Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 03 - Money is Murder

by Carolyn Arnold

  Sara laughed as she collected their printout. She knew immediately—the texture of the paper, the thickness. Her expression fell somber.

  “What is it?”

  “The paper.” She pulled her eyes from the sheet to meet Sean’s eyes. “This isn’t the same stock that Cindy printed her suicide note on. This is at least fifty pound paper and there is watermark in it. See.” She angled it so he could get a good look. “The evidence report said the paper was regular copy paper, twenty pound, recycled, white.”

  “She probably has some of that around here somewhere.” Sean rummaged through cabinets and seconds later shook his head. “I’d say the note was printed somewhere else.”

  “That spells intent. Cindy didn’t take her own life. She was murdered, and it was premeditated.”

  “It also means it was someone who had access to her flat, or the ability to get in.”

  “Which could pretty much sum up any Universal employee.”

  “Yes, except for Robert.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The divorce was her idea. She didn’t want to see him anymore, for whatever reason, why give him access?”

  “Except you are forgetting one thing—our smiling doorman downstairs. Robert got in now. He obviously either has a key or is buddies with the doorman.” Sara pressed her lips and watched comprehension sink into Sean’s eyes.

  “He lied to us. He is guilty.”

  “It’s a possibility,” Sara conceded.

  “So, we let her killer waltz out of here. We’ve got to get over to his place.”

  “If we’re lucky and that’s where he’s headed. And how does Reid fit into all of this, or does it?”

  The doorman was stationed outside on the street. He was basking in the sunshine, his face heavenward and his eyes shut.

  Sean tapped his arm.

  “Oh. Hey, Mr. McKinley.” He pressed on a smile. “Did you find what you were looking for?” His eyes passed to the laptop perched under Sara’s arm.

  “Yes, thank you, but we’d like to talk with you about something. Mind if we step inside?” Sean gestured through the windows to the lobby.

  “Of course not.”

  They stepped in from the exposure of the street to the privacy and quiet of the interior.

  The doorman’s face pinched up. “Name’s Percy, by the way.”

  Sean shook his extended hand, and then Sara did.

  “We have to ask you some questions about the night Cindy died.”

  Percy’s mouth curved downward and he shook his head. “There’s not much to say, and I said it all to the police. Why do you want to know?”

  “We’re just curious, that’s all.” Sara smiled at him.

  Sean observed Percy’s defensive attitude melt away.

  “Well, this is a secure building. Unless Ms. Quinn gave the okay for a visitor to be let up, he wasn’t.”

  “He?” Sara adjusted the laptop, but Sean took it from her.

  “Listen, him, her—whoever. If Santa Claus showed up, she would have had to approve him.”

  “We had company when we went up today. Do you know anything about that?” Sean asked.

  Percy’s eyes went between Sara and Sean. He wiped his lips, twisting them. “I didn’t figure it hurt to let him up. Maybe I figured wrong, and, if so, I apologize.”

  “Does he still have a key to her apartment?”

  “I didn’t unlock the door if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Sean turned to Sara. He could tell by the light in her eyes that she picked up on his silent communication. Benson had told them the husband no longer had a key. Strike two for the New York City Detective.

  “All right, you have a great day.” Sean nodded toward the sidewalk. “Enjoy the sunshine.”

  Percy smiled. “Always, sir, always. Good day.”

  On The Run

  SEAN AND SARA TOOK A cab over to the address noted in the telephone directory for Robert West. It would take about an hour or so in good traffic, and in the city that equated to a phenomenon.

  Sean had Cindy’s laptop on his knees and Sara sat next to him in the middle of the back seat.

  “You knew what I was trying to say to you back there when we were with the doorman?” he asked.

  “Loud and clear. There is a lot of secrecy and lies surrounding Cindy’s death. Of course, murder usually lends itself to that.” She partially smiled, but it faded as her eyes went past him to the crowded sidewalks. “I couldn’t live like this every day.”

  Sean followed the direction of her gaze. “Me either. It’s surprising more don’t drop of a heart attack.”

  “Moving at such a fast pace all the time, it is a miracle.”

  “We’re here.” The cabbie glanced in the rearview and requested the fare.

  Sean looked down at the money he had ready, which wasn’t near enough to cover it, and then pulled out the remainder and paid the fee. “Thank you.”

  “Yep. Welcome to New York City, although, I’m not sure why you’d want to come to this neighborhood. Especially looking like that.” He spun in his seat to look at Sara. He smiled like a wolf that was ready to tear into the flesh of its game.

  “We’ll be just fine.” Sean got out and extended his hand for Sara. “Darling?”

  He ran his hands down his suit pants and she straightened her skirt.

  “I feel like I’ve been squeezed in a panini press,” she said. “One hour in the back seat of a cab is too much for me.”

  Sean laughed and put his arm around her. “Well, you look like one delicious sandwich.”

  She fluttered her lashes. “Sean.”

  He tapped his lips to her forehead and then kissed her lips.

  “Whooeee!” Whistles and catcalls filled the air.

  She pulled back, laughing. “Maybe it’s a good idea we get inside.”

