Dead Lies (27 page)

“Mr. McGrower, I have a hard time believing you let the matter drop,” Kreeger said. “If, as you told us you believed, Ms. Vance was desperate, even crazy, wouldn’t you have feared for your daughter’s safety?”

“Not really. As I told you before, Ms. Vance was harmless. But just to be sure I placed a call to my security Chief and told him to add a few more bodyguards to my daughter’s detail. Still, my instinct told me it was just a precaution. And I was right. I never saw or heard from Ms. Vance again.”

Kreeger stared at him for a moment. “Did you kill Ms. Vance?” he said quietly.

He stared back. “So I’m a suspect now, Detective?”

“If you were a suspect, right now you’d be sitting in our interrogation room in Hackensack.”

“No, I didn’t kill her,” McGrower said tightly.

“Did you hire someone to kill her?” Kreeger pressed.

“No.”

“What’s the name of your security Chief?”

“Ivan Vasiliev.”

“Is he here?”

“Why?”

“We’d like to speak with him.”

“Sorry, but he’s in Russia visiting his sister.”

“Russia?” Kreeger said incredulously.

“It’s true, Detective.” It was. After the botched break-in, McGrower had immediately put Ivan on a plane.

Kreeger sighed. “How can we get in touch with him?”

“I can give you his cell phone number. They
do
have modern technology there, you know.” McGrower reached for one of the three large Rolodexes on his desk and flipped through it. He pulled out a card and jotted the number down on a notepad then ripped the page off and handed it to Kreeger, knowing all the while that when the detective made the call, Ivan wouldn’t risk answering.

“Did you send your security Chief to Serena Vance’s house two nights ago?”

He hoped his expression conveyed puzzlement. “Why would I do that?”

“To look for something maybe?” Kreeger said. “Information proving your daughter’s real parentage?”

The detective was trying to goad him, of course, and McGrower didn’t bite. “As I said, that information is sealed in some dusty basement in Albany.”

“Where were you last night between the hours of 7 and 10 p.m.?”

Last night? What the hell was the detective talking about? “At a meeting,” he answered calmly. “Why?”

“Can anyone corroborate that?”

McGrower didn’t know where the detective was going with these questions, but it was easy to answer that one truthfully. “Yes, my executive marketing director, my vice president of acquisitions, the maitre d’ and the waiters who served us.” He added, “We ate at Le Bernardin. Perhaps you know the place?” He enjoyed taking the stab. On a cop’s salary, the guy probably wouldn’t have been able to enjoy a drink at the bar.

The detective ignored his sarcasm. “Do you know a man named Lester Malik?” he asked.

“No.” McGrower was genuinely perplexed now. He had a flash of doubt about his security chief. What had Ivan not told him about his failed mission the other night?

He knew it was time to end the interview. He made a show of glancing at his watch. “I have another meeting in five minutes,” he said. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave now.”

The detective seemed entirely unfazed, and that annoyed McGrower. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he realized that at some point he’d lost control of the interview.

“May we call you if we have other questions?” the detective asked politely, fixing McGrower with an unwavering gaze.

“The next time you have a question, call my lawyer,” McGrower responded in a clipped tone. “His name is Richard Tate. He’s with the firm of Winston Perry.”

The detective nodded and scribbled in his notebook. “Thank you for your time and cooperation, Mr. McGrower.”

McGrower rose and came around his desk, feeling like he’d just swallowed a lead weight.

The officers followed him to the door where he paused with his hand on the knob. “I’ve just shared some very personal information about my family with you,” he said. “It would be embarrassing to me if it got out. Can you assure me it won’t?”

“This is a murder investigation,” said Kreeger. “I’m afraid I can’t make any promises like that.”

McGrower stared at the detective and turned away without a word. He led them back the way they’d come. “Frances, will you please show these officers out now?” he said when they reached the secretary’s room.

He stood at the entrance to his ante chamber and shook Kreeger’s hand, delighting in the crush of bone he felt between his fingers. He was a little gentler with the female officer. “When you get back to Hackensack, tell your boss the Bergen County Prosecutor I say hello,” he said. “Mickey’s an old golfing buddy of mine.”

McGrower didn’t wait for a response. He turned on his heels and went back inside his office.

CHAPTER 29

H
ER HAND STILL NUMB FROM MCGROWER’S FUCK-YOU GRIP, ANNA PRESSED
the elevator call button and wondered if Kreeger’s hand, too, had been crushed by McGrower. She guessed not. He was wearing his usual inscrutable expression and looked as relaxed and untroubled as he always did. But when the doors closed and they were finally out of sight of the receptionist, he turned to her, exaggeratedly shook his wrist out and said, “That hurt like a
bitch
.”

