by Neil Plakcy
I remembered that Shawn Brumberger had let slip that Alex had invested money in Beauceron’s REIT. The messages demonstrated that he was angry he couldn’t get his investment back, and he’d threatened Doug. There was a clear motive for murder.
I forwarded the two messages to Rick. Maybe this evidence would be enough to allow him to reopen the investigation into Doug’s death.
I used Doug’s password to access his bank and investment accounts, though I knew I was overstepping my bounds. But once again, I justified my actions because I was in pursuit of a greater good.
The news there was grim. He had gotten a big cash payout when he left Tor’s firm, but he had used that money to pay off the mortgage on the house in Westchester. He had gone several months without any income, and after a while had cashed in one of his retirement accounts in order to be able to pay alimony and child support. Then a month earlier, he had cashed out the remaining account. There wasn’t much left, and without that commission check from Beauceron there was no way he could have continued to support Catherine and the kids.
That was going to be even tougher financially on Catherine. And even though we knew now that she wasn’t going to be able to collect on the insurance policy, she might not have known about the suicide clause, or that his death would be classified as anything other than an accident.
Did she know Doug was running out of money? Was she so determined to continue her lifestyle that she’d kill her ex to get his insurance payout? Had she read Jimmy’s first book and thought about how easy it would be for Doug to slip into the canal?
Then there was Ethan. Making a Splash was a kids’ book. Had he read it? Could that have given him the idea to get rid of his father? He had been very upset since Doug’s death. Could that be guilt instead of remorse?
There wasn’t much else on Doug’s laptop, but I zipped up the files on the hard drive and emailed that file to myself. When I was satisfied I’d looked at everything I could, I closed the laptop down and carried it out to the car. As I opened the door and Rochester jumped in, the woman who’d been watching me stepped out of the first floor unit. “Is he moving?” she asked.
She was in her forties, with a hard edge to her that came out in her messy hair, sweatpants and T-shirt that read New Jersey: Where the weak are killed and eaten.
“He’s dead,” I said. “I’m cleaning out his apartment.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said. “There was something not right about him.” She peered at me. “You a friend of his?”
“Sort of. I’m doing this as a favor for his ex-wife.” Rochester stayed in the car as I walked up to her, extending my hand. “I’m Steve.”
She shook my hand reluctantly. “Marissa. The ex have a new man?”
I nodded.
“Wonder if that was him, then,” she said. “Came around banging on the door yelling for him. This is a nice complex. We don’t need that kind of thing.”
It was hard to imagine Jimmy Burns banging and yelling, but you never know. “When was this?” I asked.
“Maybe two weeks ago?” she asked. “Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen him around since then. I was going to complain to him.”
“You remember what day?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Just that it was a weeknight, kind of late. I was already in bed and I didn’t appreciate the noise.”
She pointed behind me. “Your dog is going again. He needs to be on a leash, you know. It’s the law.”
I looked behind me. Rochester had jumped back out of the car and was peeing on an azalea bush. “Thank you,” I said. “Come on, Rochester, in the car.”
He jumped in, and I backed out of the space and drove away. I wondered who had been banging on Doug’s door. Had it been Alex Vargas? Had he then managed to track Doug down to the parking lot behind the Drunken Hessian?
30 – Troublemakers
I was at home that evening when Rick pulled up in my driveway with Rascal, who rushed past me to greet Rochester. “Got a few minutes?” Rick asked.
“Sure.” I stepped back to let him in the house. “You got the emails I sent you?”
“I figured they came from you, since dead men don’t forward emails.”
Lili was behind me. “Give Rick a chance to get in the door before you attack him, Steve,” she said. “You want a beer, Rick?”
“I’d love one. I spent the day with Tamsen and Justin. Mostly with Justin—in the back yard teaching him to throw a fast ball. It’s been a long time since I used those muscles and they’re reminding me of it.”
“I’ll let you boys chat,” Lili said. “I still have a couple more projects to grade.” She went upstairs.
I got a Dogfish Head 60-Minute IPA for Rick and one for me, and we sat in the living room. “I assume you got the message that I left you about the man who came by Doug’s apartment. Did you know that Doug was living in Crossing Commons?”
“Is that where you were when you hacked into his email account?”
“I didn’t have to hack it,” I said. “Catherine asked me to clean out his apartment, and his passwords were sitting right there next to the computer.”
“Like an engraved invitation,” Rick said.
“Ha. Have you been over to Crossing Commons lately? It’s a lot nicer than it was when we were younger.”
He sipped his beer. “Yeah, I agree. Remember Marie Brown from high school? She lived there.”
I nodded. In high school, I’d ridden a bus that passed by Crossing Commons on its way to Fairless Hills. Marie was a skinny girl with bad skin and a worse attitude. I remembered once the bus driver closed the door on her face because she was such a troublemaker, and Marie just stood there rubbing her face to make sure all the parts were still there. “If we’d had a chapter of Future Crack Whores of America in high school Marie would have been the president,” I said. “You know what happened to her?”
Rick sipped his beer. “She teaches kindergarten at Crossing Elementary,” he said.
I nearly choked. “We’re talking about the same Marie Brown?”
