Smith Investigation Series Box Set 1 (6 page)

Chapter 3

I skipped up the stairs two at a time and half ran into Operations.

“
Where is it?” I asked, trying to mask being out of breath with a cough.

Robert pointed me towards Dylan, who was waving the insurance papers at me, a triumphant look on his face.

“
I told you so,” he laughed.

I didn't like his tone.

“
I told you she had nothing to do with it. I only hope you haven’t made a fool of yourself in front of our client. I promise to keep it quiet, just between us.” He was speaking loudly and obviously not being sincere. Spike and DeMarco exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“
Can I please read it for myself?” I had picked up on his reluctance to show me the policy and my interest spiked. He was hiding something.

He half-heartedly gave me the papers and I went over them in a hurry. Michael Monroe had been insured in case of disappearance or kidnapping.

“
This is unusual, “I admitted. Dylan smiled and leaned on his desk confidently, crossing his arms over his chest.

“
What’s unusual?” I heard Smith ask.

He had been away for most of the day, and I hadn’t had the chance to talk to him about the case. I didn’t count my off the cuff remark from earlier as talking.

“
Michael Monroe’s life insurance. His wife is to receive $2.5 million if he remains missing for over ninety days.”

“
Isn’t he the vanished lawyer? And didn't he make at least twice that much money in a year?”

“
More like four times that,” I said, still looking through the policy. “And that's what I found strange too, apart from someone being insured in case of going missing. What company even insures for that?”

“
Look, admit that you were wrong about Sarah Monroe, and we’ll just move on.”

I disregarded Dylan's interruption. “I was so sure she killed him, but this doesn’t make sense. She would’ve gotten more money staying married to him, or even divorcing him. Did they have a pre-nup?”

“
Nope,” Robert answered, gathering the information from his computers.

“
There you go.”

“
Kill him? Are you serious?” Dylan seemed amused with my reasoning, and it was starting to bother me.

“
Even so, it would have been difficult to make him disappear. I mean a man, unless he's dead, doesn’t just vanish. But, then again, she might’ve killed him and hidden the body, but I don’t understand…”

“
He had serious financial problems.”

“
What?” I turned to Robert, who looked uninterested in our conversation.

“
I just checked. He was in serious financial problems. Maybe they worked together to make him disappear so they could cash in the insurance money.”

“
That does sound more plausible. How much if he died?” Smith intervened.

“
$ 1 million,” I answered, starting to feel confused. I thought I had it all figured out and there I was, staring right at two equally reasonable possibilities.

“
Hold on a second! Are you seriously trying to do everything possible to implicate Sarah in all of this?”

“
Oh, shut up! This is not one of your dating games, Casanova,” I snapped and I heard Spike gasp.

I seemed to have said something terribly wrong. Everyone eyed me like I had just offended their great ancestors, making me feel uncomfortable for not knowing some shared secret.

Dylan had become silent, suddenly very preoccupied with his Italian shoes. After a long moment that felt like an eternity, he walked out the door.

I grasped the insurance papers tightly and took a deep breath. There was no time for personal dramas.

Back at my desk, I decided that work was the best cure for awkwardness. Especially since I was facing such a difficult case. Personal details were better left for later. Always.

Chapter 4

It was late, almost midnight, and I was the only one at the office. Since every member of the team had a key, Smith had left me to lock the place after I finished my work.

After putting together the last details for two other cases I had been helping with, I went over the Monroe case again.

My eyes were starting to sting. I closed them for a second and began wondering what was it that made everyone so disapproving of me. Why did Dylan get so upset at my Casanova comment?

Something seemed to be up with him, and I was beginning to suspect that every team member had his own little dirty secret. Maybe that’s why the team seems to be divided, like every man was out for himself.

Him and Sarah? No, that couldn’t be possible, could it?

I glanced at the file in front of me and sighed. I had better things to do than ponder the meaning of Dylan’s thin skin. What was it about this case that didn't make sense?

Either Sarah Monroe had killed her husband and stashed his body somewhere, or they were working together for the insurance money.

I decided to compare the two scenarios, so I flipped to a new page in my notebook.

First, the murder hypothesis.