Anna laughed and grabbed his hand, rubbing his fingers lightly between her own. His hand felt warm and dry. She let go, thinking he might interpret the gesture the wrong way, but realized at the same time how very much she was going to miss working with Kreeger when the case was over. Her admiration for him was growing each day. She especially liked how he hadn’t let a powerful man like McGrower intimidate him.

“So what’s Mickey Guilfoyle like?” she asked as the elevator sped silently downwards, classical music tinkling pleasantly in the background. She was referring to Bergen County’s lead prosecutor, Kreeger’s boss, and also, apparently, Gordon McGrower’s country club pal. Would that complicate things for them? “Does McGrower’s threat have any merit?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Guilfoyle has some pretty powerful friends, and he wants to keep them. We better make damn sure we’ve got some solid evidence the next time we want to talk to McGrower.”

Anna chewed her lip. She hated politics.

“By the way,” Kreeger added, “You did well playing good cop up there.”

Anna’s chest swelled at the unexpected compliment. She, too, had noted how naturally they’d slipped into their prescribed rolls, without having to discuss it beforehand. “So what’s your impression of McGrower?”

“You know the old saying. If a perp’s lips are moving, he’s lying.”

Anna nodded in agreement. “There’s a saying I’m fond of that’s quite similar. ‘Never trust a man who dyes his hair.’ ”

Kreeger chuckled. Clearly, he, too, had noticed McGrower’s unnaturally dark hair. “Who told you that, your mother?” he asked.

“Nope, got it from a fortune cookie. ‘Man who uses Grecian Formula may like the ladies but likes himself more.’ ”

Kreeger laughed again. “Yeah, dyeing your hair is the height of vanity among men”—he paused briefly—“my age.”

As Kreeger eyed the electronic screen next to the door that flashed the headlines of the day, Anna surreptitiously studied him. He was trim, fit and decent looking. No doubt he would ease into his senior years smoothly. For some reason the thought pleased her.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, depositing them into the lobby. The space had the height and girth of a church, but it hummed like a busy marketplace. Kreeger’s dress shoes made a faint clicking noise as they made their way across the marble floor.

“We’re going to have a hell of a time proving McGrower did this, aren’t we?” she said when they’d almost reached the door.

Kreeger stopped and turned to her, causing her to stop short too. “Don’t be so sure,” he said. “We’ve got Malik’s stolen cell phone, and we’ve got the cash he was probably paid for the hit. And thanks to McGrower’s brief run-in with the law twenty-three years ago, we’ve got McGrower’s prints on file.”

Anna nodded at the reminder of this bit of luck. After Melinda’s visit, she’d done a criminal background check on the real estate magnate and learned that many years ago he’d been arrested for assault while working on the docks in Elizabeth, New Jersey—well before his rise to fame and fortune, obviously. The charges were dropped, but his prints had remained in the system. It meant they wouldn’t need to petition the courts to get them from McGrower himself.

A lucky break.

“And remember we still have Ivan,” Kreeger continued. “Right now he may be our best chance at getting to McGrower.”

“So how are we going to talk to him? Think the department will spring for a trip to Russia?”

Kreeger gave her a half smile. “First let’s find out if he actually went there. Let’s swing by his apartment now. If he’s not home, maybe one of his neighbors will be able to tell us where he is.”

Anna doubted it. If Ivan turned out to be anything like she imagined, his neighbors would no doubt be doing their best to stay out of his business. Still, they had to make sure. They resumed their traverse of the lobby, heading for the revolving doors that would put them out onto Fifth Avenue. “You know, Jerry,” she said when they were almost there, “as much as I want to nail McGrower for killing Serena and Bill, I have to admit that I feel sympathy for him. I can’t imagine anything worse than the threat of someone taking away your child.”

“Still doesn’t justify murder.”

“Of course not. But it’s hard not to understand on some level what he did, don’t you think?”

Kreeger paused before pushing through the door then nodded. “I know I’d do just about anything if one of my daughters was threatened.”

Out on the sidewalk the throngs of shoppers and tourists threatened to sweep them away, but Anna didn’t mind. She found comfort in the crowd, in the normalness of people enjoying Christmastime in the city. Above the noises from 100 or more people packed on a single block, she could make out the clang of a Salvation Army Santa’s bell and a group of tourists talking about the Rockefeller tree, discussing how they wanted to come back tomorrow and skate on the rink. Without any effort on her part, she felt herself being caught up in their enthusiasm. She breathed deeply of the pretzel-scented air and took in the bright decorations in the store windows. She didn’t mind when she was jostled by a teenager trying to dash across the street before the light changed.

