Monahan 02 Artificial Intentions (38 page)

“I’ll admit, sir, that we’re not much further along than we were two weeks ago. One of the detectives assigned to the case is on sick leave, and Detective Shipley is working the case alone.”

“Well, excuse my French but that’s bullshit and the bullshit stops right here.” Desmond Patrick gave everyone a fierce look. “What have you got for us, Miss Monahan?”

“I’ll defer to Mr. Northland. He’s head of our security detail at Phoenix.” I gave them a quick primer on Kelly’s background so everyone understood they weren’t dealing with Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys here.

“Before Mr. Northland starts though, I’d just like to ask that you respect the confidentiality of some of the information relating to our company.”

The words were barely out my mouth and I heard Shipley snort a few seats away.

“Yes?” I looked at her.

“You can’t ask that we keep information confidential when we’re investigating a murder. Are you asking us to ignore facts? This is just typical of you rich and uppity business types.” Roger that.
Confirmed
that she was pissed with me.

Cleve jumped in at this point and put on his best
we take umbrage
with those remarks
personage. “We are
not
asking that you ignore facts. We are just asking that the confidentiality of certain things we are going to disclose to you be kept confidential, if you can manage that.”

“Understood,” Mr. Murphy barked again and this time his fierce look was directed at Shipley.

Kelly proceeded to fill them in, just as we’d discussed in the car on the ride over. I watched the crowd around the table as he gave them the run down. His note book was open in front of him and occasionally he would flip a page, but he didn’t read from it. He was politically correct and addressed most of his remarks directly at Shipley. Not that she hadn’t heard some of this before, I reminded myself. The Commissioner appeared a bit bored, picking at his cuticles. Shipley’s boss Linda Derek took notes but she was outpaced by the Commissioner’s assistant who sat at the far end of the table. He was a young man, probably not yet thirty, of Asian descent, who seemed to be taking down everything that was said verbatim.

I chastised myself for daydreaming and brought my attention back to Kelly.

“So, in a nutshell, that’s what we know. We’d like NYPD’s assistance in locating Ben Tucker and Natalie Scott.” I looked at Detective Shipley who was grim-faced and unmoving. She nodded at Kelly.

“Anything else?” the Commissioner asked. Without waiting for any responses, he slapped both hands down on the table and stood up. I looked at my watch. We’d been here less than fifteen minutes and it appeared that we were being given the bum’s rush.

“Miss Monahan. Nice meeting you.” He held out his hand and I stood up and gave him a shake. “I’ve got another meeting but please, use my office. The detectives here are tasked with solving this case.” Another fierce look in their direction. “The City of New York takes crime seriously. The murder of one of this city’s citizens is serious business.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “And, we’re sorry for your loss.” In spite of his bluster, I think he meant it.

We spent the next ninety minutes at his conference table, rehashing the last two weeks. The detectives fired questions at us, and we answered the best we could.

Who would want to kill Dr. Francis?

We had no idea.

Why did he suddenly leave his job at Global Devices?

We had no idea.

How well did Mr. Connaught know Dr. Francis?

Again, no idea. I told them they should talk with Dr. Bill Pritchard. Get his take on things. Shipley nodded.

I gave them Sara Williston’s phone number. One of them mentioned that they’d work on a search warrant to access the safety deposit box shared by Tommy and Dr. Francis.

Were we aware of any relationship between Ben Tucker and Natalie Scott?

None, other than their reporting relationship at work and the fact that they had worked together at the hospital in Flagstaff.

Shipley riled me a little with some of her questions. Like were the lawyers any further along in figuring out the value of the deceased’s estate? Before I could answer that she rephrased the question and wanted to know just how much I was inheriting. And before I could answer
that
, she looked at the other detectives with a smug, knowing look. I didn’t bother to answer her because she was clearly giving me a dig and besides, Cleve shot me a look across the table, which said keep your mouth shut.