Sarah could’ve hidden the body somewhere and waited for the bigger payday from the insurance company. She did look startled when I had mentioned another line of inquiry, but that could very well fit to the possibility of an arranged disappearance as well.

And then there was no motive.

What bugged me the most was the way she acted. She overused endearment terms like she wanted to make sure her feelings towards her husband were unquestionable.

Clearly she was hiding something, but what?

Despite being verified by the police, I didn’t trust her weekend escape story,. I still felt that something didn’t fit. The way she told the story, the way she cried about it, looked rehearsed.

She was trying too hard to convince people how heartbroken she was. But how could a vacation story help her achieve her goal? And, more importantly, if I was to count the vacation as bogus, how in hell did she manage to manufacture it?

Another detail that didn’t pair well with her grieving widow performance was the use of past tense when referring to her husband. She had inadvertently told me she knew Michael Monroe was no more.

Although the possibility of them being in cahoots to con the insurance company, given their debts, seemed more plausible, something made me lean more towards the crime of passion angle.

I went through all the intel I had gathered so far. I concluded that I needed to confirm the overtime issue with Michael Monroe's employers again. And, I would’ve loved to verify the trip to Canada for myself, but I doubted Smith could afford it.

“
Maybe I should get some sleep?” I asked myself, after checking the time.

Maybe. But, for now, I had some more work to do.

I opened the software we used to store all the case information and searched for the complete Monroe file.

The police had checked their trip to Canada, discovering that, indeed, their car had crossed the border twice during that weekend, once leaving the country and then returning.

On both occasions, there were two people in it, Mr. and Mrs. Monroe.

Their credit cards showed various purchases on Canadian soil, indicating a very busy getaway. The only other occasion Sarah Monroe's card had been used was to pay for the flat tire she had told me about.

“
For God’s sake!” I exclaimed, starting to feel frustrated. Did she really have everything sorted out?

Reading information off of a screen was not the way to go about this. I needed to talk to people. It was the only way I shined.

Flipping to a new page, I wrote down the names of the border officers that had worked those nights and the name of the company that came and changed the tire.

Then, I proceeded to write an email to the Canadian hotel the Monroe’s had stayed at. I had a feeling that they had some answers for me. If it turned out I was wrong, at least I would be able to sleep well for checking every possible angle. No stone left unturned was my motto.

After sending the email, I rose and stretched my tired bones. It was time to go home.

I gathered my things and started walking out when I remembered I should leave Smith a note. I found some post-its in reception and scribbled ‘I have a lead. I’ll be late tomorrow. Rob’ and stuck it to the mostly unused monitor behind the desk.

On my way out, I wrote another email, this time to Michael Monroe’s firm, inquiring about his overtime the week prior to his disappearance. I had a feeling the case was close to being solved soon.

Chapter 5

Waiting for Officers Devon and Ardery, I checked my emails. I knew it was far too early to get a reply to my inquiries, but it was like a compulsion. As if by insisting to check my emails every five minutes, I could somehow compel the heavens to look my way.

Just as Officer Devon motioned me into his office, I got a text from Spike telling me Dylan had been called by Mrs. Monroe. I frowned, concerned that his personal investment in the case would give the
culprit
a bigger leverage than I thought.

“Good morning, Ma’am. Early riser I gather?” the tall man joked, pointing me to a chair. I smiled.

“Something like that. Where is your partner?”

“Officer Ardery will be here soon. What did you want to talk about? It seemed urgent.”

I nodded. “Yes, I suppose you could call it urgent. I wanted to know about the night two certain people crossed the border into Canada. The same weekend, they crossed back, or so it says in your files.”

“Names,” he requested, stroking a couple of keys.

“Monroe. Sarah and Michael.”

I waited until he pulled their file. In the meantime, I glanced at my phone. No emails.

“Yes. They did pass through here, about a month ago. What did you want to know?”

I opened my mouth to speak but the door opened and Officer Ardery walked in. He was bringing coffee and offered his partner a cup. He acknowledged me with a nod and leaned against a file cabinet.

“Are you the PI that called?” he asked, smacking his lips with satisfaction.

“Yes. Robin Walsh,” I presented myself, extending a hand. He shook it vigorously.

