“Was he having any trouble with anyone here in the office or on that case?”
“On the case, no. It’s a complex albeit garden variety shareholder dispute case. Other than the typical push and pull of litigation, there have been no problems. So no, work was not a problem for Gordon, not at all. My clients really liked him and he did good, very good work, work beyond what most fourth year associates are capable of. Now his personal life? That is another story. That will likely provide you with your killer.”
“How so?” Mac asked.
Busch shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve heard. Gordon liked the ladies. I saw him in action a number of times. He used to say, man’s gotta use all the tools…”
“…in his toolbox,” Mac finished the phrase for Busch. “I’ve heard that a few times today,” Mac added, a tinge of disgust in his voice.
“Gordon said it at least once a day, whether he was doing legal work or chasing the ladies. It was his signature catch phrase, I guess. You’ll find it on a wood plate on his office desk.”
“So who from Mr. Oliver’s personal life would have it in for him?” Lich asked.
“I think there is a husband or two of our female staff that are not fans of Gordon. I’m sure Marie Preston told you of the incident in the lobby a month or so ago.”
Mac and Lich nodded.
“Well that wasn’t the only time he had to deal with Mr. Burrows. Gordon told me there were phone calls, e-mails and one threat to kill him, so I’d check on that Burrows fellow.”
“Did Oliver report the threats to the police?”
“I’m not sure. I recommended he do so.”
Mac made a note to look into Burrows the minute they left the firm. “Any other spouses or boyfriends we should look into?”
Busch nodded and quietly said, “You will want to talk to Genevieve Mathis, a paralegal, and Heidi Sawyer, an associate here in our office. I know Genevieve is engaged to be married and Heidi has a long-time boyfriend and I know for a fact that Gordon slept with both of them.”
“How do you know this?” Lich asked.
“I saw him leave with them on different nights when we were out at The Mahogany. From what I could tell, they weren’t one time occurrences either.” Busch gave them the details as best he could recall.
“Sorry I have to ask this, but where were you last night between midnight and two a.m.?” Mac asked.
“No problem detective, I understand,” Busch replied reasonably. “I left the office around 6:30 last night and spent the night working at home. I went to bed around 10:30 or so. My daughter stayed the night with me.”
Mac and Lich spent another five minutes with follow-up questions and then Mac asked: “So I understand they call you Happy Hour?”
Busch smiled, “Detective McRyan, we demand our people work hard around here, especially our associates, and they make the partners a lot of money. So I don’t think it’s asking too much to take our people out a few times a week for a drink, some appetizers, an occasional nice dinner at Kincaid’s to say thanks for a job well done.”
Mac and Lich worked their ways through the offices for the next two hours, interviewing staff and lawyers regarding Gordon Oliver. They took a break in a conference room just after the lunch hour to look at their notes to review who they’d interviewed, who was left and what they’d learned. It was an interesting mix of people to say the least.
“How about that one lawyer, the older guy with the comb-over, what was his name, Sander Anthony, what a piece of work.”
“The guy who remembered interviewing me when I was in law school?” Mac asked, taking a sip of coffee. “The one who didn’t really like Oliver?”
“Yeah, that guy. He was kind of a douche bag. What did he say about Oliver’s office philandering?”
“Wouldn’t a prudent lawyer avoid the chance of such office scandal by not bedding the help,” Mac replied, mocking Anthony’s stuffy voice. “The one that cracked me up was the woman lawyer, that little pit bull named…”
“Oh yeah, Powers, Barbara Powers,” Lich finished. “Man, she went off on Oliver about his litigation skills, how he did this wrong or that wrong. How cocky and condescending he was.”
“Yeah,” Mac answered. “She’s the one on crack, I think, or at least that’s what some others in the office seem to think.”
“Why do you say that?
“As we were walking down the hall I heard a couple of lawyers quietly chuckling about ‘Barbie Law.’”
“Barbie Law?”
“Yeah, the gist being she makes the law up as she goes along. Let’s just say these folks didn’t hold her legal acumen in high regard,” Mac said with a wry smile and took a last sip of his coffee. “So let’s go over the list. We have some people left to interview. The first one we should interview is Michael Harris, he should be back now.”
Michael Harris was a senior associate who worked exclusively with Stan Busch and had worked with Gordon Oliver extensively over the last four months. Whereas Busch’s and several other partners’ offices spoke of status in the classic building, Harris’s spoke of a busy lawyer gearing up for trial. Red rope files were scattered around the floor of his office. Piles of neatly stacked papers created a skyline across his desk and credenza with multicolored cardboard and ceramic coffee cups littered among the stacks. Harris’s suit coat was draped over one of his guest chairs. His white button down collar shirt was open at the collar, his plain black tie loose and askew and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. No pictures, no art nor even his law degree were to be found on the walls. Harris looked like one of those overworked lawyers you saw on a television show. Harris was all business.
If others in the firm were surprised by Oliver’s death, Harris was the opposite, “I can’t say that I’m surprised.”
“Why not?” Mac asked.
“Gordy lived on the edge. He worked hard and played even harder.”
