Lori looked up, her face tight with anger. “Mister Gould, I was traveling all day from Phoenix to Chicago and then to London. I was very engrossed in a best-selling novel.”
Gould broke in, looking Lori square in the eye. “You seem to be a bit on edge.”
“For heaven’s sake, Mister Gould, consider what I’ve been through!”
“I am, I am. Is there something you’re not telling us, Mrs. Brill? Perhaps you are the one who shot Josh Wheeler.”
Lori gasped, looking from Jordan Gould to Geoffrey Holmes.
Ignoring the question, Joseph quickly answered for Lori. “See here, my client is a seventy-year-old grandmother who suddenly finds herself in danger. Maybe there is something you aren’t telling us. I find it interesting that someone from the FBI has traveled to England to investigate a murder, when today most things are handled over the Internet. What information are you withholding, Mister Gould?”
Jordan Gould paused his pacing and hesitated before responding. “I’m not the one being questioned here, Mister Lump.”
“Lunt.”
“Is that right? But since you asked so nicely, I’ll let you in on some information. Josh Wheeler has approximately fifty million dollars hidden somewhere. There are many people looking for it, the U.S. government, about two hundred investors who have lost their life savings, business partners from China who may be holding his Chinese girlfriend. Oh!” He turned and looked at Lori with a crooked smile. “You didn’t know about the Chinese girlfriend? Maybe you found out in the hotel room that morning?”
Lori lifted her head and stared into Jordan’s eyes. Go ahead and try to tell me my life’s story, Mr. Gould.
“I trust you weren’t put on the case, Mister Gould, to suss out Mister Wheeler’s relationships. That’s not exactly the FBI’s field of concentration.” Joseph crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Jordan to give a better explanation of his involvement.
“Very well, Mister Lint, we…”
Joseph rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. “Some modicum of professionalism would be greatly appreciated right now, Mister Gould.”
“What? What did I say?”
Geoffrey Holmes and Joseph both exclaimed at once, “Lunt!”
“I know, Mister Lunt. I was just making sure you were paying attention.”
“I’m enrapt, Mister Gould.”
“Excellent,” Jordan continued. “We were able to put a hold on only half of the one-hundred million Wheeler managed to steal. That was in real estate. Besides the FBI, and the many investors in Wheelers schemes, I'm sure there are other adventurers hoping to find the missing fifty million.
Joseph looked grim. “This is not good news. Do you think someone is after my client?”
Jordan snorted and walked away from Joseph, mumbling under his breath. He didn’t have time for dense. He knew he didn’t like this guy from the get-go. Where did this guy get his degree, a Cracker Jack box?
Holmes watched Jordan move across the floor and chimed in. “My good man, be logical. Missus Brill is the last one who saw Mister Wheeler alive. The murderer or murderers are afraid she may have seen them, or they may suspect her to be an accomplice with Wheeler.”
Lori took a sip of coffee while they were talking to each other. Her throat was dry, and her head throbbed. This was taking longer than she thought it would.
Gould continued. “Wheeler’s girlfriends were all young and beautiful. Those who were after him wouldn’t believe he was with Mrs. Brill unless she was helping him get away with the money.”
Cate suddenly stood up and shook her fist in the direction of Jordan Gould.
“How dare you talk about my grandmother like that?” she shouted. “What kind of bullshit investigator is this guy?”
All eyes turned towards her.
Joseph quickly walked to the back of the room, took hold of Cate’s arm, and, turning her towards the door, calmly said, “I think you better wait for us outside, my dear.”
Embarrassed by her outburst, Cate looked away from the men’s staring eyes as she left the room. She hadn’t acted like a professional. After all, she was a lawyer, but she still couldn’t forgive that Jordan Gould. What a hurtful thing to say about her grandmother. Why, that arrogant son of a bitch. Who the hell does he think he is? Why, I could just kill him.
Jordan couldn’t guess at her thoughts, but he took a long, hard look at the young girl passing through the doorway, his gaze lingering on her tight little ass. What a little firecracker, he mused. She was lovely, no doubt about it. He hadn’t been introduced to her, but from her outburst, he’d learned she was the old lady’s granddaughter. One more piece of information to process.
