Fatal Greed (4 page)

I awoke the next morning refreshed and kissed Marisa on her cheek. She squeezed my leg and released a loving groan. With renewed energy, I bounced outside to scoop up the paper, wondering if the press had learned what I knew about the murder—the body stuffed in the plastic garbage bag was female. As I leaned over to pick up the paper, I realized Stu hadn’t called me back with more questions. Fine by me. I noticed the For Sale sign in the Silva’s front yard had disappeared. Maybe they’d reconciled. Or decided to not join the great race for accumulating the most expensive trophies. I hoped we could all start hanging out together again and have some fun.

With the paper tucked under my arm, I took Marisa’s morning mug of coffee to the master bath where she was applying her final touches of makeup before heading off to work. Picking up the main section of the
Times Herald
, my eyes became glued to the primary article, written by Stu. The coroner’s office had finally released the name of the victim: Tiffany Chambers.

Bile crept up in my throat as I reached for the edge of the tub. A name, a person connected to the arm I’d seen slide out of the bag. The cold, white arm belonged to Tiffany, someone I knew. I squinted my eyes, hoping I wouldn’t vomit. But the image flashed repeatedly, forcing me to replay the sick and confused feeling I’d experienced when I first saw the arm.

 
“Michael, are you okay?” I pointed to the newspaper. Marisa grabbed a face cloth, wet it, and held it against my forehead.

“A name had to come out eventually.” She squeezed my shoulder.

I thought more about the person Stu had disclosed as the victim of a murder. While attractive and professional in every interaction I had with her, Tiffany’s personality seemed to be guarded, slightly fake. She appeared reluctant to form a genuine bond with anyone.

I had no reason to think somebody would want to kill Tiffany. Frankly, at Greenberg & Associates, the person most vilified by employees, customers, and vendors was Jeanne, the owner and chief taskmaster. Though Jeanne could be a hard ass, she still had strong morals. That’s really the only way I could put up with her. When her character was tested, she viewed the world through an ethical lens.

We read more. The coroner’s office still hadn’t determined cause of death. I surmised it wasn’t a quick gunshot to the head or some other singular violent act. Then again, I’m just a mid-level IT manager…I had no clue. I only knew what I saw, and the horror would never leave my mind.

I now had two more tasks on my schedule—contact Stu to learn more information on his murder investigation story and speak with Jeanne Greenberg.

I wondered when I’d have more time to dig for details on the company acquisition. Life at J&W would soon change, and I felt certain, not for the better.

For the employees who worked at J&W, a murder within a few feet of our office was unimaginable, but, on a personal level, not as frightening as losing their jobs, which would alter their lives forever.

The connection I’d unknowingly developed with my colleagues kept the hunt for more answers about the acquisition at the top of my mind. A murmur of throbbing pain pulsated deep within my skull. I wasn’t sure if I could fix any of this crap.

The glare of the morning sun forced me to cup my hands against the murky glass as I looked through the window, searching for movement inside Greenberg & Associates. I turned away and saw the streets beginning to fill up, possibly eager shoppers getting an early start on their Christmas shopping. Having stopped by on my way to work, I heard the car engine click sporadically at the curb just a few feet away.

Enough delays. I opened the metal-framed door, and the electronic bell announced my entry. Tiffany’s desk was vacant, cleared of personal items; only a phone, a clean notepad, and a pen remained.

One of Jeanne’s associates came up to the front. Dabbing her trail of tears with a tissue, she told me about the shock she and her colleagues had felt when they heard the news only an hour before. She said they’d begun to worry about Tiffany when she didn’t show up for work. They called her cell phone several times, but it rolled to her voice mail. They were hoping she’d simply decided to go back home to see her family.

“Where’s she from?” I asked.

“Oklahoma. Someone said near Stillwater.”
Interesting, isn’t that where Karina is from?
“We’re just all stunned right now. I think a lot of us feared the worst. We were concerned something had happened to her. Tiffany was way too responsible to just disappear overnight.”

She said the lead investigator, Carl Pearson, had set up an appointment to interview everyone at the firm later in the morning.

Just then, Jeanne entered the front area, walking at half her normal pace. Her makeup was smeared. I’d never seen her look so vulnerable and shaken.

“Michael, good morning. Let’s go back to my office and talk.”

It’s unlikely her employees had ever bonded with Jeanne. And she was doing her best to maintain the emotional gap. From what I’d been told, she’d witnessed death up close as a youngster in Russia, watching her young cousin being mauled by a rabid dog. She had also heard horrifying stories from her parents who lived in Germany at the time of the Holocaust. I would imagine she had pushed those events far back in her memory, not expecting to revisit those demons in our suburban city.

As she walked into her office, she didn’t bother shutting her door. She didn’t sit down. She just stood there and then put her hand over her face.

“Michael,” she said softly.

“Yes, Jeanne?” I hated to see such a strong-willed woman in so much pain.

“How can a human being kill another person?” Jeanne’s eyes spilled tears.

I grabbed a tissue from her desk and offered it to her. I noticed how the wrinkles in her face deepened with less makeup. I’m not sure she was looking for a response, but I felt a need to provide one. “I don’t know, Jeanne. It’s hard to fathom.” Visions of the dreadful morning polluted my mind.

We stood in silence, both staring out through the metal blinds in her office. She reached out and grabbed my arm, catching me off guard. I tried to remain steady, physically and emotionally.

“You’re a good man, Michael Doyle,” she whispered, clutching my arm harder, as if that would plug her tear ducts. “Your mother raised a strong person. You must have had nightmares since you found Tiffany.” She wiped moisture from her face.

