Seeds of Deception (17 page)

“Did it look as it always did, or did it look like it had been ransacked?” Phillip said.

“It looked the way it always did,” Arthur said, surprised. “If it looked like someone had broken in, I would have shut the door immediately and called the police.”

“If that's true, then someone else tossed papers and the like around after he hit you,” Phillip told him. “Now we know that that happened after the fact. I regret that I didn't look to see what papers they were, but I was more concerned about you.”

“I'm touched, Phillip,” Arthur said wryly. “Does any of this help?”

“Yes, because now we know that the scene was staged. What did the police ask you?”

“Honestly, I can't remember. They realized they weren't going to get any useful answers from me on the scene, and then the doctors took over. Did they search the office?”

“I don't know,” Phillip told him. “I haven't been over since this all happened.”

Meg had watched her father in action, but there were still some important points he hadn't touched on, so she stepped in. “Arthur, I don't know you very well, so forgive me for intruding, but is there anyone in your life, past or present, who might want to harm you?”

Arthur smiled. “Meg, I have led a very bland, boring life. I cannot imagine that I have angered anyone enough to attack me. But thank you for asking—I'm flattered.”

She couldn't help but smile back at him. “I would have said the same thing if it had happened to me, but I keep finding myself involved in crimes.”

“Ah, yes,” Arthur said, “Your father has told me about some of your experiences. But you're on your honeymoon now? Why are you wasting your time talking to me?”

Meg glanced at her father before replying. “I'd like to figure out what really happened before I leave. I've been hoping I can help, although that may be a bit presumptuous with two lawyers in the mix.”

Before anyone could say anything further, there was a rapping at the door, and Meg turned to see a uniformed policeman. Behind him stood another man who was not in uniform but who radiated “policeman” anyway. Phillip had stood up quickly and squared his shoulders.

The Suit Man did not appear happy to see Phillip; Meg he ignored. “Corey,” he said curtly.

“Chief Bennett,” Phillip replied in the same tone.

“We're here to get Arthur Ackerman's statement. You can leave now.”

Arthur sat up straighter in the bed. “Phillip is representing me.”

The chief turned his cold gaze to Arthur. “You think you need an attorney?”

Arthur didn't back down. “No, but I am entitled to legal counsel. I want him here.”

For a moment all the men tried to outstare one another, while Meg pretended to be invisible.

It didn't work. The chief turned toward her. “Who's she?”

“My daughter,” Phillip said. “Margaret Corey.”

“She can go.”

Phillip looked at Meg and gave a small nod. Without a word Meg gathered up her coat and bag and left.

She had discovered one new fact: she did not like the police chief.

She stood in the hospital hallway, staring at the closed door and fuming. Whether or not Chief Bennett liked her father, he'd been just plain rude to her, and he'd more or less thrown her out. To be fair, there was no reason why she should be included in the statement or deposition or whatever it was, but he could have asked, not ordered. Was this his normal personality, or was it only her father that brought out that side of him?

What now? She had no idea how long this would take. Her father had driven them to the hospital, so he had the car keys in his pocket, and no way was she going to open the door and ask for them. Besides, where would she go? Sightseeing? Shopping? That was ridiculous, while they were in the middle of a murder investigation. Yes, murder. To her mind, the attack on Arthur had clinched that. Enrique's
death had been a murder, although it might not have been premeditated, no more than Arthur's attack was. It appeared they were dealing with a killer who didn't think things through or scout out his target locations before acting, and who was quick to resort to violence when things went wrong.
Great profile, Meg: your suspect is dumb, careless, and violent, and we don't know why he's doing this.

She looked up and down the hallway. There were a few stiff plastic chairs along the wall opposite the rooms, probably for people just like her—overflow guests—so she sat in one. She rummaged in her bag, hoping she'd brought a book along. No such luck. She thought she'd call Seth, just to update him, but she wasn't sure cell phone use was allowed in the hospital, and decided to text him instead, concealing the phone inside her bag. She typed only “Police chief here for Arthur's statement. Daddy acting as A's attorney. No idea how long.” She hit Send.

Seth texted back a minute later, but wrote only, “Up to third grade.”

Great. Seth and her mother were dissecting her entire childhood while she sat here in an uncomfortable chair, having been exiled because she was (a) unnecessary and (b) Phillip Corey's daughter. Plus she'd been insulted, kind of. This was not going well. At least she didn't hear any yelling from inside the room, and she hoped her father was controlling his temper, for the sake of his blood pressure.

