Payback, page 6
Grant gestured to his guests to take a seat before reaching for a coffee cup. “Tony has been our live-in houseman for almost two years. He’s been a rock through this whole nightmare. I don’t know what I would have done without him.” He poured out a cup of the dark fragrant brew and offered it first to Gin and then to Trey. When they both declined, he shrugged and added a teaspoon of sugar before settling against the plush cushions lining the back of the couch. He took a long sip, slowly swallowed, then sucked in a deep breath. “All right. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be to hear what happened.”
As Trey took out his cell phone, Gin cast a speculative glance toward the balcony and the very intimidating Tony before settling her attention back on the business manager. “Do you mind if we record this?” Once Grant shook his head, Gin waited until Trey set his phone
on the coffee table before turning to squarely face Grant. “Let’s start with a few questions.”
“Ah,” he said with a nod as his chin began to tremble. “You need to know when I can come down and make the official identification?”
Gin’s mouth curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll get to that. First, can you tell me where you were between midnight and four a.m.?”
“Where I was?” Grant’s gaze darted between Gin and Trey. “I was here. Sleeping. A phone call from a Detective Stroberg with the Denver police woke me up just before four in the morning.” He set the coffee cup down hard enough it rattled in the saucer. “Why would you ask me that? What happened to Mark?” When Gin hesitated, his eyes shot wide open. “Are you saying the fire at the club was deliberately set? That someone wanted to kill Mark and those other people?”
Gin’s stiff smile faded as her steady gaze met the shock in Grant’s eyes. “The fire investigator is going to designate the fire as arson, Mr. Durham. And the Denver PD, as well as the FBI, are considering all four deaths as homicides. Evidence also points at the club’s owner and one other man as being the targets.”
“Mark was killed by some fire-starting maniac?” Grant’s eyes were wheeling in his head as his breathing spiked until it sounded like a piston running at full speed. “Was he shot first and then The Oasis set on fire? Did a customer do this to him? Or maybe someone wanted to steal that chrome-plated toy of his. I told him it was too obvious, and that he should get something more understated.”
“Mr. Durham,” Gin said quietly, then simply stared at him until he clamped his mouth shut. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but none of the victims were shot. They were all killed in the fire. Mr. Worthy had extensive burns.” Which was putting it mildly, Gin thought as she waited a long moment for that to sink in with Grant Durham. From what Irene had said, it was a high probability that Worthy and the John Doe with him were doused with something, then set on fire when they were both still alive. “He died on the scene, as did the other three victims. Two were members of the cleaning crew, and the third was handcuffed to Mr. Worthy and then chained to a post.”
“Oh my god, oh my god.” Grant put his head down and began to slowly rock back and forth. “He was murdered. Horribly murdered.” His head snapped back up and his gaze flew to Gin’s. “And you wanted to know where I was? Do you think I had something to do with this? I would never hurt Mark. We’ve been together for seven years, Agent Reilly.” He drew his legs up, balancing his feet on the edge of the couch and resting his forehead against his knees. “Seven years.”
“That’s a long time,” Gin said, softening her voice. Grant Durham was still her best suspect — but mostly by default, since he was currently also the only one. He had no corroboration for his alibi, unless he was sleeping with someone behind Mark’s back, which would keep him at the top of her. . . list of one.
But her gut was telling her the man was probably sound asleep in his bed between midnight and four in the morning. It might not be much of an alibi, but she had no real hard reason to think he was guilty either, other than he was the significant other of one of the victims. But Mark Worthy wasn’t the only victim, so now the problem was finding out if Grant knew the other man handcuffed to his life partner and burned to death literally right alongside him.
“I don’t have any thought one way or another about whether you set that fire, Mr. Durham,” Gin said slowly. “What I am thinking about, is finding out who did. If it wasn’t you, then we move on, in which case we could use your help.”
Grant looked up. He slowly straightened his legs until his feet were back on the ground. “It wasn’t me, Agent Reilly.”
“All right.” Gin cocked her head to the side and considered him for a moment. “Did Mark have any enemies?” When Grant’s head jerked back and forth, she pressed a little harder. “Maybe not personal, but how about in his business? Anyone he might have crossed, or who wanted the club to go away, preferably with him in it?”
“The club?” Grant blinked. “Do you think maybe it was The Oasis that was the actual target?”
She didn’t. After walking the crime scene, it was clear in her mind that Mark Worthy and the unknown man he had died with were the targets, but instead of voicing that out loud, she opted for a light shrug. “We need to explore all the possibilities.”
“I don’t know of anyone. At least not lately.” The club’s business manager drew out the words as if it was painful to speak. “There were several interests that tried to block us from opening.”
Gin frowned. “Block you? In what way?”
