Doubleback: A Novel (23 page)

She heard a hollow laugh. “Yeah. You and everybody else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the bank, lawyers, even the IRS has been dogging me about it. Well, fuck you all. It’s ours. Eddie’s will was crystal clear.”

“He put it in his will?”

“He changed his will right after he got it. Even faxed me a copy. Not that anyone believes me, of course.”

“When was this?”

“Who’d you say you were?”

“I’m a private investigator. We think the money that was sent to your son may be related to other cases here in Chicago.”

“Well, I don’t know about any case in Chicago. And I don’t give a shit. All I care about is that a million dollars went into my boy’s bank account. Less than a month later, he’s dead. I don’t need to know any more.”

As long as you can keep the money, Georgia thought. But aloud she said, “Was he in Arizona working for Delton Security when he—died?”

“So? What if he was?”

“Mr. Wrobleski, how did he die?”

“It was an accident. Some explosives he was working with were screwed up, and they blew. Took him along. Look, lady, I don’t want to talk any more.”

“I understand. Just one more question. Have you ever heard of Rafael Peña? He might have worked at Delton with your son.”

There was a long sigh. “The only one Eddie ever talked about was Brewer. Kirk. They were buddies from the military.”

Georgia blinked. She should tell him about Kirk Brewer’s death. It would be the right thing to do. It might change his attitude. She kept her mouth shut.

“Thank you, Mr. Wrobleski. I won’t bother you again.”

chapter
28

T
he Liberty Club owned a stately greystone in the middle of the Loop on Jackson. Three flags—the U.S., Illinois and Chicago’s—flapped in the breeze out front. The club had been around forever, at least since the Civil War. Georgia wasn’t sure how you became a member or what you got when you did, but its roster included the top echelon of Chicago’s political and business establishment, so apparently there were benefits. Like the series of speakers they brought in Tuesday mornings.

She went inside and climbed a set of marble steps. To her right were about twenty-five people in a huge room with windows that spanned two stories. The windows were covered in long green drapes. Two enormous chandeliers showered light on the room. The smell of coffee with chicory floated through the air. Georgia stood at the back of the room.

“Rule number one in my family was pride and loyalty to our country,” the speaker was saying. “My father never let any of us forget it.” Geoff Delton aimed a dazzling smile at the group. Tall, fit, and handsome, his blond hair looked almost white. Which made his dark eyes seem black. Dressed in a light khaki suit, blue shirt, and yellow tie, he cut a vigorous, electric image, forceful enough, Georgia thought, to power the chandeliers by himself.

“So when my time came, I was proud to enlist in the Marine Corps. As you know, I was deployed to Iraq during Desert Storm, where, in addition to fighting for our country, I had a unique opportunity to observe how our military works. It was there I realized the armed forces could be much more efficient if the private sector was involved.”

He went on to discuss the redundancies and inefficiencies of the military and how it could be faster, lighter, and smarter. Several audience members, all men, nodded. Former military types, probably.

“We now have over a thousand men in five countries,” Delton said. “We’re not as big as Blackwater, of course, but we don’t want to be.” He smiled. “We are the ones you call when you don’t want publicity.” That got a ripple of laughter.

A flash of light exploded. Someone was taking a picture. Startled, Delton took a step forward and shaded his eyes. “Excuse me. I must insist. No pictures. Ever.” He paused for a moment to let it sink in, then nodded to someone at the back of the room. Georgia craned her neck but didn’t get a good look at whoever it was.

Delton stepped back behind the podium and launched into a discussion about the security issues faced by corporations and business leaders. He explained the types of services Delton Security offered, from protection and body guarding to something he called Delton’s “Special Operations Division.”

“Depending on the need, Delton men... and women... are prepared to serve you efficiently, thoroughly, and at a reasonable cost.”

The impression he gave was earnest, open, trustworthy. How much of that was calculated, she wondered. He concluded with a flourish, asking his audience to consider their security needs. He took a few questions, which he answered mostly by offering to talk one-on-one with the questioner. Finally, he held up some business cards. “Feel free to call any time. I still answer my own line.”