“So, what did you want to ask about Mr. and Mrs. Monroe?” asked Devon.

“The Monroes? What about them?” Ardery inquired.

“You know them?” I asked.

“Yeah. They vacation often in Canada, so they pass through here a lot. I’ve grown to like the man. He’s pretty nice for a lawyer.”

I acquiesced his words with a thoughtful nod, re-evaluating the script I had mentally prepared for the meeting.

“Can you tell me the last time they passed through here? How were they? Did you see anything suspicious?”

“Suspicious? Like drugs? No. The lady was driving. As a matter of fact, the old man was sleeping in the back. I distinctly remember making a joke about not being the best way to start a vacation, but she said he worked hard, the poor man.”

“Didn’t you have to wake him up to check IDs?” I asked, pulling my notebook out. A glance at Devon told me he didn’t like what he was hearing. Frowning, he kept looking at his screen, not really reading anything.

He gave me a sheepish look. “Normally, yeah. But I knew them and Mrs. Monroe seemed really keen to let him sleep, saying something about a surprise or something. She got really upset when I knocked on the rear window, but I just wanted to joke with Mr. Monroe. He didn’t wake up, though, so all was good.”

I nodded. “And when they came back?”

“Ah, that would be me,” Devon joined in. “He… The strange thing is that he was sleeping when they came back too.”

“The fool slept all weekend,” Ardey laughed and took another sip, then smacked his lips again. It was starting to get on my nerves.

Nevertheless, the new information put the case in a different light. The solution was coming to me, I just had to feed it more information.

“So, he was asleep then as well. And you didn’t wake him to check IDs either?”

“I wanted to, but…”

“Yeah, Devon came into the booth and told me about them. I told him to let them through. I knew them. But you didn’t tell me he was asleep. I would’ve woken him just to ask him how the vacation went.”

Ardery seemed in very good spirits.

“That would be it, Officers. Thank you for your help,” I said, standing up.

“Hold on, what’s this about? Why the questions?” Devon asked, the concern in his voice loud and strident.

“Michael Monroe has been missing for a month. I think he’s dead,” I said, with one hand on the door handle. I
could
see Ardery’s eyes widen before he bent down and coughed his coffee out.

I didn’t stick around to see if he recovered well. I hurried to my car and drove back to the office.

Just as I pulling up in my assigned parking spot, I was notified of a new email. Excited, I opened it.

Although I had wanted it to be from the Canadian hotel, since it looked to be the place with the most unknowns in the case, I was grateful that at least Monroe’s law firm had found the time to respond. They told me that it must've been some sort of mix up. Michael Monroe never worked overtime.

As for my question regarding the last person who had seen him alive, it turns out they had reported Michael’s arrival and departure on Monday solely based on his access card.

“Awfully convenient,” I mumbled and stepped out of the car.

“Hey, Rob! You’re here. Listen, Smith needs you in his office. It’s about the Dylan issue,” Spike greeted me. By the look on her face, the news was going to be bad.

“OK, thanks, Spike. Oh, can you coordinate with Robert and find out if Michael Monroe had an affair?”

“Got it.”

I knocked on Smith’s door and stepped in.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked, closing the door behind me. He nodded and stepped away from the window.

“Why do I get flashbacks from high school whenever I got called to the Principal's office?” I tried to lighten the mood.

Smith smiled.

“No worries, Rob, you won’t get suspended.”

We exchanged careful looks, and I tried to see what this was all about. He looked like he was searching for his words.

“Dylan.”

“Oh, the incident from yesterday. I didn’t mean to offend anyone.”

“I know. And I think he knows too. You couldn’t have known.”

When he paused, I chose not to speak either. I let him talk first.

“You see, Dylan’s last relationship, well, the only one I know he ever had, didn’t end too well.” He cleared his throat. “He… He cheated and his girlfriend found out.”

“I see.”

“She slit her wrists, Rob.”

I didn’t expect that, and the news hit me like a blow in
the
face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I tried to exonerate myself.

“I know, Rob. And you don’t need to apologize to me.” He didn’t look at me. The subject seemed too emotional for him. “She survived, but
they
didn’t. I don’t think he ever got over that enough to see other people. So you understand how the subject of Casanova might strike a
chord
with him.”

