Dead Reckoning (25 page)

“Like what?”

Frank shrugged. “The usual. Monetary gain. Revenge. Power. Take your pick.”

Kate was so deep in thought, she barely noticed when the elevator doors chimed open. “Who’s your suspect?”

“The man in the suit.” He fished keys from his coat pocket and started for the parking garage.

“That certainly narrows it down.” Kate had to jog to keep up with him. “Does he only have one arm, too?”

He shot her a dark look.

“Frank, the police have already investigated this crime. They’ve handed us a suspect. It’s our responsibility to prosecute, not get caught up in some wild-goose chase.”

She nearly bumped into him when he stopped abruptly and turned to her. For the span of several heartbeats they were nose-to-nose, so close she could feel the warm brush of his breath against her face.

Frank stepped back. “The least we can do is look at the corporation.”

“You mean Snack and Gas?”

“The franchisee.” Frank rolled his shoulder. “Squeeze a little and see what pops out.”

A few short days ago Kate would have thought he was crazy for letting something as nebulous as gut instinct carry any weight. It surprised her to realize that at some point she’d come to trust his judgment.

As they left the Lew Sterrett Justice Center, she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

 
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 3:10 P.M.

It took the remainder of the morning and most of the afternoon for Kate and Frank to decipher the corporate structure of the Snack and Gas where Evangeline Worth and Irma Trevino had been murdered. They were sitting at the small conference table in Kate’s office with two boxes of Chinese takeout, two soft drinks, and a stack of files between them.

“If having a complicated corporate structure was a crime, these bastards would be doing time.” Sighing, Frank picked up a Dun and Bradstreet report. “The Snack and Gas store number 6911 is owned by franchisee Kirk Jarvis dba Quick Stop, Inc., in Oklahoma City. Quick Stop, Inc., in turn, is owned by Quorum Partners Limited out of Tallahassee, Florida.”

Something inside Kate quickened. “Did you say Quorum Partners?”

Frank’s gaze sharpened on hers. “You asked me to run a D and B on them a few days ago, which I did, but nothing popped.”

Reaching into a manila folder, Kate withdrew the life insurance policy on Evangeline Worth and handed it to him. “This was the reason I asked you for the report the other day.”

Frank took the document and began to read. “A life insurance policy on Evangeline Worth.” He looked at Kate. “Where did you get this?”

“It was in Evangeline Worth’s employee file.”

“It says here there are seven pages total. Why do we have only six?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she said, feeling a little foolish.

Frank turned to his laptop, his fingers playing quickly over the keys. “Quorum is owned by Ferguson and Rooks, a law firm here in Dallas. Ferguson and Rooks owns several companies. Capricorn Real Estate Investment Company, Endroad Holdings. Those two companies are the parent company of several franchisees.”

“Franchisees of what?”

Frank looked over the top of his laptop at Kate. “Java, Inc., is the franchisee of record for a chain of coffee shops in the northeastern United States. Tuscan, Inc., owns pizza parlors in the Midwest. Quick Stop, Inc., owns convenience stores on the West Coast and in Texas. Pretty complicated corporate structure. Wonder why?”

She rolled her shoulder. “Tax breaks. Maybe something to do with insurance. Worker’s compensation. Unemployment. Could be any number of things.”

“Or maybe they’re trying to hide something.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a suspicious mind?”

“When dead bodies start showing up, they’re usually thankful.” He paged through the Dun and Bradstreet report in front of him. “Ferguson and Rooks has offices at The Crescent.”

Kate arched a brow. “High rent isn’t against the law.”

“That’s ten minutes from here.”

“I think we’ve spent enough time on this particular wild-goose chase.”

“I’ll spring for a cappuccino.”

Kate sighed.

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What can you possibly hope to achieve?”

Rising, he reached for both of their coats. “Probably nothing, but I’ve always liked shaking down lawyers.”

“I hate to put a damper on your fun, but you work for lawyers.”

Frank grinned. “I want to shake you down, too.”

“Oh brother.” But Kate was smiling as she grabbed her coat.

 
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 4:05 P.M.

