Smith Investigation Series Box Set 1 (3 page)

Chapter 5

I pulled up in the assigned parking spot in front of the corporate building and got out of the car.

“Impressive,” I whispered.

I surveyed the area out of habit. Around me, the City Center was buzzing with life. White- collar workers were hurrying to their jobs, oblivious to each other’s personal drama. I smirked, considering my situation. I was investigating again!

The building where Smith Investigation’s offices were was a tall, glass and concrete monolith, housing multiple businesses. I wondered who Smith’s neighbors were as I stepped inside the large reception area.

I didn’t need to ask the desk for directions. I just showed my ID and, when I got the approving nod, I went on my way.

Choosing to take the stairs, I found myself pleasantly alone. People were getting way too comfortable these days.

Smith Investigations was located on the North side of the building and occupied half of the second floor. I almost whistled when I opened the front door, thoroughly impressed with the arrangement in the reception area.

A coal gray carpet covered the floor in its entirety, and pristine white walls amplified the light coming from the huge windows making up an entire wall. The combination made a pleasant contrast with the large mahogany reception desk, currently unoccupied.

I walked across the room to one of the two doors on either side of the desk. A placard said ‘Management’, and I suspected it was Smith’s.

I knocked and pushed the door open and wasn't surprised to find Smith elbow deep into paperwork already.

“Good morning,” I said, getting his attention.

“Ah, morning, Rob. You came.”

“You look surprised.”

“I am. But I’m also glad.” He stood up and reached to shake my hand. “Welcome to my domain.”.

“Impressive domain, Sir Smith,” I admitted.

“You think?”

“Yes. Prime real estate.”

“It does cost a fortune every month, I have to say.”

“But it looks good. Gotta have the best image in the business!”

He laughed. “It’s not
that
impressive.”

I looked at him, surprised at his modesty. I leaned towards believing it. He wasn't the corporate type and, if I remembered correctly, didn’t grasp the concept of entrepreneurial pride.

“So, you’ve read the file. You want to work the case?” he began.

“No. I’ve read the file so I can come here today and recite it back to you.” Anything coming even remotely close to
the talk
made me jumpy. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s OK. The old dry sarcasm of Rob Walsh.”

I laughed, looking down.

“Come on. Let me give you the tour,” he suggested, starting for the door. “You know you’re being sarcastic whenever you feel vulnerable, right? That’s your tell.”

“Whose tell?” I heard a woman in the other room.

“Morning, Spike.”

“Morning, boss,” the woman replied, peeking her head through the open door.

“Hi,” I greeted her, my voice small, suddenly realizing that I was required to meet his team. “Here we go,” I thought to myself.

She came into the room and extended a hand to me. “Hi, I’m Lisa. People call me Spike.”

She didn’t look like a ‘Spike’ in the least. Short and thin, with surprisingly long hair tied in a ponytail that pulled tightly against her skull. The sunlight reflected thousands of shades of chocolate in it, and I felt underprepared. I had just taken a shower, brushed and tied my hair in a low ponytail and, in contrast with her perfectly pressed two-toned cotton suit, my jeans and white untucked shirt looked washed out.

Her brown eyes smiled at me, and I grimaced back. She gave me a delicate handshake and looked to Smith to make the introductions.

“This is Robin Walsh.”

“What?” she gasped. “
The
Robin Walsh?”

I squinted, unsure of what she meant.

“The famous PI? Rising star of Kyle & Reed, killer people skills, ex-Navy, author?
That
Robin Walsh?” she clarified. I wished she hadn’t.

“Yes but, please, call me Rob.”

“Oh. My. God. Wait until the guys find out!”

I cringed, feeling like I should crawl into the closest cranny I could find.

“I’m sorry, I’m being such a fan girl right now!”

“A what?”

“I’m a big fan, Miss Walsh. Rob. And it’s so nice to meet you!”

I was stunned. My fan? I wanted to ask her if she hadn’t, perhaps, gotten me confused with someone else, but Smith assured me with a nod that Spike was speaking the truth.

“OK, Spike. Settle down, now. Spike doesn’t get to see the outside world much, Ma’am, so she’s easily excited.”

I turned to the man who had spoken and was welcomed by the most beautiful sight one would get to see in a lifetime. The man looked like the picture of perfection with his tall stature, dark eyes against fair skin, short, dark hair and wearing a casual suit that probably cost more than my military stipend for a year.

“Hi, I’m Dylan,” he introduced himself, giving me a slight wave. “I’m the surveillance guy. Spike, here, she’s more the administration type. Financial investigations and the sort, and she makes the meanest coffee. Isn’t that right, Spike?”

