“Because it was an inside job…staged.”
She inhaled a long, jagged breath. The whole robbery and stabbing certainly felt real to her. “Seriously?”
“The police report found, and I quote, ‘intentional destruction of property and goods with an attempt to make it look like a robbery.’ The detective said the victim’s body had been pushed into the cake.”
She flopped back and chewed on her lower lip. “So, the baker didn’t just land on the cake when he fell after he was stabbed.”
“No, he didn’t. And the insurance policy had an exclusion for intentional destruction of property. The intent was to destroy the cake along with killing the chef. At least that’s the company’s position.”
She swallowed hard. “It sure seems you have a good reason to deny the claim.”
A sharp resound of footsteps echoed in the background as if he was walking. “But the investigation is ongoing. The police can change their determinations later. Until the case is closed, we can’t use the police findings as the basis for the denial, since the findings aren’t conclusive.”
“Wow. This is so interesting.” Jane’s breathless voice had gone up a notch. She dropped it down. “You said you wanted a favor?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What do you need?” She rocked back in her chair. Her mind raced around, but she had no idea what he would ask her to do.
“Since the Answer isn’t due for three weeks, I might have time to resolve the lawsuit before litigation gets underway.”
“You mean, get the case dismissed? Wow, if you can do that, you’ll land that supervisory position you’ve applied for.”
“That’d sure be nice. Can you meet me outside the bakery for a look at Yates Yarborough? I’d like to see if you recognize him.”
“You think he was the killer?” The vision of the faceless man in the motorcycle helmet, visor down, swam in front of her eyes. If the owner killed the chef and ruined the cake himself, he should not profit by receiving insurance proceeds. That would be wrong, which was the reason for the policy exclusion.
“It’s possible, if the killer’s intent was to make it look like a robbery, destroy the cake, and file an insurance claim.”
“That’s criminal in more ways than one.” She brushed the back of her hand across her forehead. “The owner showed up at the bakery after the police arrived, at least they told me he was the owner, but I didn’t get a good look at him. There was a woman with him. They didn’t say who she was. The police separated those two right away.”
“The woman was probably the bakery’s bookkeeper. Her name’s on the police report. Listed as the witness who arrived at the same time as the owner.”
“Nash, the killer hid his face behind a motorcycle helmet. How is it possible for me to recognize him? I did look at a police lineup right after it happened and couldn’t identify anyone, and now six months have passed.”
Nash sighed a deep breath into the phone. “I’d like you to try anyway. Maybe his walk or stance or something will look familiar.”
“Yeah, that’s what the police said about the men in the lineup, but I couldn’t tell from the way they were standing. Were there any security cameras, like the ones at convenience stores? Did they get the guy on video?”
“No. There were burglar alarms but not cameras. Video would have been great to have, but no such luck. The owner will be leaving the bakery when it closes at nine tonight. Can you meet me in the parking lot across the street fifteen minutes before nine?”
Jane had a full Friday night planned, a date that did not include revisiting a crime scene, but said, “All right. I can make it.”
“Okay. I gotta go. I’m about ready to walk into a meeting.” Nash gave her his cell number and she responded with hers before they disconnected. Then she called her fiancé, Dale, to let him know about the change in plans.
She should probably tell her boss about the call, too, since Immobile Equity Insurance Company was their biggest client.
She rose from her chair and crossed the hall over to the immense corner office belonging to Tad Wolfert. “I got a call from Nash Truett about a bad faith lawsuit, but we can’t take the case since there’s a conflict.”
“How do you know there’s a conflict?” Wolfert creased his eyebrows as he glanced up from his computer monitor. He had on a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to the middle of his forearms, and was seated in his burgundy leather office chair at his dark mahogany desk. A black suitcoat and a red necktie always hung on a hanger behind his door in case he was called to a meeting or to court. Younger than Jane by ten years, he was still in the warrior-conqueror phase of his career, climbing his way to the top of the partnership. Stress had marred his thick hair with progressive gray and the corner of his eyes with premature wrinkles.
She stepped inside the doorway, one hand resting on the doorknob. Glare from floor to ceiling windows hit her face. “Remember, I told you about that robbery I witnessed in January.” She gave him an encouraging smile, wide open, but he only returned a blank stare, eyes empty. “When the pastry chef was stabbed…” He continued to look puzzled, head down, chin low. “Anyway, the bakery filed a bad faith suit against Immobile Equity.”
His stare morphed into a glower. He hated to lose work. Getting new assignments made him happy and missing out on assignments made him huffy and ill-tempered.
Jane took a step closer and let go of the doorknob. “Nash asked me to meet him across the street from the bakery tonight at closing time so I can get a look at the owner when he leaves. See if I can recognize him. The police think the whole thing was an inside job. I can meet him, can’t I?”
Her boss tented his fingers in front of his nose and gave her a long level look over the tops of his fingertips. “As long as you have no contact whatsoever with the plaintiff, you can go. No contact,” he repeated, as if she hadn’t heard him the first time. “I’ll give Nash a call and see if he can assign the case to us anyway. Maybe we can put up an ethical wall.” His mouth drew into a thin line. Success meant keeping old clients satisfied…old clients so satisfied they’d be sure to send new cases his way.
But it wasn’t as if Jane had any control over what had happened. It wasn’t her fault she was a witness.
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A Stewed Observation Page 24