by Diane Capri
Mercer rapped on the door again and held his finger on the buzzer.
The house remained dark.
He released the buzzer, placed his ear to the door, and shook his head.
Jess looked in the windows on either side of the door, but the drapes sealed all view of the interior.
She headed around the side of the duplex and a couple of minutes later, Mercer jogged to catch up.
The backyard was as unkempt as the rest of the place. The flowerbeds were nothing but weeds and the grass were knee high. She worked her way through the cloying grass to the kitchen window.
She could see through the kitchen and over the low wall into the living room beyond. The sofa where she had sat was empty. She saw no signs of life inside.
She shoved her face against the kitchen window. “We need evidence.”
“If you’re thinking of breaking in, forget it. If we need evidence, we need to stick to procedure to collect it,” Mercer said.
She didn’t mention the broken door chain on their first visit, and she didn’t argue. “Okay, but take a look.” She pointed to the desk in the living room.
The keyboard and mouse were shoved in one corner. She leaned over to get a different viewing angle on the desk and the floor around it.
“The computer and printer are gone,” she said.
Mercer followed her gaze. “They weren’t exactly portable.”
“Right. And the bag Julia put the junk mail in is gone as well.”
Mercer moved from side to side to get a good view around the desk and the room. “Damn.”
“Julia’s probably worried we’re coming back with a warrant. She’s trying to dispose of it.”
Mercer said, “I’m going to check with the neighbors. See if anyone knows where she is.”
Jess walked a path to the rear gate and checked along the alley at the back of the house. If Julia had dumped the computer close by, Jess couldn’t find it.
Her phone rang. She answered it without looking. “Kimball.”
“Mandy. Just sent you what I found on Benny Kemp’s construction company, Goldleaf Builders. Sole proprietorship. Went bust two years ago. He filed for personal bankruptcy.”
“Find any employee records? Names or addresses or anything?”
“Nothing so far, but I’ll keep looking.”
“What sort of construction did they do?”
“Retail stuff, mainly. He must have had a few people working for him. I sent you a list of his projects.”
“Thanks, Mandy.”
“Another thing. He had an accident. I found it in the papers. Scaffolding collapsed. After that, his company collapsed as well.”
Jess frowned. “He was on the scaffolding?”
“Apparently.”
“When did this happen?”
“A little over two years ago.”
Jess whistled.
Mandy hummed. “It’s all in the email. Hey look, I’ve got to go.”
Jess thanked her and hung up.
Mandy’s email was as organized as ever. Jess filtered through the details on her phone’s small screen.
At the time Goldleaf went bust, Benny was working on two projects, refitting a bar and building an independent emergency room.
The bar was a fairly basic redecoration of an existing building. The emergency room was being built on a greenfield site. Mandy had included a snippet of the local Santa Irene newspaper article lamenting the loss of jobs at the emergency room.
Jess scanned down the page. The building was being constructed for a company called Argnot Medical Solutions, LLC.
She ran a search for the company in the Taboo databases and found a match. The company had only existed for seven months before closing down.
Jess compared the dates. Argnot had declared bankruptcy the month before Goldleaf. Given the size of the emergency room project, one had likely led to the other. Goldleaf had declared bankruptcy a month before Karen Warner’s kidnapping.
She scrolled through the information on Argnot. Only one company was listed as an investor. It had a Brazilian main address and several offices in the US.
Seemed like a typical US front to a foreign investor. The offices would probably be staffed with US nationals revealing little to indicate that the true ownership was offshore. The ordinary person’s confidence in a domestic company would bring in further US investment.
She reached a page on Argnot’s declared financial performance. The company was estimated at a little over twenty million. She frowned. There was no way a company valued at twenty million had offices across the width of the US. On top of which, why would they invest in one specific new emergency room?
She reached the end of the information on Argnot. The company had only one director, listed as S. Lawson. The address given was in Brazil.
The name Lawson was familiar. She ran back through her notes and found Warner’s assistant had mentioned it.
She dialed Santa Irene General Hospital, and eventually was put through to Nurse Melanie Franklin.
“Melanie. This is Jess Kimball. We spoke yesterday. I have a question for you.”
“Er… Okay.”
“You said Dr. Warner had two doctor friends he worked with at the hospital.”
“Yes. Simon Lawson. And Arthur Palmer. Good doctors.”
“Is Simon Lawson a Brazilian national?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Did the three of them try to build an emergency room?”
“Not that I know of. They weren’t E.R. docs. But they were always talking business, you know? How to make more money. Saving for retirement. Investments. Stuff like that.”
“Did they work together in the same practice?”
“They weren’t partners or anything, but they referred patients to one another.”
“Don’t all doctors do that?”
“It takes time to build a reputation, and for doctors to trust one another. They form little cliques. Warner’s go-to docs were Palmer and Lawson when the patient needed those specialties.”
Jess thought about the prior conversation for a moment. “You also said something about their friendship cooling off at some point, didn’t you?”
