Price of Innocence Page 6

  Landis clicked his pen. Louder. The point and the thin plastic reservoir of ink protruded from the pen’s tip, then took a left. It would write no more.

  Belichek’s irritation deflated when he saw Landis’ rigid jaw — he hadn’t been warning Belichek, but reminding himself.

  “Jamie had far more advanced thinking on such matters. That’s why she had the imagination to start the foundation to help the underserved. Although advanced thinking did not save her from more predictable foibles of her age.”

  The guy kept angling for an opening to tell them something to do with Jamie’s personal life. Let him get it off his chest.

  Landis did. “What kind of foibles?”

  “Ones with impressive physiques and unimpressive intellects.”

  “Any names?” Belichek allowed no expression into his voice or face.

  “I am reasonably certain each of them possessed a name, although I either did not know or did not retain such information, consigning it to the region of my memory tasked with ephemeral matters.”

  “Hard to track down ephemeral,” Landis said with an edge.

  Hendrickson York raised his hands and shoulders in a man-of-the-world shrug. “I cannot help you with that, uh, gentlemen.”

  “If you do remember them, please let us know.” In addition to Carl Arbendroth, they had a couple other names from neighbors, one from Maggie. And they’d likely pick up more once they talked to more foundation staff members. “What about—?”

  “Although the most recent one… The name… It’s on the tip of my tongue. Charles? Or was it Claude…? Ah. Carl Arbendroth, that was the name.”

  Landis began to reach in his jacket for another pen to make a show of writing down the name. Belichek handed over his.

  “He and Jamison Chancellor were seeing each other when she was preparing to go away to write?”

  Belichek liked that question. They knew Jamie hadn’t been dating immediately before her death — from the neighbor and Maggie. But asking York could show what he knew or what he would share of what he knew.

  “I don’t believe so, though it was hard to keep track when they came and went so quickly. Quite—”

  “Ephemeral. Yes, sir. What else, if anything, do you know about their relationship?”

  “I know he was unwilling to relinquish his claim to her when she ended the affair.” The snap of those words said Landis’ implication that York didn’t really know anything got under his skin.

  Having pricked the guy’s ego, Landis paved the way for the interviewee to apply balm to that prick with a gush of words.

  “How did he demonstrate his unwillingness, sir?”

  “Incessant phone calls and other communications. Deliveries of flowers that started cloying, then turned, well, I can only say macabre. Black roses — not at all original — followed by dark purple blooms with a skeleton hand among them. Faux, I hardly need say, though sufficiently startling to set off a number of the volunteers, especially since it was early September, not the time of Halloween jokes. In addition, he tried numerous times to get in to see her — trying to force his way into this office.”

  “What about other places?”

  “I cannot attest to what extremes he employed elsewhere, though it seems highly improbable that he limited his distasteful behavior to this office. There was an incident at the restaurant downstairs with our staff and volunteers gathered for a lunch meeting. He had to be escorted out, still insisting he talk to Jamie. It is the sort of drama one is not surprised to find surrounding a very young woman.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the police officer who came to your home about Carl Arbendroth when you were questioned immediately after her body was found?”

  “The uniformed officer—” That rankled. “—who first came to my house did not ask me about that aspect of Jamie’s life. Nor did you or your nearly silent companion until a moment ago. As soon as you asked, I revealed what I knew.”

  “This is a murder investigation of someone you have known for a couple decades, someone you work for, someone you presumably—” Landis tapped the accelerator on that word. “—liked. This is not a game show. You need to reveal what you know without waiting for the precise question. For your own sake, because you certainly wouldn’t want us to spend unnecessary time investigating you as a suspect.”

  York huffed in outrage.

  Landis kept going. “And for the sake of the investigation into this homicide. So, let’s get this clear. If there is any information you know or suspect that pertains to Jamison Chancellor, this foundation, or otherwise, that might help with our investigation, you will volunteer it. From now on.”

  Silence.

  “Is that understood, sir?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Were you aware of anyone who had a quarrel with Jamison Chancellor?”

  “There were always families who became impatient with not receiving as much help or as soon as they wanted it, though you would need to talk to Celeste about that. She handles that aspect of the foundation.”

  “Anyone you know of specifically?”

  “No.”

  “Anyone else who had a quarrel with Jamison Chancellor.”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  Landis paused before slowly standing. “All right. I’ll leave you my card. If you think of anything about Jamison Chancellor, the people who surround her, the fortunes of the Sunshine Foundation — anything — we will expect a phone call from you.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  That was the best.

  The. Best.

  Oz Zeedyk closed his eyes to relive the moments.

  The look on their faces — the cops and those full-of-themselves assholes who liked to call themselves the legitimate media. If they were legitimate, he’d be a bastard every time when it meant he got a scoop and the chance to shove it up their asses.

  Not to mention the other podcasters who sat silently and lamely.

  That so-called Public Information Officer looked like an idiot, woodenly defending the detectives when politics and rivalries were tearing apart his precious detective section. And he had no idea what else was to come. No. Idea.

