“Did you bust the window in the door?”
“I did not. The door window was broken when I got here. The door was unlocked.”
“Did you recognize any of the victims?”
“Just the wife.”
“What about Satoshi?”
“He wasn’t there, at least I didn’t think he was, but I didn’t go into the basement.”
“He isn’t there,” Tom offered. “I’ve been told the bodies are all together in the same room, lined up on the floor: six of them.”
“That’s what I saw.”
“Where is he?” Tom asked casually, as if he was inquiring about an acquaintance.
“I wish I knew,” Ben said. “I had been trying to get in touch with him for several days. He’d been eager to get some lab space. I wanted to let him know it had been arranged. As I told you, the reason I stopped by here is to see him.”
“When and where was the last time you saw him?”
“Wednesday afternoon. We’d had a small celebration in the office in the city after we’d signed a licensing agreement. He left early, saying he wanted to get home to share the good news with his wife.”
“Was this licensing agreement going to be lucrative for him?”
“Immensely so!”
Tom paused for a moment, thinking, then took a moment to jot something down.
“Are you thinking that Satoshi might be the perpetrator, having killed his family except for the child?”
“If this had been domestic violence, he’d be my first choice,” Tom said. “But I doubt this scene represents domestic violence. It’s too smooth, too professional. This smacks of organized crime. I mean, I’ve been told the bodies are lined up like a production line. That wouldn’t happen in a scene of domestic violence. This looks like a drug hit, but that doesn’t mean we don’t want to find Mr. Satoshi as a person of interest.”
“Hmm,” Ben voiced. Although he’d come to the same conclusion about the killing not representing domestic violence, he’d decided not to offer any more insight or information unless specifically asked.
“Did you know that the killer or killers made a specific point to remove all identification? If it hadn’t been for you, we would have no idea who these people were.”
“I didn’t know,” Ben said, progressively wishing he’d never come. “I did notice that the home had been ransacked.” It was Ben’s thought that the killer or killers had searched for something above and beyond identification. He had guessed it was Satoshi’s lab books, but that idea he was unwilling to share.
“How much effort have you made looking for Satoshi?”
“I’ve called him repeatedly on his cell. Other than that and coming here today, I’ve done nothing specifically.”
“As careful about removing identification as the intruders were, if they were to have caught Satoshi before coming here and killed him, they probably would have gotten rid of his identification as well. Did you contact Missing Persons in the city on the odd chance that there is an unclaimed Japanese corpse hanging out in the morgue?”
“I certainly did not,” Ben responded.
Tom opened the door, stepped out, and yelled for one of the uniformed officers to kindly come over. When the officer did, Ben could hear Tom ordering him to go back to the car and call the Missing Persons Squad in New York City and inquire about any unidentified Japanese corpse coming in over the last several days.
Tom returned and climbed back into the car. As he did so, he caught Ben glancing at his watch.
“Are we keeping you from something important?”
“Actually, yes,” Ben said. “I’m worried about the child. Do you know where they’ve taken him?”
“The nearest hospital is in Englewood,” Tom said. “You probably know that, since you live in Englewood Cliffs. How critical was the child, in your estimation?”
“Surprisingly enough, seemingly not critical at all. He was dehydrated for sure but probably not enough to cause internal organ damage.”
“I’d guess that they probably took him to Hackensack University Medical Center. I can confirm that. Meanwhile, let me ask you a question. As far as you know, does your company, iPS USA, have anything to do with organized crime?”
Ben was stunned, and before he could help himself, he’d sucked in a tiny but audible gasp of air. The unexpected nature of the question had taken him completely off guard. Instantly recovering, he asked in the calmest voice he could muster, “Why would our biotech start-up, which is trying to cure degenerative disease for the sake of humanity, have anything at all to do with organized crime? Excuse me, even asking such a question is ridiculous.”
Tom raised his eyebrows slightly and commented, “It’s interesting your response to a question is a question, rather than a direct ‘no.’ ”
“It is not surprising that I might be shocked by a question connecting my company to organized crime when we were talking about organized crime being related to this mass murder,” Ben said, defending himself and his response. “Of course I would be taken aback. I think it is clear I came upon the scene totally unawares. I had absolutely no knowledge of this tragedy or anything possibly to do with it.”
Tom took Ben’s disclaimer in stride, and instead of responding, merely looked back at his notes. Ben felt his anxiety ratchet up another notch. He now had the feeling he was being played. He needed to get away; he needed time to think.
The officer dispatched to call Missing Persons rapped on Tom’s window. Tom lowered it and looked at him expectantly.
“They do have a body that fits the description,” the officer said. “It’s at the New York OCME.”
“Thank you, Brian,” Tom said. He looked over at Ben and elevated a single eyebrow. “I think we are making progress.” Turning back to the officer, he said, “Go back and find out where the boy from this disaster was taken.”
The officer did a kind of half-salute before returning to his squad car.
“Maybe, just maybe,” Tom commented, “we’ve solved the mystery of Satoshi, which I believe might ultimately provide key information for the death of the six people in this house.”
“Possibly,” Ben said without enthusiasm. A moment earlier he didn’t think he could possibly get more nervous. But he had been wrong. He didn’t see finding Satoshi as a positive step, at least not dead.
“I tell you what,” Tom said, as if sensitive to Ben’s mind-set. “I still have questions for you, but why don’t I let you go and see the child. I have to go inside and view a scene I don’t want to see. But you have to promise me two things. After you’ve seen the child, I want you to call and then go to the New York OCME over in the city and identify or not identify, as the case may be, the body they have in their cooler. Then I want you to come back here, or if I’m gone, drive out to the Bergen County police station, which is also in Hackensack. Is that a deal?”
“That’s a deal,” Ben said, eager to get away.
“Now, hold on for a minute! I’ll find out for sure where the kid was taken.” Tom climbed out of the car. Simultaneously, so did the investigator from the district attorney’s office, who had been listening in the backseat.
Good grief, Ben said to himself, once alone. There had been nothing he’d liked about the conversation with Tom. Ben shivered at some of the things that he’d said and how he’d acted. From his perspective, it had been an interrogation, plain and simple, in which he did not shine. In a sudden burst of paranoia, Ben thought that the only thing positive about the interview was that he’d not been read his Miranda rights.
Ben straightened up and tried to calm himself. At least the conversation, or whatever it was, was over for now, and when it recommenced he’d have had time to think.