I wanted to counter with some questions of my own. Like what the hell had they been doing the last two weeks to get to the bottom of this? What had Shipley done with the information that Kelly and I shared with her on Friday? Sweet fuck all would be the answer I was going to get. The only reason we were getting anywhere at this point, late on a Sunday night was because the Commissioner had called this meeting. I was pissed, but I was tired too, so I kept the bitchiness in check.

Had the FDA been informed of the reasons for the contract cancellation by Global? This was from one of the detectives whose name I forgot, but it was a good question.

What was the latest report from Flagstaff? Was there any news on our missing investigator?

We wrapped up with handshakes all around and fake smiles on my behalf. I didn’t think for a minute that my smile fooled anyone but the detectives and their boss were civil with us, promising to keep us informed.

chapter fifty-four

My eyes locked on the object and my body went rigid. I was breathing yes, but not moving. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, staring at it, trying to get my heart pumping at the hysterical rate rather than the panicked rate. My eyes shot around the bedroom. The digital clock read 11:27. The door to the ensuite bathroom was ajar and some light was filtering out. Did I leave the light on in the bathroom?

The corners of the large room were dark and my heart rate shot back up to hysterical as I willed my eyes to adjust to see if there was anything, anybody in the shadows. Just like a kid playing the game of statues, my body was frozen in a ridiculous pose.

As I usually did when I came in the bedroom, I walked to the side of the bed where I slept and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. Light illuminated the top half of the massive, king size bed. In the split second that I was thinking about sinking into the crisp sheets and pulling the duvet over me, I spied the white envelope sitting squarely in the middle of my pillow.

I let my eyes focus on the envelope and I whimpered just little when I saw that it was addressed to
BITCH
.

Not entirely convinced that I was alone, I nonetheless made myself, no correct that, willed myself to leave the room. Hyper-aware now, just like Frank Sanchez had drilled into me. My peripheral vision kicked in, my back straightened up and my fists clenched. The envelope lay untouched on the pillow and as I backed out of the bedroom into the hall, I knew that the pillow was going in the garbage and I would never let it touch me again.

When I came out of the hallway into the main area of the apartment, I was relieved to see my ever-present bodyguard, Chris, sitting at the dining room table reading a newspaper. He must have known by the look on my face that something was wrong because he was quickly out of his chair, coming around the table towards me with a gun in his hand. I stupidly wondered where the gun came from and at the same time told him that there was something on my bed. He grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into the foyer of the apartment where we both stood against the wall while he made some calls on his cell phone.

While I stood rigidly in the foyer, unable to relax my body, my brain was running wild. Someone had been in the apartment while we were at the Police Commissioner’s office. How had they got in? Besides putting what looked like a harmless envelope on my bed, what else had they done? Were they still in the apartment? When was this all going to end?

An eternity later the intercom on the wall chimed and Kelly and the cavalry arrived. The cavalry were really the two other bodyguards whom I had met over the past couple of days. They and Kelly fanned out in the apartment, with their guns out and up, clasped in both hands, just like the cops in the TV shows. Chris stayed with me in the foyer. When we got the all clear, I felt my body relax a bit, but the adrenaline was still pumping. My brain was screaming for a cigarette and my heart was aching for Jay.

I ignored the nicotine need and pow-wowed with Kelly, Chris and the cavalry in the kitchen.

I could tell Kelly was livid. “I’m sorry this happened, ma’am,” he told me through clenched teeth. He shot a look at Chris and then pointed to the reason why we were all standing around the round table in the kitchen. The offensive object was now inside a plastic bag and I let my eyes rest on it for a moment.

“The apartment was breached. How, we’re not sure at this point, but we will find out. As of now, you’ll have three men in the apartment with you at all times. We think it’s easier to protect you here than in a hotel or another place.”

I nodded, suddenly very tired. I thrust my chin towards the envelope. “Are we going to see what the note inside says?”

“Later. Right now it’s evidence.”

Satisfied with the telephone call, the stalker smiled and gently placed the handset on the telephone base, ending the long distance call to Flagstaff. The long reach of Tom Connaught’s bitch and her ‘soldiers’ was effectively cut off. Not caring to know the name of the person sent by the bitch, the stalker had abruptly interrupted the caller. Just tell me there is no link from us to him.