She followed the detective across Fifth Avenue to where they’d parked the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. She removed the parking placard from the dashboard and handed it to Kreeger. He slipped it into the glove compartment as she pulled away from the curb. In that exchange, it seemed they’d been partners forever.

A feeling of contentment descended over her. Glancing over at Kreeger, she was grateful she’d made the move to the suburbs. It hadn’t been easy, but it felt
right.
“So what time are you leaving for Florida tomorrow?” she asked him, wondering who would take over while he was away. DeLuca, she supposed. He was second-in-command after all.

“My flight’s at noon.”

“You flying down with Becky?” She was pretty sure that was the daughter who went to Rutgers. If she remembered correctly, Julia was the name of the older daughter who was studying medicine at Harvard.

“Yeah. Julia’s flying from Boston. Becky and I are going to meet her at the gate in Miami.”

“So when’s the wedding?” she asked, referring to his ex-wife’s nuptials. “Tomorrow night?”

“Nope, Sunday. New Year’s Eve. Good thing, too. I didn’t have any other plans.”

She smiled. “Neither do I. Max and I will probably have a quiet night in. I think my mom will be here as well. Maybe the two of us will stay awake long enough to watch the ball drop.”

She drove west for a few blocks and took a right onto Broadway. They were silent for a few moments, and then she spoke. “So, how do you feel about watching your ex-wife tie the knot?”

He paused. “It feels weird. It’ll be a little uncomfortable. But I’m happy for her.”

She could hear the honesty in his voice. “It’s nice that you’re still close to her.”

“Close isn’t exactly the word I’d use. The truth is I’m doing this for my daughters. I always want to have a good relationship with Gretchen, even if it means plastering a fake smile onto my face as I watch her walk down the aisle with another guy.”

“Do you still love her?” She was surprised the question had come out of her mouth, but Kreeger didn’t seem surprised or offended.

“No,” he said. “Well, maybe a little. She’s the mother of my children, after all.” He paused again and chuckled softly. “I guess we’ll find out how I really feel about her getting remarried when the minister asks if anyone objects to the wedding.”

CHAPTER 30

I
VAN WASN’T HOME, AND, AS ANNA SUSPECTED, NONE OF HIS NEIGHBORS
were able to report on his whereabouts. So Anna and Kreeger drove back to the station house and on the way discussed what Anna would do while Kreeger was out of town. They both agreed she should re-canvass Malik’s apartment building and try to speak with the neighbors who weren’t home the first time. Maybe one of them would remember seeing something. She could also catch up on all the paperwork for this case, and there was plenty of that. Stopping by the Avondale station house wouldn’t be a bad idea, either. She could check in with Brenda and Paul and thank the Chief again for allowing her to work with Kreeger. She’d only done so briefly on the phone but felt he deserved to hear it from her face-to face.

When they got out of the car, Kreeger said, “Why don’t you call it a day, Anna? You’ve been working hard, and you deserve a night off. I’ll find out if Ivan really did leave the country and give you a shout in the morning.”

Anna wanted to accept his offer, but she hesitated. She felt guilty about leaving Kreeger here to finish up alone. But she also realized the long day—the long week—had caught up with her. All she wanted to do was go home, kiss her mom and Max and prepare a meal for her family.

“You sure?” she asked.

“I’m sure.”

“Thanks, Jerry. I appreciate it. Have a good night.”

“See ya.”

She headed toward her car but turned around after she’d gotten only a few feet. “Jerry?” she called out.

He was almost inside but he stopped and released the door. He took a few steps toward her, so he could see her better. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I’m making pot roast.”

The detective blinked at her in surprise. “I can’t,” he said. “I wish I could.” He seemed flustered. “I have a date.”

“With whom?” she blurted.

“With Jane,” he said.

“
Prosecutor
Jane?” She couldn’t hide her surprise—or disdain.

He smiled. “Yes,
Prosecutor
Jane.”

“Oh, okay then,” she said haltingly in her attempt to recover. “Well, have a good time. Bye.”

“Bye.”

She turned away and walked to her car, unsure why she’d reacted so negatively to Jerry’s news. She just couldn’t picture him with Jane. Sure, the prosecutor was smart, attractive, and sexy as hell, and from a technical standpoint she could see why a man would be interested in her, but she felt that Jerry… well, Jerry deserved better. She wondered how long the two of them had been dating.

She reached her car and slipped inside, remembering how she’d made tentative plans to go out with Paul tomorrow night. Maybe she’d give him a call in the morning and set something up. Her mother wouldn’t mind watching Max while she went out. In fact, she’d probably be delighted. She’d been pushing Anna to date. And in spite of all the promises she had made to herself to do otherwise, Anna knew her mom was right. It was time to start enjoying a little male attention again.