I cleared my throat, and the man looked up from his computer. He was younger than me with buzz cut brown hair and a broad grin. He stumbled as he got out of the chair and made his way to where I stood.
“Can I help you? We don’t get many visitors around here.”
I explained who I was and what Miller had wanted me to do. “Miller told me about you,” I lied, “but I don’t remember your name. Sorry.”
“It’s Adam, Adam Nelson. I’m Mr. Miller’s assistant here at Advent.” He held out a hand, and I shook it.
“Do you have any pets here at the office?” I looked around, miming a search for stray pets.
Adam shook his head and then bit his lip. “I don’t think we’ve ever had an animal of any kind in the office. Mr. Miller was pretty much a stickler for keeping things professional. No photos of the family. No posters on our walls. That type of thing. I can’t see him allowing pets into the office.”
I looked around. The entire “office” consisted of two desks, an unoccupied secretary’s station near what could euphemistically be called a lobby. It wasn’t my idea of professional, but then again I worked out of my house. Who was I to say something was professional when I worked wearing a t-shirt and jeans?
“What exactly do you do here?” I asked, not knowing how to take this interview. He was obviously glad to see someone here, but at the same time, I wondered how far I could get with him before he’d wonder what I was doing here and why. I didn’t want to be the one to tell anyone that Miller was dead. Detective Green had warned me about interfering in police business, and I saw that announcement as changing the status quo with the suspects.
The young man stood up straighter as if he was now in charge. “We’re an app development firm. Mr. Miller worked with his father-in-law on a few apps about ten years ago. They’ve all been very successful, and so he started his own firm to create more apps.”
“I met his daughter a while ago,” I added to the conversation, trying to make me sound like I belonged here and that my questions had relevance.
“You did?” The young man looked surprised. He chewed on a nail as he spoke.
“Yes, red hair, very attractive. I met her at the house.”
He nodded. “You met the second Mrs. Miller. Dr. Vires was the father of the first Mrs. Miller. They divorced not long after Vires passed away.”
I hadn’t heard anything about Miller having multiple marriages, but then again, it hadn’t been relevant to the task at hand. “When did Dr. Vires pass away?”
The young man rolled his eyes up to the ceiling as he seemed to give the question some thought. “It was well before my time, but given what James has said, it was probably about eight years ago. He’s been remarried for five years, so it had to be before that obviously.”
“I suppose it’s too much to ask that you might have the first wife’s contact information, would you?”
He shook his head. “No. He didn’t even like to mention her name around here, much less contact her. From what I gathered, the divorce was very acrimonious. She accused him of stealing some of her father’s work and keeping it for himself.”
“But the father was already dead, so there was no way to prove that, right?” I began to see some motives lurking around the edges. Two wives and corporate theft made perfectly good reasons to kill someone if you were so inclined. Even if I had motive and opportunity, the big question of how someone managed to kill a man alone in a locked room was still daunting to me.
“Right. She filed a court case, but later dropped it. Like I said, I got more of this from other people second-hand, because James didn’t like to talk about the subject at all. He was all work when he was here.”
I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket. “What people? Do you have a few contacts that I could talk to about this? It would be a big help to me if you could.”
The young man rattled off three names and their email addresses. You have to love techies, because they always know how to contact a person. I scribbled all the information down and stuffed it back in my pocket. “Why exactly do you want to know all of this? You’re the second person this week to ask me about James.”
My ears perked up. Since the police had just found James Miller’s body, the other person had to have come before his death. Did this person suspect something was going on or was this person a part of the plot to kill him? “Who was this other person?” I asked, hoping to get a leg up on the police. I wasn’t sure how I would work this into Morris’ discussion with me, but any facts could be examined to see if they could be used to improve my business.
He shrugged. “Woman, said she wanted to be a client. Had an idea for an app. But it was really weird. She kept asking all these personal questions about Mr. Miller. I answered a few, and then it started to get weird so I stopped.”
“Did you tell James about this?”
“Yeah, he didn’t seem very concerned about it. He just shrugged it off and went back to work.”
So much for that. If Miller didn’t think it was worth anything, then it probably wasn’t worth a follow-up. However, James Miller was dead and perhaps that woman had been worth asking about.
“Did she leave a name?”
“No, she avoided any questions about herself. I asked her how she knew Mr. Miller, how she’d heard of our company. She just changed the subject and went on asking questions.”
I was getting intrigued now. “What did she look like?”
“Old,” he said, but since he was probably 23 at best, I took that estimate as over 40. “Dark hair with gray streaks in it. Very expressive face, lots of emotion when she spoke. I’d definitely have checked her out if I saw her on the street.”
I nodded, but didn’t speak. The age matched Miller’s ex-wife, but it would be an awful gamble to come to his office and merely hope that he wasn’t around. The split sounded very acrimonious, and I doubted that they visited each other just for kicks.
I thanked the kid for his help and went back to my car. I sat there for several minutes, trying to process all of the information I’d gleaned this morning. I wasn’t sure what to attack first.
