Flutter (10 page)

Brown and Finch arrived at the 34th floor. When the doors opened, they saw Detective Tammy waiting for them at the elevator. “Finch. Brown.”

Tammy was in charge of the forensics team and was very thorough. Like Finch, she was very detail
–
oriented and organized. 

“Tammy.” Brown gestured his hand to let her lead the way.

“This way.”

Officer Alicia Tammy and Detective Brown had worked on a few cases together over the years. She was the only person he ever trusted to handle the forensics on his homicide investigations. Tammy was a thin, African American woman who had worked at the precinct for six years. She sported a curly afro for the past year after swearing off relaxers and hair straightening chemicals. Tammy met Brown while handling her first case on the job. She was transferred to Boston after she was pulled in from Worcester to work on a high profile case. She had just finalized a divorce and needed to move on with her life.

Tammy’s divorce was no surprise to her family. Her husband, Martin Tammy, had been abusive for many years after he returned from his tour of duty in Afghanistan. Many nights she would wake up to find him outside in the cold, confused about where he was or punching the tree in the yard until his hands bled. Another time, she found him in the kitchen smearing his body with oil and flour. The final straw was when she caught him at 3:00 am walking around the house with a cleaver threatening to cut off his own penis. She immediately took their kids and left the house. She felt bad for him. He needed help but was on a five month waiting list to see a psychiatrist, and his mind was quickly deteriorating.

The move to Boston was the perfect situation at the perfect time. She moved herself, her two daughters, Kyla and Marie, and their cat, Punchy, in a day. She left Martin with the house, the car and the joint bank account. Six months later, Martin killed himself by swallowing a half gallon of bleach. Tammy and the girls were devastated, but she knew that leaving was the safest thing she could think to do at the time.

There were cubicles in the center of the office floor virtually covering 90% of the level and various sized offices on the perimeter of the floor by the windows. Most of the people had been removed to conference rooms and cafeteria. Police were on the opposite side of the floor, but it was hard to see from the other side of the room. 

“So far no one has seen anything.”

 “The only people we asked to stay were people who either worked late the night before or arrived early that morning. There were about 15 people we quickly questioned, but none of them had seen anything out of the ordinary.” 

“What about maintenance?” Finch asked.

“I wish. A few maintenance workers were questioned; but once again, they didn’t see anything that night or this morning.”

“Where are the other employees?”

“We got them out before they could figure out what we had seen and take pictures. The guard was first on the scene. He’s in the office with Fisher.” They continued cutting through the cubicles. 

Through the glass, they could see Detective Fisher talking to the security guard. “Oh God, here we go. Fisher is gonna mess things up.” Finch was annoyed.

“Fisher will be leaving soon. He is not getting anywhere with the guard and hasn’t finished his BU… no Brandeis case. I’m not sure why Chief Downy sent him of all people to cover for you. I already told the guard not to say anything until you guys got here. He keeps saying things are classified and Fisher is pissed.”

“I like him already.”

They opened the office door. Fisher and his team were taking pictures.

“Find anything interesting, Fish?” Brown pretended to care.

“Just an incompetent guard and an unidentified forearm on the ledge.” Fisher pointed to the ledge. They looked over to see a man’s severed forearm on the ledge of the building. “I was able to gather that the window cleaners work this area once every two to three weeks.”

Finch jumps in. “So, that explains why we are just getting the call now. Nice!”

“I’m getting the idea that Chief Downy wants you guys to take over here.” Finch wasn’t surprised at all.

“Homicide.” Brown had an answer ready for the comment he knew would come.

“Except there’s no body to prove homicide, just an arm, buddy. Sounds more like a missing person than a homicide,” Fisher said in response.

“I’m sure a body will turn up.” 

“Either way, I have to get outta here and get back on that Brandeis case.” Fisher handed the cameras memory card to Finch.

“How’s that going?” Finch asked as she inspected the memory card.

“Pretty well. We should be wrapping things up. Hopefully warrants will go out this afternoon. So, I’m outta here. Let’s go. Good luck with those Yankees, Brown.” Fisher smiled and walked out with two other officers.

