Leverage in Death

  “On the screen. I heard the report on the screen. Paul . . . I can’t reach Cecily. I can’t reach her. Please.”

  “Can we come in, Ms. Kelly?” Eve asked.

  “I’m sorry. Yes. I slept late,” she continued as she stepped back. “It’s a day off. I slept late. I turned the screen on for company while I did some chores before I went out to run errands. I can’t reach Cecily. Melly. Oh God, please.”

  “Ms. Greenspan and Melody are on their way to Ms. Greenspan’s mother in New Rochelle.”

  “Oh. Oh.” Iris sank into a chair in the living area, covered her face, burst into tears. “Thank God. I thought . . . I was afraid . . . It’s all craziness. They’re saying Paul killed himself and all those other people at his office. He never would, never, but they keep saying it and saying it. And I couldn’t reach Cecily.”

  “Why don’t I get you some water?” Peabody suggested.

  “Thank you. Thank you. I don’t understand why they’re saying Paul did something like this. He’d never hurt anyone. Please, he’s a good man.”

  “We believe Mr. Rogan was coerced.”

  “‘Coerced,’” Iris repeated slowly.

  “Ms. Kelly, has anyone approached you, asking questions about the family, their home, Mr. Rogan’s work?”

  “No. No. I mean to say, I talk about the family the way you do, with my husband or friends, my own family. Except they’re family, too. They made me family.”

  As she swiped at tears, she rocked herself for comfort. “I was there when they brought Melly home for the first time, just a little pink bundle. I’ll share things, like how well Melly’s doing in school or her dance recital, or something funny Paul said—he likes to joke—or something Cecily and I did. Just casual talk.”

  “Someone outside your friends and family,” Eve pushed as Peabody brought Iris a glass of water. “Someone making a delivery to the house when Melody was in school and her parents were at work. Or a repairman. Anyone.”

  “No, I promise you. I might talk to the people who run the market when I do the marketing. They might ask how I am doing, and how the family is doing. I might brag about Melly now and then. She’s next to my own. I might say how well she did in school—she, she wants to be an astronomer. I might speak to one of the mothers or nannies if I went to the school to get her. Sometimes Cecily had to stay for meetings, and I pick Melly up and take her home.”

  “Did anyone make you uncomfortable? Anyone you spoke to, anyone you saw around the neighborhood?”

  “I can’t think of anyone. I know some of the neighbors, and the people who work for them. You chat sometimes. I met my Johnny when he was working on the house next door. He redid the kitchen for the Spacers, and we chatted.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Nearly four years.”

  “You have the security code to the residence.”

  “Yes.” Her streaming eyes went wild. “Yes, I—”

  “Have you given it to anyone?”

  “Oh no, no one. Not even Johnny. You can’t break trust.”

  “Do you have it written down?”

  “No.”

  “How do you remember it?”

  “It’s easy. It’s all the initials of our first names, in order of age. PCIM—the numbers of the alphabet for them. So it’s sixteen—one-six, that is—three, nine, thirteen. I don’t understand. Did something happen at the house?”

  That part of the report hadn’t hit the media, Eve thought—or it hit after Iris turned off the screen. “Two men broke in—got through security. At this time we don’t believe they knew the code.”

  Her breath started to hitch. “You said Cecily and Melly were all right. You said—”

  “They will be. Ms. Greenspan was hurt, but her injuries aren’t critical. You can contact her through her mother when we’re done here.”

  “Melly?” Rocking faster, Iris fisted both hands over her heart. “Did they hurt Melly?”

  “Nothing serious. Do you answer the ’link when you’re working?”

  “Yes. Please, I just need to talk to them.”

  “Melly threw Jupiter out her window to get the cops’ attention.” Peabody added a smile to her soothing voice. “She’s smart, brave, and she’s fine.”

  “She is smart. She is.” More tear swiping. “Okay. They’re okay.”

  “Have there been any contacts,” Eve continued, “repeat contacts you don’t know personally, surveys asking questions, anything like that in the last six months?”