Lori dismissed the scene with Cate from her mind and sank lower into her chair. She felt awful. The questions and allegations seemed endless as she continued to deny knowing anything about Josh’s business problems, his reason for being in London, or any of his contacts in the last twenty-five years. The going over every detail of her stay at the hotel and Josh’s murder was making her sick. Things like this happened to people in the news or on television, not to an old lady like herself.
Joseph addressed Geoffrey Holmes upon returning to the table. “You feel she is in danger.”
Holmes nodded. “It’s plausible. We can’t rule out that possibility.”
“Then we need protection for her.”
Lori turned towards Inspector Holmes. She felt a kinship with him, some type of mutual understanding, maybe because he was closer to her age. He had told her he would retire next year at sixty-eight. His speech was slow and easy to understand, even though he clearly had a pronounced English accent. Jordan Gould from the FBI made her uncomfortable. Although American, she had a hard time understanding his fast, New York manner of speaking.
The other thing she disliked about Jordan Gould, besides his arrogance and rudeness, was that he was absolutely right.
Lori looked away from everyone, concentrating on her coffee cup. She was in conflict. She wanted to run, catch a taxi to the airport, hop on a plane, and get the hell out of England, taking Cate with her. She knew she was needed here in London for questioning to help find Josh’s killer, a monster who had murdered her friend and had invaded her life. A part of her wanted to stay and help. She needed the police’s protection, but there was Cate to think about. She silently prayed that the officers would allow her to go home, and then she and Cate would be out of the investigation and out of danger.
“Mrs. Brill, are you still with us?” Gould asked loudly after Lori didn’t respond to his last question.
Lori turned towards Gould and blurted out, tears streaming down her face, “I want to go home to Arizona. I’ve put my children in harm’s way.”
“Mrs. Brill, we need you to stay here for a while. I’d rather it was on your honor, not at our insistence.”
They are holding my passport, Lori told herself
“We will put someone on the case to watch over you,” continued Holmes, hoping to ease Lori’s anxiety.
Gould shook his head in disbelief. “Come on, Holmes, this is ridiculous. There are millions riding on this. We need her to cooperate so we can find Wheeler’s killer and the money he stole.” Jordan Gould walked over to Lori and looked down at her, establishing direct eye contact. “Someone may contact you soon, someone who thinks Wheeler gave you something important.”
“What on earth do they think I have?
“A safe deposit key and bank location, plus information for routing money. Something like that. If you should be contacted, act like you have it, and contact us immediately. Until then, carry on like nothing happened. We’ll be watching.”
Joseph spoke up. “It sounds like you’re trying to put Mrs. Brill in harm’s way for your own sake. I can’t allow that, Mister Gould.”
“Mister Lunt, I believe she has put herself in that position,” Gould replied coolly.
Geoffrey Holmes held up his hand. “Stop this conversation immediately. We are definitely putt
ing Mrs. Brill’s safety first. She will have protection.” He refrained from saying at this point that she was still a suspect and would be watched anyway.
Chapter 8
Gould sat down across from Holmes after Lori and Joseph left the room. “Do you believe her?”
Holmes rubbed his chin, a habit he’d acquired since giving up his pipe. “I really think she is innocent.” Looking Gould straight in the eye, he added, “And I must say, your interrogation technique embarrassed me.”
Gould rose and walked around the desk. “My methods don’t suit you, Holmes, I get it.”
“Good.”
“But it bothers me that she has been connected to Wheeler for so many years. Funny, her name never came up in the material on Wheeler that I went through before I was called to London.”
“Jordan, she hasn’t been in touch with him for over twenty- years!”
“So she says. I was trained to suspect everyone. Maybe she killed him.”
“Oh, Gould, that is such rubbish! She is a seventy-year-old grandmother, for heaven’s sake.”
