Murder.com (19 page)

"Carrington." That was how he
answered the phone.

"John, hi. It's—"

"Max. Glad you called. I was just
about to call you."

"Yeah?"

"I've got some bad news. We need
you to come down to the station."

Not again.

"There's been a development. That,
well, isn't good."

"What does it have to do with
me?"

"Seth Cohen is dead."

"What?"

Seth was dead? I wasn't sure that
I had heard Carrington correctly. Carrington must have sensed my
disbelief.

"Seth Cohen is dead. They found
him last night. On the sidewalk by his hotel. Seems he was run over
a few times."

Holy shit. I couldn't believe what
I was hearing. He was right. He wanted my help. He needed my help.
And I dismissed him. Tossed him out of my office. To his
death.

"Oh my God!"

"We know that you knew him, Max.
We know that you had met with him yesterday."

Were they watching me? They must have been. How
would he have known that?

"Yes, he met with me. He called me
and then came by to tell me that he thought someone was trying to
kill him. He wanted my help."

"And what did you do?"

"Nothing. I did nothing. I told
him that it was nothing and that he should go back to California.
He'd be safe there. I never imagined that someone was really trying
to kill him!"

"Well, Williams thinks it's
related to Baxter's death, and he wants you down here so we can
talk to you about that."

There wasn't any chance in hell
that I was going back to that station. They'd have to come get me.
Arrest me. Drag me there in the back of a squad car.

I was appalled that Williams thought I was
responsible for killing Seth too.

"I'm afraid I can't do that,
John," I said

"You don't have a choice. You need
to be here today."

"Buy me some time, John. I've got
information for you. I think we know who killed Ted, and who
probably killed Seth."

"You're out of time, Max. Williams
is going to issue an arrest warrant if you don't show."

"Make up some excuse. Create some
diversion. John, you've got to buy me a couple of days."

We were now entering the desperation portion of this
ongoing drama. They were going to come for me. Throw me in cuffs,
escort me out of my office, and push me into the back of a police
car.

"Even if I could, Max, I don't
know if it would even help." He paused. Maybe he was thinking.
Planning a diversion. "What do you have for me?"

"Not a whole heck of a
lot."

"Max!"

"OK, I've met with Miller a few
times."

"Well, that's
something."

"I've seen him lose his temper,
and he's not exactly warm and fuzzy."

"I had the same feeling when we
spoke with him. I'll tell you what, he strikes me a bit funny, that
one, a nasty prick. But being a prick doesn't necessarily make you
a killer."

"I also think he's having an
affair with Kitty."

"Yes, well, you've already told me
that, Max. That's not new information."

"But I actually believe it this
time."

"You didn't believe it when you
told me on the steps of the station?"

"Not exactly—it was just a hunch
then. But now I think it's true. And I've received two emails over
the past few days from someone anonymous basically telling me that
Mike's the killer. I'll send them over to you."

John paused. You could almost hear
him thinking. "Is there some way you can trace where the emails
came from?"

"There is. You must be learning
something from those computer geeks that you work with. But I had a
few of my guys here try. They couldn't come up with anything. The
sender must have spoofed the IP address."

"Whoa, Max, slow down,
spoofed
?
IP address
? Do me a
favor, just send them over here and I'll see what we can do. That
reminds me,
we did find out something
about that other email.
We ran Latin
phrases against the SCV and ACAE from the body of the note. We came
up with one phrase:
Aut Consillis Aut
Ense,
which means either by meeting or the
sword. Seems appropriate for the tone of the email and the content.
So whatever Overlord is, we figure Mike is determined to see it
through. We drew a blank on SCV, though."

"John, SCV is Seth Cohen's
company: Silicon City Ventures."

There was silence on the other end of the call.

"John?" I asked. I thought that
the line had gone dead.

"Yeah, I'm here. SCV.
Huh."

"Weird, huh?"

"More like very curious. Look,
Max, I have—"

It sounded like he was going to
hang up on me. "Wait, John, who knows I'm involved in this
investigation?"

John's answer was immediate: "Me
and you. That's it."

"And Kitty," I added.

"Yes, you're right, Mrs. Baxter."
He paused another moment, as was his phone etiquette.

"Do you think Kitty sent those
other emails to me?"

"I know I didn't send you the
email, and you didn't send it to yourself, so it would stand to
reason that Kitty sent you the emails."

"That's what I thought too. But,
umm, I met with her and asked her about it."

"Jeez, Max. Why would you go and
do something like that?"

"I wanted an answer."

"Let me guess. She denied
it?"

"She did, and I believe
her."

"She bat her eyes at you too,
kid?"

"C'mon, John. I don't care a lick
about Kitty. If she did send the email, she certainly wants Mike
nailed."

"I agree. It's strange. But she
gets the money if she finds the killer, assuming the killer isn't
her."

We both had a good chuckle over that one.

"I've got one more
confession."

"I'm not a priest."

"Humor me. I told Mike that I'm
working with the police."

"Max. You're a man of many
surprises."

I'd take it. At least he wasn't
going to yell at me.

The line went silent again.

"Hello?"

"I'm here. Just
thinking."

I let him think.

"Let me see what I can do here.
You don't have much time, Max, if any."

"I'll take whatever I can
get."

"You might want to get a
lawyer."

"I've got faith in you,
John."

"I'm glad someone
does."

John disconnected.

