off?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Was it cut off at his end, you think?” I asked. The answer would make a big difference in the interpretation of the tape for the case.
“Don’t know. Could be. Tough to tell. Sorry,” Jacob said. He sounded sincere about that. Jacob’s a sincere sort of guy. Few people in the world like him, that I can tell you.
“Well, they found the cell phone on,” I said. “Doesn’t seem like that means he ended the call.”
“Probably right. I think Mrs. Minkoff’s answer machine cut it off. Those things usually have a short time limit. It’s an old machine, I presume.”
“Very. Wish it could have given us another ten seconds or so.”
“That might have told you everything you need to know. Either way, he sounds surprised about something,” Jacob said.
“Absolutely. But what?”
“Maybe the guys checking out the car will know. Might be some evidence there.”
“Hope so,” I said. “Not much else to go on right now.”
“As soon as you find out, call me. I’m curious.”
“No problem.”
So, I had another piece of evidence, however insignificant, pointing to the fact that Mullins didn’t commit suicide. Did he have a problem with his car? That was my first thought, and I decided to get Rick, so he could hear the tape.
Rick sat at his desk, staring up at the ceiling. I’d never seen him to that too often. Something was on his mind. God knows what. Maybe he worried about how that hamburger he ate the day before ravaged his perfect colon. Poor thing.
I told Rick about the tape, and he went into Jacob’s office to listen to it. When he was finished, he came back to my desk. “That’s it. That’s all we need,” he said.
“For what?”
“To keep the investigation going. Agnelli can’t deny that it points to something other than suicide,” Rick insisted.
“I’d like to think so, but it could have just been a last minute reaction to what he did. Besides, Jacob thinks the machine cut his message off. That blows your theory about him not timing his final call correctly right out of the water. We need something concrete to bring to Agnelli.”
Rick frowned. He was in a sour mood. Maybe I rubbed off on him a little. “I don’t understand why these things have to be so hard. We are only trying to do our job.”
“It’s the implications. That’s all Agnelli cares about. That and his future. See what happens when all you think about is your next promotion? You lose sight of your present duties.”
That was a stab at Rick himself, but he didn’t catch it. “Ridiculous. Agnelli’s a smart man. He’ll see what we are doing. He has to.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“I hate this.”
“Me too.” I picked up a piece of paper. “Chapman’s holding his press conference at the W Hotel. We go there, speak to him, and see if we can get something to chew on. That’s all we can do.”
“I think we should speak to Mrs. Mullins again, play the tape for her and see what she thinks.”
“Not a good idea. I don’t want her knowing about that tape yet, and I don’t think Geiger does either.”
“It might lead to something.”
“And it might get us into deeper shit. We don’t need that.”
“Alright.”
Because we had some time before Chapman’s press conference, I sat at my desk, typing up my version of the previous day’s report. I hated paperwork. Every cop did. Detective work was even more difficult. I had to type a report for Geiger, a report for the precinct, and a report for the NYP Homicide Division Headquarters. They all read the same report, but I needed to make separate copies. Pain in the ass.
Halfway through the report, my phone rang.
“Keegan, Homicide,” I answered.
“Is this Detective Keegan?” The man’s voice sounded shaky, uncertain. This struck me immediately.
“That’s what I said. Who is calling?”
“You the one working on the Mullins investigation?” the man asked.
“Yup.”
“You don’t know me.”
“No, I don’t.”
“I work for Techdata, and I think I have some information for you.”
“Let me have it.”
“Not over the phone. I think I found something that pertains to your investigation.” I want to say I thought the guy sounded like he had a gun to his head, but that’s just my current knowledge affecting my memory. He was probably just a little nervous.
“Okay.” This guy sounded, well, phony, if I was to take a guess. I couldn’t count how many times I got calls about information on a case that just turned out to be nut jobs who watched the news.
“Can we meet today?”
“If you want to.”
“Okay. Meet me at the Grand Deli. Know where it is?”
“Yes.” It was near Little Italy.
“Nine?” the man asked.