After watching him glad-hand and pass out cards for a few minutes, Georgia approached.

“Good morning,” he said. “I saw you come in.”

“I wanted to meet you.”

His smile broadened as if he’d expected her to say that. It made her uncomfortable. He was too interested. She cleared her throat. “I’m an investigator. I’ve been looking into the deaths of Chris Messenger and Arthur Emerlich at Midwest National. I understand you’re one of the bank’s customers.”

His gaze flitted away for an instant. Then it returned. His smile faded. “What a tragedy. We’re still reeling.”

Georgia nodded. “From what I understand Chris was your personal banker, is that right?’

“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘personal.’ She was the point person on our accounts. Much of our banking needs are online, and she was the director of IT. It was a good fit.” He cocked his head. “Are you with the police? If so, I’ve already given a statement.”

Good information to know. It meant the police had already made a connection between Delton and the bank. Did that mean they knew about the service charges and cashiers’ checks too? “I’m private,” she said.

“Did the bank hire you?”

He was pumping her. She sidestepped the question. “I saw you handing out business cards. Mind if I have one?”

“Not at all. I’m always happy to take a call from an attractive woman.” He smiled again, but this time, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I won’t take up your time here, but I have some questions about one of your contracts out West. In Arizona.”

His expression didn’t change. “Not sure I can tell you anything. Much of what we do involves national security.”

“I understand completely. I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Again he broke eye contact, his gaze searching out someone or something at the back of the room. She spun around. She didn’t see anyone, but she had the impression someone had just left the room. She turned back to Delton. An elderly man who’d been in the audience had approached and was pumping his hand.

“Thank you so much for making time for us this morning, Geoff. You gave an excellent presentation.”

Delton dialed up the wattage on his smile. “Glad to be of service.” He glanced over at Georgia and winked.

•   •   •

“I just can’t take it any more,” the woman whispered that afternoon in the bank’s cafeteria. “I’m asking for a transfer.”

Benay Weiss looked like she might topple over if you blew on her, but Georgia suspected her appearance belied a tough core. She had mousey brown hair streaked with gray, a nose too small even to call “button,” and owlish eyes that rarely blinked. She wore a flowered skirt, white blouse, and green cardigan draped over her shoulders. It was well after lunch, and most of the tables in the cafeteria were empty. The few people still there didn’t appear to have the slightest interest in the two women, but Georgia kept a watchful eye on her surroundings.

“That’s confidential, of course.” Benay said, losing the whisper. “I haven’t told anyone yet. Including Cody.” Her voice had that irritating fifth-grade teacher squeak.

“Because of the elevator incident?” Georgia asked.

The woman nodded. “It was—how shall I put it...” she paused theatrically, “... something I will never forget.”

“Can you tell me exactly what happened? If it isn’t too difficult.”

Weiss flashed a ghost of a smile, as though she’d heard her cue and was ready to play her scene. Georgia wondered how many times she’d repeated the story. “Well, I was on break—I’m an administrative assistant in the bank’s Commercial division. Equipment leasing. On the sixty-second floor. And I’m always cold. Even on a day like today.

“So I drink two cups of tea: one in the morning, one in the afternoon. I usually get my afternoon cup down here. It’s a nice break.”

Something about the woman made Georgia’s teeth itch. She almost wished she’d let Foreman do the interview. “Lily was waiting for the elevator, too. She’s a manager in asset-based lending. A different department.” She sniffed, as if Lily’s department was second-rate. “The elevator arrived. We stepped on. It made a few more stops. One or two people got on.”

“Do you remember what floors it stopped on?”

“I couldn’t say. Not with any authority.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Except for Lily, who I didn’t know at the time, there was a messenger, two other men, and then a man with sunglasses.”

“Go on.”