  “Nothing I can think of.”

  “Think back to December. What was going on?”

  “Oh, the holiday prep. Melly was so excited as we counted down to Christmas, even though she doesn’t believe in Santa anymore. I helped with the decorating, as I always do. We make a party of it. There’s extra marketing and shopping. I’d pick up things for both Paul and Cecily. Paul especially this year as he was already working hard on a campaign. And of course, Melly and I would go out to shop—our secret shopping and wrapping. For her parents, and a few of her girlfriends, her grandparents.”

  “Nothing unusual.”

  “I can’t think of . . . Well, unusual for me, but I don’t see—”

  “Anything.”

  “I had my ’link and wallet lifted, right out of my purse. And I know better. Born and raised in New York, so I know how to be careful, and still.”

  “How, when?”

  “We’d been shopping, Melly and I, hours of it, and had lunch out. A busy Saturday. I don’t work Saturdays as a rule, not for a couple years now, except sometimes over busy times and in the summer break. We were loaded down, and I was a little tired. I got careless. We were on the subway platform, crowded, noisy, and Melly was so excited. I had her hand, firm grip. And there was some jostling as the train came in. That had to be when it happened as I’d just used my ’link to scan us through the turnstiles. And when we were on the train, and I went to get it out—just to let Johnny know I’d pick up a curry on the way home—my ’link and my wallet weren’t in my purse.”

  “Did you report it?”

  “I did, only because Paul and Cecily insisted. Who would find them? I couldn’t say who took them, only when I thought. I had to cancel the debit card I carry, and the other apps on my ’link and so on. I hadn’t had but a little cash. Well under a hundred dollars, but I had photos in my wallet that meant something to me.”

  “But not the codes for the security system?”

  “No. Detective—I’ve already forgotten your name.”

  “Lieutenant Dallas.”

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I’ll swear to you on all I love, you’ll never meet a man more decent and caring than Paul Rogan. If he did what they say he did, it’s as you said. He was coerced. More than even that. I don’t know what the word would be, but more than even that. Please, can I try to reach Cecily and Melly now?”

  Eve rose. “Go ahead. If you think of anything else, however insignificant it might seem, contact me or Detective Peabody. Cop Central.”

  “You have my word on it. I’ll do anything I can to help find who did this to my family.”

  * * *

  “December,” Peabody said as they rode down to the lobby.

  “Before Christmas, so before the flicks and pushes. They gave it a shot, figured maybe Kelly had the code in her wallet, on her ’link. She didn’t, so they had to start working through the system. Let’s find out when this merger started rolling, who knew as far back as December. And let’s get the incident report on the stolen wallet and ’link.”

  Eve stepped out into the brisk air. “We’ll run Kelly’s husband just to cover the bases.”

  “She has pictures the kid drew on her kitchen board—and a Valentine’s Day card from the kid, along with one from the husband.”

  “It’s not going to be the husband. We run him anyway, cover those bases. He wouldn’t have to lift the ’link and wallet to try to get the code. He’d just check for the code when she wasn’t looking.
But maybe somebody he’s done a job for, or there’s someone he works with, hangs out with, who wanted a shortcut to Fat City. Pump him for info, start hacking the layers just like they hacked the security.

  “We’ll head to the hospital,” Eve decided. “But let’s see who might’ve been released. If there’s any on the way, we’ll take them as we come to them.”

  * * *

  By the time they got to the hospital, they had statements from three people who’d been treated and released. All ran along similar lines. Paul Rogan—family and company man, creative team leader, had appeared “off” or “ill” or “not himself,”—had approached Derrick Pearson and Willimina Karson as they’d entered the conference room.

  And boom.

  Eve hoped to start at the top with Karson, but the severity of the Econo exec’s injuries had her in ICU, in a coma, and off-limits. Switching tacts, Eve badged them into Rogan’s admin’s room.

