He seized on the question for some conventional camouflage. “Yeah-I haven’t been able to shake it. Maybe that’s why I’m a little on edge. Who would want to harm her?”
I faced him then, hardening my voice for effect. “Interesting. Every other family member we talked to-without exception-said your aunt was one of the most unpleasant people they ever knew. They also told us you hadn’t communicated with her since that family reunion several years ago.”
Given his earlier bellicosity, his reaction should have been immediate. What I’d said was at least rude, even outrageous. But Paul Hennessy merely turned red in the face and stammered a few times, as if groping among a variety of inadequate responses.
“Mr. Hennessy,” I finally asked. “Where were you the night before last, between ten p.m. and two in the morning?”
“At home,” he blurted, and with apparent relief. “My wife’ll swear to it.”
Sol Stennis silently raised his eyebrows at the defensive tone. “All night?” I persisted. “What time did you go to sleep?”
“Eleven, like always. Before that, we watched TV. I got home around nine, after a meeting with Carroll about getting this project back on track.”
There was a pause I let linger for several seconds, during which Hennessy looked from one of us to the other. “And my wife’s a light sleeper,” he added unnecessarily. “She would’ve known if I’d gotten up.”
The smile I gave him was genuine. Whatever else he was, Paul Hennessy was a man under a great deal of stress-and feeling the weight of some considerable guilt.
“I wonder why you thought you should add that last little detail,” I mused aloud. “Of course, you’re right. A man under a magnifying glass should try to think of everything.”
Not giving him a chance to respond, I crossed the room and left, Sol Stennis in tow. Halfway down the stairs, Stennis asked, “What was that all about?”
Still feeling the adrenaline rush of a lucky shot in the dark, I laughed quietly. “Damned if I know. I just put on the heat to see what would happen. Doesn’t sound like he killed his aunt, but he sure is skittish. From what I’ve seen over the years, you squeeze a guy like that, he either cooks up an alibi, compares notes with a confederate, or he takes off. They’re usually too wired not to do something. I want him tailed. You stay with him until I have you relieved. I’ll radio for a car to pick me up here. But keep a low profile. He knows what you look like, and now he knows we’re watching.”
Linking Hennessy to Adele Sawyer filled me with a sudden sense of movement. After risking the hypothesis that all these cases were somehow interconnected, I’d been frustrated and troubled by their remaining as inert as a pile of logs. Now I was hoping the high-strung project manager would be the loosened wedge that would send the entire pile rolling free. For the first time, regardless of where Hennessy fit into the overall scheme of things, I felt that a long-sought opponent might be about to break cover.
As we reached the car I saw two young women getting out of a vehicle farther down the lot. One of them, Nicole, I’d known since her highly precocious high school years. “Call in for someone to pick me up, will you?” I asked Stennis before heading toward them.
Nicole caught sight of me and waved as I approached. “Hi, Mr. Gunther. Wow, I haven’t seen you in a long time. What’re you doin’ here?”
I shook her hand and introduced myself to her friend, who was named Nancy. “Nothing much. You work for this outfit?”
“Yeah-bookkeeping. There’s a ton of it with something this big.”
“Must be hard to keep track of,” I said sympathetically.
Nancy answered. “Oh yeah. They’ve got four of us here, and a bunch more at the head office. It’s like it never stops, especially after a big interruption like what happened.”
“So you work mostly for Paul Hennessy?”
“Yeah,” Nicole said briefly.
I laughed and gave her a conspiratorial look. “Uh-oh, I know that tone of voice. Sounds like you and Mr. Hennessy don’t get along.”
The two girls exchanged guilty glances. But before they could think of an evasive response, I added, “He’s not my type either. I was just talking with him upstairs. Made me feel like a farmer.”
“Yeah,” Nancy said disgustedly, despite Nicole’s warning glance. “He thinks he’s pretty cool-like he’s a big wheel. He just works here like everybody else. It’s not like he’s Mr. Carroll or anything.”
“And he won’t keep his hands to himself, either,” Nicole said softly, reluctantly, and yet not wanting to be left out.
“You don’t want to be bending over when he’s around,” Nancy chimed in. “And I only wear turtlenecks when I’m here.” She opened her coat to show me. “I wear anything with a scoop, sure as shit he’ll be copping looks. He’s married, too,” she added in naive outrage.
Nicole had been watching me carefully, more familiar with my ways than her voluble friend. “Mr. Gunther,” she finally said, “are you checking up on him?”
I considered the heat I was applying to Hennessy. It couldn’t hurt if he caught wind we’d been asking questions. “That’s not usually something we talk about,” I answered.
“Oh-far out,” Nancy laughed gleefully. “That means you are. I hope you nail him-he’s such a creep.”
“What else does he do?” I asked. There was a second’s hesitation, and I realized I might have pushed them too far. Nicole proved me wrong. “There are rumors he’s ripping off the company.”
“How?”
“I don’t know exactly. I don’t know if anybody does, but he lives pretty well.”
“He’s got a girlfriend,” Nancy said, her eyes bright. “She’s in Payables at the head office-”
“You don’t know that,” Nicole protested.
“I sure do. I saw them once. They were all over each other. They didn’t see me. I ducked out. They play it really cool otherwise-pretend they barely know each other. I bet they’re in cahoots cooking the books.”
It wasn’t textbook logic, but it worked for me. “What’s her name?”
“Ginny Levasseur.”
“How could they be cooking the books?”
They looked at each other and shrugged. Nicole said, “There’s tons of ways to rip things off. Trucks come in here all day with stuff. There’re bills of lading and invoices and whatever, but it’s all paper. I mean, nobody actually climbs onto the trucks and counts to make sure every item’s on board that’s supposed to be.”
“And then it sits here forever,” Nancy added. “The guard’s a joke. Almost everybody’s got a pickup, and he never checks to see what’s in the back. All they have to do is grab something and throw a tarp over it. I bet they lose a fortune that way.”
“How ’bout someone higher up? Like one of the supervisors or the clerk of the works?” I pressed them.
But I could tell before they shook their heads that I’d gotten all they could give me. “Is that what you’re looking at him for?” Nicole asked. “Ripping off stuff?”
This time, I opted for caution. “I wish I could tell you. I want to thank you for your help, though. I need all the information I can get.”
“Well,” Nancy reiterated as they walked away, “I’d go after Ginny Levasseur.”
Nicole gave her friend a scolding nudge with her elbow, but it sounded like good advice.
I radioed Dispatch from the patrol car that picked me up and asked them to have Ron Klesczewski meet me at the office. He’d been looking into what Tom Chambers was holding over Ned Fallows. But as important as that could be, I felt spurred by this morning’s discoveries to redirect him to better use.
He met me in the Municipal Building’s central hallway a quarter-hour later. “If you still have nothing on Fallows,” I began, “I think I’ve found something with more meat on it. Adele Sawyer was Paul Hennessy’s aunt. When I spoke to him just now, he reacted all wrong. A couple of on-site bookkeepers told me afterward he’s rumored to be ripping off the company and has a girlfriend in Payables at the head office. It may all be bullshit, but I put a bee up his nose about our being suspicious of him, and Sol’s watching him to see if he makes any sudden moves.”