“Yup. Single mom at sixteen. Got her GED and started at the community college, but she got picked up for drug trafficking and sentenced to pre-trial intervention. The investigating officer was Jerry Vickers.”
I’d met Vickers once or twice; he was the other detective on the SCPD.
“He took a personal interest in Marie,” Rick said. “Got her to finish her associate’s degree and keep her nose clean. Then he married her and put her through Penn State for her bachelor’s.”
“Wow. I did not see all this coming in high school.”
“Yeah, and I’ll bet if we’d put up you and Marie and asked ‘Which one of these two will serve a year in prison,’ most people would have been wrong. Or even ‘Which one of these two will not learn from their mistakes.’”
“I get it, Ricky,” I said, using Tiffany’s nickname for him. “So what are you going to do with what I sent you?”
“It’s tough. I can’t start looking into Guilfoyle’s death again without something a lot stronger than some veiled threats. That would get me in hot water with the chief. And if he found out that the guy involved is my ex-wife’s boyfriend? I’d get fried by both him and Tiffany.”
“But you can look at the material from the jump drive Tiffany found with me, can’t you?”
“If you want.”
We looked over the emails and the medical records, and in the end we decided that Rick would forward it to Hank Quillian and ask him to pass it on to the team investigating the Center for Infusion Therapy. It was easier to keep me out of it, since he could easily say that the material had come from his ex-wife, who worked there.
Once we finished with that, Rick sat back. “With that out of the way I can focus on my real job,” he said. “Fortunately I was off duty today, so Vickers caught the case. Would have been really bad if I was the investigating detective.”
“What case?”
“Ethan Guilfoyle,” Rick s
aid. “He and two other guys were caught vandalizing the florist’s early this morning, before they opened.”
“Oh, crap,” I said.
“Exactly. My girlfriend’s cousin’s son. I’d have had to recuse myself anyway.”
“What were they doing? Graffiti or something?”
“They broke one of the panels in the greenhouse, smashed some plants. One of the guys was caught with a hundred bucks from the register in his pocket.”
“Are they the same ones who broke into the Old Mill?” I asked.
“I think they might be. There were a million fingerprints at the crime scene so we couldn’t get anything usable. But Vickers will be getting a search warrant for Catherine’s house and the homes of the other two boys, and maybe he’ll find some evidence linking them. The three of them were released into the custody of their parents pending arraignment.”
“Poor kid. I’m sure he’s just acting out after his father’s death.”
“Don’t be too sure. Tamsen told me he got into some kind of trouble up in Westchester, but she didn’t want to say more. I’m afraid to ask her for the details.”
“You want me to?”
“Absolutely not! This isn’t my case, it isn’t my business, and it isn’t yours. Vickers will find out whatever he needs on his own.” After a minute, he said, “There is something you could do.”
“Name it.”
“Talk to Ethan. Tell him what prison’s like. Maybe you can scare him straight.”
“It wasn’t like I was in maximum security lockup. Don’t get me wrong, it was tough. But I was a white-collar criminal and most of the time I worked in the library.”
“You’re good at embellishing stories,” Rick said drily. “I’m sure you can come up with something.”
“I’ll do my best.”
We talked for a few more minutes, and then he and Rascal went home and I went upstairs to Lili. “How’s the grading going?”
She leaned back in the desk chair and stretched. “All my reading is done. I just have to finish my calculations and upload the grades to the server, and I’m free. At least until the summer term starts.”
“I think that calls for a celebration,” I said, reaching my hand out to her. “How would you like to join me in the bedroom?”
She stood up and smiled. “I’d like to start with a back rub,” she said, flexing her shoulders. “After that, we’ll see.”
31 – Crossroads
One of the great things about being an administrator in academia is the slow pace while everyone else is busy with grading and graduation. Sure, I had to plan my programming for the fall, set up publicity and handle advanced registrations, but most college business was deferred until late August.
That meant I had plenty of time to play with Rochester and walk him around Friar Lake. It also meant I had free time to do more snooping and see if I could find more connections between Doug Guilfoyle and Alex Vargas. After all, Rick had made it clear that he couldn’t do anything more to investigate Doug’s death until there was more concrete evidence. Which left it up to me to do what I could to get justice for Doug, and the insurance payout for Catherine.
By Monday afternoon, I had finished my college work and I turned to Google. I entered my search terms and kept clicking on links, long after they’d had any meaning. I was sure there had to be something there, but I just couldn’t find it.
Rochester came nosing up to me. “What do you have in your mouth, boy?” I asked. The links of an old choke-chain collar dangled from his mouth.
When I inherited Rochester from Caroline Kelly he came with a collar made of metal links that closed tight around his neck when he pulled too hard. As he got older, I’d replaced it with a dark green cloth one with a snap latch, patterned with tiny white paw prints. I’d lost track of where the choke chain had ended up, but obviously I must have left it at Friar Lake.
I pried his jaws open and said, “Does this mean you want to go for another walk?”
He wagged his tail, but instead of rushing for the door he went down on his front paws, then settled his butt to the floor and looked up at me.