Brown shook his head. Finch was surprised. “I’ve never seen him jump off a case without a fight.”

“I’m not asking questions.” Brown located the coroner.

Finch dropped the memory card into her pocket. She took out her phone to take her own pictures for upload to the cloud drive and take notes. The coroner approached them. 

The coroner was Michelle Cox. She had worked for the force for about ten years and was always Brown’s first recommendation. He was happy to see her on the scene working with Tammy. Cox shook their hands. “Good to see you guys.”

“How’s it going?” Finch asked as she folded her arms.

“Pretty well. Have you taken all your pics? We wanna get this off the ledge and down to the lab ASAP. We think it is Robert Benson’s.”

The guard jumped in, “I
know
it is Robert Benson’s arm.”

Cox introduced them, “Sorry. This is Sam Petit, the guard on this floor.”

“I’m Detective Brown. This is Detective Finch. Who is Robert Benson? And how do you know this is his arm for sure?”

Petit was happy to explain, “Robert Benson is COO of this company. He’s been missing for what… a week or two?”

“And no one said anything?” This didn’t make sense to Brown.

“They knew. They wanted to keep it quiet,” Detective Tammy jumped in. “This place has been buzzing with reporters since the death of Alan Jiang and they’ve been concerned about the stock price I assume.”

“Whose decision was it to keep things quiet?” Brown asked.

Tammy answered, “The family… and the board of directors of course.” She went back to dusting for prints.

Petit confirmed, “She’s right. The board held a meeting with all managers, supervisors and security informing us that he went missing. They told us if anyone asked to say he was on vacation while the family did their own private investigation. Most figured he went into hiding after the murder. That was most of the mailroom chatter I heard.”

Finch thought for a moment, “Oh yeah! The Alan Jiang murder thing. Remember that? That lines up pretty nicely
if
there is a connection.” Finch made a note in her file.

“If… But that’s a good if.” Brown knew to trust Finch’s instincts.

ALAN JIANG:
CEO

ROBERT BENSON:
COO, MISSING ABOUT TWO WEEKS

SAM PETIT:
GUARD ON DUTY

“That’s definitely his hand right there,” Petit insisted with confidence. He slightly gagged when he looked at it. He patted his head with a paper towel as sweat dripped down his forehead. The nausea raised his temperature. He felt heat running underneath his uniform. He unbuttoned his collar.

Brown asked, “Are we done taking pictures.”

The officers nodded.

“Get that thing off the ledge for us.” Brown directed the assisting officers to bring the arm closer. The two officers, wearing protective coveralls and gloves, reached out and grabbed the arm. It was tied down to a brick so that it would stay on the ledge and not be blown away. They carefully lifted the arm, bringing it into the room. They placed it on a black bag on the desk.

Brown took a closer look scanning his eyes across the flesh of the severed stiff forearm hoping to find clues. He felt a bit sick from the rotting smell but stomached it very well. Maggots were starting to form.

Finch needed more information and asked, “What time are you on shift?”

Petit responded, “The office opens at nine, but a few people like to get in early, so I get here at eight in the morning.”

Brown jumped in, “What are your normal duties?”

“I usually hang out by the elevators. I walk the aisles once every 20 to 30 minutes. I take lunch at 11:30 or 12, a 15 minute break at 2:30 and I leave at 5:00, once everyone is gone. Sometimes people stay, but I leave at 5. Overtime has to be approved.”

“Have you or anyone worked overtime this week?” Finch asked.

“I didn’t, but I’m not sure if others did.”

“What usually happens on the floor? Was anyone acting strangely?”

“Well, I never go into private offices unless asked to. That arm could have been out there for a week and I wouldn’t know. And I haven’t seen anyone doing anything out of the ordinary.”

“Does another guard come in after you?” Finch asked.

“No. This place is cheap. They wouldn’t pay another person to walk the floor when no one is here. This level gets locked up at 8:00. No one gets in; no one gets out unless you have security clearance.”

Brown asked, “Who has security clearance here?”

Petit answered, “I don’t know exactly who. I would think head of security and the big wigs around here. Anyone from the board may have it, but I’m not 100% sure.”

“How did you find the arm?” Finch asked as she filled in the online worksheet.

