Bennie handed it back. “I see what you mean. Did Todd write him back?”
“Yes. Hold on.” Mary turned to the second stack, produced another email, and showed it to Bennie, who read:
From Todd Eddington
To Simon Pensiera
Re Quality Control
Simon, I’ll talk to Ray.
“Does Todd always respond?” Bennie handed it back to Mary.
“No. Sometimes Todd responds to the emails and sometimes he doesn’t. I’m assuming Todd also responds by calling Simon, too, and we can ask Simon about that if it matters.” Mary gestured at five stacks of emails. “Those are quality control emails, and I divided them according to the nature of the complaint. So far I have fabric, metal, construction, wear and tear, and paper.”
“What’s paper on a cubicle?”
“There’s paper that goes on top of the drywall. Sometimes it’s not attached properly. It matters because it doesn’t protect the gypsum from moisture loss. I think.”
“Gypsum?”
“Gypsum is some type of stone that’s in drywall.”
“Look at you, learning the lingo.”
“I did my homework last night.” Mary returned her attention to the stack, thumbed through it, and pulled out another email. “Like this.”
Bennie accepted the email, skimming it:
From Simon Pensiera
To Todd Eddington
Re Quality Control
Todd, I happened to walk through the factory floor yesterday on my way to a smoke break and I noticed the drywall on the top-of-the-line product looked funky. The paper was bubbling, which could signify that there was too much water in the drywall. The top-of-the-line product was supposed to be 5/8 inch and be appropriate for noise and firebreak barriers. You should probably talk to Ray and he can talk to the folks at OfficeSolutions. It’s probably a mix-up and should be corrected before it gets fabricated. I mentioned it to Brian Mulcahy because he was on the line at the time but he didn’t have any satisfactory answers.
Mary handed Bennie another email. “This is from Todd. He did respond to this one.”
Bennie read the response:
From Todd Eddington
To Simon Pensiera
Re Quality Control
Simon, I’ll talk to Ray.
Mary said, “A man of few words. Not to speak ill.”
Bennie gave her back the email response. “But we were talking about Pollstar.”
“Oh, right.” Mary turned to one of the stacks and started flipping through it. “I think I read about a company in Willow Grove that had some electrical issue. Here we go.” She turned around and gave Bennie the email.
Bennie read it:
From Simon Pensiera
To Todd Eddington
Re Quality Control
Todd,
I got a call from Michelle Botuzzi at Delaware Valley Deed & Title that the undercounter LED keeps flickering on their product, top-of-the-line, #9272. It effects two out of ten cubicles. Michelle says it gave the one employee a headache and can provoke a migraine. You should talk to Ray or somebody at PowerPlus. That shouldn’t happen in top-of-the-line. It’s embarrassing.
Bennie handed it back. “Did Todd respond?”
“No. I assume he couldn’t. Simon writes a lot.” Mary pursed her lips. “Simon’s a really smart and wonderful guy. He works really hard and he expects everyone to do the same. He looks out for his accounts. It’s not like he’s being a jerk.”
“I don’t think he’s being a jerk.”
“He just cares. He’s responsible. It’s what makes him a great father, too.”
“I’m sure. Don’t worry about it. How about emails to or from Ernie, the head of security? Did you come across any of those?”
“Not so far.”
“How about from Ray Matewicz?”
“Not yet. I don’t think that Simon writes to Ray directly, or vice versa. Simon follows the chain of command, asking Todd to talk to Ray.”
“Which makes sense because Todd and Ray are buddies.” Bennie couldn’t put it together. She felt like they were on the right track, but missing too much information. “Do you think that Simon knows that Todd is friendly with Ray’s brother-in-law? That they play golf?”
“Probably. Simon is a family guy. He cares about families.”
“Then we’re reinventing the wheel, discovering information that Simon can supply. I know he’s at the hospital, but we need him in the loop. We don’t want to waste any time.”
“Right.” Mary frowned. “But I doubt we can get him here today. He can’t leave Rachel.”
