Just Cause (16 page)

“I’ll put Wilton on it,” Jim said. “We’ll see if we can find out who in Simon Brothers’ office would have physical access to a bid between the boardroom and the opening.”

“You think H & B is paying someone at Simon Brothers?” Laurel asked.

“Could be. But would it be an official payment, on the books?” Jim asked. “Dan, if you can get in the offices again, look for large payments, especially even sums, to an individual.”

“Right. Oh, and guess who’s got Bob’s old office.”

Jim shrugged.

“Jack Brody.”

Laurel frowned. “He used to be down the hall next to Wayne.”

“Guess he liked Bob’s corner view better.”

Jim sighed. “Let’s hope they put you in the office building again.”

“If they do,” Dan said, “I have a feeling I’m on the brink of finding something that will prove once and for all that Laurel is innocent.”

T
he Tuesday before the trial began, Dan was again assigned as watchman at the corporate office building. He made his rounds alone at an even pace, the way he had at the hospital.

This might be his last chance to search the files, he realized. Judy had arrived the day before, and he and Laurel had joined her at a modest cottage on the shore of Messalonskee Lake. They were enjoying the peaceful days on the water, but the opening day of the trial loomed before them, giving Dan an urgency when he made his rounds at Hatcher & Brody.

As he checked the offices on the second floor, his excitement grew. No one worked late tonight, and all the rooms were dark.

He punched the clock outside Bob’s old office and listened to be sure no one else was present, then went in and turned on his penlight.
Jack Brody, Vice President of Operations,
the name plaque on the walnut desk read. Jack kept a neat desk, with only the plaque and an in-and-out tray on the surface.

Dan knew he needed to find proof that Brody knew about the switch on the bridge materials, although he doubted that that in itself would be enough to cause Jack to kill his nephew. And Brody’s alibi for the day of the murder seemed ironclad—he and his girlfriend attended a field day in Rockland, and a hundred people could vouch for them. So whatever Dan found regarding the fraudulent bidding process wouldn’t directly solve the murder, but he was convinced it was somehow related to Bob Hatcher’s death.

Dan checked each desk drawer quickly then turned to a file cabinet in the corner. If he found nothing significant there, he would make another round of the building and spend a few extra minutes in the file room to look for the older project files.

On a whim, he flipped through the folders to
M
—Maple Grove—and smiled. A thick folder bore the title. He took it to the desk and spread out the contents.

As he picked out an invoice from a steel beam distribution company in New Jersey, he heard the elevator door open.

Dan froze for an instant and then shoved the papers back into the folder, his heart hammering. A light came on in the hallway. No time to put the file back in its proper place. He slid open the top center desk drawer and was closing it on the folder when the office door swung open and the light came on.

“Who in blazes are you?”

Jack Brody’s graying blond hair was tousled, and his flashing eyes didn’t quite focus. Dan suspected he’d had a few drinks.

“I’m the night watchman, sir.”

“What are doing in my office?”

“I was making my rounds, sir.”

His glance flicked to the halfway open file drawer, then back to Dan’s face. “Oh, you were, were you?”

“Yes, sir.” Brody’s smile told Dan that he didn’t believe a word.

“When did we hire you?” Brody weaved forward and sat on the corner of the desk.

Dan stepped back a pace. “About two weeks ago, sir.”

“Simon planted you here.”

“No, sir.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I saw your ad in the—”

“Piffle.” He said the
F
’s slowly and carefully.

Dan swallowed. Jack Brody had at least forty pounds on Dan, but still he thought he could subdue the older man if he had to.

“What’s your name?”

“Dan Ryan, sir.”

“Where do you live?”

“I’m staying in Belgrade right now.”

“Who’s paying you?”

“Hatcher & Brody, sir.”

“Besides us, idiot. Who sent you here?”

Dan took a deep, careful breath. “Nobody else is paying me to be here, Mr. Brody.”

“So you just took it upon yourself to come snoop through our private offices while you were on duty.”

Dan was silent, unable to come up with a truthful reply that wouldn’t further entangle him.

“Come on, you’re neglecting your job to come in here and look at private papers. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Dan watched, fascinated, as Brody reached inside his blazer. He knew, before he saw it, what would be in Brody’s hand when he brought it out, though the compact pistol hadn’t made much of a bulge under the jacket. Dan stared at it. He had been shot at once, when he responded to an armed robbery, but he’d been twenty yards away, and the man had missed. He was scarcely a yard away from Jack Brody.