  Against the white sheets of his hospital bed, Rudy’s face shined raw and red under its coating of burn gel. A stabilizer cast covered his right arm from wrist to shoulder. Sutures closed a gash running from the crown of his head to his left ear. Skin exposed by the thin hospital gown showed nicks, punctures, bruises, and burns.

  “Mr. Roe, I’m Lieutenant Dallas, and this is Detective Peabody.” She slipped her badge away again as she approached the bed.

  The room, the patient, reeked of the sweet, green smell of the gel. Rudy’s blackened eyes welled.

  “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know.”

  Ease him in, Eve thought. “What time did Mr. Rogan come into the office this morning?”

  “Eight-forty-five. I was worried because I expected him by eight-thirty, latest. It was the big day, and we were going to go over the bullet points of the presentation before the meeting. I’d made some more notes—just chat points—over the weekend.”

  “Did you send them to him?”

  “No, but I texted him yesterday to tell him, and to remind him of a couple of things.”

  “Did he answer?”

  “He just texted back to relax. Um, ‘Chill, Rudy. We’re locked on.’”

  “‘Locked on’?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t get it for a minute, then I figured he meant we had the presentation locked down. Sort of.”

  “It wasn’t one of his usual expressions?”

  “I don’t think so. I mean, I never heard him use it.”

  Military, Eve thought. First mistake.

  “How did he seem when he came in this morning?”

  “Distracted. Tired. I figured he worked all weekend even though he told me not to worry.” A tear leaked out, slid down the slick gel. “I wanted to give him my notes, but he went right into his office, told me no calls. And—and he locked the door. I heard him lock the door. He never locked the door before. I should’ve known something was wrong, really wrong.”

  Peabody reached down, took Rudy’s uninjured hand. “You couldn’t know.”

  “He wasn’t acting right, he wasn’t, but he came out just before nine and he stopped, and he looked right at me. He told me I did good work, and how I was an asset to him, to the company. It felt good, you know? He always made sure to tell us when we did a good job. He went to the conference room, and I finished up some other work before I went into his office to put a file on his desk. I saw his tablet. He hadn’t taken his tablet to the meeting, and he’d need it. I grabbed it, and I ran because he’d need it. I got to the doors, or maybe I opened the door. I can’t remember. Something exploded and everything was hot and loud, and it felt like I was flying. Then I don’t remember until I heard screaming, and somebody was dragging me. I think. It’s all mixed up after.”

  “It’s all right. Did Mr. Rogan get any contacts at work—appointments, correspondence, tags, that seemed unusual, that concerned you?”

  “No, ma’am, I swear. Paul wouldn’t do what they’re saying. He’d never do this.”

  Because he was hurt, and grieving, she let the ma’am go. “Did anyone in the company have an issue with him?”

  “No, ma’am. I mean there are disagreements sometimes, debates, and things got tense a few times during the campaign and the negotiations. But nothing harsh. I loved working for him. Is he really dead?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t him,” Rudy mumbled, looking away, looking at the wall. “Maybe it was somebody who looked like him. Like a clone. I’m really tired.”

  “If you think of anything else, contact me.” Eve signaled for Peabody to leave a card on the table beside the bed.

  “Do you have anyone who can come hang with you?” Peabody asked him.

  “My mom’s flying in, and my brother.” The misery in his eyes lessened when a woman came to the door. “Kimmi.”

  Though she’d obviously been crying, she carried a cheerful clutch of flowers.

  “NYPSD,” Eve told her.

  “Oh. I can come back.”

  “No need. We’re wrapping up. Relative?”

  “No, I work with Rudy.”

  “Peabody, why don’t you take the flowers, stay with Rudy. Can we talk outside for a few minutes?” Though she had asked Kimmi, Eve simply took her arm, led her out.

  The petite brunette with the sad doe eyes twisted her fingers together. “I wasn’t even there,” she said before Eve could speak. “I mean, I was at my desk when . . . I heard the explosion, only it didn’t sound like I thought an explosion sounds. I guess because I wasn’t close to the conference room. But then I heard shouting and screaming, and people started running, and alarms were going off.”