“Come on, Geoffrey, do you really believe Wheeler would take an old lady like that to bed? I’m sure she may be charming to most men her age, but not Wheeler. He was a playboy! You should see his current girlfriend—or one of them, anyway. She’s an Asian woman, did some modeling. She’s now in her late thirties and still a real knockout.” Jordan Gould smiled as he made his point.
Geoffrey thought that for a seventy-year-old, Lori Brill was extremely attractive. She was petite, probably only about five feet tall, with a nice figure at about one hundred pounds, striking silver hair, bright green eyes, and a pleasant smile when she wasn’t upset. He looked at the young man before him. Gould had to be at least thirty years younger than he or Lori; thus, the different way of looking at things, he acknowledged.
“Still gorgeous at thirty?”
“Late thirties. Yes.”
“Would you normally suggest women in their thirties be put out to pasture, Jordan?”
“I’m not saying it’s what I believe. I’m putting myself in the mindset of Wheeler.”
"Look, the coroner confirmed Wheeler was murdered approximately when Mrs. Brill said she was in the shower, which should confirm her story. We have much work to do on this case. How about a quick lunch before we get back to work?” Geoffrey suggested as he moved away from the desk and reached for his knit hat and trench coat.
“One minute,” Jordan replied as he picked up his cell phone and called his office in the States. He spoke into the phone. “I need a complete profile on a Laura Weinberg Brill, Chicago, Scottsdale, Social Security number…”
As the two men walked out of the station, Geoffrey turned to his companion. “Go easy on her, my good fellow. She is still under British jurisdiction, and her barrister is Sir Roger Lunt’s son.”
“So? Who the hell is that?”
“Sir Roger Lunt is a knighted member of Parliament. His family has been prominent in Britain for hundreds of years, and Mrs. Brill’s granddaughter is planning to marry his son.”
Gould frowned. Born in New Jersey, he’d come from poor Jewish parents who’d struggled their entire lives to make ends meet. He’d pulled himself out of the slums using his brains and what his family called chutzpah. He’d managed, through hard work and strict dedication, to get into Harvard Law School and then into the FBI. At thirty-three years of age, he was very ambitious. This case had given him an opening to be in the spotlight, and he was going to pursue it, no matter who got in his way.
“Are you talking about that pretty American girl who yelled at me from the back of the room?” Jordan smiled. “How do you like that? I don’t believe she’s going to marry that stuffy Brit! No offense, Holmes.”
“None taken. I’m not a stuffy Brit.” Holmes shook his head as they walked two blocks to a small deli with a sandwich bar. They ate quickly, both thinking about how to proceed in the investigation. Afterwards, they headed back to Scotland Yard, but then went their separate ways—Geoffrey to the main office to deal with the press, and Jordan to the computer and technology room.
By late afternoon, Geoffrey was starting to worry. The first forty-eight hours were crucial in solving a crime, and so far all they had was Mrs. Brill. He had just gone over notes with his men, and nothing more had developed. Even their sources on the street had produced a blank. Though Wheeler was not a Brit, and had only been in the country less than twenty-four hours, the media was pressing him for a statement. Maybe the Yank had come up with something.
Geoffrey left his office and walked to the computer room, a sort of database room at Scotland Yard. A few men were there, busy with cases of their own. He casually acknowledged them with a nod and walked over to Jordan, who was seated before a large, thin computer screen, shirt unbuttoned, tie thrown over a chair, and a large empty soda bottle by his hand.
“How are we coming along?”
Jordan had been sitting at his computer all afternoon. He looked up at Holmes and said, “This guy is a total prize. They filled me in somewhat back at home, but I learned a lot more about the man today. He was a scam artist of the highest degree, a real smooth talker who played a Ponzi scheme for years. Singularly or as a group, any of the investors cheated out of their life savings could have killed the bastard.”
Geoffrey grinned as he walked over to refill his cup of tea. “You’ll get as much information from the newspapers as from your FBI files. But you’d better watch out for yourself. I heard that a lot of the embezzled money came from small-time investors. The little guys are often more dangerous than the big money men.”
“That may be so, but right now I’m going through a list of his larger investors. A Chinese group is one of them.”