I knew that I wanted to talk to the ex-wife soon. I did a quick Google search on my phone, but found that James Miller’s ex-wife came up with millions of hits. This is what came from having clients with common names. So I was going to have to find the information another way. I went to his company’s website and read a bit more about Miller. Like the kid had said, there was nothing about his first wife or Dr. Vires in the biography section of the site.
I tried Wikipedia. I know it’s supposed to be worthless, but for quick bits of information, I find it helpful. They had a listing for Miller and it listed his first wife’s name as Evangeline. That didn’t narrow down the search much. There were just millions of hits for Evangeline and James Miller too.
I stopped when I came across the paragraph mentioning Miller’s involvement with Dr. Vires. The article indicated that Vires was a suspected suicide, mostly because he’d been found in a locked room with a gun, though there had been no gunshot residue on his hands. I recognized the reporter’s name on the byline as someone who had left town a few years ago. So tracking him down would be another chore that I’d do only in the most extreme cases.
Still, my heart jumped when I read this. Miller had died under similar circumstances. He’d been found in a room where the doors and windows were bolted from the inside. No one could get in or out, which was forcing Detective Green to assume natural causes, though she was suspicious.
I drove home in silence, trying to take in all that I’d learned. I’d gone from not having any suspects for Miller’s death to having too many. I had a duplicate cat, an ex-wife, some shady business transactions, and a dead father-in-law who had passed away in much the same manner. Miller’s personality seemed to easily make enemies and victims.
I unlocked my door and walked in. Bruno came running towards me, tail wagging. The Countess actually looked pleased to see me, which w
as a surprise. She was not usually very effusive. I gave each of them a treat, and then went to the deck on the back of the house to think.
I hadn’t been there but a few minutes when the doorbell rang. I made my way to the door slowly, since I knew who it was likely to be. Detective Green stood outside the door, tapping a pen on the bricks around the door.
“You’ve been a busy bee this evening, haven’t you?” she said without expression. I had known that she wouldn’t be happy with my efforts to learn more. I’d talked to witnesses before she had and developed hypotheses that she was yet to establish.
“I can talk to bees too,” I said, deflecting the comment. “Right now, they’re saying ‘don’t kill me.’”
“And a comedian too.” She turned her eyes on me. When she was mad, the silver turned to the color of steel, and right now they would have Andrew Carnegie proud. “This is an open investigation, and there are laws against people meddling in an open investigation.”
“I’m not meddling,” I protested. “I’m just paying my respects to those who knew my client. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“It seems much more likely that you’re milking them for information about Miller and that cat.”
I stood aside, but she made no movement to come into the house. The subtle flirtations of the last few times I’d seen her were gone. She was strictly business today.
“I was really hoping that you’d come over to tell me the cause of death. I think that might answer some of my questions,” I said truthfully. I was looking for a cause of death that would be both easy to administer and confusing to a doctor. However, if it was confusing to a doctor, then it would most likely be unsolvable to a layman like me.
Green shrugged. “The coroner is not sure. Miller appeared to suffer from some sort of shock at the time of death. There were signs of hypoxia as well. He’s running some more tests, but now it will be a few days before we find out anything. The labs we need to use are located out of state. Everyone always acts like we’re Law and Order. We don’t get results in 38 minutes like they do on TV.”
“I realize that. I was just hoping for some information on whether or not I should ask any more questions.”
Her nostrils flared. I would have said that she was pretty when she was mad, but I didn’t think that would go over well in this situation. “In either case, the answer is the same. No more questions. You’re getting in our way and contaminating witnesses.”
I nodded. I tried to think of another way to get the information I wanted without going to jail. I wanted to know what had happened to Miller but without asking questions about his wife or his business. I had a sudden flash. Instead of asking about the current wife and current business, I’d go back and ask questions about the ex-wife and his father-in-law’s business. That case was at least eight years old. I doubted that anyone in the Toledo Police Department would even notice if I asked questions about that case, if indeed it was a case. The newspaper had indicated that it had been called a suicide, which likely meant that the case had been closed once the means of death was established.
I must have looked pleased with myself because Green’s frown deepened. “I don’t like that look on your face,” she said. “I think you’re up to something, and you need to come clean with the police about it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of keeping anything from the police. I’ve just been asking questions about Miller, but if you want me to stop, I will. No problem at all. No more questions. Not a one.” I perhaps shoveled it on a bit thick, because she narrowed her eyes at me.
“I don’t like this one bit. You’re up to something, and I wish I knew what it was. Last time you tried to meddle with police affairs, you ended up in the hospital. I don’t want to see that again.”
I remembered that incident all too well. For someone who wanted to lay low and not be someone who was noticed as my sister had been, I had gone out on a limb in that case to help the two Scotties. For my efforts, I’d been beaten and left to die on Lake Erie. Not the best possible way to go in the middle of winter where the winds blew through a down jacket like it was a linen napkin. For a few weeks after that, I’d retreated back into my shell and tried to make myself less noticeable to the outside world.