Seth was dead. I couldn't wrap my
head around it. I sat in my chair that overlooked the street. Dead.
Run over a few times. That was what John had said. I sipped my
coffee. Probably a nondescript black Town Car. Plowed right over
him. Backed up and then rolled over him. A few times. I was
nauseated.

Imogen walked into the room. Saw me sitting in the
chair. I must have looked very dejected.

"What's wrong, luv?"

I was on the verge of tears. I
didn't know why exactly. I didn't know Seth all that well. Hell, I
barely knew him at all. But something about his death shook me to
the core. Somehow his death made all of this very real. I had been
plodding along as if Ted's murder was some sort of a game. A
real-life mystery to decipher. A joke. Like the fact that I was on
the verge of being arrested for murder was some sort of
inconvenience that I could just brush aside if it actually came to
pass. I was wrong. This was all very serious. Deadly
serious.

"Seth is dead."

Imogen gasped. She raised her
hands up and covered her mouth. "What?"

"I just spoke to Carrington. He
told me."

"Oh my God, Max!" She started to
tear up. Maybe this was hitting home for her as well.

"I know. It's hitting me pretty
hard too," I said. "I've got some more bad news for
you."

"What? I don't think I can take
any more."

"I'm pretty sure there's going to
be a warrant out for my arrest."

"Max!"

"Williams thinks Seth's death has
something to do with Ted's murder."

Imogen stared at me. Her eyes dried and her demeanor
changed. It was if a light had gone on in her head.

"I think so too," she said,
stone-faced.

"What?"

"I think there is a
link."

"Why? How would you
know?"

"After we met with Seth yesterday,
I did a little digging. About SCV. I wanted to see what they did.
What they invested in. Did you ever check?"

"No, I didn't care that
much."

"Shows what kind of detective you
are."

"C'mon, Ginny."

"Curiosity got the better of me.
So I spent the better part of the rest of yesterday researching
them. Reading press releases, articles, checking
patents."

"And what did you find
out?"

"Well, there were a bunch of press
releases that SCV put out, about two years ago, for some
proprietary hologram technology that they'd invented. They claimed
it was going to revolutionize the way we communicated. Would kill
the cell phone."

I interrupted her. "That is pretty
cool."

"I know. They got a patent on the
technology and were building some consumer interface for it. Then
there was nothing about it. It was like it just
disappeared."

"That's weird."

"I thought so too. So I kept
digging around. Lo and behold, a year later, I find an article
about the future of video chat and communications. In the article,
I see Ken Clarke of BMC quoted saying that they had acquired the
patent for some hologram technology that was going to change the
world."

"Hmm." I was taking it all in.
That would be a big deal. It would create an entirely new industry.
Could you imagine if you owned the patent for something that eight
billion people would use? It would make you the richest person on
the planet. By leaps and bounds. You would be worth trillions.
Maybe even hundreds of trillions. You would be worth more than some
countries' GDPs.

"Here's the weird part. I couldn't
find anything about a sale or an investment from BMC into Seth's
company."

"Maybe they kept it quiet? But I
agree—that doesn't make any sense."

"It didn't make any sense to me
either. So I kept looking."

"Imogen, you're amazing. This is
amazing," I said.

She smiled. "I know. You're lucky
you've got me."

She was right.

"And then I found a
lawsuit."

"What?"

"Public record. I found a lawsuit
filed around the time of the quote between SCV and BMC. Seth was
suing BMC for patent infringement, fraud, conversion, and other
assorted not-very-nice legal things."

"Holy shit."

"Indeed. So I found the patent
number in the court papers and looked that up. It was a mess.
Somehow, Clarke ended up on the patent. Not BMC. Only
Clarke."

"Oh my God! Do you think he was
trying to take over SCV so that he could get Seth out of the
picture once and for all?"

"It certainly appears that way,"
Imogen said. "He could get rid of the lawsuit and SCV in one fell
swoop."

This was all just too fantastic to believe. I was
falling into the same trap that Sergeant Williams had fallen into.
Jumping to conclusions. Hanging on to any scrap of a fact, no
matter what it was, and running with it until I reached the
conclusion that made sense for me. Building the facts to reach the
end result that I wanted.

Believing this meant believing
that Mike Miller and Ken Clarke were stone-cold killers. Bankers
gone mad on a quest to rule the world. I wasn't sure if I was ready
to buy into the fantasy. Ready to suspend my belief in the decency
of mankind. That someone, anyone, could be that evil. Regardless, I
needed to find out more. And time was running out for
me.

The rich always want more.

Imogen was a genius. The information that she had
compiled was compelling. I needed to see what else I could dig up
before a police car showed up at my house. Or, even worse, one
showed up while I was out and about. In between my snooping I was
going to pick up the engagement ring. I was getting engaged.
Hopefully before I ended up behind bars.

My first stop was going to be the Apple Store on
59th and 5th. Right around the corner from my brownstone. After
all, it was on the way. I showered and made my way into the kitchen
for some breakfast.

"I was up. So I figured, why not?"
Imogen had decided to stop by the bagel shop and pick up a
half-dozen bagels for breakfast. She went with the sampler—poppy,
onion, everything, garlic, salt, and her favorite: cinnamon raisin.
I was a poppy guy. In addition, she had an extra-large cup of
coffee waiting for me with cream and sugar, a rare treat. She did
love me.