“Then there’s only one solution.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“This way.” Mary led Bennie down the hospital hallway to the lounge, then went inside to find Feet sitting slumped in a chair, alone. His head was buried in his hands, and his back hunched over. “Feet?”
“Yo.” Feet looked up, his eyes glistening with fresh tears behind his Mr. Potatohead glasses.
“What’s the matter? Is Rachel okay?” Mary sat down beside him, followed by Bennie.
Feet heaved a hoarse sigh. “We lost the donor. She dropped out.”
“Oh no. What do you mean?”
“The donor who was going to give the marrow. They say she got in some kind of accident. I think she changed her mind.” Feet blinked his hooded eyes clear. His scraggly eyebrows sloped down, and his parched lips formed a heartbroken line. “I bet she got cold feet on account of, it hurts. The docs said it’s like getting kicked by a horse.”
“So what happens to Rachel now?”
“The docs gotta find another donor.”
“She stays here in the hospital, right?”
“Yes. But we go back to square one. They gotta make sure she stays in remission.” Feet lifted his glasses to wipe his eyes from underneath, using his clubby fingers. “The longer it takes, the worse it gets. Every day she gets weaker.”
“Don’t worry, Feet.” Mary patted his arm. “They know what they’re doing. They’ll take care of her. This is the best hospital in the country.”
“I know.” Feet recovered, sniffling. “Your father and them went to get take-out. The cousins were sick of the cafeteria. You know how real Italians are about food. Simon’s with Rachel. Does he know you’re comin’?”
“Yes, I texted him.” Mary gestured to Bennie. “Feet, you remember Bennie, don’t you?”
“Sure, hi, Bennie.” Feet smoothed down his white shirt, extending a hand knobby with arthritis. “Nice to see you again.”
“You too.” Bennie smiled.
“Hey,” said a weary voice from the door, and they all turned as Simon entered the lounge, letting his expression show the anguish he must be feeling, as if he’d slipped off a mask. His clothes looked lived in and his face grizzled, as if he hadn’t shaved this morning. He pulled over a soft chair and flopped into it with a heavy sigh. “So you heard the bad news?”
Mary patted his arm as he sat down. “Yes, I’m so sorry.”
“What a setback. God, as if she hasn’t gone through enough. Now we have to start all over again.”
“The poor thing. What does she understand?”
“Not much, luckily. She can’t follow the countdown. She knows the date of her Transplant Day. You get a blue T-shirt and everything. But she’ll forget by then.” Simon rubbed his face, as stressed as Mary had ever seen him. “They’re trying to find another donor. We have to keep her on track. We don’t want to lose more time or our eligibility status.”
“You mean she has to stay in remission.”
“Right, and the chemo protocol is tough, she has to keep her strength up. Finding a new donor is prolonging the agony, literally.” Simon tried to shake it off, shifting his attention to Bennie, and Mary realized they hadn’t met.
“Oh, Simon, this is Bennie Rosato.”
“Your partner?” Simon blinked, confused. “I thought you were—”
“She’s helping on yo
ur case. We went to the crime scene together today.”
“But what about the conflict of interest and all?”
Mary had wanted to gloss it over but Simon was owed an explanation. “We back-burnered that matter and also your civil cases for now. The criminal case takes front and center.”
“Good.” Simon leaned over and shook Bennie’s hand. “Thank you, Bennie. I really appreciate you coming on board. This murder case scares the crap out of me. I can’t believe it’s even happening. It’s like a nightmare, and I thought I had a high tolerance for nightmares.”
“I bet.” Bennie nodded. “I’m sorry to hear about the setback with your daughter’s donor. In that regard, there’s something we should talk about before we get to your case.”
Mary hid her puzzlement. She had no idea what Bennie meant.
Bennie dug in her messenger bag. “Simon, I’m concerned that you need to assign someone your power-of-attorney, in case medical decisions need to be made for Rachel’s care and you’re arrested. I pulled some papers for you to look over.”