  Zeedyk checked his phone. Nothing.

  Yet, he reminded himself. Nothing yet.

  The turd he hired to video the news conference so he wouldn’t be bogged down with that crap better have gotten good footage.

  DMV’s numbers were going to jump like crazy with him breaking the news on the Jamison Chancellor case.

  Video would bring in even more. The advertisers would be begging him to take their money any second now. He’d get the turd to do posts all over social media, too, keep the juice flowing.

  No story was so big it couldn’t get bigger.

  Especially the stories that never got told. The ones too small for the cops to care about.

  So, yeah, it was the best … but only for now. There was more to come and it was going to get better and better.

  And he was going to love every second of it.

  About damned time.

  * * * *

  With York’s office door closed behind them, Belichek and Landis exchanged a look.

  If caught on a camera, it would appear to be two stoic law enforcement officers glancing at each other.

  They knew better.

  Landis said, Smug bastard. Setting all his poison darts out in a row. Doesn’t mean some of them aren’t true.

  Doesn’t mean all of them aren’t lies. Who next?

  After the silent, deadpan communion, Landis tipped his head toward the far end of the hallway, where they could see an open door.

  Only the top of a messy head of hair showed above one of five computer monitors arrayed around a desk.

  The name plate on the door read Adam Delattre. The guy who’d been by the front desk.

  “Adam Delattre, hi. Detective Landis from the Fairlington Police Department.” Belichek identified himself, before Landis continued. “We said we wanted to talk to you, ga
thering information to help us investigate Jamison Chancellor’s murder.”

  A head with more messy hair nearly reaching narrow shoulders popped up over the top of the monitors. “I’ll help you any way I can.”

  Delattre shoveled loose cables off a couple chairs. Landis’ lip lifted slightly as he sat amid the dust on the seat.

  “Jamie was the best,” the younger man said, not waiting to be asked a question. “It doesn’t seem possible. Have you made any progress?”

  “It’s early.”

  “Yeah? Huh.”

  “What do you do for the foundation?”

  “Just about anything that has to do with a computer. I started as a volunteer as a kid, fixing their old computers, then getting the new set-up. They were going to buy a package, until I showed Jamie how I could get them a lot more power for less money by putting together components myself. After that, Jamie would come to me about lots of stuff. Repairs, but also deciding which apps to use, figuring out financial software that meshed with the accountant’s, all sorts of things.”

  Considerably more than York’s description.

  “Social media?”

  “Yeah. Jamie was good at it — just being herself — but I put together a lot of the posts and videos and stuff to save her time, then do all the scheduling and tracking. The rest of them… They couldn’t upload to save their lives. And if they did, they were all over the place on message. Now, it all comes through me. For quality control, consistency, scheduling.”

  “Do you like that? A true IT guy like you?”

  “It’s not my favorite, but it’s what the foundation needs.”

  “Tell us about the last time you saw Jamie.”

  Sorrow shadowed his face. “You mean when we were all leaving that Friday after work?”

  Landis made a noncommittal sound, letting him decide the direction of his answer.

  “She was like always. A little excited, I think, to get back into her book, get it done. A little sad, too, to leave us for the month.”

  “Tell us about when she left.”

  “We all walked out together. She was shooing us out, saying we shouldn’t work on a holiday weekend. I should have stayed, but she worried about me working too much, so I left then and came back Saturday.”

  “Who walked out together?”

  “Me and Celeste, with Jamie.” He looked toward the ceiling, recalling the moment. “Bethany — she’s a new hire to help Celeste, although… And then Denise. She’s one of our most reliable volunteers. And a new volunteer. Then Hendrickson at the back, making a big deal of locking up, as if Celeste and I don’t have keys, too.”

  “What happened next?”

  He looked a bit mystified. “We all went downstairs and out the door to the parking lot, is that what you mean?”

  “Yeah. And then what?”

  “Uh, everybody sort of scattered. Jamie walks most days and she did that day. Celeste went the other direction toward the Metro. I got on my bike to go to my apartment. The others got in their cars and…” His thin shoulders lifted. “I don’t know. Went home, I guess.”

  “When did you next see them?”

  “The next Tuesday. Hendrickson and Celeste, anyway. Don’t remember about the others. Sometime that week, I’m sure. Denise is in at least once a week, usually more.”

  “What about the other employee, Bethany Usher?”

  “Oh. That’s right. She was on vacation that week. I didn’t have much to do with her so it doesn’t have any effect on me, honestly.”

  “What did you do Labor Day weekend?”

  “Besides working here Saturday? I was mostly on my computer at my apartment.”

  “Playing video games?”

  He hunched one shoulder. “Nah. Waste of time. I did stuff for the foundation. I have an idea for a new program to look for perfect donors. Not waste a lot of time on people who won’t stick with us, not guessing who’s a long-term prospect and who’s not.”

  Probably not going to concerts with them, either. York and Delattre did not sound as if they were in sync.