“I didn’t find it. I got a call from one of our window washers, Eddie Cons. He was completely terrified and hysterical.”

“Where is he now?”

“He was throwing up when I got here. So I sent him home, but he is on call and willing to speak.”

“Let’s get back to this arm here. How do you know it is Robert Benson’s arm for sure?” Brown wanted to get his questions answered.

Petit walked closer and pointed. “That middle finger. See how it’s short? I remember him giving a speech about eight months ago to the employees here. And he told us a story about a butterfly that was caught in his dorm window back when he was at Harvard. He opened the window to free it and the window slammed back down on his finger cutting it off at the tip. I’m not sure if he was making a point about helping the helpless, or getting burned by those you help.”

“Was there a ring here? Look at that tan line. Did he wear a ring?” Brown asked good questions and always made good observations.

“Harvard ring. Class of 97. It slipped off once and my buddy, Jake, found it. That cheap bastard gave him 10 bucks for finding it. It was a $5000 ring!” He covered his mouth with the paper towel in his hand. “Sorry. This is kind of hard.”

“It’s ok. Get some air.” Brown sent Petit out of the room.

In the meantime Finch sent a text to Chief Downy. “HERE. EVERYTHING IS GOING WELL. UPDATING FILES ON THE CLOUD NOW.” She went back to her notes and was impressed with the way Brown handled the guard. Finch nodded as she took notes:

ROBERT BENSON:
COO CHAPEL & CASE

MISSING TWO WEEKS

SPEECH 8 MONTHS EARLIER

SHORT MIDDLE FINGER: CUT IN WINDOW

HARVARD RING MISSING

CLASS OF ‘87

Some things may have seemed irrelevant, but she wrote everything that could possibly lead to a motive:

SAM PETIT:
GUARD

BENSON LOST RING– JAKE FINDS RING

REFERS TO ROBERT BENSON AS “CHEAP BASTARD”

WORKS 8–5PM NOT A MINUTE MORE

20 MINUTE LAPS

EDDIE CONS:
WINDOW WASHER FINDS ARM ON LEDGE

Brown looked around to take a second to think. “I’m gonna need that window washer’s name, number and address.” Brown was ready to go. Finch was focused on taking notes. She preferred to do it over Brown. He was used to memorizing and writing by hand. They often argued about the best way. Brown thought that too much typing would make him overlook subtle gestures by the guilty and mini clues left behind. Maybe he had a point. By time they left, Meghan could barely remember the guards face. Luckily, she took a picture of him as she visually scanned the room. 

Roger and Abigail spent the day cleaning the pub from top to bottom. Larry came in to help out. He didn’t speak much. His goal was to get it over with and head back home. They wanted to get everything done today so they could have the next day completely to themselves. The most difficult area to clean was the club in the basement. The stench of old blood and sweat lingered through the vents. The smell had been easing its way up toward the bar. Occasionally, the odor could be smelled in the night air as the breeze carried the scent up the walls and through the vents. After the cleaning session, Roger and Abigail decided to go to Roger’s house. They arrived at his house later on that evening around 9:00 pm.

Roger’s mother always expected him to arrive late. Sometimes she waited up just to see how his day was going. They walked through the hall, past a fish tank on a table. There is a funny looking goldfish in it. Elvis. Ms. Atkins had food ready for him in Tupperware on the kitchen table. She sat with big pink rollers in her hair and a bath robe which she never seemed to take off. She wore the same robe every day for the most part. She sat in the kitchen reading a book, snickering at the funny parts. When Roger walked into the kitchen she was happy to see him. “Welcome to earth, Rog.” She looked at Abigail. Abigail took off her hood. Ms. Atkins put down her book. Her eyes were fixed on Abigail.

“Good evening.” Abigail was nervous. Roger always complained about his nagging mother, but this was the first time she was seeing the woman in the flesh. She looked a lot different from the way Abigail imagined her. Abigail thought she had a very pretty face, but carried herself as if she was older than she really was. On the table was a bottle of Jack Daniels. Ms. Atkins had a glass and finished the last sip.

“I see you have company. Little late wouldn’t you say?”