“Shut up!” she protested, pouting. He grabbed her arm and hugged her despite her best efforts to resist the gesture.

If the rest of the team was like them, I knew I would have a hard time dealing with the intimacy.

“Nice to meet you. Rob Walsh, consultant.”

Smith patted my shoulder. “Let’s go into Operations,” he suggested.

“Rob’s already in there. Well, I guess we'll call him by his Christian name from now on,” said Dylan.

“Robert is our computer guy,” Smith explained. “He’s… He’s his own type, if you know what I mean.”

I nodded and followed him next door.

The room was larger than Smith’s office, and it had far less windows. On one side, there were three desks, all equipped with a Mac and all facing the center of the room. On the same wall with the door was another desk, larger and much more technologically endowed than the others.

At this particular desk sat a young man, looking not much older than the teens I had seen fooling around on North Ave.

He didn’t look up from his many screens as we walked in, and it required both Spike and Dylan to get his attention.

“Yeah, hi. Sorry,” he mumbled, semi-distracted by whatever was happening on the monitors in front of him.

“Rob. Robert!” Spike called him again. “Behave yourself and greet our consultant.
Properly,
” she emphasized the last word.

“What? Oh, yeah.”

He stood, scratching his slender frame and approached me, looking like he already missed his computers.

“Hi, my name is Robert White, but you can call me Rob. Nice to meet you.” He looked dead serious, not a trace of mockery in his voice, which told me he really listened to Spike.

“Hi. Rob Walsh. Likewise.”

He seemed oblivious to the fact that we shared the same nickname. I shook his hand, which was surprisingly strong, and he turned on his heels almost immediately. I saw the rest of the team shake their heads simultaneously, and it made me chuckle.

“Well, that's it for now. DeMarco is on his way to the State Penitentiary to talk to Gold. You’ll meet him tonight.”

“OK,” I replied, not sure whether to be excited or bummed that the greeting phase wasn’t over yet.

“I got it!” Robert shouted and bumped a fist in the air. “I found Mrs. Gold.”

“Good job, Rob. Robert,” Smith stuttered. “Then, let’s get to work, people!”

We all gathered around him and waited for instructions.

“Dylan, get the address from Robert and pay Mrs. Gold a visit. Rob, you’re in the field today. I’ve called Gold’s employees and told them you’re coming to talk to them. Take Spike with you. She’ll benefit from spending the day with her idol. Who knows, maybe she’ll even learn something.”

“Yay!” Spike rejoiced, doing a little dance around us.

“Robert, be a dear and send the employee list to their phones. Would you?”

“Done, boss.”

“OK, then. Let’s go,” I said, glancing uncomfortably at Spike, who looked much more excited than I would’ve liked her to be.

Smith nodded and pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket. I turned for the door but remembered something.

“Dylan?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Ask about the gang Gold was in. If she knows about their business, if they ever killed people, you know. And call me Rob.”

“Will do, Rob.”

Chapter 6

I had spoken with three of Gold’s former employees and had one more left on the list. Spike had left to buy us some coffee. While I waited, I decided to look over my notes so far.

All of the men seemed to say the same thing. They came into work in the morning, opened the shed door and discovered the body. From what I understood, they had gone in the shed all at once. Not all that believable, if you asked me. It sounded like they had discussed what to say beforehand.

What surprised me more was their attitudes. The three men had been employed by Gold for close to a year, and yet they seemed very detached. I didn’t see any trace of loyalty in the way they had told their stories.

I leaned back and rubbed my eyes. Just when I was about to stretch my tired bones, I heard Spike knocking on the passenger window. I reached across and opened the door for her.

“Here’s your coffee,
Rob
.”

I grabbed the tall paper cup and eyed her with a frown. She was playing with the lid, a giddy grin stretched on half of her face.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Pull yourself together, young woman!” I joked, unable to hide a smile myself.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“Yeah, you, like, can’t even, like, believe you’re working with, oh my God,
the
Rob Walsh.”

“I don’t sound like that! Do I?” she pouted, which made me laugh.

“OK. What have we learned, Spike?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and I was yet again taken aback by her expressive face. To me, it felt like she either wanted to be read like an open book, or was really not paying enough attention to her composure.

“They keep saying the same thing. They came in, all of them, discovered the body under some empty garbage bags, left it there, and called the police. Now, all that sounds nice, but I think they’re reciting that version of the story. I don’t know. Maybe Gold told them to lie for him?”

I was surprised. I hadn’t expected her to see that far between the lines.