  “I think so.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her through the front door.

  There was no doorman or reception desk, only musty carpeting, stained with traffic from slushy footwear, leading to a double elevator bank.

  “His apartment is seven twenty.” Sara pressed the button for the seventh floor. “I hate to say it, but even the elevator smells funny.” She laughed, her nose wrinkling up just the way he loved it.

  The cart chimed a dead, sick sort of ding that sounded more like dong, when they reached their floor.

  They stopped in the opening.

  “You heard it too?” Sean asked, looking over at Sara.

  “A gunshot.”

  “Yeah.” He tucked his head out into the hallway and got a feel for the direction of the numbers. “It could be coming from Robert’s apartment.”

  He started into a slow jog, Sara behind him.

  Another report filled the air. He slowed his pace and put his arm out for Sara. “I want you to hang back.”

  “What? While you have all the fun? I can handle this.”

  The way her eyes pried into his, it delivered the message. He was overreacting and being overprotective. He conceded. “All right, but stay behind me.”

  She nodded, but there was a spark in her brown eyes, maybe the way the hall lighting refracted off the specks of green—he wasn’t sure if he trusted her nod of agreement. She was, after all, bred a cop, just like him. They were both taught to run toward gunfire, not flee from it.

  The apartment door opened and a masked man came out. He paused when he saw them and then took off running in the opposite direction.

  Sean bolted after him. “Stop!”

  The guy looked over his shoulder and nearly tripped on a bunched up section of carpeting. Arms flailing, he caught his balance, righting himself and avoiding a fall.

  “Get back here.”

  Adrenaline churned his stomach, and only served to propel him forward harder. His earlobes were on fire and the burning heat spread throughout his solar plexus.

  He rounded the corner, following the perp to a back staircase. The door was fl
ung open and bounced off the wall, rebounding into Sean and knocking him off balance.

  The shooter reached the first landing and spun around, gun held high.

  Sean ducked, arms instinctively rising to cover his head as he did so.

  The bullet ricocheted off a metal railing and the shooter pulled back on the trigger again.

  This time no bullets went whizzing through the air.

  “You’re out,” Sean yelled but remained hunched down. “Surrender.”

  The person took off into a run again, breezing down a few steps at a time.

  Sean ran in pursuit, with each landing, he envisioned catching up to his target and pulling him back. So close yet too far away. He just had to reach the hood of the sweater. He stretched and his fingertips grazed the fabric, but then broke free.

  Sean’s burning muscles wanted to refuse to cooperate, but he had to push through.

  In A Race For Answers

  SARA GLANCED OVER HER SHOULDER, down the empty hallway. No one seemed curious about all the noise, or what was going on, not that it surprised her. The natural response to hearing gunfire was to find a safe corner and hide.

  She went inside Robert’s apartment.

  He was lying on the entry floor, his head lolled to the side, his eyes glazed over. One bullet had entered to the top of where his heart would be and the other a couple inches below it. The scene reminded her of a homicide they had been assigned back in Albany a few months back.

  As Sara got down next to Robert, she was careful to avoid any contamination. She pressed her fingers on his carotid, closed her eyes and wished for a pulse.

  The shooter headed down a back alley and split his time between looking ahead and glancing behind. Every time he assessed his lead, his pace faltered slightly.

  “Stop! I know who you are!” Sean called out the bluff in the hopes of getting the shooter to stall. The mind had the ability to halt progress. He wanted to manipulate the perp’s to work in his favor.

  He stopped for the fragment of a second, but then went back into a full run.

  Sean looked ahead. It was a dead end. A chain-link fence stretched across the alleyway. A dumpster was to the right, against a building.

  The shooter’s stride hiccupped when a collection of garbage cans nearly had him falling forward, face to pavement.

  Sean used the opening and willed more power into his legs, pulling from deep within and accelerating his pace.

  He reached out and graced the hood again, but this time he managed to get a firm hold. He yanked back and the perp let out a squeal then reached out to rip free of Sean’s grip.

  Their high-pitched cry slowed Sean’s movements. Did he hear what he thought he had?

  His indecision was enough.

  He lost his hold and the perp hopped up onto the dumpster, then ran into the freedom of the alley on the other side.

  Sean entered the apartment to find Sara kneeling next to Robert.

  “Darling.” Sara stood and wrapped her arms around him.

  He lowered his forehead against hers.

  “Are you okay?”

  He held her face and kissed her. “I’m fine now.”

  “Thank God. It’s more than we can say for Robert, though. I took his pulse when I got here. He was already gone. I knew we should have left him his gun. I had a bad feeling.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We didn’t shoot him.” He made sure to look into her eyes. “Right? You know that, hon.”

  Her eye contact was cold at first, but seemed to soften as she nodded. “I know.” Her gaze went to Robert and then back to Sean. “I take it you never caught up to him.”

  “Or her?”

  “Her?”

  “Well, the shooter never spoke, but when I got a hold of their hoodie and yanked back, they called out. I could have sworn it was a woman.”

  “A woman?” Sara glanced at the couch that was straight behind the front entry, obviously giving consideration to taking a seat. “I thought we were leaning towards Adam?”