Mary cringed. “Bennie, really? You drew up papers? Can’t this wait?”
“No, it shouldn’t. I had some form POAs in my file. I’m sure we can get them notarized in the hospital.” Bennie handed the papers to Simon, who accepted them with a resigned nod.
“Thanks, I get it. Plan B. I was saying that to my father this morning. I’ll give him my power-of-attorney.” Simon handed Feet the papers. “Dad, will you hold on to these? We’ll have to deal with them.”
“Okay, I heard.” Feet adjusted his glasses on his nose, beginning to read the POA forms.
Mary breathed an inward sigh, relieved that Simon hadn’t been hurt or offended. “So, Simon, we need to talk to you about Todd’s murder case. We have a few questions.”
Bennie looked over with a slight frown. “Mary, should we do this all together?”
Mary didn’t get it. “What do you mean? Do you need to leave?”
Bennie’s gaze shifted to Feet and back to Mary. “No. I meant, shouldn’t we have this conversation with Simon in private?”
Mary grimaced, hoping that Feet hadn’t understood what Bennie meant, which was likely since his hearing was almost as bad as her father’s. “No, this is fine.”
“Go ahead.” Simon glanced out the open door. “We don’t have much time. Meanwhile, the nurses, our pediatric oncologist, and our social worker, they all know I was taken away yesterday. They’re trying to be nice but I know what they’re thinking. They think I’m a murderer.”
Feet shook his head, still looking down at the forms. “My son would never kill nobody. Never. They can’t arrest him. He didn’t do it.”
“Try not to think about it, Feet.” Mary took out her laptop, fired it up, and turned to Simon. “To begin, did you know that Ray’s brother-in-law plays golf with Todd? I think his name is Mo Nustrall.”
“I didn’t know they golfed together, but it doesn’t surprise me. Todd was friendly with Mo.”
“Do you know Mo?”
“I met him once or twice. He comes around the office sometimes. He’s at PowerPlus.”
“To see Todd?”
“Yes.”
“Obviously, Ray, too.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever play golf with them?”
“I can’t remember the last time I played golf.” Simon shook his head, pained. Feet paged through the power-of-attorney forms, slumped in the chair, and said nothing.
Mary continued, “Okay, so when I went through your emails, I saw a lot of email that you wrote on quality issues.”
“I know, it drives them crazy. They roll their eyes. They call me The Mad Emailer. But it’s important to keep the consistency of quality. It affects sales. They seem not to want to acknowledge that, but to me it’s obvious.” Simon frowned. “The interesting thing about cubicle manufacture is that there’s no building code that applies to them if they’re under sixty-seven inches like ours. There’s no inspection like an office building. But for all intents and purposes, a cubicle becomes a wall not subject to code. It’s the industry’s dirty little secret. Now, I pitch the high quality of our units to my accounts. So I monitor it. It drives me nuts when production lets down. My word matters to me.”
“So that’s why you write emails about, like, the weave of the fabric?”
“Yes, the fabric matters, too. It’s cosmetic but it’s what accounts see. We have twelve colors. The accounts choose it carefully. They want to match the rug or the curtains. It’s a thing. When the color dye is inconsistent or the fabric weave looks funky, they’re not happy.”
“And I saw you made a number of other complaints about even the things that are internal, like the metal, the lighting, and the drywall.”
“Right, why are you asking me this?” Simon asked, mystified. “Why does this matter? I mean, you’re trying to figure out who killed Todd, right?”
“I’m coming to that.” Mary was working on a theory, just beginning to cohere. “Whose job is it to make sure that the quality on the production lines is consistent? Is that HR or Operations?”
“Operations. It’s Ray’s job.”
“So you have all these complaints and you write to Todd about them, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you write to Ray directly? Because that’s not the chain of command?”
“Correct. I want to keep Todd in the loop and I know they’re buddies, so I know Todd will talk to Ray.”