“How did he play hard?” Lich asked.
Harris looked at Lich skeptically, “Really? How many people have you spoken with around here?”
Mac scanned his notes, there were too many to count, “Let’s just say lots.”
“And you talked to Happy Hour, right?”
Mac nodded.
“Then you know about Gordon. He was a womanizer, a twenty-four seven hard-on unlike anyone I’ve ever seen. He worked all day, went out drinking at night with the express goal of getting some action. That included women here in the office and outside the office. He wasn’t terribly discriminating.” Harris proceeded to give them the women Busch, Preston and others had given them.
“We’re going to be looking into that,” Mac said. “Were there any other issues, beyond his womanizing, perhaps with work? Was there a conflict with another lawyer or client perhaps?”
Harris shook his head, “This case is really the first one I’ve worked extensively on with Gordon so I can’t be sure but I doubt it. He did exceptional work for me and Happy Hour. He was always available for his clients, almost too available.”
“What do mean too available?”
“Oh nothing really. It’s just that Gordon would walk around the office with his cell phone attached to his ear. He’d answer it anywhere and everywhere and he would walk around the office talking to clients on it almost as a way to… I don’t know… show everyone else,” Harris rolled his eyes, “how hard he was working. As if we all weren’t. It was all just a little too haughty for my taste.”
“You sound like you didn’t like Oliver,” Lich said, not a question, but a statement.
Harris shook his head. “Gordon was a little annoying and arrogant, that cell phone thing being an example and I certainly didn’t approve of his off hours activities and I will not be surprised if that is what ultimately got him killed. But when it came to work, he was all business. I could give him something and he would it get done, done right and efficiently. He was a fourth year associate but he was really doing the work of a fifth or sixth year associate. Gordon
was that good. Whatever led to his death, I seriously doubt it had anything to do with how he practiced law.”
“Where were you between midnight and two a.m. last night?”
“I left the office at 11:30 and was at my apartment on Grand Avenue within ten minutes and five minutes after that I was in bed and a minute after that I was asleep.”
Genevieve Mathis was short, almost tiny, maybe not even five feet tall. She was dressed in a conservative plain black pant suit and cream blouse buttoned at the neck. She had applied a light layer of makeup and her shoulder length straight black hair was generally un-styled unless you counted that she pulled it behind her ears. She had the look of a serious worker in the office and she didn’t strike Mac as the type to indiscriminately hook up with someone like Gordon Oliver. She just didn’t look the part but the phrase ‘you can’t judge a book by its cover’ jumped into his head as he quickly assessed her. Mathis was a paralegal who worked for the firm’s trusts and estates group.
Mac got right to it, “We understand you had a relationship with Gordon Oliver and that caused some issues on your domestic front.”
“It wasn’t a relationship, detective. I slept with Gordon a few times.”
“Why?”
“What does that matter?”
“Mr. Oliver is dead. So it matters,” Mac pressed.
Mathis nodded and exhaled, “I have a boyfriend, detective. We’ve dated for a really long time. I don’t know, maybe it got boring and Gordon came onto me a few times. We were out for drinks one night with a small group here from the firm. He asked me if I wanted company. And I surprised myself and said yes.”
“When was this?”
“A month ago, the first time was on February 18th.”
“Were there other times?”
“There were three times.”
“Why only three times?” Lich asked.
“Because I ended it after that. I realized Gordon was sleeping with others here in the office and I felt I was about to become a punch line.”
“Did your boyfriend find out about it?”
“I don’t think so. I never told him and I really hope he doesn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I think he is going to propose.”
“How do you know that?”
“I picked up his gym bag the other day and the zipper was open. Everything fell out and one of the things that fell out was a felt ring box. I didn’t look inside but…”
“…You think that’s what it is.”
She nodded. “What I did with Gordon was fun, a guilty pleasure perhaps, but also a huge mistake. I haven’t been with a lot of men and he was really good looking and I have to admit the sex was pretty hot. He knew what he was doing and I’ll freely admit I enjoyed it, but it was wrong.”
“So where were you last night between midnight and two a.m.?”
“I was at my apartment with my boyfriend. It’s a secured building with video cameras. I’m sure it will show you the time I came home and that neither I nor my boyfriend left.”
One look at Cassidy Burrows told Mac that Oliver didn’t have a type, other than she had to be a woman and willing. Whereas Genevieve Mathis was the antithesis of look at me, Cassidy Burrows was all about that. She was dressed less than conservatively with a short thigh high pink skirt revealing her thin legs and a plunging neck line that displayed her ample topside. Mac looked to his right at his partner, who appeared to be undressing Burrows in his own right. Mac gave him a dirty look.
“It’s been a long day,” Lich growled as he sat back and let his eyes drift elsewhere.
Burrows knew why she was in the conference room and didn’t beat around the Busch, taking Mac and Lich aback with her bluntness: “Do you think my husband killed Gordon?”
“Why don’t you tell us?” Mac said. “Do you know where he was last night between midnight and two a.m.?”