It was close to half an hour later when the door finally opened, and then only in response to a nurse who insisted that Arthur had suffered a concussion and needed to rest. Chief Bennett stalked out first, giving her a curt nod, which was at least a small improvement, and he was followed by the uniformed officer. Her father did not emerge, so Meg
stood and joined him and Arthur in the room. “How'd it go?”

“As well as could be expected,” Phillip answered.

“I really couldn't tell them very much,” Arthur said, his tone apologetic.

“Arthur, I don't know that it matters,” Phillip reassured him. “Chief Bennett is a very linear thinker. He sees each crime in isolation, but he's not looking to connect the dots to find a pattern. Or a single perpetrator.”

“To be fair, Daddy, it's not obvious if you don't have all the details,” Meg protested. “You told him about the Amherst incident?”

“Yes, but that was as an addendum to his interrogation about Enrique's death. I don't think he paid much attention to it. We were both tired, and close to snapping at each other by then.”

“So there's no real reason for him to connect those dots. What now?”

Phillip looked blank for a moment, then he nodded at Arthur. “I think we should let this man get some rest now. Arthur, can we give you a ride home when they let you out tomorrow?”

“I hate to be a bother,” Arthur protested.

“No bother at all. Just give me a call and one of us can get you home. Take care, now.”

“Thanks, Phillip. Nice to meet you, Meg.” Arthur raised a hand in farewell, and Phillip escorted Meg out of the room and toward the elevator. On the way he stopped at the nurses' station for a word, giving them his phone numbers if they needed to contact someone about Arthur. Since Phillip was now his friend, his business partner,
and
his attorney, it made sense. As Meg went past the nurses'
station, she wondered how many police visits they had seen before, especially ones led by the chief.

Back in the car, Phillip quickly turned on the heater and they sat waiting for it to warm the car up. “What now?” Meg asked.

Phillip appeared lost in thought and didn't answer immediately. Finally he said, “Frankly, I don't know. Chief Bennett doesn't appear inclined to pursue Arthur's attack any further. He said there had been a spate of minor crimes in that neighborhood. He was going to send an officer to interview the other people with offices on that floor, but few people were there that early. He did say he would check whether the few stores along the street outside might have surveillance cameras, but I don't hold out much hope there. Have you found any in Granford?”

“Daddy, our crime rate is pretty low. I do know some of the larger fruit farmers around have installed cameras around the perimeters of their orchards. Hard to believe that people would steal apples, but it does happen. The problem is, if there are motion sensors, a passing deer or dog or even a large bird like a turkey can set them off, which is annoying. If they trigger only a camera, then what do you do with that information? Who has the time to look at pictures of a flock of turkeys? So most people don't bother.”

“Here in Montclair we're too close to high crime areas to be so complacent,” Phillip said. “Yes, our office is in an older part of town, but it's been gentrified, so it's not exactly a slum. But more to the point, Arthur and I believed that we had nothing worth taking. We don't keep any money in the office, and nothing of value. The only thing that's important are the files, and even those don't go back very far. Anything from the last few years is in electronic
form, not paper, save for those pages that require signatures. And even that can be done electronically now, or so I'm told. And they're stored offsite—what is it you kids call it? The Cloud?”

“I'm not the right person to ask that, Daddy. Did you bring any older files with you, when you left your New York firm?”

“Only those that were not strictly proprietary. All open and aboveboard—the firm knew which files we took with us.”

Meg sat back, relishing the warm air from the heating vent, and thought. “That's interesting.”

Phillip turned to her. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, if Arthur remembers correctly, the intruder hadn't gotten around to looking for any files when Arthur walked in, but the intruder wanted the scene to
look
as though that was his goal, when he scattered some around. You really should go see if they were actually random—just papers pulled off a desk or something, not from a closed file.”

“Why would this person fake this break-in? That doesn't make sense.”

“Maybe he didn't want anyone to know what he was actually looking for, so he muddied the field. Look, if he had found what he wanted, he would have left the office and no one would be the wiser. Therefore, either he was interrupted when Arthur walked in, or he hadn't even started looking. So he makes a mess to convince the police that he broke in and was looking for something like money, and then he hightails it out of there.”

“It's plausible. Maybe. I should go to the office and check out what state it's in, overall. The chief gave me permission, oh so graciously.”

Meg grinned. “You're being sarcastic, I hope. Is he always that way?”