Mary took a flyer. “This can’t endear you to Ray, can it? You’re pointing out problems that he’s not noticing or not doing anything about. You’re essentially saying that he’s not doing his job.”
Simon frowned. “It’s not like that in business. Ray doesn’t take it personally.”
“Don’t you think it makes Ray look bad?” Mary thought back to her conversation with Bennie, about business and personal not mixing.
“No, not really. Granted, it would make him look bad if I wrote to his boss, Mike Bashir, but I never did that. I only told my boss. Todd.”
“Did Ray ever say anything to you about you pointing out all these errors?”
“No.”
“Do you think Ray likes you?”
Simon shrugged. “I used to. Before those lies they put in the defamation suit. If he’s going to say I made those statements, he’s no friend of mine.”
“Did you ever write to Ray directly on a quality issue or for another reason?”
Simon thought a minute. “Yes. From time to time, when an issue wasn’t getting addressed.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t remember.” Simon rubbed his face again. “Okay, yes, I do. The fabrication was sloppy on one of my accounts. It was Crowley’s, a wholesaler for medical equipment. The metal frames of the units weren’t plumb. They were out of whack. At first I thought it was the assembly, but it turned out that it was fabrication. I never got another order from that account. I remember I wrote Ray about that and we had some back and forth.”
Mary made a mental note. “Were there other accounts as well, that you remember you wrote to Ray about?”
“Does this matter?”
“It might. Maybe Ray was more angry with you than you know. Maybe he had something to do with Todd’s murder.”
“You think Ray killed Todd?” Simon recoiled, aghast. “He was Todd’s friend. He would never do that.”
“Look at the facts, Simon. Ray is willing to lie for the company, saying that you defamed Todd. And somebody framed you for Todd’s murder or is willing to let you go to jail for it.”
Bennie interjected, “Simon, you should know that I spoke with Ray last night at OpenSpace. He told me he thinks you killed Todd, no question. Ask yourself why he would say that. The answer is, the best defense is a good offense.”
Simon shook his head, nonplussed. “I have nothing against these guys. Nothing. I don’t know why they’re doing this. I don’t know why they would kill Todd.”
/> Mary touched his arm. “Look, it’s only a working theory at this point, and we have to keep digging. I wish I had emails you’d written to Ray, but we don’t. We only have emails between you and Todd.”
Simon blinked. “I have my emails to Ray.”
“How? They took your laptop.”
“I keep copies of my emails in the cloud.”
“You do?” Mary asked, surprised, and one look at Bennie’s expression told her that she felt the same way. They could have just struck gold—or it could be a dry hole. “You have your emails?”
“Yes, I keep a copy of every email I have ever written or received. I like to keep a record, an archive. Those emails have so much valuable information. Sales, accounts, contacts, and quality issues like the ones we’re talking about. My work email is company property, so I don’t make a thing about it at work. I hardly ever consult it, but I like to know it’s there.”
“So how do we get it out of the cloud?” Mary spun her laptop around to face Simon. “You can access it from any laptop, can’t you? It’s stored in the ether.”
“True, but…” Simon hesitated. “I don’t remember the password. It’s been years since I’ve used it.”
“What are your go-to passwords?” Mary spun the laptop back. “Tell them to me. We can try a few.”
“No, it’s not a normal word like Rachel’s name or our first dog. I use a password generator. It’s nonsensical.”
“Do you have it stored anywhere, like in your phone? I have one of those virtual wallets with my passwords stored.” Mary didn’t add that she had it only because Anthony had made her.
“I take no chances because it’s the company phone. I don’t want them to know about it. I write my passwords down on a sheet of paper at home.”
“Have you even been home since yesterday?”
“No.” Simon raked back his hair. “I’ve been wanting to go home and see what the house looks like if they searched it, but I haven’t had a spare minute. It’s just been too busy to leave here, with everything that’s going on. Also I figured the cops impounded the car.”
Mary’s thoughts went into overdrive. “I’m assuming they searched your house. We should go check it out. Tell us where you keep your password, and we’ll go right away.”