Even with that situation with the map I'd found in a fortune cookie some months back, my life hadn't been threatened. Now, someone was actively trying to kill me.
I just hoped that the information we had given the police was enough to catch Olsen.
Footsteps came from the bedroom, and Dave walked behind me and put his arms around me. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.
"Not without more bad dreams," I replied. I turned in his embrace and kissed him. "Speaking of sleep, I thought you were still asleep!"
Dave returned my kiss. "I was, but I heard you out here, then I smelled the coffee."
I turned back to the kitchen counter, took his mug out of the cupboard and poured the freshly made coffee into it. "Luckily I made enough for both of us," I smiled.
Dave picked up his mug and took an appreciative sip from it. "Ahh, you're a good woman, Natalie Shaw!"
"Hah. Better than you deserve," I laughed. "You can earn this fabulous example of womanhood and make us some breakfast."
He bowed with a flourish. "As you wish, m'lady!" he said in a mock English accent. He went to the fridge and extracted some bacon and eggs. Soon, the kitchen smelled of our cooking breakfast.
"Do you think they got Olsen?" I asked.
"They'll be questioning him," Dave replied. "Hopefully, there will be enough evidence to hold him until they get to the bottom of all this."
"Me too," I said. "I'd love to be able to sleep again one day."
"You will," Dave answered. "I may not be a cop anymore, but I do have faith in them."
"I do too, but Olsen is nobody's fool. He didn't get rich by being stupid. I'm damned sure that he will have the best lawyer he can get, finding a way to wriggle out of this."
"If the case is strong enough, a dozen high-priced lawyers won't save him."
I sighed. "That's what worries me. What if the case isn't strong enough? There is clear evidence of foul play, but is it enough to pin on to Samuel Olsen?"
"If it isn't, we keep looking until we do," Dave said. "Everyone always makes a mistake."
"I hope you're right."
My phone started to ring inside my handbag. I fished it out and answered it.
"Natalie Shaw," I said cautiously.
It was Symonds. I put it on speaker so Dave could also hear the conversation. "Ms. Shaw, I apologize for ringing so early, but I need to give you an update on the case."
"I hope it's good news, Detective."
"I wouldn't go that far," Symonds replied. "We brought Samuel Olsen in for questioning last night. He was not pleased. At the time of the alleged attack, he was giving a speech in front of a room of investors."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite sure, Ms. Shaw. It was a black-tie event, many of the city's most reputable business people were present. All are willing to state categorically that he was there. There was also a video being streamed to his YouTube channel."
My heart sank. "What if he hired someone to try to kill us?"
"We're investigating that possibility as we speak, Ms. Shaw. But until we have some evidence of that, we have released him from custody."
"Then what about whoever shot at us?" I asked.
"We will do everything to keep you safe," Symonds said. "An officer will be assigned to protection detail for each of you. "There's no doubt that someone tried to kill you, or at least tried to kill whoever they expected to be at the building site."
Dave stared at the phone, aghast. "Do you actually believe that we weren't the target?"
"I'm saying that we don't yet have enough information to determine whether that is or isn't the case, Mr. Forrester." The detective sounded apologetic. "We just don't know yet."
"Well you'd bloody well better find out," Dave growled. "I don't plan to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder."
Chapter 14
I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the coffee table.
"Well, I guess that's that for now," I said, exasperated.
"Yeah." Dave walked over to the window of my apartment and looked down at the street. "There's a squad car outside."
"At least Symonds did something," I answered.
"His hands are tied," Dave said. "Without evidence or reasonable assumption of guilt, he can't go randomly holding people."
"I know. But we have a lot of evidence of subterfuge here, enough to kill for."
Dave nodded. "We do, yes. But is there anything that definitively links it to Samuel Olsen?"
I paused. "I guess not. Only circumstantially." I clenched my fists in frustration. "It has to be him."
"I agree," Dave replied. "But we need to prove it."
"The question is, how do we do that?"
"There has to be something somewhere, just one thing. Every criminal makes mistakes. When we find what it is, we got him."
"I don't even know where to start," I said. "It was lucky I found the changed geo report.”
Dave rubbed at the dark stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "Well, how did you find the changed geo report?"
"I managed to get a backup from Simon."
"Simon Fielding, your sysadmin?" Dave had met him once at a work function Simon had deigned to attend.
"Could you talk to him again? He may be able to dig out more information about who changed the files and when."
"I don't know what else he can uncover for me, but I'll ask." I thought back to Simon's reticence when I asked for his help last time, however, he did provide what I asked for.
"It has to be worth a shot," Dave said. "I need to speak with my insurance company about the damage to my car. I’ll need a hire car until mine is fixed."
I'd forgotten about that. "My car is still at work, you picked me up from there to go to the site." I frowned. "How am I going to get to the office with no car?"
Dave gestured at the window. "You've got a nice policeman outside, maybe ask him to take you," he smiled.
"That's not a silly idea!" I laughed as I picked up the dirty breakfast dishes.
