by Dana Marton
Question was, did Haynes know about his wife’s cheating? And if he did, why hadn’t he mentioned it? Because it’d provide motive for murder?
He had an alibi. They’d double checked. Of course, he could have paid someone to kill his cheating wife.
Bing’s mind skipped to other questions, ones he’d been asking himself over and over. Where did the pen with the staircase logo come in? And was there a true connection to Stacy?
Haynes’s features drooped, his face haggard as he opened the door. “Come in, Captain.” He motioned Bing into the foyer. “Any news?”
“I need to talk to you privately for a minute.” He looked around for the girls.
“Kelley and Dakota are at the mall. Their aunt took them to distract them a little.”
Bing nodded. “We’re still sorting out all the evidence and waiting for the rest of the lab results. But I do have a question.” He shifted on his feet, watching the man carefully. “Were you aware of any…friendship your wife might have had with another man?”
They’d checked phone, e-mail, social media, direct messaging, and everything they could think of after she’d disappeared. Nothing had come up, but, then again, people who had affairs were usually careful about that kind of thing. But sometimes a spouse knew, even if he or she didn’t want to admit it.
Haynes gave a blank stare. Then his eyes widened, and Bing knew the exact moment the man understood at last.
His face turned ashen, his shoulders collapsing. “Kristine was having an affair?”
If he was acting, he was damn good at it.
“We don’t know that for sure. But she was seen, on multiple occasions, in the company of a man in his midthirties to forties, tall, with blond hair. Does that ring a bell?”
Haynes thought long and hard before shaking his head. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Sometimes she worked extra hours. I just thought… She was very motivated. She wanted that next promotion. She wanted the girls in private school. Almost twenty grand a year. Times two. She was a good mother. She would have done anything for the kids.” When he looked up, tears glistened in his eyes.
The guy deserved a break. And yet Bing had to push a little more. “If you find anything among her things that might indicate a connection to this other man, I’d appreciate a call.”
“Of course. I’m sorry.” Haynes blinked. “I just… I don’t even understand this.”
Binged thanked him for his cooperation and left him to deal with his feelings in private.
He wished the news he’d brought had been better. He had a bad taste in his mouth all the way to the station.
Joe had the day off. Bing thought for a second whether or not to call him at home, then dialed his number. He could always ignore the call if he was busy.
But he did pick up.
“Listen, when you went through Kristine Haynes’s computer files and phone records, did anything pop that might indicate an affair? Any photos of her with a guy other than her husband?” He gave the full description he’d gotten from Maria Gonzales.
“Nothing in the pictures,” Joe said on the other end. “Her Facebook photos are all about the family. Pictures of sports trophies and the kids, her house, girls’ night out with friends now and then, that kind of thing.”
“Thanks.” He hung up as he turned on his computer and brought up the Haynes file. Who was the boyfriend? He had a feeling when that question was answered, they’d have a break in the case.
To start liking someone, you had to spend time together. For the most part, you knew someone first before the love thing came along. Who was the victim around on a regular basis? Neighbors and friends. But, presumably, those would be known to the husband as well, and he would have recognized the description.
That left another big pool of possible candidates: coworkers and business associates. He’d been planning on going out to Anselm-Gnamm Pharmaceuticals anyway. He returned some calls, handled the most important papers on his desk, then headed out to see if he could find Kristine Haynes’s mystery lover.
Anselm-Gnamm Pharmaceuticals was one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world, headquarters in Germany, with locations all over the globe, and well over ten thousand employees just at their Wilmington offices.
He ran into Tag Taylor in the company’s lobby while waiting in front of the bank of elevators. The man nodded at him as he passed by but didn’t stop to talk.
“Hey, sorry about that ticket,” Bing called after him. “Hope the fine wasn’t too bad. There was really nothing I could have done at that stage.”
Tag stopped and turned back. “Of course. No problem. Amanda says hi.”
“Please say hi back to her for me.”
“I’m sorry, I’m running off to a meeting.” He glanced toward the back hallway “What are you doing here?”
Bing rolled his shoulders. “Investigating a murder.” And he better get to it. So, with another nod to Taylor, he jumped onto the next available elevator.
Bill Rosci, Kristine Haynes’s manager, wasn’t happy to see him. He wore his graying hair close-cropped. From the back, from the distance, it could be mistaken for blond, Bing thought as the man blustered about the inconvenience of him coming today of all days.
“We’re in the middle of an audit. I can’t spare any of my people for interviews. There’s no way.” His jaw tightened into a rigid line. “What we’re doing here is very important.”
“More important than putting a killer behind bars?”
The man opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Then opened it again. “You can come back next week.”
Bing pulled himself straighter and looked the man in the eye. “Or I can have your people called down to the police department for questioning. All at once. Might take most of the day before each gets his turn.”
“Fine.” Rosci snapped out the word. “Who do you want to talk to?”
“Everyone who worked closely with Kristine Haynes. Everyone who was friends with her.”
