by Lee Killough
Thank you, amigo! Check out the dream story. When those facts were corroborated, Razor would have to accept that the two of them really talked.
“Not to my knowledge.” Gao said. “What’s this about? Is Miss Benay in some kind of trouble?”
Cole listened closely to her tone. Was she concerned for Sara…or anxious to determine what the police knew?
Hamada’s face gave away nothing. “She may have witnessed an incident that evening.”
“Then why are you talking to us? Ask Miss Benay. Didn’t Mr. Lamper give you her family’s phone number?”
“Apparently she didn’t go home,” Lamper said.
Cole halted typing to watch Gao.
She sniffed. “So this time she’s been caught.”
Hamada and Lamper’s brows went up. Though Cole could not see, he imagined Razor’s did, too.
Gao looked at Lamper, her lips tight. “I’ve often suspected that Miss Benay has claimed time off for family concerns as a pretext to give her long weekends for partying. I’m just surprised she did it in the middle of the week. No doubt Miss Hayes knows where she is. Excuse me.”
She marched out into the main office.
“Miss Hayes,” she began, and broke off to stare at her computer, going rigid with outrage. “Miss Hayes! How dare you play your games with my computer!”
That brought the men to Lamper’s office door, Lamper moving more slowly than the others.
Hayes’s chin snapped up. “I never touched it!”
“She’s telling the truth,” Lamper said. “She was sitting at her desk the whole time you’ve been in my office.”
“Somebody’s used it.” Gao stabbed a finger at the monitor. “Computers don’t write messages by themselves.”
Hamada started. Razor froze.
“And this is like the one you denied writing on Miss Benay’s computer.”
Hamada shouldered past Lamper to come and peer over Gao’s head at the monitor. “It’s the same message, you mean?”
“No, but it’s the same kind of thing.”
Hamada read: “‘Ck security tape for Gao and Sara’s departure times.’”
Cole slid out from behind Gao’s desk through Hayes’s. As he did, he saw Razor’s eyes follow the movement, widening in shock. Cole waved. “Yo, amigo!”
Razor squeezed his eyes shut.
Cole rushed over to grab his shoulder. “Don’t do that and block me out!”
“Razor, are you all right?” Hamada asked.
Razor opened his eyes but looked away from Cole. “Just short of caffeine is all.”
“Short of belief in your own eyes and ears you mean, you bastard.” Cole bared his teeth. “Come on, man! I need your help.”
Hamada turned to Lamper. “Does everyone leave through the front door?”
Lamper hesitated, then nodded. “It’s the only door.”
“Then may we look at the tape for that camera?”
Lamper frowned. Cole almost saw the word “warrant” in his eyes.
Hamada must have, too. His expression went earnest. “If we knew when Miss Benay left that night, it would help us determine if she could have witnessed the incident in question.”
Lamper glanced toward his phone. “Excuse me for a minute.”
He went in the office and closed the door. Cole debated following and listening to the call, but based on previous conversations with Flaxx, he imagined Flaxx saying something like: “Let them see the tape. This is no different than giving them a peek at a store account. We have nothing to hide, remember? We always cooperate with the law enforcement — as long as it’s convenient.”
Sure enough, when Lamper came out of the office, he smiled and, moving gingerly, led the way across the hallway to the Security office. Cole noted that Gao included herself in the group.
In the Security office, Cole slid around everyone to the far wall, clear of the group.
The guard — Antoine Farrell according to his company name tag, young and husky enough to deal with most trouble — swivelled his chair from the bank of recorders and monitors. “You want to see a tape from Wednesday?” The overhead light gleamed on his shaved scalp as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lamper. We don’t have those anymore. We record over them every forty-eight hours.”
Cole swore. He had been afraid of something like that. Hamada sent Razor an oh, well glance.
Lamper shrugged at Hamada. “I guess there’s no way to know when Sara left that evening.”
Farrell twitched. “You mean you want to see the reception area tape?”
Cole felt his scalp prickle.
Lamper nodded. “Yes, but what difference does that make?”
“I think it means he has that tape,” Hamada said. “Right?”