Geoffrey stood with his cup of tea in hand. “What about Mrs. Brill? Have you found that she is an innocent bystander? I fancy she just got caught up in memories at the wrong time.”
Jordan stood up and walked over to the coffee pot. He wasn’t going to drink his coffee out of one of those dainty teacups, so he poured it into the only mug he could locate, a chipped souvenir of London.
Geoffrey shook his head. “How can you drink that stuff without any cream or sugar? Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. She’s innocent, right?”
“I’m not so sure about that. I haven’t dug up much on her, except she did go to high school with Wheeler. But her husband’s family wasn’t so clean. Jerry Brill’s brother was arrested for playing in a small-time Pozzi scheme, so there could be a connection.” Jordan took a sip of his coffee, savoring the strong bitter taste.
“There’s another odd thing with Mrs. Brill. Her mother spent time in a concentration camp during the second World War, even though she came from a very wealthy and influential German family.
“Maybe Mrs. Brill is a spy,” Geoffrey offered, joking.
“If so, she is not on our side,” Jordan replied. “Nothing shows for a German investor. We do know that this Chinese company I just mentioned—Wu Industries—owns up to twenty-five percent of Wheeler's now-bankrupt company. Wheeler’s girlfriend, Suzi Wu, introduced him to her family. Her maternal grandmother runs Wu's American division of their prostitution houses. That’s where the majority of Wu Industries' wealth comes from. The sale of clothing is their legal front. By the way, that was a good point, Holmes. Could Mrs. Brill be a spy working for an anonymous German investor?”
Geoffrey Holmes was not happy to hear this. He had to admit to himself that he fancied Lori Brill, and he silently hoped she wasn’t involved in anything untoward.
“Well, the investigation is still under my jurisdiction, so check with me before doing anything. Forensics hasn’t come up with much. The bullet passed through his eye, producing massive brain damage and hemorrhage, along with immediate death. Fingerprints belonged to Wheeler, Brill, the housekeeping department, and the guard from security.”
“Did you question everyone in the suites on the floor, especially the two families who helped Mrs.
Brill?”
Geoffrey Holmes stroked his chin again.
Jordan stared at him. “Why do you always do that?” he asked, mimicking the investigator.
Geoffrey smiled. “Sorry, mate. Smoked a pipe for years. I can’t seem to stop reaching for it. To answer your first question, yes, all of them. The occupants of the four suites, the housekeeping staff, the hotel security, the manager, and the staff at reception, in the restaurant, and the pilot and stewardesses on the British Airways flight have all been questioned. Couldn’t find the cab driver. Too many now, not like the old days.”
Jordan paced slowly back and forth. “Strange, no one heard the shot or saw anyone suspicious. And you won’t believe this, but the camera on that floor had been malfunctioning for a few days. I’ve got nothing substantial on film.”
“Yes. That is rather odd, isn’t it?” Geoffrey mused.
“Odd? To say the least,” Jordan replied, bending toward the computer and clicking the mouse for a close-up view of the video. “See for yourself.”
Geoffrey and Jordan both pulled up chairs and stared at the computer screen as Jordan pulled up surveillance images from the hotel hallway of the twenty-first floor. The image was not crisp, but it was clear enough to show a tall figure, with a cap and coat collar obscuring most of his face, walking down the hall near Josh’s door. The film then jumped and things went haywire.
“Strange. There is an obvious glitch in the film. Perhaps it’s been tampered with?” Geoffrey offered.
“Perhaps. That’s being looked into now, but it looks like good, old-fashioned malfunction.” Jordan leaned back in his chair and paused the film. “Are you sure there was no connecting room? The murderer couldn’t have left through the window on the twenty-first floor.”
Shaking his head, Geoffrey ruminated aloud . “Unless he repelled down the face of the hotel. We’ve already gone over the room. The Italian couple at the end of the hall near the elevators thought they saw a large man getting on or off the elevator early in the morning when they opened their door to get their paper, and housekeeping thought they saw a large blond man on the floor the day before. We obtained descriptions of both. They were close to the same.”
Murder Across The Ocean Page 4