  “When you came in here that Saturday of Labor Day weekend, was anybody else here while you were?”

  Head shake.

  “Hear from anybody? See anything? A message, maybe, a phone call?”

  A head shake for each.

  “I’m sure nobody was here when I arrived. I was working on the program, but I think I’d have known if someone came in. Hey, when am I going to get my equipment back? Your people took key components and these replacements are not equal to my set up. It takes a lot of time to configure them to do what I need, not to mention there are things like that donation program I can’t work on.”

  “Sorry. That happens in murder investigations. How long it takes depends on a lot of factors. But you’re helping to make it as fast as possible by answering our questions. What did you know about Jamie’s plans?”

  “For going to the mountains to write her book, you mean? She’d done it before, you know. Couple times since I got hired. What I knew about it?” He lifted thin shoulders. “Left from work to start getting ready to leave Sunday. She’d been working late all week, getting a house lined up for a new family in Silver Springs. That came together Thursday. She used Friday to catch up. The family got into the house the next Wednesday. Jamie would have liked that.”

  “What time Sunday did she plan to leave?”

  Another lift of his shoulders. “No idea. And it wasn’t for sure. She said she might go Monday instead.”

  “Did you have any contact with her after she left here that Friday after work?”

  He shook his head.

  “Phone, text, anything?”

  Continued head-shaking.

  “Did she tell you where she planned to stay in the mountains? Or how she planned to get there?”

  Still more head-shaking.

  Nor did he appear interested in these logistics.

  “Did Jamie talk to you about things around here at the foundation?”

  “Yeah. Jamie liked to get lots of input. She’d ask everyone’s opinion and then consider what they said seriously.”

  Behind the young man’s wistfulness, Belichek suspected, lurked the shadow of Hendrickson York.

  “She talked to you about things beyond your specialty in IT?”

  “Yeah. Right from the start. She was like that with everybody, including the volunteers.”

  “What about Bethany Usher?”

  “I guess. Course I know a lot more about the foundation and what it needs and what’s good for it than I did when I started.” He grimaced. “Or than Bethany does after a few months here.”

  “She was hired to help the office manager?”

  “Celeste, yeah. Though Celeste does a whole lot more than run the office. She does that all right, but also a lot of the financial stuff, and contact with the client families — prospective and the ongoing clients. She keeps up with them, makes sure they have what they need to get over rough patches. Jamie calls Celeste her eyes and ears with the clients. Plus, she coordinates the volunteers.”

  “What about Hendrickson York?”

  “He deals only with donors.”

  “And Jamie?”

  “She deals — dealt — with donors, too. A lot of the big ones wanted to meet her in person and Hendrickson was always on her to spend more time on outreach. She’d also work with the client families — that’s what she liked best — and volunteers.”

  “What about the financial aspects? Did she stay up-to-date on those?”

  “Sure. She kept on top of everything. Knew the donor figures and trend reports I put together as well as every listing on the roster of potential client families.”

  “What do you think of having management coming in from outside.”

  “I didn’t like that at first. Changing things. But Jamie showed me how it was the best thing for the foundation and that has to be the top priority. Always. That’s what she said, that’s what she lived. She showed all
of us that our sacrifices made the foundation a better place. And now, the management company’s really important.”

  “Because of Jamie’s death.”

  “Yeah. I was just looking at what’s coming in from the website and already donations are through the roof. The good we’ll be able to do — Jamie would be the first one to be thrilled by that.” Tears stood along his lower eyelids.

  He turned toward the far monitor, as if something had called his attention there. He wiped the tears with his back turned.

  “Are you aware of Jamie having issues with anyone?”

  “You mean that jackass she’d dated?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Tell us about him,” Landis invited.

  “He wouldn’t leave her alone after she broke up with him.”

  “Did you see that first-hand?”

  “Yeah. We were having a lunch meeting downstairs, and he came in, insisting he had to talk to her. Tried to drag her out. I, uh, I grabbed his arm so she could get away.”

  “Did you see other instances? With him or anyone else? Anything that indicated someone might want to cause her harm?”

  “Is this like that did she have any enemies question? No way. Everybody loved Jamie. Too much. That was the problem with that jerk. Called her all the time. Texts — could always tell when they were from him. She’d look at her phone and her face would sort of go stiff. Not like Jamie at all.”

  “What about a client family? Any disgruntled?”

  He looked stunned. “No. They all loved her.”

  “What was Jamie like?”

  “Jamie’s like no one else. She’s… she was magic for the foundation. With donors, with the clients — that’s what she called the people we help.”

  “So she was the public face, but you do all the work getting the word out on social media and—”

  “No, no what I do is nothing. Anybody could do this. Jamie brought so much attention to the foundation. Her story is the story of the foundation.”

  “Like celebrities do with their foundations, huh?”

  “Celebrities.” He dismissed them with one word. “They have it easy. They slap their names on a charity and half the work’s done for them. They’re not slogging in the office the way Jamie did.”