“Well, I don’t know. I mean, to be fair, Dr. Warner had a lot of patients. Something’s got to give when you’re working all those hours. Social activities are usually the first to go, aren’t they?”
“What about Palmer and Lawson? Were they still friends back when Karen Warner was kidnapped?”
“I wouldn’t say they weren’t friends, just, you know, I noticed they stopped doing things like going out to eat together.”
“Did you ever mention this to the police?”
“Well, they interviewed everyone. Me and the doctors and everything. I guess if it was important, they would have said.” She paused a moment and answered someone else speaking to her in the background. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. I wish I could be of more help.”
“Not at all. You’ve been more help than you realize.” Jess might have asked a few more questions, but Nurse Franklin had already hung up.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Wednesday, May 24
Santa Irene, Arizona
Jess ran back to the cruiser. Mercer was talking to one of the neighbors. She called out to him. “I’ve got something!”
He finished with the neighbor and jogged over.
“Donald Warner worked with two other doctors at Santa Irene General. Arthur Palmer and Simon Lawson. Apparently, they were a pretty tight clique. Referred patients to each other. Spent most of their free time talking medicine and business. And here’s the important part.” She paused to catch her breath. “Lawson was using Benny Kemp’s construction company to build an emergency room.”
Mercer frowned. “How did no one realize this?”
“Because Lawson hid the activities behind a shell company headquartered in Brazil.”
Mercer shook his head. “I may not be qualified to in
vestigate a complex financial setup, but there were plenty of resources put on the Warner case that could have spotted this right away.”
“Looks like it was all done under the table. There’s no legal link between Warner and Lawson.”
Mercer sighed. “If there’s no evidence to connect Warner to Lawson then we can’t connect him to Benny and Hades, either.”
“Did the neighbors offer anything helpful?”
He shook his head. “One of the kids said Julia Kemp left with her family in a silver car. Doesn’t know what type. No one saw what happened to the computer or the junk mail.”
Jess cocked her head. “Talk to Warner. Maybe he’ll give us something.”
“Maybe, but even if your guess is true, how does it help us find Hades after all this time?” He took his phone from his pocket. “I’ll get someone to question Warner.”
Mercer walked off down the street, searching for a stronger signal.
Jess leaned against the cruiser and looked up addresses for Palmer and Lawson. They both lived in upscale neighborhoods on the wealthier fringes of Santa Irene.
Mercer returned. “I’ve got someone who will talk to Warner, but don’t get your hopes up. Santa Irene PD is not exactly thrilled at the idea of opening up the Warner case.”
Jess’s phone beeped. She read the message on the screen. “Hades did get some training while he was in prison. But the classes were all information technology, not plumbing.”
She held her phone out for Mercer to read the message.
“Information technology,” Mercer said, slowly. “The explosion at Melissa Green’s was triggered over the Internet.”
She kneaded her forehead to release the tension she was holding there. They had a lot of probable connections between Hades and that explosion, but nothing that indisputably laid a murder charge on his head. She needed solid evidence.
Jess called Santa Irene General. She asked first for Dr. Palmer and then Dr. Lawson. A few minutes later, she hung up. “Palmer has retired from the hospital. Lawson is on a week’s vacation. His assistant doesn’t know where.”
“Sounds like a stock answer to give to a reporter.”
“Maybe.”
Mercer tapped his badge. “Maybe we should talk to Dr. Palmer in person.”
Jess shrugged. “I have both home addresses now, anyway. Palmer is closer.”
Mercer slid into the cruiser. “Then let’s go check on Palmer.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Wednesday, May 24
Santa Irene, Arizona
Jess fed directions to Mercer as he worked his way across town. Fifteen minutes later, he slowed to a stop on the road outside Arthur Palmer’s house.
Trees poked over a high wall with heavy oak gates that blocked the view of the property from the road. A small pillar beside the gates contained a camera and a speaker. Mercer pressed the button and held his badge in clear view of the camera.
A woman’s voice answered. “Can I help you?”
“We’re here to talk to Arthur Palmer.”
The speaker clicked as if the other end had terminated the conversation. Mercer took a deep breath, his impatience building.
The silence continued. He pressed the button and held it down. A few moments later, a man’s voice came on.
“I don’t care what you’re selling. I am not—”
“Police. Use your camera, look at my badge, and open the gate. Or I’ll come back with a squad and an arrest warrant.”
The speaker clicked off. There was a full minute of silence before the gates swung open. Mercer drove up to the house.
The gravel driveway crunched under the cruiser’s tires. The lawns weren’t enormous, but they were a smooth lush green that was all but impossible to maintain in Arizona without incurring a serious water bill.
The house was a three-story colonial style reminiscent of a tobacco plantation. A large porch with Greek columns protected a tall front door. Four large windows were set on either side of the door. The arrangement of windows was repeated on the second and third floors.
The gravel driveway circled the house. Jess guessed it led to the garage. Mercer stopped directly alongside the entrance and jumped out. Jess unwound the cables from her feet and followed. Mercer was already knocking on the front door, which opened as she reached his side.
