CHAPTER forty-four
Jay appeared on my left and slowly came to a stop in front of me. He lifted one leg onto the bench and re-tied his running shoe before contorting his body into all sorts of ungodly stretching positions. I stared at him with an admiring look and then shook my head.
"You really enjoy running, don’t you?"
He nodded and clasped his hands behind his back and arched his shoulders. His soaked hair clung to his head and I could see rivulets of sweat running down his neck. There was a large, dark, wet spot on the front of his T-shirt.
"You should try it," he panted as he bent over and grabbed his hands behind his knees. The only time my hands see the back of my legs was when I was shaving them.
When he finally sat down, I handed him the newspaper folded to the story about Rick Cox and watched his face for reaction as he read the article. When he finished he laid the paper on the bench beside him and said, "The employee who asked that his name be withheld was probably Tom James. The man can’t keep his mouth shut."
"You’re probably right. What I find more surprising though is the speculation on the street that Rick didn’t resign."
"It’s more than speculation, Kate. It’s all over the street. Everyone knows that he was fired and they think they know why."
"All over the street? Who told you?"
"A friend," he replied cryptically. "Some of my best friends are analysts, you know."
I laughed. "Nothing to be ashamed of," I jokingly told him. "It’s their mothers who should be ashamed."
"What’s the poop on why he was fired?" I asked.
"The rumours are saying it was because he cooked the books."
"I guess they’re partly right."
"I think the street started that rumour because it’s the most logical one, Kate. When a CFO gets fired, it’s the logical conclusion."
"Well, if those rumours take off, we’ll have the enforcement goons from the Ontario Securities Commission knocking on our door."
Jay picked up the paper again and looked at the picture of Rick. He shook his head slowly and said, "I can’t believe it was suicide. Rick believed he didn’t do anything wrong. That’s why he fired me. And he wasn’t the type."
"What’s the type? From everything I’ve ever heard, some of the most apparently sane people kill themselves. You know, it fits here. Successful businessman with a beautiful wife, two kids, a dog and station wagon gets fired. His reputation is going to be in shreds. How well did we really know him?"
Jay snorted. "I worked with him every day for almost a year. The man was a bully with an ego almost as big as Chris Oakes’. Someone who loved themselves that much doesn’t eat a pistol for lunch."
A picture, forever frozen in my brain, flashed before my eyes of Rick Cox minus his chin and lower jaw. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.
"Maybe his suicide had nothing to do with losing his job. Maybe," I said and turned towards Jay on the bench, "maybe, the police had something on him about Ev’s death. What if he did it?"
"No way, Kate. He had nothing to gain by killing Ev. Nothing. I had more to gain than he did."
"Don’t say that." I touched his shoulder. "Don’t say things like that out loud."
We walked silently back to my apartment, each of us lost in our own thoughts. As we approached the house, I could see someone sitting on the top step of the porch. The beige overcoat was familiar, even from a block away, and my stomach sank when I realized it was Detective Leech.
Jay and I stood side by side at the bottom of the steps and looked up at Leech. Beside him on the step were my shoes evenly lined up with their toes touching the edge of the step.
"Detective," I acknowledged him.
"Ms. Monahan," he nodded at me. He looked curiously at Jay and waited for an introduction.
"Detective Leech, this is Jay Harmon. A friend of mine."
Leech pushed himself to a standing position and held out his hand to shake. Jay reached up and when he realized their hands wouldn’t meet, he walked up the first two stairs.
"Thanks for returning my shoes," I told him.
"So they are yours," was all he said. He picked them up in one hand and put them under his arm. I approached Leech holding out my hand in hopes of retrieving my shoes and sending him on his way. My hopes were dashed when Leech backed up the stairs and pointed at the front door.
"I was hoping for some time to talk to you," he told me.
I reluctantly led the way and offered coffee when Leech was ensconced in the living room. He shook his head and motioned for me to sit down. Jay had excused himself and I could hear the shower running.
Leech tried balancing both of my wayward shoes on the palm of his hand and then held them out to me like a cannibal offering salt.
"Yours?"
I nodded.
"How did they come to end up on Mr. Cox’s desk?"
"The heels had got caught in between the cracks on his walkway and tips of the heels came off. The lifts. I took them off and carried them. I guess I left them on the desk when I found Rick. Mr. Cox." Detective Leech had taken out his small notebook and was making notes while I talked. When I finished talking he looked at me without speaking as if expecting me to continue. The man was making me nervous.
I shrugged and held up the palms of my hands. "That’s it. That’s all. A very simple explanation," I babbled. I wondered if they thought the shoes were the weapon Cox had killed himself with.
"You told the responding police officers that you had heard nothing and seen no one. How long were you at the house before you discovered Mr. Cox’s body?"
I thought about that for a moment and replied, "No more than a couple of minutes."
"And he was expecting you?"
I nodded again.
"What time did you arrive?"
"I can’t remember exactly. I think just before six." I remembered that Leech had asked me these same questions last night.
"Why are you asking me all of this? We went over it last night." I hoped I sounded as exasperated as I felt.
Jay was standing in the doorway rubbing his head with a towel listening.
"Last night was a shock to you and you must admit, you were pretty shaken up. In fact, I was surprised you left on your own. Wasn’t there someone you were trying to call?" As he said this he looked over at Jay.
"No, I was fine," I told him quickly.
"Well, I thought it might be prudent to go over some facts. See if you remembered anything since last night," he told me.
"And," he continued as he flipped his notebook to a fresh page, "my other reason for being here was to ask you if you knew where or how I could contact Mr. Harmon here. So, I’ve killed two birds with one stone." He laughed at his stupid joke and I stared at him.
"Mr. Harmon, if you’ve got a moment. I’ve been anxious to talk to you now for a couple of days."
Jay had dropped the towel around his shoulders and was running his hand through his hair, trying to comb it.
"Jay. You can call me Jay."
"Well, is now a good time?" Leech looked directly at me when he asked Jay the question. It was a look of dismissal but I waited to hear Jay’s reply.
"Sure."
I picked up my shoes off the floor where they sat beside Leech and discretely left wondering which room would be the best to eavesdrop from. I stood at the back of the kitchen but it was too obvious because it opened on to the living room. I thought about standing at the end of the hall and pretending to be on the phone. There was no way I could go back through the living room to sit on the small balcony, so I gave up and decided to take a shower. I heard Leech’s raised voice and stopped.
"We’ve been unable to reach you by phone. And twice in the last two days, we’ve sent an officer to your apartment and you weren’t there. We’ll need a statement from you accounting for your time over the last seventy-two hours. And, Mr. Harmon, I want times, places, and t
he names of people who can verify they saw you."
I hurriedly walked to my bedroom and quickly closed the door. I stood and stared at the back of the door and frantically dug in my pockets for a cigarette. When my hands came up empty I realized that my cigarettes were in the living room on the coffee table, where I’d left them last night.
The police hadn’t asked me to account for my time. I didn’t have to give them times and places. The issue of where Jay had been for the last two days was one I dropped last night. We hadn’t talked about it anymore because I had decided it wasn’t any of my business. Now the police were asking him where he’d been. In the old Nancy Drew books I used to read, they called this an alibi.