The offices of Ferguson and Rooks were located on the nineteenth floor of The Crescent, Dallas’s most luxurious office tower. The elevator doors swished open to an opulent lobby with marble tile floors. Nifty pendant lights hung from high, multilevel ceilings. A model-beautiful young woman sat at a mahogany-and-glass desk. On the wall above her, gleaming brass letters signified the law firm of Ferguson and Rooks.

Kate’s heels clicked smartly on the marble floor as she and Frank crossed to the receptionist’s desk.

“May I help you?” she asked.

Frank flashed his identification. “We’d like to speak to Belinda Ferguson and Jameson Rooks.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but we’d be happy to get a warrant if you prefer.” His smile was charming.

Looking as if she wasn’t quite sure whether to be charmed or alarmed, the young woman punched numbers on the switchboard.

Kate strolled to the opposite side of the lobby and pretended to study the museum-quality oils adorning the walls.

A moment later Frank came up beside her. “Pretty smooth, don’t you think?”

“I think what you just did was an abuse of your position.”

“Avoided a lot of phone tag.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “This guy’s an attorney, Frank. He knows his rights, and he’s not going to put up with any crap. If he complains to Mike about the DA’s office overstepping bounds, you can bet we’ll hear about it.”

“May I help you?”

Kate turned to see a tall, distinguished man enter the lobby. He wore an Armani pinstriped suit with a pale yellow shirt, a Hermes tie, and glossy wingtips. He looked to be in his early fifties, his age given away only by the gray at his temples. He had the physique and grace of a man twenty years younger. His eyes were the color of a January sky, icy and cold and gray.

“Mr. Jameson Rooks?”

“Yes.”

Kate held up her identification and extended her hand. “Thanks for making time for us. We’re with the DA’s office. We’d like to ask you a few routine questions about an incident at one of the Snack and Gas stores here in Dallas.”

The man grimaced. “The murders. Of course. We’re still reeling over that. Vicious thing.” Rooks motioned toward the wide hall. “I’ve got a few minutes before I have to leave. Why don’t you come into my office? I’ll help you any way I can.”

“Thank you.”

He led them down a wide hall. Matted and framed photographs of several Texas city skylines festooned the walls. Dallas. Ft. Worth. Houston. At the end of the hall they entered a large corner office. Two glass walls offered a stunning view of downtown Dallas. The furniture was stark, black leather, stainless steel, and glass. A sago palm as large as a man soaked up light in the far corner.

A woman of about forty years of age sat on a black leather settee. She had light brown eyes and tawny hair. She wore an elegant white suit with matching pumps. Diamonds glinted at her earlobes. She looked like a sleek white cat sitting there, watching them as if they were about to muss the Aubusson rug.

“This is my partner, Belinda Ferguson.”

Kate crossed to the woman and shook her hand. “Hello.”

“Belinda, this is Kate Megason and Frank Matrone of the Dallas County DA’s office.”

Ferguson nodded. “You’re here about the two clerks?”

“We like to cover all our bases,” Frank said.

“Please. Have a seat.” Rooks crossed to the wet bar at the back of the room. “Would you like a drink? Soda? Iced tea?” He smiled. “I’ve got something stronger if you like.”

“We’re fine,” Frank said.

Shrugging, he poured amber liquid into an ice-filled tumbler and carried it to his desk. Kate took the chair across from him. Frank remained standing.

Rooks sipped, regarding them over the rim of the glass. “I obtained a copy of the tape.” Shaking his head, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”

Belinda Ferguson rose from the sofa and stood next to the desk. “We’ve been in contact with the security director of the franchisee,” she said. “He’s going to use portions of that tape and produce it into a training video. To try to prevent things like this from happening in the future.”

“This isn’t the kind of crime a training tape could have prevented,” Frank said.

Rooks looked at him. “Nonetheless, we wanted to do something. That kind of work . . . late-night convenience stores can be dangerous. If a training video can prevent even one death”—he shrugged—“I feel it’s the least we can do for the franchisee.”

“You’re paying for it?”

Belinda Ferguson nodded. “We’ve also begun a charitable trust for Evangeline Worth’s four children. Our firm is donating twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“That’s generous of you,” Frank said.

