Pyramid Deception (10 page)

“Interesting. So you're saying that if Irene knew anything of interest to the law, Hernandez would have a motive for keeping her quiet. Is that it, Monroe?”

Monroe turned and winked. “Hey, call me Wash. We're the partners now.”

The Hyatt Regency had become the unofficial headquarters for the Irene Monroe murder case. Hannibal shared a lunch table in its restaurant with Cindy and Orson Rissik, who stared at his burger for a moment, wondering how to pick it up before deciding to cut it in half first.

“So what the hell's an Angus burger anyway? What makes it so special?”

“You got me,” Hannibal said, picking up a quarter of his sandwich. “What makes a club sandwich worth 14 dollars?”

“The fact that we're eating in the wrong place. Now, did you make any progress questioning Monroe?” Rissik asked. “I need to have something solid pretty quick. I'm not getting much support back at headquarters.”

“Actually, I did get some valuable info from Wash, or at least a few leads worth following up on.”

“Wash?” Cindy asked. “What, you're old pals now? Is he no longer a suspect?” Cindy had declared that she needed a healthy meal so she was tackling a seafood salad with small, polite bites. Hannibal wondered if anyone really thought they ate lobster, scallops and shrimp for health reasons.

“He's still on the list,” Hannibal said. “But that doesn't mean we can't be friendly. This way I can keep him close, just in case things do point to him in the end.”

“Besides, he's an influential citizen around here,” Rissik said between bites. “It's better to have the nasty camel inside the tent peeing out…”

“Wash won't cop to any wrongdoing, but he did tell me his old partner, Manny Hernandez, might have been under
investigation by the FBI. If Irene Monroe had something on him that gives him a reason to want her dead.”

“Unless he already talked to the FBI,” Rissik said. “He might have had sense enough to cut a deal with the feds to drop it all on Monroe.”

“Maybe you can check that out, Orson,” Hannibal said. His sandwich really was pretty good, the herbs adding a nice tang to the moist grilled chicken breast. But then, he reasoned, there is only so much you can do with chicken, mayonnaise and a BLT. “I want to chase down this Kevin Larson who used to work for Wash. He might be able to give me an objective view of his relationship with Irene, and since he was probably also questioned by the FBI, maybe he can tell us how much Hernandez and Irene really knew.”

“That sounds promising,” Cindy said. “I'll join you.”

Rissik glanced at Hannibal, and then focused on his food. Hannibal wished the lunch crowd was louder and more talkative.

“Honey, I'm better off doing this one alone.”

Cindy chewed her salad slowly and thoroughly, allowing several seconds to pass before speaking again. “I can't just sit up in that room feeling sorry for myself, and I sure as hell can't go back to work. I have to stay with this. I have to do something.”

Hannibal was unsure how strong he could be on this point, or how tender his reply needed to be. He was preparing his response when he felt a subtle nudge under the table.

“Hey, Jones, do you think Monroe is running a scam?” Rissik asked.

“I know he is,” Cindy said with hatred dripping from her lips. “The man took me for every cent I had, and my poor Jason's too. Why do you think we're after him?”

Rissik managed to cloak his surprise. “Well if he's some sort of confidence man the FBI might not be the only agency watching him. There would be issues of hidden income.”

“Sure,” Hannibal said with a nod. “He may be a person of interest to the IRS as well. Or the SEC”

Rissik turned his attention to Cindy. “So, Miss Santiago, might you have some connections at Internal Revenue, or the Securities and Exchange Commission?”

“Hello. Business attorney,” she said, pointing at herself. “I work with the IRS and the SEC on a daily basis.”

“Then perhaps you can find out if either of those agencies has opened a case file on Monroe. He might have loved her, but men do strange things when they think they might be going to jail.”

“Then it's settled,” Hannibal said. “When we meet at dinner we'll all have something to report.”

Finding Kevin and Vera Larson was no challenge for Hannibal. Information had a phone number for them in Falls Church, Virginia and connected him. “Vera Clean agency, this is Kevin, how can I help you.”

