Exposed

by Lisa Scottoline

  Bennie looked around. “This will be a different kind of crime scene.”

  “I know. It’s hard to believe somebody was killed here.” Mary drove them past a lovely Tudor mansion of gray stone with hatched windows and a gabled slate roof. A quaint wooden sign identified it as the clubhouse, and golfers were coming in and out in groups, talking and laughing.

  “The parking lot’s around the back,” Bennie said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I Google-mapped it.”

  Mary looked over, surprised. “That was a good idea. I should’ve thought of that.”

  Bennie shrugged it off. “It had a street-view photo, but it was taken in winter. I think it will be different in summer. We’ll see.”

  Mary felt guilty that Bennie was being so helpful and kept trying to put the partnership dispute to the back of her mind, but wasn’t succeeding. Bennie had worked her butt off last night, digging into the case, organizing the files, and setting up a war room in the conference room. She had even taken orders from Mary, who was trying to get used to being the one giving orders. It felt strange to be the driver of a car in which Bennie Rosato was a passenger, both literally and figuratively.

  Bennie pointed to the right. “Go that way, it’s back there.”

  “Thanks.” Mary slowed to let a golf cart go by, then followed the curve around the clubhouse. To her left was a set of tennis courts, already full of singles and doubles players, and beyond that, just ahead, on the left was a driving range that had golfers whacking the ball into the distance.

  “This is the first parking lot,” Bennie said, gesturing, and Mary looked around to see a large parking lot shaped like a square, mostly already full.

  “I guess people get here early to avoid the heat.”

  “Probably.”

  “That’s it, up ahead.” Mary drove forward and pointed to a secondary parking lot beyond the large one, a smaller square that was completely empty and cordoned off by yellow crime-scene tape, a grisly note that was incongruous in the lovely, exclusive setting.

  “I see.”

  Mary fell silent. A man had died here, horribly. The thought made her sick inside, even though Simon could be on the hook. Murder would always be more than a crime to her. It was a sin.

  “You okay?” Bennie asked, cocking her head.

  “Yes.” Mary shook it off. A single police cruiser idled at the entrance to the secondary parking lot, and inside sat a uniformed policeman, probably running the air conditioner.

  “Where does Todd park again?” Bennie asked. “In the very last spot?”

  “Yes, in the farthest corner.” Mary cruised around the perimeter of the first lot. “I’m approaching it the way Simon did, around the outside.”

  “I don’t know if those other cars that were parked here will yield anything.”

  “Me neither. If the killer knew Todd parked at the far corner and wanted to get him, they’d wait for him in the second lot. No reason to risk being seen running from one car to the next.” Mary eyed the empty spot where Todd would have parked, but noticed that on its far side was an expanse of grass, then thick bushes. Beyond that were oak trees. “Look at that, beyond the lot. That’s interesting.”

  “I know what you’re thinking. I noticed the same thing.” Bennie craned her neck, as Mary pulled up behind the police cruiser.

  “The killer could’ve come on foot, from behind those bushes.”

  “Yes, that’s what I was thinking last night. On Google Maps, the bushes had died back because it was winter. Nobody would’ve been able to hide there because they would be seen. But in full bloom, those bushes would hide anybody behind them.”

  “Right.” Mary felt her heart beat faster. She cut the ignition and reached for her purse. “We have to see what’s on the other side of the bushes and trees. If there’s access, then things are looking up.”

  “Bingo.” Bennie and Mary got out of the car, and the uniformed officer emerged from the cruiser, leaving it idling.

  “Good morning,” the cop said, with a smile. He was older and stocky, with a silvery mustache and thick glasses that covered warm brown eyes. He held a clipboard, and his name tag read PATTERO.

  “Officer, I’m Mary DiNunzio and this is my—” Mary stopped herself, then let it go. “My partner Bennie Rosato.”

