Monahan 01 Options

  I turned on the Tiffany lamp on my desk and closed the drapes in the living room, all the while feeling more and more uncomfortable with the situation. Jay was sitting on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table. I watched him as he picked up his coffee cup and took a slow sip. He stared at me over the rim of the cup. The silence between us was deafening and for once I had no smart remarks to make.

  I picked up my coffee where Jay had placed it on the table and sat on the chair at my desk facing Jay.

  I finally broke the silence.

  “I apologize,” I said quietly. “My behaviour was uncalled for.”

  Jay shrugged. “You reacted as expected.”

  I thought about that and wasn’t surprised. Jay knew me better than I gave him credit for.

  “The message I left the other day. About explaining.” I looked at him expectantly wanting a pardon before I made the not-guilty plea.

  I faltered when he didn’t respond. “I needed to be alone. I’m sorry if you took that the wrong way. I understand now why you haven’t called me in a couple of days.”

  “I understood Kate. But it made me angry. I’ll admit that. When you’re involved with someone, you expect them to be open. And honest. So, do you mind if I make the first stab at honesty here?”

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear this but I nodded mutely anyway. Jay put his coffee cup on the table and stood up. He ran his hand repeatedly through his hair and paced behind the sofa.

  “You’re a very emotional person Kate,” he told me, as if I didn’t know. “You say what you mean and you mean what you say. Some people appreciate that. It’s a characteristic I admire.” He paused. “But what gets in the way of you being an emotional person is your inability to see other people’s emotions. I mean, understand their emotions.”

  Very succinct. He had just told me in a roundabout way that I was selfish. I sat silently and swallowed and felt a blush rise to my face.

  “What was that you said to Harold the other day? Something about sympathy and where it was in the dictionary?”

  My face was beet red now and I straightened my back and looked straight at him. The lyrics from some long-forgotten song played in the back of my head. Hit me with your best shot. Fire away! Jay’s pistol was cocked and I steadied myself for the shot.

  “Sympathy and empathy go a long way, you know. You never seem to take other people’s feelings into consideration. You’re not the only one who has suffered this last week. You’re not the only one who lost a friend. And, just in case you need reminding, there’ve been traumatic things happening to the people around you.” He took a deep breath and sat down heavily.

  I had been told, in no uncertain terms, and I felt about six inches high. I was speechless and for good reason. I didn’t know what to say.

  “I’ve known you all my life, Kate. I’ve always admired your toughness, your strength. But if we’re going to have any sort of relationship, be it together as a couple, or just friends, you need to… ” he trailed off without completing the thought. He held up his hand like he was stopping traffic.

  “Forget it. I’m not about to dictate how you should behave. I’m a big boy and I accept you the way you are.”

  I was glad he stopped because I didn’t need any more hints. I had been selfish and I admitted it. My failure to acknowledge what Jay had been through hit me in the face.

  “I’m sorry,” I told him. I lit a cigarette and wandered around the living room. My hand caressed the fabric of the drapes and I pulled them apart and stared out at the street. If he could be a big boy, I could be a big girl and face reality. When you live alone you become the center of the universe. The reality was that I was the center of my universe and I grudgingly acknowledged to myself that I was self-centered. Was it any wonder that I was still living alone at the mature age of thirty-four?

  Jay was standing beside me now and I admitted to myself that I liked the feeling of him being there. He tentatively put his arm around my shoulder and I knew I was forgiven.

  Jay woke me early next morning and tossed my sweat pants in my face.

  “Put them on,” he ordered. “We’re going for a walk.”

  When I groaned and tried to roll over, he pulled the duvet off me and tossed it to the end of the bed.

  “I’ll allow you one cup of coffee and we’re off.”

  “Walk? I already walked once this week,” I protested.

  He laughed. “You should walk every day Kathleen. Get some exercise. Take your frustrations out on the pavement instead of everyone around you. It’s good for the attitude.”

  It was a cool spring morning and I practically had to skip to keep up with him as we headed towards the park. He finally slowed down around the pond and I took this as a sign. I grabbed the first empty bench and sat down.

  “Who said you could stop?” he said and grinned at me. “We’re just getting our heart rate up. You have to sustain that rate for at least twenty minutes for the workout to have any effect.”

  “I’ll wait here for you. My heart rate’s been up since we left the house. Go on.” He put his hands on his hips. “Seriously,” I told him. “You need it more than I do,” I teased him.

  “Wait here then,” he said as he jogged off.

  I leaned back on the bench and stretched my legs out in front of me and thought about lighting a cigarette. I breathed deeply instead and enjoyed the feeling of the fresh air in my lungs. It was surprisingly quiet in the park and I looked around me. Up the slight incline in front of where I was sitting I saw a newspaper box. Digging in the pocket of my sweatpants for change I ran up the little hill and dropped the coins in the slot.

  The article I was looking for was below the fold. “Toronto Executive Found Dead”. There was a small picture of Rick Cox in the middle of the story and I recognized the photo as the one that appeared in our last annual report. With the paper tucked under my arm I returned to the bench to carefully read the story.