  “Did you see Mr. Rogan this morning?”

  “For a second, when he walked by my desk. He didn’t say anything. He always says something, but he didn’t.”

  “How much did you interact with him at work?”

  “Paul interacted with everybody. It was his leadership style.”

  “Personally?”

  “I’ve only been with Quantum a little over a year, but I went to the party he has at his house for the holidays. None of this makes sense.”

  “What’s your position at Quantum?”

  “I’m Lia Berkell’s assistant.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Was. She—she died in the explosion. They told me she died. She was the digital marketing manager. She was in the meeting. Um, she and Rudy and I worked tight with Paul on this campaign. But it wasn’t just work.”

  She brushed a tear away. “We were really a team. You had to be there for each other. Like, when my apartment got broken into, Lia let me stay at her house until my roommate got back in town, so I wouldn’t be alone.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Last December. My roommate was on a business trip, and I went on a date. I got home and somebody’d broken in.”

  “What was taken?”

  “My comp, spare ’link, my tablet, my wall screen, the wrist unit my parents got me when I got my MBA, my emergency cash. The police said it was probably somebody looking for a quick score, but they messed up my place, and scared me. It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Did you have work on the comp?”

  “Sure, but it was passcoded and fail-safed. And I always backed up on disc, and I take the disc with me if I go out. Just habit. So I had everything backed up.”

  “You had data on the Econo deal on the comp? Office e-mails regarding it, that sort of thing?”

  “Yes. It’s why I had the fail-safe.”

  Nothing, Eve thought, was fail-safe.

  She filled Peabody in as they went up to ICU to try another check on Karson.

  “December again.”

  “December eighteen—just after Kelly had her wallet and ’link lifted. We’ll want that incident report.”

  “I’ll get both. The best I can get—until I get more—is negotiations between Quantum and Econo started wrapping up the end of November, or close enough they had the deal pretty much nailed down. Rogan’s domestic has her wallet and ’link lifted in
December, and now one of Rogan’s team gets her comp and e’s taken in December. Coincidences are bollocks, right?”

  “As rain,” Eve agreed. “Though I don’t know what the hell makes rain so right. It’s going to be about the deal, not the people. Blow up the deal—and follow the money. Who benefits, who loses, that’s the first line.”

  They stepped into the ICU lobby. The guard dog nurse at the desk shot them a hard and suspicious look. A scattering of people sat in chairs. All looked weary. One had the shine of burn gel down his left cheek, a walking cast on his right ankle, and his right arm in a sling.

  Eve walked to the guard dog, palmed her badge. “What’s Willimina Karson’s condition?”

  “I’m going to verify that ID.”

  “Go ahead.”

  The nurse scanned it. Her stony expression clicked down to stern. “I had some media types try to get past me before. Ms. Karson’s critical. If you want more, if you want specifics, you’ll have to speak to her doctor, and you’ll have to wait. It’s been a hell of a morning.”

  “All around. I’d appreciate being informed about any change in her status.”

  “I’ll note it down.”

  “How many up here from this morning’s incident?”

  “Two now, including Ms. Karson. There were three, but she didn’t make it.”

  Twelve dead, Eve thought, turning her attention back to the man with the sling and cast.

  Middle sixties, she thought, with a lean, distinguished look despite the sweatpants and the I F059 NEW YORK sweatshirt. Both of which looked fresh off the rack and incongruous with the black dress shoes.

  “Let’s check him out,” she said to Peabody.

  She crossed to him, showed her badge. “Do you have someone in ICU?”

  He eyed her carefully, though the left eye was shot with blood. “I do. I’m legal counsel for EconoLift and Willimina Karson’s adviser.”

  “You were in the meeting. I’m primary on the investigation. My partner, Detective Peabody.”

  “I know who you are. An easy case for New York’s top murder cop, isn’t it, as you already have the killer. Or what’s left of the son of a bitch.” His good hand fisted on his knee, rapped twice. “I wish to God he’d lived through it so I could think of him rotting in a cell for the rest of his life.”