“So, you think they’re not telling the truth?” I asked her, more interested now.

“I’m not saying they’re lying, but something isn’t right. The first thing that comes to my mind is that they’re lying for Gold. What do you think?”

I nodded. “They’re lying, alright. But I don’t think Gold is involved in this.”

“How come?”

“Tell me why you think he is.”

“Well… The story benefits him. They say they all discovered the body together. It’s obvious they’re lying because when you asked them to give details, none of them knew where Gold was supposed to have been up until the cops arrested him.”

“Good observation. But they’re not that loyal to Gold. Now, by the looks of it, the man did know how to choose his employees. He hired people that were unlikely to be untrustworthy or to do anything illegal. We know that from their background checks.”

“Yeah. They all seemed to be either white-collar workers that were laid off because of the recession, or experienced gardeners. None of them has a record.”

“And they all come from good, low crime neighborhoods.”

“Yeah. So, what’s that got to do with them not lying for Gold? It sounds like the opposite to me.”

“Sure, at first glance. But, when we spoke to them, they all acted cold and detached. They avoided saying Gold’s name and, as you noticed so well, they recited the same story.”

“Uh huh.”

“What that tells me is that they
feel
they have to lie for Gold, but, at the same time, don’t want to get themselves in trouble for conspiring for him. They know he didn’t do it, and they know they should help more. That’s why they feel so guilty and can’t even say his name. It’s obvious to all of them that they didn’t do enough to save him from jail, but they know they cannot do more, out of fear of being arrested themselves. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“Yeah. So, they lied out of perceived obligation, and feel guilty for not being as loyal as they think they should have been.”

“Correct. I bet you a round of Jagermeister for the whole team that Gold wasn’t even there when his gardeners discovered the body.”

“Deal.”

“What?”

“Deal. The bet is on.”

“Oh. It was just a figure of speech, Spike.”

“I know. But I will keep my end if it turns out you’re right.”

I chuckled. “OK, deal.”

“So, how many more to go?” she asked me, as I put the car in reverse.

“One.”

“Oh. Just four in all?”

I nodded and waited for her to say something else. She didn’t, so I checked to see what she was thinking and was surprised to see sadness in her eyes.

“What is it?”

“They’re just like us,” she whispered.

“What?” I was confused.

“Them. They’re just like us. Small team, Gold and his employees. Smith and us. Poor things!”

“It’s… What? It has nothing to do with you, Spike.”

“I can’t imagine if something like this would happen to Smith. Oh, my God!”

I looked at her again. She was on the brink of crying and I understood why. Spike was
that
type of person; always sensitive, her mind racing in every direction. No wonder she had seen through the gardener's stories.

“It’s not the same, dear. For example, they don’t have a girl with a crazy nickname on their team,” I tried to cheer her up.

She looked at me, puzzled.

“No, they don’t. But…”

“Oh, no,” I thought. “Don’t go there again.”

I started rambling, just to say something: “No, it’s not the same. It makes all the difference. They’re different men in a different industry. No girl, no murder. What
does
‘Spike’ mean, anyway?”

“I don’t know. DeMarco gave me the nickname.”

“Why?” It didn’t even make any sense.

“I think I told him I’m afraid of bicycles.”

“What?”

“Yeah, because of the spokes in the wheels. I’m afraid they’ll just come out and stab someone to death. Don’t ask, I can’t explain it.”

I looked at her to make sure she was serious and started laughing.

“Oh my God, girl! You’re… something else entirely.”

She appeared to be more at ease, watching me laugh. She even giggled herself, and it seemed like she wanted to add something to the discussion, but I was already looking for a parking spot.

“God, I love the traffic in Burlington,” I said, turning the engine off. “Back when I was stationed in Florida, it was madness!”

“Oh? I never went to Florida.”

“No?” I was surprised.

“No. In fact, I never left Vermont.”

“Ever?”

I opened the car door and stepped out. All I had to do was look for Mr. Whitaker's house number, but I couldn’t focus enough. Spike kept surprising me with information that did not fit my impression of her.

“No. My family couldn’t afford vacations and when we did go somewhere, it was usually just a trip to nearby towns or museums or the sort. I did go to college in Montpelier. That’s the farthest I’ve ever been from Burlington.”

“I seem to have misjudged you,” I admitted, uncomfortably.

“Why?” she asked, raising her big, round eyes to look at me.

“Well, you have a certain look. You dress like you’ve been shopping in Paris and, I don’t know…”

“Oh, you mean this? No, it’s just cheap stuff I bought online. I know all the good wholesalers from China.”