Farrell took a breath and looked up at Lamper. “Well…see…the machine for that camera ate the tape that night…after I left. I got the tape out and wound it back in the cassette but when I tried playing it, it jammed at the crumpled part.” As Lamper frowned impatiently, Farrell talked faster and faster. His tone went defensive. “So I was going to throw it away…and then I thought, it was running fine when I left, so it was the machine that messed up…so I kept the tape, so the next time the machine jams there’s proof it’s done it be- ”
Lamper cut him off with a sigh. “Just show us the tape, please.”
“Yes, sir.” Farrell was light-skinned enough that his flush showed.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a cassette. After pushing it into the slot of a TV/VCR unit sitting at one end of the counter, he punched Rewind and visibly held his breath. When the tape made no sounds of self-destruction, he let the breath out. “How much do you want to see?”
Lamper glanced questioningly at Hamada, who said, “Let’s go from fifteen minutes before the office closes.”
Cole climbed up to stand on the counter and look over Farrell’s head at the TV.
With occasional pauses to check the time imprint, Farrell rewound to 16:45, then punched Play.
The camera’s position above Gina’s desk let it catch all the reception area except for the desk itself. Cole watched employees file out around five. The last one, Gina, wiggled her fingers in farewell at Farrell as he knelt to turn his key in the lock at the bottom of the doors. Minutes later a middle-aged Hispanic woman appeared with a vacuum cleaner and ran it over the carpet. At five-thirty, she reappeared with a coat and purse. Farrell let her and himself out, locking the doors from the outside.
The time read 17:43:03 when Mrs. Gao appeared, accompanied as far as the front doors by Sara. Gao’s frown and moving mouth suggested she was leaving Sara with strict instructions. The roll of Sara’s eyes when she turned away indicated her opinion of those orders.
Watching the tape, Gao’s mouth pressed into a tight line.
“I take it Miss Benay has a key to let herself out?” Hamada said.
“Not a personal one.” Lamper shook his head. “When one of my staff wants to work late, they check out a key from Mrs. Gao or me. After they lock up behind themselves, they drop the key through a slot outside. It goes into the box there to the left of the doors.”
“Fast forward until we see Miss Benay leave,” Hamada said.
Farrell did so in short, cautious spurts. Donald Flaxx left just before six, letting himself out with his own key. The time imprint rolled on…18:15…18:30…18:45. No one else left or came in.
As the time passed seven o’clock, uneasiness stirred in Cole. Where was Gao? To catch Sara phoning him at seven, she had to be back by now. Did she have any other way in?
He heard Razor sigh. The sound punched him. In it Cole heard Razor’s awareness of the doubt that threw on his information from the dream.
Cole swore. He needed to kick this around with Razor. The emergency exit was the only other way in that he knew. To use it Gao would have had to tape the lock and climb all those stairs, an incredible effort he saw no reason for her to make. Why would Sara lie about who caught her?
&nbs
p; Suddenly, with a crackle inside the player, the image on the screen froze. Farrell hit Stop.
“Nineteen-fifty.” Hamada turned away from the player. “So Miss Benay had to leave after that.”
“Does that make it possible for her to be your witness?” Lamper asked.
“She could have used the emergency stairs,” Razor said.
Lamper frowned. “Why would she do that?”
“She had to go out the front door,” Mrs. Gao said. “The key was in the box the next morning.”
And the tape jammed just minutes before she left. The coincidence bothered Cole. Was it a coincidence? But why would Sara jam it, assuming she had access to the Security office. The more disturbing question was why Sara lied about Gao catching her. That chilled him. He wanted to find an excuse for it. Otherwise, what else might be lies?
“If we’re finished here,” Lamper said, “let’s go back to my office and you can ask Kenisha about Sara’s whereabouts.”
“You should ask Inspector Dunavan, too,” Gao said.
Cole stared at her. If Gao thought he was alive, then she could not have been part of what happened Wednesday night.
Lamper stared at her, too. “Why would Dunavan know?”
Her lips thinned. “Because they’re sleeping together.”
Hamada shot a deadpan glance at Razor. Cole swore. Shit! Leach’s theory just got a boost in Hamada’s book.
Lamper stiffened. “Why- ” He glanced at Farrell. “Let’s go back to my office. Thank you, Mr. Farrell.” And he shuffled out.