“Everything was fine until we started down to the lobby. After fifty, it’s supposed to be an express. Anyway, the elevator started to speed up, the way it always does. But then, without any warning, it jolted to a stop. Just like that!” She snapped her fingers. “It bounced hard, and I was thrown up in the air. Then I fell. I still have bruises on my legs.” She stared at Georgia, as if daring her to challenge her. “The lights went off, and everything just stopped. The cab was dangling in mid air. I mean, you could feel it. No one knew what was going on.” She shivered and pulled her cardigan closer. “You know, I hate to fly. I have nightmares about crashing. This was like that. But real. I really thought I was going to die a violent, horrible death.”

“What about the other passengers?”

“What you’d expect. It was pure bedlam. People were on the floor. One man thought his leg was broken. Everyone was screaming. Me, too, of course. I was praying out loud.” She shivered again and took a sip of tea. “This is still so hard.”

Georgia knew she was supposed to comfort Weiss. Encourage her to go on. Which, after an appropriate pause, Weiss would bravely but reluctantly do. Georgia couldn’t do it.

Weiss waited for Georgia’s cue. When it didn’t come, she frowned slightly and drew herself up. “Eventually the gears started to grind. Lights flashed on, off, then on again. The elevator lurched once more—again, we thought this was the end—but then it started to descend. Nice and slow. As if nothing had happened. When we got to the lobby, we piled out. A crowd had gathered. Of course, security said it was a brownout.” Her eyebrows arched as if to say no sane person could believe such a bald-faced lie.

A fast-paced movement in the corner of the room caught Georgia’s attention. She squinted but couldn’t make out anything. Then it disappeared. She dragged her gaze back to Weiss. “How long was the car suspended without power?”

“It seemed like an eternity. But it probably wasn’t more than a minute or two.”

“And you don’t believe it was a brownout?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Weiss said.

“I’m sure elevator inspectors have come in to go over the system.”

“Yes, they did. But I haven’t heard any explanations. Oh, Midwest National was very sensitive. They sent flowers, and gave me a week off with pay.” She laughed in a practiced tone. “They were afraid I’d sue. Actually, someone is suing, I understand. The messenger, I believe. But I’ve worked here over ten years. I don’t want to be a troublemaker.” She sighed audibly. “I just want to work in a place where I don’t have to take an elevator. I shiver every time the doors open.”

“Is there anything else you can remember?”

Weiss frowned. “Why do you want to know?”

“Cody told you I’m an investigator, right?”

“He said you were looking into Christine Messenger and Art Emerlich’s deaths.”

“That’s right.”

“Everyone’s still reeling. I don’t think it will ever be the same. Which is another reason it’s time for me to move on. My sister, who lives with me, wants me to work out in the suburbs. She’s out there. Much safer, she thinks.”

Georgia nodded. “Back to the elevator. Anything else?”

Weiss looked blank.

“Have you talked to any of the people on the elevator since the incident?”

“Well, Lily and I talk. After something like that, there’s a bond, you know? She’s still considering whether to take legal action.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god. That was highly confidential. Forget what I said.”

Again Georgia scanned the corner where she’d seen the flash of movement. Nothing. “No problem. What about the others?”

Weiss got a faraway look. “As I said, I didn’t know the messenger. The man from sixty-three I’ve seen a few times, and the man whose leg was injured. He’s doing a lot better. But the man who was missing part of his finger, I haven’t seen since—”

Georgia was instantly alert. “What did you say?”

“I said, the man from sixty-three...”

Georgia cut her off. “No. The man who was missing part of his finger...”

Weiss pursed her lips, as if she thought Georgia didn’t get it. “The man with the sunglasses who got on at fifty-one was missing part of his finger.”

“Which finger?”

“Let me see.” Weiss sipped her tea. Slowly. Then she closed her eyes. She was milking the moment, damn her. Finally, “It was his left hand. Index finger.”

“Describe it.”

“Just that. The top half of his finger, down to the knuckle, wasn’t there.”

Georgia nodded imperceptibly. “You’re sure.”

“Of course. He was bracing himself against the steel railing. When the lights came on, I saw it clearly.”

“What floor did he get on?”

She sighed impatiently. “I already told you. Fifty-one.”

“Isn’t that the floor IT is on?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t see him afterwards?”

“No.”

“Did security talk to him? After the elevator got to the lobby?”