Mr. Larson, my name is Hannibal Jones. I'm an investigator, looking into the disappearance of Irene Monroe.”

“Damn shame,” Larson said.

“Yes, well, I thought you might have some valuable background information. Can we get together?”

“Don't know what I can do, but I'd be happy to help,” Larson said. “Come on over. You got a pen? I'll give you the address.”

Larson's townhouse in Falls Church was an easy 20 minute drive down Route 7 in a community of two-level homes called Hillwood Square. Larson answered the door in a tee shirt, jeans and sneakers, and offered both a firm handshake and a ready smile.

“You're lucky to catch me at home,” he said, waving Hannibal inside. “I have handyman work most days but it's unpredictable.”

“I'm glad I caught you,” Hannibal said, stepping inside. “I don't know what you might know about Irene…”

“I heard that Mrs. Monroe was missing and if I can be of any help at all, I'm happy to. She was always good to me and my wife.”

Larson's complexion was polished mahogany, his hands strong and sure. He was in his early thirties and appeared fit, although he moved with a halting gait. Hannibal remembered a mention of a war wound.

“You spent some time in the military, I hear,” Hannibal said, following Larson to the kitchen. The modest house was furnished with an eye to both cost and efficiency, but more JC Penney than Ikea. The kitchen carried the homey aroma of tomato sauce.

“Yeah, I was a corpsman in Afghanistan,” Kevin said, stirring the sauce and turning the gas down.

Hannibal paused at a shadow box on the kitchen wall. “And proud of your service, I see. My dad was army so I don't know all the navy medals but…”

Kevin pointed with pride. “Navy Commendation Medal, Navy Achievement Medal, Meritorious Service, Good Conduct Medal, Expeditionary Medal, and the Afghanistan Campaign Service Medal. I was just a kid, but I was eager, you know. And they gave me my wish. Trained me up and sent me out there with the Marine Recon boys. I'm telling you, that was being alive, until I picked up a bit of shrapnel during a firefight. They fixed me up good but the limp never went away. I always thought that was one reason Wash hired me. We had something in common, you know?”

A dark-skinned whirlwind blew into the room carrying some sort of ledger. She dropped the book on the table, took a deep breath and spun to offer her hand.

“This is Vera,” Kevin said, “the love of my life.”

“Sorry if I'm a little distracted,” Vera said. “The business don't run itself. You want something to drink?” Vera was dressed like Kevin, except that her jeans hugged her ample hips more tightly. She was darker than her husband and wore her hair in a natural style, pulled back by a wide headband. It reminded Hannibal of the Afro styles popular in 1970s. Her voice was so strong and confident he knew that people must often think she was being aggressive when she was just sure she was right.

“I got it,” Kevin said, reaching for the refrigerator. Vera nodded and dropped onto a chair, opening her ledger and scanning for some information.

“I'll try not to take up too much of your time,” Hannibal said, taking a seat beside Vera. “So Kevin, how'd you end up working for Wash?”

“Mostly luck,” Kevin said, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a soda bottle. “I was kind of lost after the Navy cut me loose. I guess a gimp is no use in a war so they sent me home, but the medical training they give a corpsman doesn't get you a job. My mom couldn't stand to see me just sitting around. She used to work for Wash. She called him up and sent me over there and the next thing I knew, I was working for him.”

While he talked, Kevin methodically pulled three glasses from a cabinet, filled them with ice and poured tea to within a quarter inch of the rim of each.

“Kind of a change from military service,” Hannibal said when Kevin joined him and Vera at the table. “What was that like, being a personal assistant?”

“I got to tell you, it was pretty cool, and not so different from the Navy as you might think. All I had to do was run the house and take care of Wash's personal crap so he could focus on what he does.”

“Which is?”

“Making money,” Vera said without looking up.

“Seriously, that's his job,” Kevin said with a laugh. “He finds investors and then just moves their money around and takes a cut when their investments grow. I don't understand the securities business or any of that business trading stuff, but I know he's damned good at it. And as long as I took care of him I had everything he had. I lived there with him, I ate like he ate and I drank like he drank. And of course there was Vera.”