“I do. I’ll talk to him. I promise.”

“You do that. Now, what’s with this mysterious lead you have?”

“Oh, there are multiple leads, as it turns out,” I said. This was a thing I could deal with. “I just came back from speaking with the border officers that were working the weekend of the getaway.
”

“Why?”

“As it turns out, Michael Monroe was sleeping during both checks. The officers knew them, so they let them pass. Both times.”

Smith raised his eyebrows, as if questioning the usefulness of my information.

“I think she killed him.”

“Whoa, that’s a strong allegation.”

“I know. I just have to put together some more information. I don't know yet how she did it, but I think she killed him because he had an affair. The insurance is just a bonus.”

“And you think that’s why she wants a PI to investigate the disappearance.”

“Yes, to give her credibility when she goes to claim the money.”

He nodded. “What do you need?”

“Well, I’ve already asked Spike and Robert to look into Michael’s affair. I remember Sarah Monroe telling me he was working overtime. As it turns out, he never did.”

“Hence, the affair. Charming guy.”

“Yes. I will need to give the road assistance company a call. I’m also waiting for an email from the hotel the Monroe’s were supposed to have stayed at that weekend.”

“You're thinking she killed him in Canada?”

“I don’t know yet. I need more information.”

“Sure. Just make sure you talk to Dylan. Alright?”

I nodded and left for Operations.

Dylan had gotten back from his visit and was avoiding eye contact with me. I decided that wouldn’t fly with me so I approached him.

“Hey, do you think you could call the road assistance guys that helped the Monroe’s with the flat tire?”

He shot me a glance but I didn’t back down.

“OK. Do you want me to do it now?” his voice sounded apprehensive.

“You know what? I’ll do it. You keep sulking like a twelve year old.”

I turned on my heels and went to my desk. I saw he wanted to say something so I purposefully picked up the receiver and dialed.

“Hi. I’m Private Investigator Robin Walsh. Who can I talk to about the person that responded to a call about a month ago? Thank you, that would be great.”

While I waited to be patched through to some other department, I looked for Dylan, but he wasn’t in the room anymore. Spike threw me a concerned glance, and I wondered if she ever got mad or disappointed in people.

“Yes, thank you. Robin Walsh, PI. Can you help me with something? Yes, I would like to talk to the person that responded to a call on the 23rd of May. It was about a flat tire and the caller could have been Sarah Monroe. Mr. John Alder? Thank you. That would be perfect.”

By the time I finished my conversation, Spike was near my desk, patiently waiting for my attention.

“What is it?”

“We found the affair.” Her smile was glorious.

“Oh?”

“Yes. He was sleeping with an intern, and it seems that the affair was serious. We found the chatting app they used to communicate. Robert’s work,” she shrugged at my frown.

“OK. Did she want to get married and Michael Monroe broke it off? Did she go to Sarah with it?”

“It’s a he. He was having an affair with a man.”

“Well, that must’ve pissed Sarah off,” I commented.

Spike still looked solemn.

“What is it?” I took the bait.

“We know how Sarah discovered the affair.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Tell me?”

“Robert?” she called for his assistance.

“Yes, this is my cue. So, he had this app protected. You would need a pass code, like a PIN, to access it. Now, a week before the … last week…”

“Two weeks before he disappeared,” Spike helped him.

“Two weeks before he disappeared, yeah, thanks. I found a couple of attempts to log in with different pins, all wrong, dating from back then. I assume it wasn’t him, since he used the PIN every day, even multiple times a day so he couldn't have forgotten the correct one.”

“It must've been the wife. So? How could she have known it was about an affair?” I asked, intrigued. I liked watching them present their findings. They looked like children showing off their achievements.

“The app is called ‘Heart to Heart’, Rob. How hard could it have been for her to figure it out.”

“Right.”

This new information confirmed my suspicions. I just had to figure out how she did it, maybe find the body. Nothing much, right?

I reached for the receiver again and dialed the number given to me for John Alder.

“Hi. This is Robin Walsh, PI. Do you have a minute?”