  “Well, unless he squeals like a girl, it wasn’t him.”

  “Hmm.” Sara chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Who would want Robert dead?”

  “Good question. We’re going to have to call the police. What about the USB stick?”

  Sara shook her head. “Not a sign of it anywhere.” She paused a moment, thoughts reflecting in her eyes. “What woman would want Robert dead, and could she also have killed Cindy, or is it even related?”

  “I think we’d have to agree it’s all connected. What about Robert’s assistant? What was her name?”

  “Daniela, but I didn’t get that read off of her. Know what I mean? She wouldn’t have confessed to covering for him if she was a cold-blooded killer.”

  “I suppose, and what would her motive be?”

  “This has to do with that company, Reid.”

  “We’re going to have to talk to Edward Cranston about the account.”

  “But we’re not sure he’s in the clear with this.”

  “I’m not sure how else to go about things. We don’t fully trust Adam either.”

  “Why don’t we go do some research on the company first and we’ll go from there? Maybe Jimmy will have answers back about the doorman and Benson, and whether they were paid off.”

  Sean pulled out his cell phone and dialed the police.

  Questionable Actions

  “WHY AM I NOT SURPRISED by your being here?” Detective Benson was out in the hall with Sean and Sara.

  She watched the way he stood, the angle of his hips, the manner in which he shifted position from the left leg to the right pretty much every thirty seconds, like clockwork. He either had a hip problem or a knee issue. But it wasn’t his physical deficiencies that had her true attention. It was his overuse of eye contact. It was a compensation, but for what? It was quite likely she wouldn’t know the answer to that until she had more to go on. Right now any suspicion she had about the man had to be muted to the background as inconsequential.

  “It’s just like we’ve told you a few times,” Sean said. “We showed up to talk to him and found him like this.”

  “You didn’t see anything else?”

  “I told you that too. I almost had the shooter, but they got away.”

  “They? A guy or a girl?”

  Sara’s eyes snapped to Benson. She was thankful he was focused on Sean. She found it interesting he would raise the question of whether the perp was a female. Typically murders carried out in this manner were executed by men. The drugging of Cindy Quinn? Sara could believe a woman was behind that, but a shooting? If it wasn’t for Sean’s discovery, it wouldn’t have been her first leap.

  “So you chased this person down the stairs and out into the back alleyway.”

  “Your crime scene people are working the stairwell. They’ll find the bullet.”

  “I have no doubt of it.” Benson’s tone was dry and incredulous. He looked down at the notebook he held and flipped the page. “And if I have any further questions, where can I find you?”

  “The Universal Acquisitions’ condo building,” Sean said.

  “I should have known.” Benson pressed on a smile and tucked the pad into his jacket pocket. “There’s no reason the two of you need to stick around.”

  The coroner came out, pushing a gurney with Robert’s body, encased in a black bag. He greeted them with a slight dip of his head. His assistant, who was helping him, pressed his lips in a grim acknowledgement.

  Benson’s attention went from the body back to Sean. “If you think of anything, you will call?”

  “You have my word.” Sean turned to Sara and cupped her elbow. “Come on, darling, we wouldn’t want to get in the way of the man’s job.”

  “Of course not.” Sara smiled at Benson but it was met with a small quiver of the mouth, a snarl perhaps.

  Sean hustled Sara to the street where he hailed down a taxi.

  “Why didn’t you tell him you thought it was a woman?
” she asked.

  “We’re not sure whether Benson’s involved with all of this, remember? If we let him know about it being a woman, he could warn her.”

  A yellow cab pulled to the curb and Sean held the door open.

  Sara slid across the seat. “Where to now?”

  “Back to our condo to find out all we can about Reid.”

  “We should have given Robert back his gun.”

  “There was no way we could have anticipated this.” Sean reached for her hand. “And, even if he did have a weapon, it doesn’t mean he’d be alive now.”

  She shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. I knew.”

  “You felt it. There is a difference.”

  “I suppose.”

  “And you’re definitely not the one who pulled the trigger.”

  “You got me there.”

  He detected the faint smile dust her lips. As much as they didn’t want to sit around and do nothing, maybe some downtime would be nice.

  “What do you say to a vacation after all this is over?”

  It elicited the reaction he thought it might. Sara laughed, her nose wrinkling up.

  His cell rang, interrupting the moment. He held the phone from his head, pointed at it and said, “It’s Jimmy.” Back into the phone. “Oh really? And you’re certain? Yes, I know you better than that. Thank you again. Yes, a big bottle of scotch. Not a cheap brand.”

  Jimmy was becoming quite the extortionist, but Sean was fine with the terms when it netted the type of exchange it just had.

  Sara shifted her position to better face him. “What did he say?”

  “He said that there were large deposits made in both Benson’s bank account and the one belonging to the doorman from Cindy’s building.”

  “Does he know where it came from?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, Sean, how are we supposed to figure this out?”

  “Like we always do—together.” He ran a hand down her hair and smiled at her. “With the two of us, anything is possible.”

  Coffee And Research