  “Nice to meet you both.” Officer Pattero handed Mary the clipboard, which held a crime-scene log and an attached ballpoint pen. “Please sign in, and include your address, phone number, and the time and date.”

  “Sure.” Mary filled in the information, then handed it to Bennie, who did the same thing and handed it back.

  “Ladies, thank you very much. You’re free to look around and take any pictures or measurements you need.” Officer Pattero gestured beyond the cordon. “I’ll wait in the car and please touch base with me to sign out.”

  “Thank you,” Mary said, ducking under the cordon, with Bennie right behind her.

  “I brought a measuring tape.”

  “Good thinking,” Mary said, looking over. “Again, I should’ve thought of that.”

  “It’s just experience, Mary. Nothing else,” Bennie said after a moment, and Mary looked away, touched. She took a few steps forward, then Bennie caught up with her, and both women looked around, taking in the surroundings. The secondary parking lot was completely out of the action. The driving range and tennis courts were way back beyond the other cars, and ahead to the right was the clubhouse in the distance.

  Mary turned around and looked up at the metal stanchions that held covered lights, which were located in each aisle of the regular parking lot. “I’m looking for the security cameras.”

  Bennie turned around, squinting at the covered lights. “I think they’re hidden in the lighting fixture. But you can see how the range wouldn’t cover the far end of this lot, the secondary lot.”

  “Right, but it would get the entrance to the primary lot.” Mary turned back again to the bushes. “Let’s go look there. I’m dying to see what’s on the other side.”

  “Me too. We can measure later.” Bennie followed Mary and they fell into stride, walking across the parking lot, into the grass, and stopping at the fringe of the bushes, which automatically felt cooler.

  “What kind of bushes are these?” Mary took out her phone and started taking pictures. The bushes were well established and had grown together, making a perfect screen from the parking lot. The photos would be for their own use back at the office, and she’d have to take some better ones later, for trial exhibits. Though she prayed it wouldn’t get that far.

  “We used to call them sticker bushes.” Bennie reached in her purse and pulled out the measuring tape. “I want to see how wide this thicket is.”

  “Agree, I’ll come with. You don’t have to go it alone.” Mary plunged into the thickets, turning sideways so she didn’t disturb it completely. She felt little thorns scratch her legs, and catch her suit jacket, but she kept going. Bennie did the same thing two bushes away, measuring at the same time, and they arrived at the far side of the bushes at roughly the same time.

  “Six feet!” Bennie called out, retracting the measuring tape. “These bushes are six feet wide. That’s quite a barrier.”

  “And then there’s these trees.” Mary looked up, and the oaks were tall, leafed almost all the way down the trunk. There was a grove of them, and the underbrush was thick with weeds and tangled overgrowth. She made her way through the trees, and so did Bennie on the other side, and both women went forward until they cleared the woods.

  They found themselves standing on unmowed grass that bordered what appeared to be a service road that led to a metal gate, which stood propped open. Outside the gate was a street, situated perpendicular to the service road, and traffic traveled on the street, which appeared to be public.

  “That’s good news,” Bennie said, shielding her eyes from the sun.

  “Agree.” Mary squinted, then moved diagonally to get a parallax view and see th
e end of the service road. “Goes right off the property. It’s like a service entrance.”

  “Nice. We’ll double-check it after we leave.”

  “Could you see this road on Google Maps?”

  “Yes.”

  “So the killer could’ve looked on Google Maps and seen the road too. At this time of year, he would’ve known the bushes and trees provided cover. He doesn’t have to have come in a car, parked in any lot, or be a member of the club.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “And given that most people knew of Todd’s habits, it broadens the possibilities of who is the killer.”

  “Agree.” Bennie nodded. “I think this would play very well for us before a jury. They have the video of Simon’s car, but they can’t argue that the access is restricted by the gatehouse or main entrance. All we need to do is raise reasonable doubt.”

  “Yes. Not that we want to get that far.”