“I don’t know, he moved out two weeks ago,” Burrows answered. “But I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Is it because of what happened between you and Gordon Oliver?” Lich inquired.
“That’s certainly part of it.” Burrows related that her husband was moody and temperamental to begin with and it only got worse when he drank. He also had a criminal record.
“Criminal record, what did he do?”
“Bar fight. A long time ago. He nearly killed a guy.”
“Why?”
“The way the guy looked at me.”
Mac and Lich shared a look. Mac continued, “So knowing this about your husband, that he beat a guy to a pulp for looking at you wrong at a bar, you nevertheless slept with Gordon Oliver?”
Burrows shrugged. “Gordon Oliver was merely a symptom of the problems I had in my marriage. My husband and I haven’t been happy together for a long time. At least I haven’t been and if he were honest with himself he would admit the same. At some point I realized my marriage was over and Gordon Oliver was a good looking guy who was available, interested and there were no strings attached. I don’t regret it in the least.”
“How long did you and Oliver sleep together?” Mac asked.
“We didn’t sleep detective, we had sex.”
Mac shook his head, “Right. How long then, or rather perhaps, how often did you and Mr. Oliver get together for sex?”
“Over a two-month period, probably a dozen or so times. It would be a night here and there. Once in his pickup truck. There were a couple of nooners at the Holiday Inn off of 94 east of downtown. Gordon was a good lay and I liked it.”
“Your husband came after Oliver pretty good,” Mac said. “Confronting him here at the firm, at The Mahogany, even threatened to kill him once from what we hear.”
“That’s all true.” Burrows related what she knew about the confrontation at The Mahogany as well as when her husband called Gordon at three in the morning threatening to kill him. “That’s when I told him to get out,” Burrows said. “I haven’t spoken to him in a week and haven’t seen him in two, so I have no idea where he was last night.”
“Where were you last night between midnight and two a.m.?”
“I was with a friend.”
“What kind of friend?” Lich asked and Mac snorted, knowing exactly where his own sex crazed partner was going.
“A man, Alexander Burrows. I spent the night at his place.”
“Burrows?” Mac asked. “This wouldn’t happen to be a relation to your husband?”
“His younger brother.”
“H… h… his younger brother, I… see,” Mac was in disbelief. He needed a few seconds to compose himself. “Soooo… let me get this straight. Your alibi is that you were sleeping with your husband’s younger brother?”
“It is,” Cassidy Burrows wasn’t the least bit embarrassed or apologetic.
Mac pinched the bridge of his nose and Lich turned away, doing everything he could to avoid laughing. Mac steered into safer territory, taking down information about where Burrows’s husband worked, where he was living and where they were likely to find him. They both cautioned her to not contact her husband.
After Burrows left the room, Lich said to Mac: “Did we really just sit through that?”
“You can’t make that shit up,” Mac said shaking his head. “She is a piece of work.”
“I’d say if Martin Burrows didn’t kill Gordon Oliver, he might kill his brother,” Lich cracked.
“Or her,” Mac said. “And I’m not sure I could blame him.”
“What do you think?” Lich asked as they got ready to leave the conference room. “Does Martin Burrows look good for this?”
“I think we need to be careful.”
“Why?”
“Because Burrows looks exactly that, but that’s almost too easy.”
“What’s wrong with easy, I love easy,” Lich quipped.
Mac snorted. “You have to love easy. I mean, look at your suit.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“This will not end well for you!”
Five years ago Martin Burrows spent six months in jail for his role in a bar fight. Apparently Burrows started the fight as his wife had said. He went in with fists and when his combatant answered with a stiletto knife, Burrows broke the end off of a beer bottle and stabbed the man in the abdomen. The man lived and had brandished the knife which apparently had served to mitigate Burrows’s sentence.
A review of Burrows’s license information revealed he was six foot three, two hundred twenty pounds. His DMV photo gave the appearance of a man not to be trifled with. His square head sat on a neck that looked like a tree trunk. Burrows wore his hair high and tight with a small thin beard sculpted around his mouth. His brown eyes glared menacingly out of the picture. “I think we’ll want a little back-up when we go see this guy,” Mac cautioned.
Mac’s cell phone buzzed and it was Jack Coonan. He spoke to Coonan for a moment and hung up. Mac jotted down some notes.
“So what’s the Doc have to say?” Lich asked.
“He says his initial assessment at the scene looks correct. The contusion to Oliver’s temple is what killed him. The contusion led to temporal bleeding. Like Coonan said, without immediate medical treatment, the wound was fatal. But that’s not what was interesting.”
“What was?”
“You remember the contusion on the back of his head?”
“Yeah, on the back right side,” Dick answered, grabbing the spot on the back right of his head.
“Exactly,” Mac replied. “Coonan says the wound to the back of the head was made by a descending blow by someone taller.”
“How can he tell?”
“The shape of the wound is like an indentation, made by something that is a half inch wide. The downward angle of the wound suggests that whatever was used came from a high angle from someone taller than Oliver. Coonan thinks the person was over six feet, at least six-two.”
First Case (mcryan mystery) Page 3