Dave stood up and put our empty coffee mugs into the sink. "Just grab an Uber, probably less likely to draw attention than turning up in a cop car."
"Good point," I answered. "Speaking of work, I need to have a shower and get ready to go."
I stood on tiptoe and gave Dave a peck on the cheek. "On top of all of this, I still have my job to do."
"Samuel Olsen will not be delighted to see you after his being pulled in for questioning last night."
"It is going to make for a rather interesting day," I said.
---
An hour later, I stepped out of an Uber at work and took the lift up to my floor. It was still early, and the floor was quiet. After dropping my bags in my office, I went to the kitchenette to put the leftovers I had brought for lunch into the fridge.
I was surprised to see James Anderson, the founder of the business, standing in the kitchenette making himself a coffee. He looked up when I entered, startled.
"Ah, hello, Nat. I didn't expect to see you today." He hadn’t been well for some time, but his face was even more pallid, and he looked as though he had lost even more weight. "I heard what happened yesterday. My God, are you okay?" A look of concern crossed his face.
"I'm fine, James, thank you," I replied. "I'm a bit rattled, but I'll be okay." It was my turn to look concerned. "Are you okay? You don't look well."
He waved away the question as he poured hot water into his corporate mug. "Just a bit of a stomach bug the past few days, probably something I ate. I'm all right."
" I hope you feel better soon," I said. "You need to take better care of yourself."
"Thank you, Nat. My wife tells me the same thing," James said with a wan smile. He became all business. "I know it's not good timing, but how is the Olsen job going?"
"Actually, I need to speak with you or Geoff about something I found," I replied. "It's significant enough that it could jeopardize the whole project." I dropped my voice. “We really should discuss it in private.”
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"This sounds rather serious," James said. He checked his watch. "Look, I have a meeting in about ten minutes that is going to go for a few hours. Can you put together everything you have? I'll message you when I'm free, and we can go through it in my office."
"Of course," I answered. "I'll have it ready when you're available."
"Thanks, Nat," James replied, then smiled."And good work, it's always best to deal with anything that exposes us to risk. We'll go through it and make a call on the best way to proceed."
"No problem, James," I said, relieved. I'd worked on this project for nearly two years, what Elliot Walthers had uncovered and lead to his death had started a series of events that could mean everything I'd done over that time was for nothing. James Anderson had built this business from nothing some twenty years earlier. He was smart and canny. With his help, we may be able to salvage something out of the whole situation.
I felt a momentary pang of guilt about my selfish thoughts. A man had died, and I was worried about my job. To be fair, I had found the body, been accused of his murder, discovered a coverup, got accused of that too, then had someone try to kill me. I sighed inwardly. After all that, perhaps I was entitled to a little bit of selfishness and a return to normalcy.
"We'll speak later, okay, Nat?" James said. He walked toward the meeting room, coffee in his hand, as I returned to my own office and sat down.
I needed to put together a summary of what I'd found and how it impacted on the Olsen project. I'd given the original note I'd found in my bag to the police; fortunately, I had taken a picture of it with my phone. I took my phone out of my handbag, found the picture of the note and laid it on the desk in front of me.
I thought for a moment. The note was more relevant to the murder investigation than the fraud I'd uncovered. But it had been the catalyst for discovering the modified geological reports. It might be useful for James to see the extent of what we faced.
The modified geological reports. That reminded me to speak with Simon to see if I could find out who replaced the originals. I quickly stood, went to the lifts and rode to his floor.
As usual, Simon wasn't at his desk. He was probably in the server room, or more likely, he hadn’t arrived yet. I walked over and knocked on the door. No response. I tried again, knocking harder, and again, no response. If he was in there, it wasn't unusual for him to not be able to hear over the noise of the servers inside. I tried one last time before deciding to try again later.
As I reached to press the button to call the lift, the lift door opened and Angie Mahoney, the company's receptionist, stepped out. Angie was in her middle fifties, her dyed blond hair was held firmly in place with hairspray. Her bright pink power skirt suit was tight on her large frame. She was looking at papers in her hand as she stepped out of the lift. When she realized someone was there, she looked up, startled.
"Nat!" she exclaimed. "You surprised me!"
"Sorry, Angie," I said. I looked back at Simon's vacant chair. "If you're looking for Simon, he doesn't seem to be around."
"Oh!" she replied. "That's odd. He was here earlier. I saw him getting out of his car in the car park when I arrived."
"That's early for Simon," I said, surprised. "He's not normally here until at least ten or so."
"I know!" Angie answered. "I was surprised as well. There must be something he had to take care of with the servers, or the computers or something."
"He must be in the server room. I tried to get his attention knocking on the door just now, but if he's caught up with trying to fix something, he'll never hear us."
"Or he's ignoring us," Angie said. "He has a habit of doing that when he's busy." She looked down at the papers in her hand. "The toner is going in the printer at reception, I was hoping he could fix it for me." Angie sighed. "Oh well, I'll have to try him again later."
"Me too," I said. We both stepped back into the lift.