  “Understood. By the way, I measured and it’s about thirty feet of trees. It’s the perfect place to lie in wait for someone. And assuming the killer drove here, the bushes would hide his car too. Todd wouldn’t see him coming.”

  “Right,” Mary said, heartened.

  “Let’s go measure the lot and take some pictures.”

  “You know what I’m doing after that, don’t you? I’m going to call Detective Lindenhurst and tell him about the service road. He must have noticed it, but I want him to know that we know. I’m going to be a bug in his ear. Call him every day and tell him something that favors the defense.”

  “Right.” Bennie smiled. “You learned from the master.”

  Mary laughed, though she wasn’t sure Bennie was kidding.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Bennie took her place beside the easel in the conference room, which she had converted into a war room, her favorite décor. She felt like their defense was getting into gear, her favorite thing. And she had a fresh cup of coffee, her favorite drink. All of her favorites were coming together, and she was in her element, fighting for an innocent defendant in a murder case.

  “You ready?” Bennie asked, as Mary sat down, swiveling her chair to face the front. Mary’s documents, notes, and laptop occupied the east side of the conference table, and Bennie’s documents, notes, and laptop occupied the west. They had decided on the way back to the office that it made sense for them to give each other a progress report on their respective tasks.

  “Go for it.” Mary popped the top of her Diet Coke.

  “Okay.” Bennie consulted her notes. “I’ll summarize what I learned rather than take you through the Excel spreadsheets and the source data. You can thank me anytime.”

  “Thank you.” Mary smiled.

  “Obviously, if we were looking at the defense of an employment discrimination action, I would have focused on Simon’s sales performance and that’s what I would be breaking down for you. Suffice it to say that the call logs, purchase orders, and sales figures support what Todd was saying, that Simon didn’t make quota in his last month, which was June. In other words, the documents back up their claim in the employment discrimination case.”

  “Which we don’t care about right now.”

  “Right.” Bennie consulted her notes. “What I focused on is Todd. I was trying to learn as much as I could about Todd, his sales, and his clients, so we can figure out who or why anybody would want to kill him. I requested department-wide sales figures, which made absolute sense when this was an employment discrimination case, and that includes Todd, who still sells. So we have Todd’s sales figures for the past year.”

  “I didn’t realize.” Mary perked up.

  “Todd told me during our interview that he kept the big clients, he called them his bread-and-butter. Now that I’ve looked at his sales figures, I know what he meant. OpenSpace manufactures and sells cubicles, and that isn’t a business that gets a lot of reorders from the same customers. Not like a paper company or a company that sells office supplies. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “The only exception to this is Todd’s five top clients, which are growing companies that are opening branches or franchises in the area. So they have the possibility of reorders.” Bennie picked up a Sharpie and began writing on the easel paper as she spoke. “They are: Number one, Hartmann Insurance, an insurance brokerage in Wayne. Number two, Your Next Contractor, a call center in King of Prussia and referral service for area contractors. Number three, Anywhere Office in Jenkintown, which rents cubicles and workspaces to people who can’t afford to rent an office.”

  Mary took notes on her laptop.

  “Number four, SAT Academy, an SAT prep service out of Devon that’s taking over the Main Line, and number five, Jamison Mackleheeny, LLC, who we both know is a litigation support service that hires contract lawyers for document review in major multidistrict litigation. In other words, a life of indentured servitude.”

  “Lawyer hell.”

  “Yes.” Bennie nodded. “Now. We learned something very interesting from the guard at the country club today, thanks to you. We learned who golfs in Todd’s regular foursome. I wrote the names in my phone. Mr. Davis, Mr. Cullen, Mr. Nustrall, and previously, Mr. Gallagher.”

  “Right.”

  “And I looked them up on the way here, while you were on the phone with Detective Lindenhurst. They have LinkedIn accounts and they’re in the white pages, and it turns out that two of them are with Todd’s top clients. With one exception.”