I asked myself if I was putting myself out on a limb in this particular matter. My rational brain said no. I wasn’t out to help any pet in this case. The orange tabbies had homes and owners who appeared to be safe and sound. So I wasn’t watching out for the welfare of any pets. I just had questions on a client who had passed away. Additionally, if I only asked questions about Dr. Vires’ death, I had the added benefit of many years between the crime and my questions. There would be no one who was in immediate danger from a few questions. That case was closed and would likely not be reopened.
“I remember,” I said honestly. “But this case is entirely different. I don’t have any stake in this case. I’m just curious about a client.”
I got the squint again. “Just so long as you remember that I can’t prove a thing at this point. I don’t even know what killed Miller, much less who. If you get too close to the answers, a killer who has been very lucky might decide that you pose a threat to his or her safety.”
Bruno took that moment to greet Detective Green. He was a traitor of the worst kind, wagging his tail and being excited for anyone’s arrival to the house. The Countess was more discriminating, which meant she’d gone somewhere to relax and enjoy the fact that I was busy. I pushed Bruno back inside the house and continued the conversation. I wanted to get rid of her, so that I could think more about what I should do now.
“I promise. No more questions about Miller. Is that fair?”
“I won’t be so nice if I have to come back and talk to you again about this case,” she said, trying to look tough. I knew that she could be mean when she wanted to, and I also knew that if it came to arresting me, our mutual flirtation would not get in the way of her doing her duty.
She turned to go. “Is this more of your emotional camouflage?” she asked, waving a hand across my lawn, which badly needed to be cut. “Are you going to hide behind all of this forever or are you going to actually start living?” With that last shot, she walked down the front path and left.
Sheila Green had a way of hitting me in my tender spots. She was absolutely right about the house. I did use it to hide myself, much like my wardrobe. I hadn’t mowed the grass in about two weeks, and while it was nowhere near in a state to call for demolition, it certainly could use a sprucing up. However, I didn’t want to bring too much attention to myself. I felt that making myself or my possessions stand out would bring attention to me, attention that could attract the wrong types of people. Susan had made the most of herself and was taken; therefore, I wanted to make little of myself to remain as I was.
Despite my fears about being too visible, the house itself had a great structure. I liked the details inside that included a polished wooden staircase and hardwood floors throughout. However, the thought of putting myself in harm’s way made me anxious just thinking about it.
Part of me did want to live, but again I had to deal with the teenager inside of me who had hidden away after his sister was taken. I thought again of the police file on my dining room table, and for a moment, I debated opening it. I knew I wasn’t quite ready for that step, but it made me feel slightly bad to dig into the past with Dr. Vires and the first Mrs. Miller.
To ease those feelings, I decided to start with the cat. Before learning about the duplicate cat at Miller’s house, I had seen the orange tabby out on the streets of downtown Toledo. It had been wandering around near the homeless women on Adams Street.
Chapter 4
My buddy Brett called back the next morning at just after 6am. I wasn’t awake and mumbled through my initial response to his call.
“You’d called last night,” he said, enthusiastically. “What’s up?”
“I thought you’d be out partying, and so you wouldn’t be getting up
until noon,” I explained. Since I was asking for his time, I wanted to at least be polite about it.
“No way. I went to bed about 5pm last night. I’ve been living on caffeine the past few days while I try to work out the kinks in my app. It’s almost there, but not quite. I have to make a few adjustments still. So I was up before dawn, working on it. What can I do for you?” His voice was perky and pleasant. He’d spoken more words to me in this conversation than he had in the last several phone calls combined. I wondered if that was the effects of a good night’s sleep or caffeine. In either case, I wouldn’t know at this hour.
I explained that I wanted to find out the name of the shelter that had adopted the two orange tabbies. He pulled up his records again and gave me the name of the no-kill shelter, Saved by the Bell. I moaned into my pillow about the need for current businesses to make a pun out of their names. Puns have a long history of being the lowest form of humor and to saddle a business with that seemed counterintuitive.
I’d heard of the rescue organization. They’d wanted to contract with me to talk to their incoming pets and learn all that I could about them. However, they wanted me to do it for free. That was not a good business plan for me, since I still wanted to eat. They didn’t budge on their numbers, and neither did I. We ended up not making a deal.
That would be a tough sell on trying to get some information. I could foresee that I was going to have to fork out some volunteer hours before I could get the information I wanted.
“So what’s wrong with the app? I’ve been loving it,” I said.
“Privacy issues, for starters. I hadn’t even thought about it, but let’s say you’re at the park. You see a hot girl, and she’s got a dog with her. You could walk by, scan the chip, and have her information before she even realizes that you have your phone out. I need to safeguard that contact information in some way. It’s a bit too creepy for my investors. I might just limit the searches to animals who have been reported missing, but I have to figure out exactly how to do that.”
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