But Brody’s hand shook.

“Pick up the phone,” Brody said.

Dan reached for the receiver, without taking his eyes from the big man’s face.

“Call the cops.”

“But, sir—”

“Security guards aren’t allowed to rifle their employers’ files and steal secret papers. You’re going to do time, Ryan. If you think your
other
employer will bail you out, forget it. Simon won’t admit he sent you to spy on us. You can tell any little story you want, but no one will believe you.”

Dan held his gaze, his mind whirling.

“Go on, dial,” Brody snarled. “It’s 911, or are you too stupid to know that?”

Dan pushed the buttons and held the receiver to his ear.

“Do you have an emergency?”

“Yes, this is Dan Ryan. I’m the security guard at Hatcher & Brody. Could you send an officer over here to our corporate offices, please? We’ve apprehended someone.”

“Hold on.”

Brody smiled. “You’re smooth, Ryan. Hang up.”

Dan opened his mouth, then closed it. He hung up on the dispatcher.

“Come on.” Brody stood and wiggled the gun back and forth. “Let’s go down to the lobby and wait for the nice policemen.” His body swayed.

Dan walked slowly, wondering if Jim Hight would be able to straighten this out with the local police. He headed for the elevator, but Brody stopped him.

“Take the stairs. I like that story you told 911 about an intruder. Maybe the burglar got the jump on you after you made the call. See, that way you wouldn’t be able to tell the cops anything, would you, now?”

“You said they wouldn’t believe me anyway.” Dan hesitated at the top of the open stairway.

“Well, I’ve been thinking on it. We’ve taken a lot of flak on our business practices lately. Maybe I can’t afford to let you tell your story after all. Yes, this will be better. I think…about…halfway down.” Brody looked past him at the stairs. “Then turn around and face me.”

A
vision of his own body spread-eagled on the stairs in a pool of blood, the way Bob’s had been, crossed Dan’s mind. That would be too much for Laurel.

Dear God, help me!

He whirled and seized Brody’s wrist, slamming it down forcefully on the stair rail. The gun flew over the edge and clattered to the floor below. Brody gasped and lunged for Dan’s throat, but Dan stepped back and kicked as hard as he could, and the bigger man flew backward down the stairs. Dan scrambled after him. Brody lay gasping, one hand groping at his chest. Dan knelt and patted Brody’s pockets, his waistline and under his arms for more weapons.

A blue light flashed over the walls of the lobby below. Dan stepped carefully over Brody and ran down to open the door.

“You the man who called?”

“Yes, sir, Dan Ryan.”

“Where’s your subject?”

“On the stairs.”

Dan leaned against the door frame, breathing hard, as the officer dashed across the lobby. A second patrol car pulled up in front of the building.

“This is Jack Brody,” the officer on the stairs called.

“Yes, sir.”

“He and his brother-in-law own this place. He’s not an intruder.”

“No, sir, I never said he was. He tried to shoot me. The gun’s down there.” Dan pointed to where Brody’s pistol lay in the shadows below the stairway.

The second officer came warily through the door.

“What happened?”

“Call an ambulance for Mr. Brody,” his buddy yelled. “He’s having trouble breathing.”

They kept Dan at the police station for three hours after Jack Brody was put in the ambulance. He used his one phone call to rouse Jim, rather than alarm Laurel and Judy.

Hight arrived soon after, but the Oakland police were reluctant to believe Dan was an Ohio patrol officer moonlighting as a private investigator, even though Jim showed them a copy of the state’s permission for him to use Dan as a temporary investigator. Jim ended up calling Laurel at 2:00 a.m. and asking her to bring Dan’s Ohio license. The patrol sergeant took the papers and disappeared.

“There’s still the matter of you breaking into Brody’s office,” investigating officer Philbrook said.

“I didn’t break in. I’m on Hatcher & Brody’s payroll, and I had a master key to the offices. I’m a security guard.” Dan tried to be patient. Laurel and Judy stood by, Judy avidly following matters, Laurel pale and shaky.

“Brody said you stole something from his desk.”

“No, sir. I was making my rounds of the offices when he came in.”

“He also said you were going through a file cabinet,” Philbrook insisted. “That’s not part of the job.”

Dan looked toward Jim.

“I need a moment alone with my client,” Jim said.

Philbrook sighed and took Laurel and Judy out of the room.