  Richard Cox, who earlier this week resigned as chief financial officer of TechniGroup Consulting Inc., was found dead yesterday in his Rosedale home of an apparently self-inflicted gunshot wound. Cox is survived by his wife and two daughters.

  One securities analyst interviewed for this report, speculated that there was more to Cox’s resignation than was disclosed to the public and TechniGroup’s shareholders. An employee of the company, who asked that his name be withheld, told the writer that it was common knowledge at TechniGroup that Cox’s leaving was not a resignation. When asked if Cox had recently exhibited signs of depression, the employee was unable to comment.

  Police report that Cox was found by an employee of TechniGroup who was delivering some papers to his home. Police declined to release the employee’s name.

  The story went on to recount the recent slide in TechniGroup’s stock price and the reporter, who obviously didn’t hold any stock, speculated that this latest turn of events would not bode well for TechniGroup’s shareholders.

  The report finished by reminding the readers that Cox had been questioned by the police regarding the mysterious death of a TechniGroup employee.

  I wasn’t surprised that they had interviewed a securities analyst for the story because it was the analysts who ultimately drove the price of publicly-traded stocks. Securities analysts were the barometer of the stock market. What surprised me though was the fact that the analysts on the street knew that Cox hadn’t resigned. Someone had been talking in their sleep.

  chapter forty-four

  Jay appeared on my left and slowly came to a stop in front of me. He lifted one leg onto the bench and re-tied his running shoe before contorting his body into all sorts of ungodly stretching positions. I stared at him with an admiring look and then shook my head.

  “You really enjoy running, don’t you?”

  He nodded and clasped his hands behind his back and arched his shoulders. His soaked hair clung to his head and I could see rivulets of sweat running down his neck. There was a large, dark, wet spot on th
e front of his T-shirt.

  “You should try it,” he panted as he bent over and grabbed his hands behind his knees. The only time my hands see the back of my legs was when I was shaving them.

  When he finally sat down, I handed him the newspaper folded to the story about Rick Cox and watched his face for reaction as he read the article. When he finished he laid the paper on the bench beside him and said, “The employee who asked that his name be withheld was probably Tom James. The man can’t keep his mouth shut.”

  “You’re probably right. What I find more surprising though is the speculation on the street that Rick didn’t resign.”

  “It’s more than speculation, Kate. It’s all over the street. Everyone knows that he was fired and they think they know why.”

  “All over the street? Who told you?”

  “A friend,” he replied cryptically. “Some of my best friends are analysts, you know.”

  I laughed. “Nothing to be ashamed of,” I jokingly told him. “It’s their mothers who should be ashamed.”

  “What’s the poop on why he was fired?” I asked.

  “The rumours are saying it was because he cooked the books.”

  “I guess they’re partly right.”

  “I think the street started that rumour because it’s the most logical one, Kate. When a CFO gets fired, it’s the logical conclusion.”

  “Well, if those rumours take off, we’ll have the enforcement goons from the Ontario Securities Commission knocking on our door.”

  Jay picked up the paper again and looked at the picture of Rick. He shook his head slowly and said, “I can’t believe it was suicide. Rick believed he didn’t do anything wrong. That’s why he fired me. And he wasn’t the type.”

  “What’s the type? From everything I’ve ever heard, some of the most apparently sane people kill themselves. You know, it fits here. Successful businessman with a beautiful wife, two kids, a dog and station wagon gets fired. His reputation is going to be in shreds. How well did we really know him?”

  Jay snorted. “I worked with him every day for almost a year. The man was a bully with an ego almost as big as Chris Oakes’. Someone who loved themselves that much doesn’t eat a pistol for lunch.”

  A picture, forever frozen in my brain, flashed before my eyes of Rick Cox minus his chin and lower jaw. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.

  “Maybe his suicide had nothing to do with losing his job. Maybe,” I said and turned towards Jay on the bench, “maybe, the police had something on him about Ev’s death. What if he did it?”

  “No way, Kate. He had nothing to gain by killing Ev. Nothing. I had more to gain than he did.”

  “Don’t say that.” I touched his shoulder. “Don’t say things like that out loud.”

  We walked silently back to my apartment, each of us lost in our own thoughts. As we approached the house, I could see someone sitting on the top step of the porch. The beige overcoat was familiar, even from a block away, and my stomach sank when I realized it was Detective Leech.

  Jay and I stood side by side at the bottom of the steps and looked up at Leech. Beside him on the step were my shoes evenly lined up with their toes touching the edge of the step.

  “Detective,” I acknowledged him.

  “Ms. Monahan,” he nodded at me. He looked curiously at Jay and waited for an introduction.

  “Detective Leech, this is Jay Harmon. A friend of mine.”

  Leech pushed himself to a standing position and held out his hand to shake. Jay reached up and when he realized their hands wouldn’t meet, he walked up the first two stairs.

  “Thanks for returning my shoes,” I told him.

  “So they are yours,” was all he said. He picked them up in one hand and put them under his arm. I approached Leech holding out my hand in hopes of retrieving my shoes and sending him on his way. My hopes were dashed when Leech backed up the stairs and pointed at the front door.