I held the cold metal links in my hand. Links. Of course. LinkedIn. Doug would have had a profile on that business-oriented networking site. I put the collar down on the table, scratched Rochester behind the ears, and told him he was a very good boy.
Then I logged in to my account on LinkedIn and searched for Doug Guilfoyle. Sure enough, Doug had a profile there. I skimmed through his experience and education and looked at his connections.
LinkedIn put up the ones we had in common first—a few Eastern classmates, and Tor Svenson. As I skimmed down, I looked for Alex or Alejandro Vargas.
Instead, I found Eduardo de la Fe.
“Wow.” Another coincidence? It made sense that Doug would know de la Fe; they both hung around at that same bar, Las Iguanas. And Doug was hustling for new clients all the time, so he’d be collecting business cards and then connecting through social media.
Did the connection mean anything more than that? It still wasn’t enough to get Rick to reopen the investigation into Doug’s death. I’d have to have something more concrete before he’d be able to do anything.
I looked at the clock. It was tempting to stay at Friar Lake for a while and keep snooping, but I had promised Rick I’d talk to Ethan Guilfoyle and I was planning that visit for the evening.
After dinner, I called Catherine. “I have some stuff from Doug’s apartment,” I said when she answered. “Can I drop it off?”
“I don’t really want any of it,” she said.
“Catherine. There are some good photos of the kids. And Doug’s laptop.”
“You’re right, I should take those. Ethan’s been bugging me for a new laptop. But I don’t want any of his clothes or anything else.”
“I can drop off what you don’t want at one of the thrift shops for you,” I said. “Rick also suggested maybe I could talk to Ethan.”
“Ethan has been grounded, possibly for the rest of his life. Why did Rick want you to talk to him? He didn’t steal anything from you, did he?”
“I’ll explain when I see you later,” I said.
Madison answered the door. “My brother is grounded,” she announced. “He’s been very bad.”
“Yeah, I heard,” I said, juggling the big box full of Doug’s stuff. “Can I come in?”
She stepped back and hollered, “Mom! Rochester’s dad is here.” She turned her back on me and walked upstairs, leaving me standing there. I put the box on the floor and closed the front door.
Catherine came in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Sorry, I was just cleaning up from dinner. Can I get you anything?”
“No thanks.” I looked down at the floor. It never got easier to explain my past. “So, listen. I guess Rick hasn’t told you what I’ve been up to since we graduated.”
“I thought you were teaching and working at Eastern all this time.”
I shook my head. “Can we sit down for a minute?”
“Of course.”
We sat on the sofa and I gave her the short version. Marriage, miscarriage, retail therapy, hacking, prison. “Rick thought I might be able to speak to Ethan about my experience,” I said.
Catherine shook her head. “I don’t think so. No offense, Steve, but a felon is the last person I want talking to my son right now.”
“With all due respect, I am the kind of person he needs to talk to. I know he’s been acting out since the divorce, but he needs to understand that his actions have consequences, and that they can turn out to be very bad.”
“Do you think he’ll have to go to jail?” she asked. “He’s a kid.”
“I’m not an attorney, and I don’t know the specifics of what he’s been charged with. But I do know that I met a lot of guys in prison who started out the way Ethan has. And you don’t want him to go that route.”
“I just don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” Catherine said, a
nd she began to cry. “I thought I’d put the divorce behind me and the kids and I were doing okay. Then Doug died, and everything was miserable again.” I moved over closer to her on the sofa and put my arm around her, and she cried against my shoulder.
After a moment or two she straightened up and dried her eyes with a tissue from her pocket. “Sorry. I try not to break down in front of the kids but it’s been very hard lately. Especially now with this insurance business. I had been figuring we’d be able to stay here in the house, but now I have no idea what we’ll do. I’ll have to get a job, and after being home with the kids for so long I have absolutely no skills.”
She blew her nose. “I love them so much but it seems like everything I do only makes things worse.”
“Let me help, then. Let me talk to Ethan.”
“All right. If he’ll even let you into his room.”
I picked up the box and climbed the stairs, then knocked on the door with the hazardous waste sign. “It’s Steve Levitan,” I said. “I have some stuff of your dad’s that you might want.”
“Go away,” Ethan said.
“He left a pretty good laptop. I’m sure he would have wanted you to have it.”
No response. “Okay, then, I’ll give it to Madison. She’ll probably break it in a couple of days, but if you don’t want it...”
I heard some movement inside the room and Ethan opened the door. He looked even worse than the last time I’d seen him – his hair stringy and unwashed, the few hairs on his chin looking more like dirt than a beard.
“If you let me come in I’ll show you what he left.”
He didn’t say anything, but he did step back to allow me to walk in. I put the big box on his bed and pulled out the laptop, which I’d left on top. “Why don’t you set this up?” I asked, handing it to him. “Over there on your desk would be good.”
“This is the same one he had when he lived with us,” Ethan said. “It’s not that new.”
He carried it over to the desk and turned it on. I pulled out the college sweater I’d found in Doug’s closet and held it up. “You think you might like this?” I asked. It was a lightweight wool in an off-white color, with the rising sun logo and the word EASTERN in light blue stitching.