“Please tell me you found something,” Jim whispered.

“Papers about the investigation into the bridge failure, that’s all.”

“You didn’t take anything?”

“No.”

Jim nodded. “All right, I’ll have you out of here in ten minutes. It didn’t work out, that’s all.” He went to the door and returned with Philbrook and the patrol sergeant. “Mr. Ryan will make a complete statement now. He had a right to be there. Hatcher & Brody paid him to check all the offices.”

“Not to snoop in the executives’ desks.”

“He didn’t take anything, and he didn’t make any copies or photos.”

“Let him go,” the sergeant said from the doorway.

Jim Hight looked at the man’s name tag. “Thank you, Sergeant. Theriault.”

“I’ve been on the phone with a fellow in Ohio.” Theriault looked squarely at Dan. “You know a Lieutenant Powers?”

“Yes, sir, very well.”

“He says you’re all right. You think Brody would have shot you?”

“Yes, sir, he told me as much.”

“You’ll sign a complaint to that effect?”

“Certainly.”

Theriault turned to Philbrook. “Release him. You got a man at the hospital with Brody?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get over there and charge Brody with attempted murder. If that won’t stick, we’ll get him for carrying a concealed weapon without a permit. I want him in custody until the D.A. has a chance to sort this thing out.”

“But, sir—”

“But nothing. The Hatcher trial is coming right up. We don’t want anything underhanded going on that will keep Mrs. Hatcher from getting a fair trial, do we?”

“No, sir,” said Philbrook.

Theriault nodded. “As for you, Ryan, I suggest you resign your job at H & B immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dan followed the officers out to the duty room and went to Laurel. “Are you all right?” He slipped his arm around her as she drew a deep, shuddering breath.

“You’re Laurel Hatcher,” Theriault said.

“Y-yes.”

Dan pulled a chair out quickly, afraid she would collapse. “Sit down, sweetheart.”

“No, I’ll be all right. I just need some fresh air.”

“Can we go?” Jim asked.

“Yes,” Theriault replied. “We may want to talk to Ryan again, but I think that’s it for now.”

“Thank you.” Dan extended his hand to Theriault. “I’ll be at the cottage I told you about.”

Theriault nodded and smiled at Laurel. The smile changed his features from merciless authority to pleasant goodwill. “Best of luck, Mrs. Hatcher. Your husband was a good man. A lot of us are rooting for you.”

Later that day, Dan stopped the car across the street from the majestic Queen Anne house that had once been Laurel’s home. She struggled against the tide of memories, but gave up. She couldn’t hold them back. Maybe she could sort them and retain only the happy ones.

The three-story house had four kinds of decorative shingles and carved brackets under the eaves. The porch wrapped around the front and two sides, beneath a round tower and gabled roof. The blocks of the foundation had designs embossed on the concrete, and a stained glass window hung between stories where the stairs turned.

“Wow,” Dan said at last.

“Yeah. It’s a great house.” It was hard not to imagine Bob coming down the steps to greet her. Laurel sent up a fractured prayer of thanks for the four years she’d had him. She had expected the house to repel her. Instead, she felt drawn to it. She got out of the car and walked across the street, sensing Dan at her elbow. They stood at the edge of the lawn, under the new green leaves of the big maple. A scooter and a soccer ball lay on the grass.

“I’m glad a family lives here now,” she said through her tears. “It’s a house that ought to have children in it.”

“I could never give you a house like that.”

“I don’t need a house like that,” she said.

Dan stared at the tower. “Did you have a telescope up there?”

“No. Do you like astronomy? I thought you told me everything.”

He chuckled. “Everything but that, I guess. Do you want to go in?”

“I…don’t think so.”

“You sure?”

When she hesitated, he went up the walk, mounted the porch and rang the doorbell.

Drawing a breath was almost painful. Did she really want to meet the new owners of the house she and Bob had made their own? What if they said cruel things? The door opened, and a blond woman greeted Dan. Laurel turned her face away and waited for him to come back.

A moment later, he hurried toward her.

“Come on. The lady is really nice. She said you can come in and look around.”

“I’m not sure….” Laurel gulped and took a step. Dan slipped his arm around her, and they strolled toward the house.

“I’m Gretchen Dufour,” the woman said. “My husband’s an eye surgeon, and we moved here from Pennsylvania. Please come in.”