Angie pressed the button for my floor. "I'll come up with you. I have to give these to James," she said, nodding at the papers in her hand. "I can't fix the printer now so they'll just have to make do."
"I'm sure it will be fine," I said with a smile.
Concern crossed her face. "Speaking of fine, are you okay? I heard about what happened last night," she said. If anyone in the building was aware of anything that was remotely gossip-worthy, it would be Angie.
"Rattled, but I'm okay," I replied. "I won't feel safe until the police catch whoever who shot at us, but they have assigned an officer to make sure they can't try again."
Angie's eyes were wide. "It must have been terrifying for you," she exclaimed. "I would have fainted from fright!"
"I would have too, given the chance," I said. "We just ran as fast as we could to try to get away."
"Well, I hope that the police can find the man responsible, I can't imagine how scary this all must be." The lift doors opened and we stepped out.
"Thanks, Angie," I replied, touching her arm. She smiled warmly and walked toward the boardroom as I returned to my desk.
I sat down. There was more than enough information to show James when we met later, even without the questions I had for Simon. I opened a new file and started to collate everything I had; the water seeping into the basement, the modified geological report, the note from Elliot Walthers, why he was killed and how Samuel Olsen was behind it all.
This was going to take a while.
Chapter 15
My phone buzzed with a message at a little after 11:30 am. It was James Anderson, summoning me to his office to discuss my findings. His timing was perfect; I had just finished putting together all of the information I had accumulated about the Olsen project. There still wasn’t anything concrete to point specifically to Samuel Olsen, but I was sure it was there.
I grabbed the USB stick out of my laptop, then picked up my swipe card and went back to the lift. Andersons and Andersons building was the tallest in the city, and many high profile businesses were tenanted here. Anderson’s, as owners of the building, had claimed the top three floors.
My office was on the second top floor, but James and his son Geoff had their offices at the very top of the structure. Geoff was now informally the senior partner as James had begun to step back towards retirement, but James still kept his office until he left the company in Geoff’s hands.
The boardroom and their spacious offices had impressive views of the city. There were no obstructing hallways and each of the rooms had glass walls as to not obstruct the vista if the privacy screens were open as they all were now. James was sitting at his desk and looked up as I approached.
“Ah, Nat, thanks for coming up,” he said as I reached his office. James offered the chair opposite his desk, and I sat down as he closed the door. On a panel beside there door, he pressed a button that activated the privacy screens. The inner windows of the room suddenly became opaque.
He sat back down at his desk and I handed him my USB stick. He took it and plugged it into his computer.
“I hope that you are mistaken about there being a problem, and if not, that it is something we can solve quickly,” he said. “Anything that risks the business or anybody’s safety is my biggest concern.” He looked up at and said, “Let’s go through what you have found, shall we?”
For the next half an hour, I explained everything that had happened, from my concern about the seeping water in the basement, my conversations with Jack Myers, the lead engineer on the Olsen construction site, the official geo surveys indicating that there should be no geological reason for there to be any issues.
I showed him the scanned image of the note I had found in my purse when I had gone back to retrieve it and discovered Elliot Walthers’ body and explained how the note with GEO written on it had prompted me to investigate further.
“Do you remember when we were submitting the proposal to Olsen nine months ago, and I’d had a concern about the clay deposit being too close to the north-west corner of the building site?” I asked.
James nodded. He wasn’t present when it was discussed, but Geoff had briefed him about it afterward.
“I had a nagging doubt that something wasn’t right then, but when I verified against the geo reports, there was a good fifty meters of clearance. At the time, I was relieved more than anything, so I didn’t think anything more of it. But with the water seepage problem and the note, I had to go back and check.” I pointed at the screen.
“You can see here the version of the report that is available on the servers and the printed version down in the map room. But look here,” I said as I reached across and tapped the keyboard to the next slide, “this is the version I asked Simon to extract out of our backups.” The discrepancy was obvious, with the shaded area indicating the clay deposit almost within touching distance of the construction site.
“This is why the corner of the basement is seeping water. With the granite footing so thin, it doesn’t have the strength to hold the stresses on the footings, which could easily lead to them cracking and impacting on the structural integrity of the whole building.”
I shook my head. “Someone killed to cover this up. If it weren’t for the note and forgetting to erase the backups, the problem never would have been found until the footings started to show evidence of the stress.”
James sat back in his chair. “Have you verified that there is moisture farther along the western wall?” he asked.
“That’s what I was going to do yesterday when someone shot at Dave and me,” I answered. “That would have been the conclusive physical evidence that the clay deposit is too close to the footing to be structurally sound.”
“So who do you think is responsible?” he asked quietly.
I looked James directly in the eye. “It has to be Samuel Olsen behind all of this. He has invested millions into this project, and an issue of this scale would have radically impacted on the construction of the shopping mall.”
His jaw dropped. “Samuel Olsen?” he said. He shook his head; clearly, the revelation was a complete shock to him. He and Olsen had known each other for decades, and much of the success of Andersons and Andersons had been due to landing most of Olsen’s projects.
The Body in the Building Page 7