Dead Lies (25 page)

CHAPTER 27

I
T WAS COURTESY FOR OUT-OF-STATE COPS TO INFORM THE LOCAL P.D. THAT
they were going to question witnesses in their jurisdiction, so Anna and Kreeger stopped by the midtown precinct to speak with the sergeant in charge. He was a cordial guy who had no problem with their request, but he sent two young N.Y.P.D. detectives—A.J. Ricks and Jorge Cornejo—to accompany them anyway. Now the four of them were in the elevator in The McGrower Building heading up to the forty-fourth floor.

They’d filled Ricks and Cornejo in on the way over, and then the conversation had dried up, so it was quiet as they made their vertical ascent. Anna used the time to surreptitiously study Kreeger, who seemed distinguished and very un-detective-like in his flat-front khaki trousers and brown tweed jacket, which picked up the warm tones of his hair and skin. He looked more like a well-heeled client en route to a meeting than an underpaid suburban law enforcer.

Plush was the word that came to mind as she stepped out of the elevator onto the cream-colored carpet, which seemed to absorb all sound and blanket the space in a quiet hush. She admired the sleek Art Deco fixtures that bathed the mahogany-paneled walls in a soft yellowish light. To her right was a huge window facing north, and Anna could see the whole of Central Park stretched out below. She made out the dark outline of the six-mile road that snaked through the park—the path she used to run when she worked in Manhattan—and caught sight of the glistening waters of the Reservoir farther north. She’d never seen the park from this perspective before. It was a breathtaking view.

Surrounded by such obvious wealth, Anna felt like she’d just entered the most exclusive club in New York the day before her membership check cleared. She half expected a nervous, officious-sounding man in a tuxedo to rush over and herd them quickly out the door before any of the big-wigs got upset that their private sanctuary had been penetrated by the common riff-raff. But Anna’s discomfort quickly passed. A badge and gun trumped a membership card any day.

To Anna’s left was a small reception desk over which a large display read McGrower Industries. The brushed nickel letters of the company title appeared to be suspended in the air because the wall they hung from was made entirely of glass. Behind the glass Anna could make out a line of secretaries’ desks in a wide corridor outside doors she assumed led to private offices. As she and the other officers headed toward the reception desk, Anna wondered why there was no one sitting behind it. A split-second later she realized why.

To the right behind the glass, in a spot that had been out of their line of sight a few seconds ago, a group of people appeared to be engaged in some kind of fight that hadn’t yet escalated to the physical. She couldn’t hear what was going on, but it was clear from the body language that the exchange was heated.

Two men in suits with their backs turned seemed to be the cause of the disturbance. They were both well over six feet tall, and one of them was pointing at a dark-haired, middle aged man who was instantly recognizable as Gordon McGrower. The angry man was straining against his companion, who seemed to be doing his best to hold him back.

Anna was shocked when the profiles of the two tall men came into view. The angry one was Web and the one trying to restrain him was his friend Tim Christiansen. She felt herself grow hot. What the hell were they doing here? How did they find out about McGrower?

All four law enforcement officers raced toward the commotion, hands on their holsters. Anna wondered fleetingly how she and her companions were going to get past the glass barrier to intercede, when a voice called out breathlessly from her right, “This way, officers.”

Anna turned and saw a stout, gray-haired woman holding open a door and motioning for the officers to make haste. “How’d you get here so quickly?” the woman asked, her eyes shiny with alarm or excitement—Anna wasn’t sure which—until the bewildered follow up: “I just called you.”

The officers rushed inside in time to hear Web shout angrily, “I’m going to make you pay, McGrower!”

“I didn’t kill your sister, you lunatic,” responded McGrower. “And nobody comes into my office and threatens me!”

“When you’re rotting in prison, I’m going to finish what Serena started,” Web countered. “I’m going to get her daughter back.”

Anna felt the case tip toward the surreal. She could hear Web, but what he was saying didn’t make any sense.

“Police!” Ricks shouted in a commanding voice. He pulled his badge from his pocket and flashed it around the room. Cornejo followed close behind, and together they strode into the fray. “Break it up everybody,” the city cops ordered.

Anna’s attention was fixed on Web. He still looked like he wanted to throttle McGrower, but he held himself in check, and after a few tense moments, everyone stepped back as ordered. As Web caught sight of her and Kreeger, his eyes lit with surprise. He looked away.

Kreeger filled Cornejo and Ricks on who the players were. “That’s Web Marino, the brother of one of our victims,” he said, pointing to Web. Next he gestured toward Tim. “And this is one of his friends.” Then he turned his attention to the object of Web Marino’s hostility. “You’re Gordon McGrower?”

“Yes,” the developer said, visibly trying to collect himself. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Kreeger stuck out his hand and said, “I’m Detective Jerry Kreeger from the Bergen County Sheriff’s Office.” He pointed to Anna and added, “This is Officer Anna Valentine” from the Avondale Police Department, and these”—he pointed to Ricks and Cornejo—“are Detectives Jorge Cornejo and Herman Ricks from the N.Y.P.D.”

McGrower’s eyes had narrowed when Kreeger mentioned New Jersey. His glance darted to Web then back to Kreeger. “New Jersey cops? What are you doing here?”

“We’re here because we’re investigating a murder that occurred a few days ago,” Kreeger explained.

McGrower glanced at Web then looked at Kreeger again. “So you actually think there’s some truth to this mad man’s claim?”

“We’re not here to point fingers,” the detective responded. “Look, why don’t you tell me what just happened?”

“It’s quite simple,” McGrower said angrily. “These men barged past my receptionist and that one”—he pointed to Web—“accused me of killing his sister.”

“Did he hit you?”

“No, but he shoved me before his friend got a hold on him.”