“Fine.”
“And whatever you do, don’t trust Harold Chapman. At all.” The line went dead.
This was getting weird.
Eight
The W Hotel was downtown, past the diamond district and Grand Central. I had been in the bar in the hotel, a posh place where everyone thought they were a model. The women who worked behind the bar were hot, but the drinks cost nineteen bucks. Typical city rip-off. We made our way into the conference room, which held about one hundred people and looked filled. We had to stand by the back door, which was nice, because Chapman would see us from where he stood, and would know who we were right away.
The place was filled with press people. That made me feel uncomfortable. The last thing I needed was to be trapped by a bunch of hungry reporters looking for a story. Didn’t need that.
I had told Rick about the call, and he really wanted to go with me to the Grand Deli. I told him it wasn’t a good idea. The guy wanted to meet with me, and an extra cop might make him nervous. Rick didn’t like it, but he agreed.
Chapman walked out onto the stage and stood behind the podium. He had four guys with him, bodyguards perhaps. Corporate execs with bodyguards. What had the world come to?
“Good morning,” Chapman said, in a deep, vibrating voice. He was a stout man, German-looking, with a long pointy nose and thick brown hair piled high on his head. He was dressed in a three- piece suit. I didn’t think anyone wore those anymore. “As you all know, Techdata lost its CEO and son of its founder, Ron Mullins, late Tuesday. We were all shocked at the news of his death. Ron has always been important to the company, and has been pivotal in our success. Though we will mourn his passing with great sympathy for both our company and his family, the business of Techdata will continue to move forward, in the direction that he and I charted. Over the past two years, Ron had been slowly removing himself from the company, getting set to enter the political arena, as you all well know, and we have been preparing for his departure.
“Though his presence was still felt within the company, he had been placing the responsibility of running the day to day operations of Techdata to both with myself, and his eventual successor, Victor Coleman. Victor has worked directly with me for the past six months, familiarizing himself with all the resources he would need to take Ron’s position.”
Way to cover your ass, I thought.
“Despite Ron’s sudden death, I want to assure our stockholders, and our business partners, that the business of Techdata will continue to move forward uninterrupted. Our well- publicized talks with Onyx Corporation are near completion, and the impact of this merger will succeed in being as large as we had planned. Ron left behind detailed blueprints of several new technologies that will propel Techdata through the next decade, and beyond. We will miss Ron greatly, as will anyone who knew him.”
The man was a smooth talker. He looked into the eyes of the reporters in the audience confidently. In a way, he almost reminded me of the clips I had seen of Mullins talking. He was good. When he fi
nished, he glanced in our direction, and I could have sworn I saw him smirk. I couldn’t wait to get a hold of him.
“Now, if you have any questions, please ask them, though I must let you know I will have to limit this to five minutes.”
A slew of reporters raised their hands. I wanted to, too.
He motioned to a man in front.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“Mr. Chapman, Chris Taylor, from Fox News. You say that Ron Mullins prepared to leave Techdata. Any reason why?”
“He had other interests.”
“Other than the company that made him who he is?”
“That was his choice. Ron was a brilliant man, who constantly needed a challenge. I assume Techdata didn’t offer that to him anymore.”
Chapman motioned to another man, to his left, a few rows back.
“Tom Jenkins, Daily News. We have all heard the rumors about Mr. Mullins entering the New York Senatorial race. How did Techdata feel about that?”
Chapman paused for a moment. “We were behind him, and we were certain he would be successful in any venture he got involved with.” He motioned to another reporter, a woman.
“Louise Belanger, Eyewitness News. I just wanted to know if Mr. Mullins’ political ambitions had anything to do with the bill slated to go to congress regarding New York’s Silicon Alley.”
Chapman smiled. “What bill is that?”
“The one which would enforce restrictions on such companies operating in New York.”
“Of course not. We never had any such concerns. Besides, from what I understand, that is a local legislature issue.”
“With chances that it will go to the US Senate.”
“Ron Mullins planned on entering politics way before that bill was even