“Yes, I have.”

“I’ve seen my share of horror, and I can say the strong will survive. Life can be vicious at times, but it never stops. We will all eventually thrive again.” Jeanne held her tissue to her face.

Astonished to see Jeanne on the verge of losing it, I tried to keep her calm.

“You’re right, Jeanne. Thank you for your supportive words.” A lump formed in my throat.

She put her game face back on, and we discussed business. Then, she walked me to the front.

 
I opened the front door. “Without a doubt, Jeanne, we can sit down to discuss any new requirements for this next tax season. We’ll make sure your needs are taken care of at J&W.” It hit me—the next time we met, J&W would no longer be on my business card.

I stepped onto the sidewalk, and a man strode toward the Greenberg & Associates front door. Followed by two other people, including one uniformed police officer, he turned his head toward me like a dog hearing a high-pitched noise.

“Michael Doyle?” he asked.

Before I could respond, he flashed his badge in my face. “I’m Carl Pearson, lead investigator for the murder of Tiffany Chambers.”

“Good morning.”

“My team and I need to speak with everyone who came in contact with Ms. Chambers just prior to her death, which is why we’re here at her employer’s office,” he said. “I’d like to visit with you too. This afternoon at headquarters. I’m sure you can find the time.”

Victoria exhaled loudly before turning the ignition key. Those bastards just don’t have any clue how to run a charity, she thought to herself. She pulled away from the curb in her new eighty-thousand dollar, Indian-made Jaguar XFR.

Her phone vibrated on the leather passenger seat, but after a quick glance, she kept her eyes on the road, ensuring she didn’t lose control of the five hundred horsepower under her foot. Once she made her way past the downtown traffic, she pressed the button to return the call.

“Yes, this is Victoria.” She was irritated from her spirited Help for the Homeless board meeting and, thinking the person on the call might be adding more anxiety, her voice was impatient.

“Victoria, Chuck
Hagard
here,” he said in his slight southern drawl. “My team has gathered more information on the situation down there. As you know, I’ve had a man on the ground overseeing our behind-the-scenes operations. Apparently, this little girl had a number of coals in the fire, so to speak.”

“Go on, Mr.
Hagard
.”

“It appears she took things a little far with one of our key points of interest, and it sparked an unforeseeable response.”

Victoria wasn’t keen on anyone not following an assignment to perfection, even if it was someone who was now deceased.

“Mr.
Hagard
, your little girl had a job to do.”

“You’re right, and she did it well on many fronts. In situations like these, emotions can get out of hand. We wanted to stoke the fire on the home front with this key person of interest. That was the objective. My man thought she had a good feel for the situation. But these things are delicate, and sometimes it doesn’t take much to push people over the edge.”

Victoria processed this information as she approached road construction, forcing her to detour off her normal route.

“How does this incident impact the plan?”

“Without a doubt, it puts attention on a situation we really didn’t want,” Chuck said. “Which is why I pay my best people at the top of their compensation range.”

“Enough of the corporate HR jargon.”

“It’s not BS. I have confidence in my operational chief. He has a number of things already in motion. This only adds a few more tasks to his list. I’ll provide him an incentive to get this mess cleaned up.”

“With no connection to any of us, including
Turug
, I’m assuming.”

“Given what we’ve been told, I would expect an arrest in the next three days.” Chuck added, “But there aren’t any guarantees. Emotions are involved. The situation is still somewhat….uh, fluid.” Victoria swerved and popped the median curb and came within a few inches of smashing into a light pole. She quickly pulled over to the side of the road and gathered her thoughts.

“Victoria? You there?”

“This is not a good development. I don’t like all this uncertainty. Too much risk,” she said, her blood finally reaching her brain. “Your ops chief, I’m assuming his unique skills will help steer this investigation in the right direction for all parties. Correct?”

“Correct, ma’am.”

“First, I want to make sure there will be no arrests until Monday. We have a company party at our estate, and I wouldn’t want to bring our family name into this sordid mess.” Her voice was stern.

“Secondly, while I initially thought it was best to stay at arm’s length during this operation, I now want information on the progress being made, at least until we reach a point where I’ve received my fair compensation.” Victoria carefully pulled back onto the road.

“I assure you we’ve dealt with many communities like this one. We understand which levers to pull and whose hands need a little greasing,” Chuck said.

“This is far more complex, and you know it, Mr.
Hagard
. The money at stake here makes this game much different from any you have played.” Victoria reached the main highway heading to her family estate. “For starters, I want to meet your man in charge of this operation. If he’s as outstanding as you say he is, he’ll have no problem convincing me of his ability.”

“Listen, Victoria, I know you understand the gas business, maybe better than some of my top executives, but what we’re talking about here isn’t the gas business. It’s down-and-dirty business. You want no part of this.”

“I understand we’re not dealing with the Tooth Fairy here, Mr.
Hagard
. And given everything I’ve put on the line, I hope you understand the risk I’m taking in even speaking with you, let alone the role I’ve played thus far. I respect your team’s, uh, expertise in special situations like these. However, I’ve given you enough latitude. I’m not confident your men won’t screw up this entire deal.”

“Why Victoria, is that a sexist comment?” Chuck asked with a small laugh.

“Take it as you may.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll figure out a way for you to meet with my operational chief, and we’ll get regular updates.”

***

Chuck wondered how he could keep his man in charge under control. A shock collar came to mind. A typical Christmas bonus wouldn’t suffice. The guy required special privileges, and sometimes he took them without asking.

Victoria must think he was working this deal with a bunch of choir boys.
Damn, she’s naïve.