“I saw everything,” the gray-haired woman piped in. All eyes turned to her. “It’s just like Mr. McGrower said. I left my seat at the reception desk to go to the ladies room when suddenly they were behind me, following me through the door. When I asked them who they were and what they were doing, they ignored me and headed straight for Mr. McGrower, who happened to be standing at the entrance to that office right there. That one”—she pointed to Web—“was yelling the way Mr. McGrower said, accusing him of killing his sister and telling him he was going to going to get her daughter back. He’s out of his mind!” She looked at Kreeger. “I immediately called security. When they didn’t show up right away, I called 911.”

Kreeger looked at Web and Tim for signs of dissent. He didn’t see any. Neither did he see any regret. In fact, Web still looked like he wanted to punch someone. Kreeger turned to McGrower and asked, “Would you like to press charges against Mr. Marino?”

McGrower hesitated, and Anna held her breath. She was angry at Web for showing up here this way, but she didn’t want to see him get sent to Central Booking on some bullshit assault charge either. Clearly the developer wasn’t hurt.

“No,” said McGrower finally. “I just want him gone.”

“All right,” said Kreeger. “I need to talk to these gentlemen first”—he indicated to Web and Tim—and then I’d like to speak with you.”

McGrower fired back. “I just said I don’t want to press charges. Why do you need to speak with me?”

“As I explained, we’re here investigating a murder.”

Anna saw the fury behind the man’s eyes. “So you
do
think I had something to do with his sister’s death?” he challenged. “This is an outrage!”

“You’re not a suspect,” Kreeger answered calmly. “But you met the victim a few weeks ago, and we believe you may have some information that can point to the killer.”

McGrower studied the detective for a few seconds then sighed with frustration. He glanced at his watch. “All right,” McGrower said. “I’ll be in my office when you’re ready. Eileen, please put the detectives into one of the conference rooms.” He looked around the room, and Anna realized for the first time that underneath McGrower’s polished air of command, he actually looked a little shaken. “Everybody please get back to work. Show’s over.”

The spectators who’d come out of their offices to see what was going on disbanded reluctantly, and Anna knew the gossip would be flying for the rest of the afternoon. She wondered if any of them shared Melinda Madison’s suspicions about their powerful boss.

McGrower disappeared down a hall, and Kreeger went over to Ricks and Cornejo to thank them for their assistance. The young detectives looked like they were enjoying themselves and offered to wait for the officers responding to the 911 to show up. They promised to fill them in so that Anna and Kreeger could do what they’d come here to do. After the four officers shook hands and exchanged goodbyes, the gray-haired receptionist led Anna, Kreeger, Web, and Tim into a paneled conference room on the other side of the floor.

Anna could see that the view from this side of the building was just as impressive as the one from the other. Out the window to her right, the afternoon sunlight bouncing off the massive silvery spire of the Chrysler building was so piercing that Anna had to shut her eyes to ward off the pain. She blinked a few times, and her eyes re-adjusted. The Empire State Building may have been New York’s best-known tourist stop, but in Anna’s mind the dazzling Art Deco structure was the jewel in the city’s architectural crown.

“Can I get you some beverages?” Eileen asked. “We have coffee, soda, water… Or maybe you need some paper and pens?” The woman seemed thrilled to be playing a part in today’s drama.

“No thank you, we’re fine,” said Kreeger, pulling out his own notebook and pen. “Just close the door behind you, please.”

The woman nodded and after lingering a moment made her way out.

Kreeger sat back in his chair and looked at Web and Tim. “So what brings you gentlemen to New York?” The detective was angry, but he kept his voice even.

“That man killed Serena,” said Web unapologetically.

“What makes you say that?”

“Probably the same thing that brought you here,” he snapped.

Kreeger leaned slightly forward in his chair. “Let’s cut the games, Web. We’re on the same team here. I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

Web gave his chin a rough rub. He looked awful, like he hadn’t slept in weeks. “This morning I made a discovery,” he said flatly. “I found a file. It was filled with computer printouts of magazine and newspaper articles about Gordon McGrower. She apparently hired a private investigator named Arnold Jethro to check McGrower out.”

Web caught the look Anna and Kreeger gave one another at the mention of the private investigator. “So you already know this,” he challenged.

“About Arnie Jethro, yes,” Kreeger said. “We didn’t know about the file. Where did you find it?

After Web explained the hidden drawer in Serena’s childhood bedroom,” Kreeger added, “We also don’t know why she was so interested in Gordon McGrower.”

“Serena had a baby with him.”

Anna and Kreeger exchanged stunned looks. Of all the theories they’d batted around about Serena’s connection with McGrower, that wasn’t one of them.

“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” said Kreeger.

“I didn’t know until this morning!”

“All right, explain how you came to that conclusion.”

“The file contained photographs of McGrower’s daughter,” said Web. “She’s six, and she looks exactly like Serena did at that age. It’s uncanny. The girl is Serena’s daughter. I
know
it.”

Anna glanced at Tim, and he nodded at her as if to affirm that everything his friend was saying was true.

“You believe him?” she asked.

Tim nodded gravely. “Web showed me a picture. It’s in the car.”

Anna and Kreeger were silent for a full minute while they absorbed this information. The story was starting to become clear.

“So you never knew Serena had a baby?” Kreeger said.

“No, six years ago, when Violet was born, Serena was living in London,” Web explained. “She’d moved there for work and stayed for over a year. I never went to visit her there because I was… doing other things. My parents weren’t doing much traveling, and Beth already travels so much for work…” His voice trailed off. “Serena could have easily gotten pregnant and delivered the baby during that time without any of us knowing about it.”

“So Serena gave the baby to Gordon McGrower?” said Anna, feeling sick at the thought of giving a child away. She couldn’t ever imagine doing it herself.

Web looked at her sadly and nodded. “I assume he’s the father.”