The man gritted his teeth. “You can have the small conference room. I can send people in one by one as they have a minute to spare.”
Bing glanced around at the cubicles. Plenty of men, and they all wore suits. He searched for blondish hair and could see four. “I’d like to start with you,” he told the manager, “and then I’ll see, him”—he pointed—“him, him, and him, next.” He hoped against hope that he’d have a hit. Because it was entirely possible that Kristine’s lover was from a different department altogether. He was pretty much looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack here.
He followed Rosci as the man strode stiffly into a conference room in the back. People rubbernecked from their cubicles. He was wearing his uniform, so they knew he was a cop. Since a coworker had just been killed, they had to know why he was here.
He looked for someone who would avoid his gaze or someone who would seek it too eagerly. Sometimes killers had a cocky streak. They thought they were smarter than the police, convinced they were going to get away with murder. But Bing didn’t see that kind of smugness, that kind of confidence in the furtive glances shot his way.
He stepped into the conference room behind Rosci and shut the door behind them. The man went straight to the chair at the head of the table, immediately claiming the dominant position. Bing humped down into the closest chair.
He took out his notepad. “How long have you known Kristine Haynes?”
“Almost two years. I hired her. She was a good worker. Driven.”
“Meaning she didn’t socialize on the job?”
“No. If anything, she put in extra time. I wish I had her this week.” He grimaced, and it was clear the sentiment was expressed not from a personal point of view but because the department could have used the extra help.
“Did she have any issues with anyone? Did she have any close friends outside the department? Did she have any male friends? Any issues with human resources, or did she by any chance work with HR?” If her d
eath was connected to Stacy’s, he was going to find that connection.
But the manager shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. She was mostly friends with some of the other women on her team, although she rarely went to lunch with them. She was part-time. When she was done with her work, she usually hurried home to her kids.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall, his mouth tightening. “Anything else?”
“So no male friends?”
Rosci flashed him a blank look. “She worked with several people on a number of projects. Nothing beyond the usual coworker thing. She was married.”
“How about you?”
Irritation flared in the man’s eyes. “I’m not. What does that have to do with anything?”
Bing watched him closely. “I meant, did you have a personal relationship with Kristine Haynes?”
The man lifted out of his seat with outrage. “You have no right. You cannot throw accusations like that around here!”
Bing raised a hand, palm out, in a placating gesture. “I wasn’t making an accusation. I was asking a question.”
“Absolutely not. I do not have,” he emphasized the words, “and have never had a personal relationship with any of my employees.”
Bing asked a few more questions, then let the man go when he was beginning to look like his head might explode. And it went another shade redder when Bing reminded him to send in those four men he’d pointed out to him.
Bing leaned back in his chair as he got ready for them, but the first batch netted nothing. The first man to come in was obviously gay, and got crossed off the suspect list for now. The next had been at the company’s German office for the past two weeks, as rock solid an alibi as they came.
The junior accountant, Milo, who came next was just out of college. He’d been an intern in the department, hired when his internship ended. He was in his midtwenties. Maria had talked about a man in his thirties or forties, a little older.
Then again, Maria had only seen the guy from the back. She could have seen a nice suit and made the call about the age subconsciously.
Milo kept scratching his nails, constantly shifting in his seat, nervous to be interviewed by the police. Not hiding-something nervous, more like easily intimidated nervous. Bing didn’t peg him for a cold-blooded killer, but neither could he completely cross him off the list.
The next blond guy walking into the office had more potential. He was the right age and height, clean-cut. The type women would find attractive.
He started with, “Larry Wilde. I have no time for this.” He wouldn’t even sit.
“We’ll keep it as quick as possible,” Bing promised, and instead of beating around the bush, he went straight to what he wanted to know. “Did you have an affair with Kristine Haynes?”
The man shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was in the middle of a phone conference. I don’t understand why this can’t wait.”
“We can always chat at the station.”
He rolled his eyes. “We didn’t have an affair.”
“Would you mind telling me where you were last Monday?”
He didn’t think long. “At work.”
“All day?”
He thought for a second. “I came in early for a conference call. Germany is five hours ahead of us. I left at seven, our time. I always do, to avoid rush-hour traffic. Went straight home. Ate dinner with the wife and kids. Stayed home. That’s about it.”
“Did you go out for lunch?”
“Had a team meeting. Every Monday, actually. Lunch is provided in the conference room.”
“Was Kristine on this team?”
“She was, but she didn’t come in that morning.” He paused as he caught himself. “Is that when she was killed?”
Bing nodded. “Any other team members missed the meeting?”
The man thought for a second before shaking his head. “Just Kristine.”
Bing asked a few more questions, then wrote down the guy’s contact information. He’d have Joe and Mike check all the alibis.
The next man to walk into the office introduced himself as Karl Kerrick—the geeky type, meticulously tied tie, wire-rim glasses. All he was missing was a pocket protector.