Laurel grasped her offered hand and stepped into the foyer. At once she noted a different light fixture hanging overhead, but the wallpaper she had picked out five years ago remained unscathed.

“You’re the former owner?” Gretchen asked. “Please forgive me, but the neighbors told us there was…a death in this house. And I’ve read things in the papers. I’m glad you came back, Mrs. Hatcher.”

“Thank you.” Laurel glanced at Dan and read encouragement in his expression. Of course. He’d told Gretchen that Laurel was here to prove her innocence. She turned back to Gretchen. “My husband was killed here. I hope that doesn’t bother you. I mean, I hope it doesn’t make you not want to live here. It’s a fantastic house.”

“Oh, we love it. But I haven’t told the children.” Gretchen smiled. “Say, could I get you folks a glass of iced tea? My kids are at school. I was working on a project, but I could use a break.”

Laurel raised her eyebrows at Dan. They were bending Jim’s rules for sure.

Dan shrugged. “If you’re comfortable.”

The new owners had remodeled the kitchen, with new oak cabinets and sleek steel appliances. Laurel and Dan sat at a round table near the patio door, looking out on the backyard where Laurel used to set up her easel on sunny days.

“The kitchen looks great,” she said when Gretchen brought their glasses.

“Thanks. The house was empty when we bought it. Not even any curtains. In fact, in the entry, there were wires dangling, like someone had removed the chandelier and not replaced it.”

Renata. She always loved that
.

Laurel forced a smile. “My…friend and I…” She glanced at Dan. “We wondered if you’d found anything in the house, but I guess not.”

Dan cocked one eyebrow, but didn’t contradict her.

“No, it was stark naked. Not one stick of furniture. But that made it easy to do the changes we wanted. If you’d like, I’ll take you upstairs and show you what we’ve done there. New carpets. I’ve made Julianne’s room up like a princess bower.”

Laurel wasn’t sure she wanted to see the stairs, or the bedroom she and Bob had shared, but she smiled. “How old is she?”

“Seven.” Gretchen sipped her tea. “The only traces we found of the previous owners were a few splotches of paint on the floor in the tower—”

“My fault,” Laurel said.

“—and an old key in the basement.”

Dan sat up. “A key?”

“Yes. In one of those magnetic cases. You know—the kind you keep under your car bumper, in case you get locked out.”

Dan nodded. “In the basement, you say?”

Gretchen stood and went to the counter. “Tim found it when he was poking around there with the technician who came to clean the furnace last fall. What did I do with it? He said the case was stuck to the back of the furnace.” She opened a drawer.

Dan whispered to Laurel, “Do you know anything about that?”

She shook her head.

“It’s kind of a funny-looking key. He said it wasn’t a car key.” Gretchen opened another drawer. “Ha! There it is.”

She returned to the table and held out a small, flat container. Laurel let Dan take it and slide it open.

A gleam flickered in his eyes, and Laurel sat forward.

“What is it?”

Dan dumped the oddly shaped key into the palm of his hand.

“Mrs. Dufour, I believe this belonged to Laurel’s husband. May we take it?”

“I guess so. It’s no good to us. Would you folks like to see the rest of the house now?”

Laurel started to decline, but Dan beat her to it.

“I’m sorry, but we need to leave. You’ve been very kind.”

Gretchen followed them through the foyer and onto the porch, a frown wrinkling her brow.

“Thank you,” Laurel said.

“You’re welcome. And I’m very sorry about your husband.”

Laurel took one last glance around the entry. No longings or regrets waylaid her. “We had good times in this house, and I hope you and your family do, too.”

They drove straight to Jim’s office. The secretary showed them in, and Dan produced the key.

“What’s this?” Jim asked.

“Unless I miss my guess, it’s the key to a safe-deposit box.”

Jim took it and squinted at it. “BNE. Bank of New England?”

“Bob and I had accounts at the Oakland branch.” Laurel couldn’t keep her voice steady. Dan reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“The new owners of Laurel and Bob’s old house found it hidden in the basement.”

“Well, well.”

“Do you think that’s what the men chasing me were looking for?” Laurel asked.

Jim reached for his phone. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. It may have nothing to do with your case. It could have been there before you and Bob moved in. Don’t you think Bob would have told you about it if it were his?”

She blew out a long breath and sank into a chair. “I honestly don’t know.”

“He wanted to protect her from what was going on at work,” Dan said.

Jim frowned. “If the men pursuing Laurel were after this, how did they know it existed?”