  “What’s the exception?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. We’re going to do this in an orderly fashion.” Bennie turned to the poster board and wrote as she spoke. “Rick Davis is the president of Hartmann Insurance, and Brandon Cullen is the owner of Anywhere Office. So who is Mo Nustrall?”

  “Who?”

  “I looked him up in the white pages online, which gave his last known address as Lansdale, PA. He lives there with his wife, and her maiden name is Linda Matewicz, which is a name you don’t forget.”

  “Is she related to Ray Matewicz?”

  “I bet she’s his sister. There weren’t any other families with that surname in the area.”

  “Whoa.” Mary made a note on her laptop. “So Todd is tight with Ray’s brother-in-law.”

  “That’s interesting to me, especially considering that Ray Matewicz is high up at OpenSpace—and also one of the employees claiming that Simon defamed Todd and the company.”

  “Me, too.”

  “And if you look up Mo Nustrall, you’ll find that he has a LinkedIn account and he’s a VP of Sales at PowerPlus, which is another of Dumbarton’s subsidiaries.”

  “Good to know.” Mary nodded as she typed.

  “That leaves Mr. Gallagher, whom the guard said used to be in the foursome. I looked him up online, but Gallagher is such a common last name and I don’t know the first name. There were a lot of corporate and management types in the area named Gallagher, but I cross referenced it with Todd’s clients and found Pollstar.” Bennie went around the side of the table to her laptop and hit a few buttons. “I remembered something from the sales reports that didn’t make sense at the time.”

  “What?”

  “Last year, according to Todd’s sales, his number two client was Pollstar, a call center in Willow Grove that conducts polls for political campaigns and business marketing. It struck me as strange that Pollstar was so high up in sales last year, but literally fell off the map this year. I remembered it because the guard said that Gallagher used to be in the foursome, but wasn’t lately.”

  “I’m following.”

  “I assumed the sales dropped because Pollstar did political polls during the election and that was over. But then, I couldn’t figure out why Todd would keep the client, since he prefers the clients that have repeat business.” Bennie thought back to the interview with Todd at OpenSpace. “He strikes me as the kind of guy who networks, rather than makes friends.”

  “Right.”

  Bennie realized she was a lit
tle like that, too. She put it out of her mind. “So he must expect future business from them.”

  “Where did you say Pollstar was?”

  “Willow Grove, why?”

  “Hold on. I saw something like that in an email.” Mary turned to her document index, reading down the email numbers. “He wrote so many emails and he writes a lot each time. I only got through about two hundred of them, and my document index was broken down into basic subjects.”

  “What were the subjects?”

  “Well, his top clients each got their own subject, and he wrote to Todd about them a lot, and there had been some fussing. Not a big deal, but Simon has a lot of ideas about how the client should be dealt with.” Mary spoke as she kept looking through the emails. “For example, when the clients had complaints about the quality, he always sides with the client.”

  “Not the kind of thing that endears you to bosses.”

  “No.” Mary located the number of the email, then started going through the numbered stack. “In fact, I made a whole subject for quality control because that’s what he put on the subject line. He had a lot of those emails to Todd.”

  “Can I see an example?” Bennie came around the side of the conference table.

  “Okay, this is typical.” Mary pulled an email from the stack and held it out to Bennie, who read it:

  From Simon Pensiera

  To Todd Eddington

  Re Quality Control

  Todd, I’m really concerned about the quality of the woven fabric on #7251, color Vulpine Gray. I know Pasture is bottom-of-the-line but that shouldn’t matter. Jorge Jimenez at Neshaminy Business Solutions called me and gave me an earful about it, so I went over and saw what he was talking about. He is right. The weave on the fabric at the base on several of his cubicles is uneven and there is a pull in the fabric on one of them. The fabric wasn’t even attached properly, so somebody must’ve been careless spraying the glue. I think the line is slacking and you should talk to Ray about it. I suggested an on-site repair to Jorge and he is willing to give it a try, but we both know that’s not going to do the job.