“We weren’t actually friends. But we did work on the same team for the last couple of projects,” he said when asked about his relationship with the victim. He appeared the most shaken, so far, a grim look in his eyes as he answered questions.
“Could you tell me where you were last Monday?”
He didn’t have to think about it. “Here.”
“All day?”
“Most of the day. I had some meetings off site, I think.”
“I’m going to need a list with contact information.” Bing pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it over. “You can send it to this e-mail. It’d be great if you could send it today.”
The man gripped the card. “Of course. Okay.”
Next to come in was Mark Villon.
He wore an expensive suit, designer shirt open at the neck, no tie, expensive leather shoes. He had a debonair air about him as he tossed his long body onto the chair and leaned back. He looked like some playboy CEO but turned out to be an account manager.
“What do you do exactly?” Bing asked.
“Payroll and compensation.”
“How close were you to Kristine Haynes?”
“You mean, did I bone her?” He gave an oily smile. “No. But I wanted to. Who wouldn’t? This place is full of hot chicks. I try where I can. It’s the whole point of staying single, isn’t it?”
“Were you aware of her having a relationship with anyone that might have gone beyond professional?”
Mark shrugged. “She wasn’t that interesting. Always had her nose in the computer. She worked part-time but wanted that next promotion badly enough to put eight hours’ worth of work into four. Maybe someone taught her how to have fun, but it wasn’t me.”
Of all the people Bing had interviewed, he seemed to be the least bothered by the loss of a coworker. Maybe he was as big a jerk as he seemed, or maybe he played it cool and unaffected for a reason.
Bing questioned him for another five minutes before letting him go.
Interviewing the rest of the department went faster. With the guys who could fit Maria’s description of the suspect, he was looking for clues that one of them might be the murderer. With the others, he was simply fishing for information, trying to feel out if any of them knew anything about a possible affair.
The secretary sobbed through the interview; a few other women also cried. He went through everyone, one by one, all three dozen employees who worked in accounting. By the time the last person exited the conference room, the workday was pretty much over, so he drove back to the station, a million impressions circling in his head.
Kristine Haynes was a good employee, by all accounts, motivated and driven. She gave her best at work. And at home, too. According to her husband, she took care of everyone; she was the glue that held the family together. A person who strove for perfection. At least in front of others. In private… she self-sabotages, Bing thought. She becomes an adulterer. Because she doesn’t think she deserves perfect?
The identity of her lover would provide some further insight into her character, if they ever found the man. None of the six guys in her department who fit the description jumped out at Bing. Then again, maybe the lover had nothing to do with the company. Bing stepped harder on the gas pedal.
He had the next day off. For a second, he thought about coming in to work anyway; then he remembered Sophie Curtis. He’d promised to plant her garden. He had no idea what the hell had made him offer her that deal. Okay, he did.
He closed his eyes for a second. Truth was… She made him want to think about moving on.
Which he didn’t deserve until his wife’s killer was behind bars, at the very least. Or dead. He preferred dead. He liked the fact that Pennsylvania was a death penalty state, that someday he would get to sit in the room behind
the glass wall and watch the bastard strapped to the table, watch as his heart stopped beating. That was what he wanted. He didn’t want vigilante justice. He wanted the killer caught and prosecuted. With everything he was, he believed in the law.
If Kristine Haynes’s murder was connected to Stacy’s, it’d mean the killer would go down for a double murder. Bing wasn’t going to stop pushing until he did.
Chapter Seven
Sophie held the landscaping blueprint in her hand, feeling stupid walking around Bing while he did all the work. “Can I get you another drink?”
He heaved a Japanese maple into place, the root ball so large he could barely get his arms around it. “I’m good.”
All those flexing muscles distracted her a little. He wore a faded blue police academy T-shirt with jeans and work boots. The weather wasn’t warm enough to make a man truly sweat, but he did work up enough sheen on his skin to mold the soft material of the shirt to his torso and wide shoulders.
She found him very distracting. As in, she was surprised women weren’t lining up on the sidewalk to watch him work.
She wasn’t used to being around men who did physical labor. Who knew it could be this sexy? She’d always been a city girl. When she’d lived with Jeremy, they had a sixth-floor condo in Philly, near the hospital in case she had an emergency. They didn’t have as much as a flower box on their balcony.
There was something insanely attractive about Bing as he worked, the display of raw strength, the bunching and flexing of muscles. The way he moved, and sometimes grunted, touched some deep, primal part of her. The cavewoman part of her DNA responded to him in a way she couldn’t remember responding to a man before.
She took a step back when she wanted to take a step forward. “When should I come over to take a look at your place? First I have to measure everything. Then I can put the parameters into the landscaping software, play around with it, and print out some possibilities.”
The tree was in the hole. He scattered some fertilizer around the roots, then dumped in a bucket of water.
“Next day I have off is Saturday,” he told her as he picked up the shovel to fill up the gaps and finish planting the tree. “Does that work for you?”