Before following him, Hamada told Farrell, “Don’t let anything happen to that tape.”
Crossing toward Bookkeeping, Lamper glared at Gao. Dropping his voice did nothing to diminish the fury in it. “Why didn’t you tell me about Sara and Dunavan before!”
“Well, I- ” Gao flushed. “I was going to make Miss Hayes tell you, but then there was the thing with the computer and we came over to see the tape and…” Her hands fluttered.
Lamper exhaled in a hiss.
Cole spotted Katherine Maldonado watching them curiously from her desk down the hall.
“What makes you so sure Benay had an affair with Dunavan?” Razor asked.
“Because Miss Hayes and Miss Benay talked about it in the restroom on Tuesday. I couldn’t help overhearing.” Gao’s mouth thinned in distaste. “They came in while I was…well, in a booth. Miss Hayes asked how it had gone with Inspector Dunavan the evening before and did handcuffs and a gun on the bed table enhance sex the way Miss Benay thought. Miss Benay said it was an evening she’d never forget.”
Cole eyed Hamada’s poker face and groaned. “Good going, Sara. Tell the truth and make it sound like something else.” Though who could blame Sara for not wanting to admit how humiliatingly the evening ended? “Good going, Dunavan, you stupid shit.”
They reached Bookkeeping. Lamper stabbed a finger toward Hayes. “Kenisha! Joy, too. In my office!” He shuffled in and lowered himself into his chair.
Around the room jaws dropped. Had Lamper never raised his voice before, Cole wondered. Maybe not, considering how Sara talked about him. Hayes and Quon hurried into the office, faces baffled but wary. Cole leaned against the windows where he could watch everyone.
As soon as they sat down and Gao closed the door, Lamper said icily, “How is it Sara is having an affair with a police officer who has been hounding Mr. Flaxx for years with slanderous insinuations!”
Hayes and Quon exchanged quick glances. Hayes licked her lips. “It wasn’t an affair. We’d met him a lunch a few times and she just wanted a fling with him…to make up for missing the cruise to Baja.”
Razor started.
Cole circled behind the women to join him. “Yes…Baja. The cruise was real. So is everything else I told you.”
Razor’s heart rate jumped.
“Fling. Affair.” Lamper clenched a fist. “It was still- ”
“Excuse me,” Hamada interrupted. “If I might please have a minute before you ream the young ladies?” Without waiting for Lamper’s permission, he stepped forward to look down at Hayes. “It’s very important I speak with Miss Benay and she isn’t in Indiana. Do y’all know where I can reach her?”
Hayes blinked. “That’s weird. Last night I dreamed Inspector Dunavan asked me the same thing.”
Razor’s heart jumped again. Abruptly, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out his cell phone, as though it had rung. Holding it up to show Hamada, he hurried out of the office and Bookkeeping. Cole followed.
In the hallway, Razor thrust away the phone and paced in tight circles, shaking his head. His heart raced. Cole saw goosebumps on his neck.
“Hey, take it easy!” Cole longed to grab his shoulders and shake him. “You’re not going wacko. Let yourself admit that I’m around and you see me.”
But Razor looked everywhere except at him. Cole swore. What did it take to crack his resistance?
A minute later Hamada strode out of Bookkeeping. He raised his brows. “What’s going on, man?”
Razor pulled off his glasses and began polishing them on his tie. “Nothing’s going on.”
Hamada grunted. “Right. That’s why you keep acting like someone’s goosed you.”
Razor shrugged. “It’s just spooky…the computer thing…Lockhart and the Hayes woman both dreaming about Cole.”
“Yeah.” Hamada raised a brow. “You have any ideas about that?”
Razor shook his head. “Not a clue.”
“But you knew about Dunavan banging Benay.”
Razor jammed back on his glasses. “No! He wasn’t, in spite of what Hayes says.”
After a long stare at him, Hamada sighed and headed up the hallway for the reception area. “I appreciate loyalty but…Benay had some reason to shoot him. Let’s go see if Dennis is having any luck with the airlines, and start a search warrant for her place.”