  “I was hoping for some time to talk to you,” he told me.

  I reluctantly led the way and offered coffee when Leech was ensconced in the living room. He shook his head and motioned for me to sit down. Jay had excused himself and I could hear the shower running.

  Leech tried balancing both of my wayward shoes on the palm of his hand and then held them out to me like a cannibal offering salt.

  “Yours?”

  I nodded.

  “How did they come to end up on Mr. Cox’s desk?”

  “The heels had got caught in between the cracks on his walkway and tips of the heels came off. The lifts. I took them off and carried them. I guess I left them on the desk when I found Rick. Mr. Cox.” Detective Leech had taken out his small notebook and was making notes while I talked. When I finished talking he looked at me without speaking as if expecting me to continue. The man was making me nervous.

  I shrugged and held up the palms of my hands. “That’s it. That’s all. A very simple explanation,” I babbled. I wondered if they thought the shoes were the weapon Cox had killed himself with.

  “You told the responding police officers that you had heard nothing and seen no one. How long were you at the house before you discovered Mr. Cox’s body?”

  I thought about that for a moment and replied, “No more than a couple of minutes.”

  “And he was expecting you?”

  I nodded again.

  “What time did you arrive?”

  “I can’t remember exactly. I think just before six.” I remembered that Leech had asked me these same questions last night.

  “Why are you asking me all of this? We went over it last night.” I hoped I sounded as exasperated as I felt.

  Jay was standing in the doorway rubbing his head with a towel listening.

  “Last night was a shock to you and you must admit, you were pretty shaken up. In fact, I was surprised you left on your own. Wasn’t there someone you were trying to call?” As he said this he looked over at Jay.

  “No, I was fine,” I told him quickly.

  “Well, I thought it might be prudent to go over some facts. See if you remembered anything since last night,” he told me.

  “And,” he continued as he flipped his notebook to a fresh page, “my other reason for being here was to ask you if you knew where or how I could contact Mr. Harmon here. So, I’ve killed two birds with one stone.” He laughed at his stupid joke and I stared at him.

  “Mr. Harmon, if you’ve got a moment. I’ve been anxious to talk to you now for a couple of days.”

  Jay had dropped the towel around his shoulders and was running his hand through his hair, trying to comb it.

  “Jay. You can call me Jay.”

  “Well, is now a good time?” Leech looked directly at me when he asked Jay the question. It was a look of dismissal but I waited to hear Jay’s reply.

  “Sure.”

  I picked up my shoes off the floor where they sat beside Leech and discretely left wondering which room would be the best to eavesdrop from. I stood at the back of the kitchen but it was too obvious because it opened on to the living room. I thought about standing at the end of the hall and pretending to be on the phone. There was no way I could go back through the living room to sit on the small balcony, so I gave up and decided to take a shower. I heard Leech’s raised voice and stopped.

  “We’ve been unable to reach you by phone. And twice in the last two days, we’ve sent an officer to your apartment and you weren’t there. We’ll need a statement from you accounting for your time over the last seventy-two hours. And, Mr. Harmon, I want times, places, and the names of people who can verify they saw you.”

  I hurriedly walked to my bedroom and quickly closed the door. I stood and stared at the back of the door and frantically dug in my pockets for a cigarette. When my hands came up empty I realized that my cigarettes were in the living room on the coffee table, where I’d left them last night.

  The police hadn’t asked me to account for my time. I didn’t have to give them times and places. The i
ssue of where Jay had been for the last two days was one I dropped last night. We hadn’t talked about it anymore because I had decided it wasn’t any of my business. Now the police were asking him where he’d been. In the old Nancy Drew books I used to read, they called this an alibi.

  chapter forty-five

  There was a light knock on the bathroom door and I ignored it. I closed my eyes again and slid further down in the tub and felt the hot water and bubbles gathering around my neck.

  “Kate,” Jay’s muffled voice said through the unlocked door.

  “Yeah. Come in.”

  I felt his presence standing over me and without opening my eyes I asked him if Leech was gone.

  “Yes.”

  Hiding in the warm bathtub had made me feel better, but just for a few minutes. Visions of the police dragging Jay down the stairs in handcuffs had danced before my closed eyes. Newspaper headlines blared about his arrest.

  “What’d he ask you about?” I probed.

  “My job. Why I was fired. Where I’ve been the last couple of days.”

  “Was he happy with the answers?”

  “Somewhat. He’s preparing a written statement and I have to go down to his precinct and sign it.”

  I hadn’t been asked to sign any statements. My stomach sank and I opened my eyes. Jay was sitting on the edge of the bathtub with his back to me.

  “You know Kate, the way he questioned me, it was strange. He didn’t come out and say it, but I don’t think they’re convinced that Rick’s death was a suicide. He asked me if I owned a gun. He asked me where I was yesterday in the late afternoon. He asked me when was the last time I’d seen Rick. And he went back to the night Ev died and asked me to give him the details of what had happened.” Jay sounded despondent as he rattled this off. His shoulders were hunched and he was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.