“We feel it’s the least we can do. Four children losing their mother that way.” The lawyer shook his head. “Even as removed as we are here at the firm from the actual store operations, it’s a tough thing to deal with.”

A heavy silence weighted the room for the span of several seconds.

“In any case.” Rooks leaned back in his black leather executive chair and contemplated them. “Tell us how we can help you today.”

Kate started to speak, but Frank cut in. “We were wondering about the life insurance policy on Evangeline Worth.”

“Life insurance?” Rooks looked from Frank to Kate, then back to Frank. “I’m afraid I’m not aware of any life insurance policy.”

“Let me refresh your memory,” Frank said. “Ferguson and Rooks owns Quorum Partners Limited. Quorum is the policy holder and partial beneficiary of a life insurance policy on Evangeline Worth.”

“All of which is administered by Quorum.” Rooks raised his hands. “We’re corporate attorneys, Mr. Matrone. We may own a company, but we have little or nothing to do with the running of that company. We don’t set policy, either. We certainly don’t get involved in insurance issues.”

“You just collect the benefit.”

Rooks’s expression cooled. “And you don’t approve of the practice?”

“Home office buys a policy. Clerk kicks the bucket. Home office gets a big chunk of cash. I think they call it dead-peasant insurance,” Frank said. “Reminds me of vultures picking over carrion.”

“All legal in the State of Texas.”

“As long as the company has an insurable interest,” Frank finished. “But it reeks of a corporation capitalizing on an hourly clerk’s death.”

“I know how it might look on the outside looking in, Mr. Matrone. But I can tell you that a company has a right to protect its assets. Our employees, whether hourly or executive, are our greatest asset.”

“How much do you get?” Frank asked.

Belinda Ferguson shot him a dark look. “What are you insinuating?”

Frank shot a darker one back at her. “We’re just trying to figure out how things work. I think we figured it out.”

Rooks frowned. “I’ll have to check the policy. I have no idea.”

“We’d appreciate that,” Frank said.

Sensing the meeting was about to go south, Kate stepped in. “We appreciate your meeting with us on such short notice. We won’t take up any more of your time.”

Rooks rose. “I’ll see you out.”

Kate shook hands with Belinda Ferguson, then left the office and started down the hall with Frank and Rooks behind her.

In the reception area Frank paused and looked around. “Nice office.”

“My daughter is an interior designer.”

“She’s good.”

“I think so.” Rooks smiled like a proud papa. “Ferguson and Rooks will be moving to Providence Tower in the fall, however. My daughter will be designing the penthouse for us.”

“Must have to sell a lot of beer and cigarettes to afford that kind of high rent,” Frank said.

Rooks’s expression chilled. “For a public servant, you have a smart mouth.”

Frank met his gaze in kind. “A lot of people think that.”

“I can see why.” Rooks gave Kate an incredulous look.

Vowing to strangle Frank when they got back to the office, Kate extended her hand to Rooks. “Thanks again for meeting with us.”

He accepted the handshake. “If there’s any way we can help, please don’t hesitate to call.” He brushed his thumb over the top of her hand before releasing it.

Back in the truck, Kate leaned against the seat. “That was real smooth.”

“I don’t think Rooks thought so.”

“What do you think?”

“I’m kind of hungry. I thought we could stop off at—”

“About Jameson Rooks and Belinda Ferguson.”

Frank left the visitor parking garage and turned onto Cedar Springs. “I think they reminded me why I don’t like lawyers.”

“They’re corporate lawyers.”

“If it walks like a duck . . .”

“As far as our investigation, I think we have everything we need from them.”

“Yeah,” he conceded. “And maybe one day dead-peasant insurance will be illegal in America.”

As they headed back to the office, Kate found herself thinking about Evangeline Worth’s four children.

SEVENTEEN

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 6,9:13 P.M.

Surveillance was one aspect of police work Frank had never cared for. Back when he’d been a cop, he’d much preferred the adrenaline rush of drug busts and undercover stings over the slow-paced crawl of surveillance. Sitting in his car in some upscale Dallas neighborhood watching the alley cats fuck was not his idea of satisfying work.