A man with neatly trimmed salt and pepper hair stood beyond the doorway. Plain Bermuda shorts, a trim pink polo shirt, and deck shoes without socks looked like he was modeling the clothes, not wearing them.
“Jessica Kimball, Taboo Magazine.” Jess held out her card before Mercer could speak and screw things up.
He plucked the card from her fingers and looked at Mercer.
Mercer held up his badge. “Arthur Palmer?”
Palmer glowered. “Yes. What do you want?”
“Argnot and Goldleaf,” Mercer said.
“What?” Palmer screwed his scowl a fraction tighter. “I don’t—”
“How about we discuss this inside,” Mercer said.
Palmer sighed and stepped to one side. “Come in.”
Jess walked into a spacious hallway with a curved staircase that wound down from the second-floor balcony. A giant crystal chandelier hung on a long, gold chain from a towering decorated ceiling.
A blonde glowered down from the balcony. She had long legs and short shorts. She turned away and disappeared into one of the upstairs rooms.
Palmer led them through a set of double doors into a library. A large mahogany desk with a gold lamp and a phone on the top filled the corner at the far end of the room. Three walls of mahogany shelves were covered in leather bound books, which Jess suspected were rarely, if ever, read.
Two armchairs and a sofa were arranged around a fireplace. Palmer flipped a switch, and a fire burst to life. “Take a seat.”
Jess perched on an armchair, directly opposite Palmer. “We understand you were once involved in business dealings with a company called Argnot.”
He shrugged. “I’ve invested in a variety of businesses over the years.”
“We’re interested in Argnot. What can you tell us about it?”
He shook his head. “What is there to tell?”
“What was its purpose?”
“It’s been awhile, but my memory is that Argnot was building a freestanding emergency room facility in an underserved neighborhood.”
“A lofty goal.” Jess took a breath and let it out slowly, relaxing her muscles. “What was your involvement with Argnot?”
“It wasn’t my company.”
“Were Dr. Lawson and Dr. Warner involved?” Mercer demanded.
“You’ll have to ask them.”
He glowered at Palmer, his lips pressed tight and his breath hissing through his nose. Jess thought he might attack Palmer, but he went to the window and took out his phone, dialing as he walked.
Palmer frowned. “What’s going on?”
A muffled voice emerged from Mercer’s phone. He listened and then said, “We’re going to need the warrant. While you’re getting that—”
Palmer rose halfway out of his chair. “What warrant?”
Mercer glanced at Palmer and went back to the phone. “We’ll need the dogs. And send two cars. Lights and sirens. We want to make sure everybody in the neighborhood knows we’re coming.”
“What the hell is this?” Palmer said, rising from his chair.
Jess nodded as Mercer hung up after completing the ruse, and put his phone in his pocket. He pulled back his jacket to expose his gun. “Please sit down, Dr. Palmer. We won’t have long to wait.”
Palmer went for his phone on the big desktop. Mercer got there first and covered the receiver with his hand.
Palmer huffed. “I’m calling my lawyer. I have the right—”
“That clock starts ticking after you’ve been arrested,” Mercer said. “At the moment, you’re free to leave. We can wait outside if you prefer.”
“What the hell is this about?” Palmer shouted
and his spittle landed on Mercer’s face.
“We can find room for you in the same prison as your pal, Warner. Assuming you want things to go that far.” Mercer gave a hard glare as he wiped the spittle away with the back of his hand.
Palmer lowered his gaze.
“Please sit down, Dr. Palmer,” Jess said.
He rotated his head slowly to look at her.
“Please,” she repeated, waving to the chair he’d vacated previously.
He sank into the armchair. “So, tell me what you think I’ve done.”
“First tell us about Argnot,” she said.
He sighed. “Not much to tell. Argnot was organized for one thing, to build a specific emergency room. One of those pop-up ones. Just on a street corner in a neighborhood where we had no competition. Affiliate with a hospital and then sell it off after we got it running.”
“Who are we?”
“Lawson and Warner, for sure. There might have been others.”
“You don’t know?”
“I wasn’t in control of the company. I put some money into it. That was all.” He looked across the coffee table. “Like I said, I invested in a lot of things. Still do.”
“How much did you invest in Argnot?”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember. Why do you care?”
Mercer glanced at his watch. “Forty-five minutes until we have that warrant and we can look it up for ourselves. Along with everything about you, right down to your underwear preference. We’ll uncover things you didn’t report on your tax forms, most likely. We usually do. And Uncle Sam is always interested in that stuff.”
“You’re a bastard, Mercer.” Palmer shook his head, but all the anger had gone out of him. He slumped deeper into the chair. “I put in a hundred thousand.”
“That’s all?” Jess frowned. “To build an emergency room?”
Palmer shook his head. “It… The idea was to get the building started, then get advances from investors as the work was done.”
“And Warner and Lawson,” Mercer interrupted. “Did they put in the same?”