“She was already working there?” Hannibal sipped his drink and concealed a slight shiver. It was sweet tea, so sweet it made his teeth hurt. He put his glass down, hoping the ice would melt enough to water it down some.

“Yeah, she was Irene's assistant.”

“I was supposed to make her appointments and take care of her monstrous wardrobe and so on,” Vera said with a wry smile. “Truth is, I was more of a paid friend.”

“And a confidante,” Hannibal said. “I'll bet you knew her better than anyone.”

“Mm-hm. I sure thought I did. But I just can't believe she would up and leave that man. Can't swear she loved him, but she sure loved her life.”

“And how about you? Were you as happy there as Kevin?”

She put down her pen and turned her flashing eyes on Hannibal. “They was good to me, so yeah, I liked the job, even before I met this big lug.”

Hannibal turned to Kevin. “And you fell for her.”

“Like a ton of bricks, man,” Kevin said. “And we was quite a team, taking care of the Monroes.”

“How about them?” Hannibal asked, leaning back. “Were they a team?”

Kevin took a long drink, sipping slowly. It was the kind of pause Hannibal often saw when someone wasn't prepared for a question and wanted to choose the right answer.

“Honestly, I thought they were the dream couple,” Kevin finally said. “They seemed so in love. I'm with Vera, I can hardly believe Irene would run off like that.”

“What if she didn't?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if she didn't leave of her own free will?” Hannibal asked.

Kevin mulled that for a second. “What, you mean like a kidnapping? I guess Wash has enough money to make it worth it.”

Hannibal nodded. There was a possibility no one else had mentioned. He wondered why Wash hadn't asked about that.

“A possibility. But we think she may have come to harm.”

“What?” Kevin's brows rose. “Why would anybody want to hurt Irene?”

“That's what I was hoping you could tell me. Mrs. Larson, you talked with Irene every day. Do you think she might have known anything, had any information that might be important enough to kill for?”

“I can't imagine what that might have been,” Vera said. “We had some men come around asking questions a while back, but I never knew what they was after. Kev, check that sauce, would you?”

“We're just trying to figure out if anyone might benefit from her death.”

Kevin went to the stove and stirred the sauce. “That don't make no sense. Nobody benefits if she's gone. It's not like somebody gets an inheritance or something.”

“Didn't she have money of her own?”

Vera laughed. “It ain't public knowledge, but that man took all her money.”

It appeared that they did talk about everything. Hannibal had to think that if Irene had valuable information, then the Larsons would be in danger as well.

“You knew their lives pretty well,” Hannibal said. “I bet you both knew about Irene's boyfriend.” Kevin sat down and the couple looked at each other before turning to Hannibal and nodding. “If there was somebody else in Wash's life, you would know, right?”

Both the Larson's looked down. Kevin took a drink and averted his eyes. Vera laid her hands flat on the table. “Mr. Monroe, he had nobody else in his life, Mr. Jones. No family, no children, no real friends, nobody. He had lots of parties and he had lots of people he did business with, but he was a lonely man, Mr. Jones. Irene was all he had, except for us.”

During the momentary pause Hannibal could hear a couple arguing next door. Vera looked back down at her ledger. Everyone took a drink, ice tinkling in their glasses. Despite its sweetness Hannibal thought the tea smelled bitter.

“His was a small world, and yet he fired you both.”

“Not really,” Kevin said. “Wash just kind of thought we needed to move on to better things. He staked me all the equipment to get my handyman business going. I hated to go but I sure couldn't turn away from the opportunity.”

“And you, Mrs. Larson. Were you equally sorry to go?”

Vera glanced at her husband before answering. “I was so happy there, Mr. Jones. But Mr. Monroe offered to set me up in this cleaning business. I couldn't say no. Besides, those men had just been around asking all those questions. I was glad to get away from that at least.”

Hannibal looked around at the Larson home, less than a quarter of the square footage of the house up in Great Falls, and thought he knew the limits of Monroe's generosity. Hannibal wasn't sure why Monroe had sent the Larsons away, but he had bought their absence, and their loyalty, at discount rates.