representative in Boston, Alex, it’s your job to make sure that a damaging and false story like that doesn’t get out of hand. I don’t want to see myself on Sixty Minutes. Do you?”

  “Of course not, but this doesn’t seem like Mike Wallace territory to me.”

  “No? Think about it. Five years ago you had the female ramp supervisor at Northwest who was murdered at Logan. Now here’s another young woman dead at Logan, this time with Majestic. She was young, single, not that experienced, working in a tough place with a tough union. Majestic is high-profile, Bill Scanlon is high-profile, and she picked a strange way to die. You could spin an interesting tale.”

  That was true, but … “You make it sound as if the company is trying to hide something.”

  “No. No matter what Dan Fallacaro says, Ellen killed herself. If we did anything wrong, it was in not getting her out of there before it was too late.” He paused for a long time, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, with more rounded corners than sharp edges. “That was my fault. I should have seen how overwhelmed she was.” He picked up the receiver. “Alex, I’m not going to make the same mistakes again. It’s my job to keep you focused on the right things, and that’s all I’m trying to do. Pay attention to the airport and what needs to get done there. Get the numbers up and don’t get distracted. I’ll hold Scanlon off until you can get things under control there.”

  “Scanlon?” My heart did a double clutch.

  “Boston has been receiving what you might call unusual interest from the chairman.” He stretched out the middle ‘u’—un-yooo-su-al. “I’ve had calls from him almost every day since you’ve arrived.”

  “About what?”

  “About the problems in your station. I know you’ve only been there a week, but he’s not interested in excuses. I can only do so much before he loses patience with the both of us.”

  Lenny had no idea how hollow his threat was. I wasn’t afraid of Bill. But I also didn’t want him interested in my operation. I stood up, paced over to the window, turned around, paced back, sat down, and stood up again. I didn’t want to see him; I didn’t want to talk to him on the phone; even talking about him touched on a nerve that was still painfully exposed. Moving to Boston had been a way to put distance between us, and he had promised to honor that decision. I could only hope that in spite of any problems I was having here or what Lenny might say, he would keep his promise.

  “Do you understand?” Lenny asked me.

  “I understand.”

  “I appreciate your commitment on Angelo,” he said, “and I’d like to ask for another. My plan is to send someone up there from my Human Resources staff here in D.C. to handle Ellen’s personal effects, someone who has some training in this area. For my peace of mind, can you promise me that you will work on the problems at the airport until I can free someone up?”

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  “That means you will stay out of Ellen’s house?”

  I really had no good reason not to make him that promise. “I’ll stay out.”

  “Do I have your word?”

  “You have my word.”

  “Good. Now, all you have to do is ask and I’ll take care of Fallacaro for you. You can bring in your own guy—or gal.”

  I didn’t think I knew any “gals.” “Take care of him how?”

  “I’ll make him a ramp supervisor in the farthest place I can find from New Jersey.”

  “Do you mean Boston?”

  “I mean New Jersey. Newark. If he gives you any more trouble, tell him that. And call me when you’ve come to a decision about Angelo.”

  “I will.”

  When I hung up, Molly was in the doorway with her coat on. “Matt’s calling back. He got tired of waiting and hung up.”

  I checked my second line, unaware that it had even rung.

  “And I’m going home. Don’t forget that tomorrow is Tuesday and you’ve got your staff meeting.”

  “Thanks, Molly. Have a good evening.”

  I punched up Matt’s call. He’d been promoted since the last I’d seen him, so instead of a manager’s cubicle in the midst of the hoi polloi, he’d be in a big window office sitting in a high-backed swivel chair behind his turbo desk.

  “Have you got your feet up on the desk, Matt?”

  “That’s what it’s for, isn’t it?”

  “And I’ll bet you haven’t looked at the mountains for a week.” Matt had a magnificent view from his side of the building. I’d spent most of my time in headquarters gazing out the window at the canvas peaks of Denver International Airport and in the background, the real thing—the majestic peaks of the great Rocky Mountains.

  “We’re much too busy to appreciate the natural beauty of our surroundings. I hear it’s more exciting where you are. What’s it like out there?”

  “It’s like an airport, Matt.” I checked the view out my window, where I could see a line of purple tails with Majestic logos, one on every gate. “We have airplanes here and passengers and cargo. You should come out sometime and see what kind of business you’re in.”

  “No time for that.” I heard the clacking of his computer keys, and I knew he was checking e-mail. “I’m talking about all the rumors. Word here is everyone in Boston thinks someone murdered Ellen Shepard. Don’t you feel weird? I feel weird, but you’re sitting in her chair.”

  “What happened to her is not contagious, Matt, and I like to think of it as my chair now.” I touched the armrest, felt the rough, nubby weave that wore like iron. This chair was probably going to survive the next twelve general managers. “I feel sad about what happened to Ellen, not weird. She was more than a rumor. You know that. You worked with her.”

  “That was two years ago,” he said. “She wasn’t suicidal when I knew her.”

  “I’m not sure she would have announced it, particularly to a sensitive guy like you. How did she sound when you talked to her last week?”

  “How’d you know I talked to her?”

  “You left a trail of phone m
essages. What did she want?”

  “She had some questions about an old Finance project. I don’t think it would pertain to anything you’re doing now.”

  His voice was taking on that arch, staffy quality that really got under my skin. It was a good thing I’d known him since he was a baby analyst. “Matt, if you don’t want to tell me what she wanted, say so, but don’t give me that secret Finance handshake bullshit.”

  The clacking keys went silent. “Why do you need to know? Are you thinking she was murdered?”

  “I’ve got some problem employees here, and I think Ellen was building a case to get rid of at least one of them. If she was, I’d like to finish what she was doing.”

  “Hold on.” I heard him get up and close his office door. “That’s not why she called,” he said when he was back, “but I’ll tell you anyway. She was looking for an old schedule, something from our task force days.”

  “The Nor’easter Acquisition Task Force?”

  “Yeah. We worked on it together. She wanted the schedule of purchase price adjustments.”

  I opened a drawer, found a pad of paper, and started taking notes. “What’s a purchase price adjustment?”

  “Adjustments to the price Majestic paid to buy Nor’easter.”

  “What’s special about them?”

  “Nothing. They’re just expenses that are incurred as part of the deal, so they get charged against the purchase price instead of normal operations. That’s why you keep them separate.”

  “What are some examples?”

  “Lawyers. You have to have lawyers to negotiate and draft documents for the transaction, and they charge a fee for that. Accountants, consultants, anyone we hire for due diligence. We wouldn’t purchase their services if we weren’t doing the deal, so their fee gets charged to the deal.”

  “That doesn’t sound particularly relevant to the ramp in Boston.”

  “I told you.”

  “There’s a schedule of these charges?”

  “Yeah. Ellen maintained it when she was on the task force. She didn’t have a copy of it anymore, so she called me.”