“Rude and cold? With me, at least. I can't speak to his interactions with other people. And since I don't currently handle criminal law, I haven't dealt with anyone in town who has crossed paths with him. But I think it's safe to say that he is a man who does not let go of a grudge easily.”

“How many years has it been since the incident with his son?”

“Almost fifteen years, now. As I told you, it took place when we were fairly new to the community, and I thought it would be a good gesture. I couldn't have foreseen the outcome, but the chief can't or won't accept that. I even offered to sue the township where the jail was located, for negligence, but he declined, saying that he thought that might be a detriment to his job here. He'd rather just nurse his anger and blame me.”

“Be that as it may, the question right now is what could be in the files,” Meg told him. “You have all your files from the beginning of your partnership with Arthur, and they're in the office, but most of those are digital. You said you brought with you a limited number of files dealing with earlier cases from the New York law firm, in paper form. Do you keep them in the office? How far back do they go?”

“Yes, they're in the office, and they go back no more than five years before we opened our practice. What are you getting at?”

“I'm just trying to get a handle on what this person might have been looking for—if he was in fact looking for a file or files. You had five years' worth of earlier files, and digital records of your later ones, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you can't think of anything in those that included anything controversial or dangerous?”

“No, I can't. But how would an intruder know that?”

“Exactly,” Meg said triumphantly. “He wouldn't. It seems to me that he doesn't know what you have. He's looking for something, but he doesn't know where it is. He tried your home first, and then Enrique showed up, and the police, and then you. So he tried your office, early in the morning before you were likely to be there, if he even knew you were back in town. Only then Arthur walked in and interrupted him again. He must be getting really frustrated by now.”

“And I presume you have worked the car accident into your scenario, too?” Phillip said.

“It's possible, don't you think?” Meg replied. “It fits if you include the car accident as part of the big picture. It was an inconvenience, but if that driver had wanted to do serious harm, he could have. Maybe he assumed you'd stick around Amherst until the car was fixed, which would leave him with a clear field.”

“But we were gone for over a week! He had ample opportunity to break in then,” Phillip protested.

“Maybe he knew only about the wedding, not about your taking some extra time away?”

Phillip smiled at her. “My dear, you have a devious mind. When did you start thinking like a criminal?”

“Only in the past two years.”

“What does Seth think about all this?”

“You mean, solving crimes? I hope we're on the same page. It's not about playing sleuth, it's about righting wrongs. Granford is a small community, and everyone knows everyone else, often going back for generations. When a crime is
committed there, it has a ripple effect, and it can hurt a number of people. Sometimes you have to reach back to past events to find out why any particular crime happened today. Which may be the case here. It seems to me that there may be something from your past, or your and Arthur's shared past, that is only now barging into the present. Your police chief does not seem to have the inclination to look that far.”
Why?
Meg wondered. Did that still go back to the problem with his son, years earlier?

“What do you suggest we do, my dear?” Phillip asked.

Meg couldn't remember if her father had ever asked her opinion about something that mattered, and she had to look at him to see if he was being sarcastic. The problem was, she didn't have a good answer. Best to get that out in the open now. “Daddy, I don't know. You and Arthur are thinking about your earlier cases. We're collecting evidence, some of which kind of contradicts the simplest solution—like the degree of damage to the car, or the fake mess in your office. We're trying not to tick off your local police chief, even while we're doing the work he and his department should be doing. Right now I suggest we go home and talk about what we want to do for lunch.”

“A brilliant solution, Nancy Drew.” Phillip started the engine and drove off toward his house.

When they arrived and tracked down Elizabeth and Seth, they were seated in the living room surrounded by photograph albums and boxes with more photographs, and both were laughing. Meg was glad to see that her mother looked much happier than she had at breakfast. “You two look like you're having a good time,” she said.

“Oh, we are,” Elizabeth told her. “I haven't looked at these in years, and Seth is such a great audience.”

“Just looking for blackmail material, in case you get out of line,” Seth said with a straight face.

“You wouldn't!” Meg shot back. “I could never show my face in Granford again.”

“And therein lies my power,” Seth said ominously. Then he smiled. “No, I probably wouldn't.”

“We came back to see if there were any plans for lunch,” Meg said.

“We have leftover Chinese in the fridge,” Elizabeth told them, “and there are cold cuts and other sandwich fixings there, too. Or we could go out somewhere. We should probably take advantage of the decent weather, before it decides to start snowing.”