13
Cole watched them leave. As much as he needed to keep working on Razor, he also wanted to see what happened here after Lamper reported to Flaxx. A glance into Bookkeeping caught Lamper shooing the women out of his office — Hayes and Quon looking relieved, Gao disapproving — and reaching for his phone. Cole hurried in, moving close enough to the phone to catch Flaxx’s side of the conversation.
Lamper blurted, “Donald, I just found out that Sara- ”
“Who?” Flaxx sounded distracted. Cole pictured him signing letters or checking e-mail while he listened.
Lamper frowned. “Sara Benay, one of my girls here in Bookkeeping…the one those Homicide detectives are looking for. She was having an affair with Inspector Dunavan!”
“What!”
Flaxx’s surprise disturbed Cole. If Sara were forced to talk the way she claimed, Flaxx should know all about Sara and him.
“Tell me about this affair.”
Lamper gave Flaxx a detailed report of Hamada’s visit.
Impatient sighs came over the wire, but Flaxx never interrupted. At the end, Cole was even more surprised to hear a chuckle.
So, clearly, was Lamper. He stared at the phone. “Didn’t you hear me? Sara’s sleeping with Dunavan and she worked on my account files last week!”
“Earl, Earl.” Flaxx’s voice oozed like honey. “I understand your concern, but there’s no need for it. I have every confidence in your accounting passing muster with someone like her. And if she did stumble on…”
Cole mentally held his breath. Come on, come on. Make an incriminating admission.
“…irregularities…”
Irregularities? Oh, very cute. No help at all. Cole grimaced.
“…that gadfly Dunavan would be bugging us again, not Homicide. And if she is shacking up with him, no so-called evidence she thinks she’s found for him is any good in court.”
Cole blinked. Interesting. Flaxx talked about him in the present tense. Was that for Lamper’s benefit? Or was it possible Flaxx knew nothing about his shooting?
“Whatever the story is with this Bennet
woman…” Flaxx said.
Lamper frowned. “Her name’s Benay.”
“Whatever. It has nothing to do with us. So you forget about it and enjoy the day. You’ve certainly made mine, Earl my man! Way to go!”
Lamper sat up straighter, beaming.
If he had a tail, it would be wagging in ecstacy, Cole reflected. He patted Lamper on the head. “Good dog, Earl.”
Then leaving Lamper reaching up to his hair with a startled look, Cole raced for Flaxx’s office. He wanted to see Flaxx’s real reaction to Lamper’s report. Bursting through Flaxx’s wall, he felt a zing down his spine. The cheerful voice on the phone had been replaced by a grim-faced Flaxx punching an in-house number into his phone.
“Get in here.”
Cole sat on a corner of the desk to see who came.
When the door opened, he straightened in surprise. A woman strolled in — mid to late twenties, wiry, a model’s bones, short-cropped blonde hair, junior exec skirt and jacket. She seemed familiar, although he could not remember seeing her around here before. Maybe her long, thin hands reminded him of his daughter Renee’s? No…it was something about her face.
She settled into a chair, crossing her legs. “So…what’s giving you a wedgie this morning?”
Cole cocked a brow. Interesting. A junior exec with attitude, and Flaxx just frowned. Someone else had been less tolerant, though. Bruises on her left cheekbone and jaw showed under her makeup. Recognition clicked. She had the same jaw line as Flaxx, and similar eyes…despite hers being baby blue and his an improbable aqua. How were they related? Both his daughters were younger.
Then Cole remembered that when he went to Razor’s ex-wife Jessie at the Chronicle for dirt on Flaxx, her information included a half-sister twenty years Flaxx’s junior, the product of Papa Flaxx’s trophy marriage. Cole dug into his memory for the name. Iris? Irene? No, Irah…named, according to gossip Jessie had, for the trophy wife’s own dear Daddy because they thought she was going to be a boy.
“My headache,” Flaxx said, “is cops! This place is starting to crawl with them. It was bad enough with that bastard Dunavan hounding me. Then we got the arson cops, then homicide cops because of that firefighter. Now…” His nostrils flared. “Well, I’ve just had to sooth Earl because today he had a new set of homicide cops asking questions.” He gave her a terse version of Lamper’s report on Hamada’s visit.