My sleep was interrupted by an urgent hand, shaking my shoulder.

“Ma’am.”

“Yunh.” I mumbled something and willed my brain to wake up from a deep sleep. I was under some blankets on one of the couches in the living room, where I had fallen asleep in the early morning hours.

I struggled to sit up, totally disoriented because it was still dark with only a little light coming from the lamp on the side table. Kelly was crouched down in front of the couch, waiting for my eyes to focus. I ran my hands through my hair, and then rubbed them over my face.

“What time is it?” I whispered.

“Three thirty. I’m sorry to wake you but we’ve got a situation.”

I took a deep breath, not sure if I was ready for more bad news. With my feet on the floor and the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I looked at Kelly sitting on his heels in front of me. Looked in his eyes and couldn’t stand what I saw there. My stomach flipped and my brain willed it to stay still. Stay strong. Stay tough.
Strong
and
tough
- two of my personality traits that had been seeping out of me with each passing hour, dealing with this shit-mess.

“I’m awake. What’s going on?”

“They’ve found our guy in Flagstaff.”

Jerry. The man who had a mom and dad waiting for him. The man who was working for us. Oh my God. I nodded my head, silently telling Kelly to go on.

“There’s a fire right now in the administration offices at the hospital in Flagstaff. It’s the middle of the night out there, so thank God no staff were there. But they found a man’s body. Unconscious, suffering from smoke inhalation they think.”

I put my hand on Kelly’s shoulder, which felt like a piece of granite. “Is he going to be okay?”

“We hope.” He placed his hands on his knees and stood up. All business now. “My other guys out there will call again soon with an update report.” He reached over to turn off the lamp and I stopped him.

“Leave it on. I’m getting up.” If Kelly and his guys could work around the clock for me and for our company, I could too. As helpless as I felt at this moment, I was sure I could at least make some coffee.

“I’m coming back on the next plane,” Jay said when I finished describing what had happened in the twenty-four hours since he had gone back to Toronto.

“No,” I told him. My voice was hoarse from lack of sleep and too many cigarettes. “It’s alright. As much as I miss you and want to see you, you need to stay there. For your job. It’s important.”

There was a long silence and I wondered if Jay was thinking about my close call a few months ago, when that madman had shot at me, point blank.

“It’s okay, really Jay. Kelly and his gang of guys are here. I promise I won’t do anything to put myself out there. Kelly wouldn’t let me anyway.”

“I just can’t understand what all of this is about. Who’s doing this? And I can’t believe that Dr. Francis is dead. I never met the man but I felt like I knew him just a little bit.”

I agreed with Jay and we talked about that for a little while longer, theorizing but getting nowhere. We promised to call each other again, later that day.

It was early Monday morning and I was at my desk, at the Phoenix offices. A different bodyguard, Michael, was at my beck and call, sitting in the outside office in a guest chair beside Carrie’s desk. It was awkward all around but I was appreciative of his presence.

I started off the day meeting with Sandra Melnick and going through the piles of files that she had left me on Friday. I swear to God that I tried to pay attention because this was important stuff for our company. But my mind kept wandering. Wondering about Jerry’s parents, worried about their son. A son who had survived military service but was now unconscious, in a hospital. Left for dead because of some private investigating work on behalf of a company they had never heard of, never had anything to do with. From there my thoughts segued to Dr. Jordan Francis’ family. Who were they? They would be reconciling the death of their son, their brother, their uncle. I couldn’t recall a time when my heart hurt as much as it did right now. My nose started to sting, signaling the start of tears, so I sniffed hard and brought my attention back to what Sandra was telling me.

Cleve came through the office door as soon as Sandra left and he joined me at the work table. A large carafe of coffee sat in the middle of the table, with cream and sugar, china mugs, and silver spoons on a large tray. Cleve poured himself a mug before he sat down across from me. I was smoking but put the cigarette out in an overflowing ashtray.