I frowned, feeling significantly more uncomfortable in my skin. Was I losing my touch?

“Let’s see what the man has to say.” I decided to end the discussion that had raised something which needed to be analyzed later. I didn’t like finding out I was wrong. I knew something was up with Spike. It couldn’t have been me, surely, I thought, walking up the few steps to Whitaker’s front door.

I rang the bell and cleared my voice. Since Spike had thrown me off my game, I needed to gather my wits before conducting another interview.

The door opened and a large man filled the frame.

“You must be the investigating people,” he said with no preamble.

“Yes. I’m Rob Walsh and this is Lisa…”

“Lisa North. Nice to meet you.”

I squinted. How did I not know her last name?

“You better come in.”

We followed him into a messy living room. It wasn’t dirty, but everything looked like it never had its proper place. I could see that, as I suspected, it made Spike visibly uncomfortable.

“So, what do you want to know?” Whitaker asked, leaning next to the kitchen door.

I got the feeling the man was fighting the urge to get something off his chest. I smiled, seeing how the interview would go. With a ‘watch this’ glance at Spike, I spoke:

“Let’s get this over with, Mr. Whitaker. We already met with your former colleagues, and there’s not much we need from you.”

“OK,” he nodded, visibly more relaxed.

“So, as I understand, there’s not much to your involvement in the whole investigation. The first one, that is.”

He listened to my words with the occasional nod.

“Would you mind telling me what you said in your statement to the police?”

“Aren't you supposed to have that?”

I saw he was tensing up again.

“We do. But humor me, if you please.”

The man looked down, suddenly very preoccupied with the woven carpet.

“Well, what’s there to tell? We went to work in the morning, we had to get some fertilizer for some flowers we had to replant, and we found the body. We left it alone and someone called the police.”

“Uh huh. And Mr. Gold went to tell the Cooper’s about it, right?” I lied.

“Yes.”

He noticed his mistake immediately.

“I mean, no, he didn’t. He called 911.”

“My bad, but it seems that a Mr. Colt called the cops that morning. I believe we spoke to him today, Miss North?”

She nodded, paying attention to every word I was exchanging with Whitaker.

“Yes, yeah. Holt called the cops.”

“Yes. And the cops came and took your statements. Who notified the family? Because, from your initial statement, your team seemed to have been busy making sure not to disturb the crime scene. Very civic-minded of you, might I say. But there’s not alot on what Mr. Gold was doing. I assumed he went to tell the Cooper’s about the unfortunate discovery, but it seems I made the wrong assumption.”

He thought for a second, visibly troubled. I didn’t give him time come up with another lie.

“I believe the family had been notified by the police themselves, if I remember correctly. Isn’t that right, Miss North?”

“Yes. Detective Benton found them still in bed that morning.”

“So, forgive me for repeating myself, but, if each of you were around the shed, busy calling the police and protecting the body from contamination, and Mr. Gold didn’t, in fact, notify the family, where was he?”

“Look, I don’t know. We were all in shock,” he tried one more evasion tactic.

“Are you the type to get so easily shocked, Mr. Whitaker?”

He exhaled, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I’m sorry, I cannot do this anymore.”

I signaled Spike to settle down, as she seemed to have misread his reaction.

“He wasn’t there, alright?” he finally confessed.

“Who wasn’t?” I asked innocently.

“Jeremiah. He wasn’t there. He arrived late. He had stayed up all night with his baby girl. His wife had just given birth, and he was a good man like that. He had many long nights, you know? He liked to let his wife sleep more, cuz she had to stay home all day with their baby anyway, and she needed to rest.”

I nodded, giving him the silence he needed to keep talking.

“The cops didn’t even know Jeremiah existed! And the Cooper’s didn’t know when he arrived late, cuz we never told them about that. We were shocked when they just arrested him when he got to the Cooper estate. It was like an hour later. It was like everything changed in a second! We, me and the guys, couldn't believe it.”

I nodded again, trying to suppress a frown.

“Did you ever think they were suspecting Mr. Gold? From what the police asked you back then?”

“No! Like I said, they didn't even know about Jeremiah until later, when they arrested him. They didn't even ask us that many questions.”

“The cops? That's why you were able to change your statements later?”

He looked down again. “Yeah.”

“Do you think Mr. Gold did it?”

“What? No way! He couldn't kill a fly, that man. I'm telling you.”

“I understand.”

I stole a glance at Spike, who was watching us in wonder.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Whitaker, and I apologize for the inconvenience. Could we possibly contact you again if we have any more questions?”