“Put in complaints and sent in anonymous reports of petty violations. First to keep us from getting approval for the necessary building permits, and then to delay the city inspections being done.” Grant sat up straighter, and his voice took on a strident note. “Luis Manack, the self-appointed neighborhood watch against any change he simply doesn’t like. He owned a building on the same block as the club and wanted the entire area to remain a warehouse district.” Grant’s nose wrinkled as his nose wrinkled with an audible sniff. “At least that’s what he said. The man spent a good deal of time lobbying the city council against authorizing anything having to do with The Oasis. We opened a good six months behind schedule because of all the red tape he left snarled in our path.” Grant’s blue eyes got brighter and his face flushed red as he jabbed a finger into the air. “If you ask me, it had nothing to do with keeping the neighborhood purely industrial. Manack was just peeved that we didn’t buy his building instead of the location we did settle on.”
Trey leaned forward from his seat on one of the lounge chairs, perching on the edge with his forearms braced against his upper thighs. “Why didn’t you buy his building?”
Grant threw up both hands in annoyance. “Oh, please. We looked at it, but it wasn’t in very good shape. It would have taken at least twice our renovation budget to bring it up to the standard we were looking for in the club. It was after Mark gave Manack a hard ‘no’ to his offer to sell that rundown pile of bricks that all the trouble started. The man was very crude, and very old school. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he hired someone to burn down The Oasis.”
“We’ll look into it,” Gin stated. “Can you think of anyone else?” When Grant shook his head, Gin turned her questioning to include the other victim. “Was Mark planning on meeting with anyone in particular at the club last night?”
“Oh yes. Yahoo Number Two.”
Gin frowned at the odd response. “I would appreciate it if you could explain that. Who is Yahoo Number Two?” She lifted an eyebrow. “I assume that’s a person?”
This time when Grant’s hand waved in the air, it was in a clear gesture of dismissal. “He is. He contacts Mark every three months or so, usually to ask for money. Although, Mark saw him just a month ago and gave him money then, so I hope he was asking for more so soon.” He drew in a ragged breath. “And Mark was so good-hearted, he always gave the guy something.”
“How much something?” Gin asked, then watched as the pointed tone in her voice had Grant’s eyes widening.
“Not anything that would amount to blackmail, if that’s what you’re thinking, Agent Reilly,” he insisted. He abruptly closed his mouth and pressed his lips into a flat line. “Is that why the FBI is here? You think Mark was involved in some kind of shady black-market dealings? I can assure you, there was nothing like that going on. I kept all of Mark’s books, both for the business and our personal account. He never gave that yahoo more than a couple of thousand, and the amount never changed. Hardly enough to be called blackmail. He was simply helping an old friend.”
“Does this old friend have a name?”
“I’m sure he does, Agent Reilly.” Grant reached into the pocket of his robe and drew out a Kleenex, dabbing at his eyes before returning his gaze to Gin. “But I don’t know it. Mark always referred to him as Yahoo Number Two. It was someone he knew in high school. Besides that, I have no idea who the man is.”
Gin considered that for a moment. “Mark never invited his old high school friend to his home?”
“No. They always met at the club. But Mark told me that yahoo usually came in, got his money, and then left. He never stayed very long, and I never asked to meet him.”
“Why not?” Gin prompted when Grant fell silent.
The victim’s life partner heaved a ragged sigh. “Because I always got the impression that Mark was embarrassed. As if this yahoo person was some kind of harmless boyhood mistake that just kept popping up. Since he wasn’t trying to squeeze us dry, and Mark never seemed bothered by the whole thing, I just ignored it. Except I did make a comment about his wanting to meet with Mark again so soon. I warned him that this Yahoo might be wanting to up his demands.”
“What did Mr. Worthy say to that?” Gin asked.
Grant’s loud sigh was accompanied by a helpless lift of his shoulders. “He just laughed it off.”
“Mr. Durham?”
Gin looked around, spotting Tony standing just inside the glass doors opening out onto the patio. Grant blinked several times before slowly swiveling his head to face in that direction.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Tony continued in a calm, clear voice. “But your guests will be arriving in another hour, and you need time to prepare.”
“Guests?” Grant repeated, then lifted a hand and rubbed two fingers against his temple. “Yes, of course.” He looked at Gin. “Mark’s parents took an early plane out of Chicago this morning. They were devastated by the news. Simply devastated. They have two daughters, but Mark was their only son.” His chest expanded and then deflated into a long sigh. “He grew up in Chicago. Did I already mention that?” When Gin shook her head, he looked down at his hands, ignoring the single tear rolling down his cheek. “Well, he did. And his parents were always pestering him to move back there.” Grant slumped over as a second tear followed the first. “Even though the invitation to move back was never extended to me, now I wish I’d ignored all that pettiness, and we had just packed up and relocated to Chicago.”
Tony walked over to the coffee table and scooped up the cell phone with its flashing red light. He tapped the screen to stop the recording before handing the phone to Trey. “If you have any more questions, or need anything else from Mr. Durham, or Mr. Worthy’s parents, please call the house and we will, of course, accommodate you as best we can.”
Trey stood up, his gaze fixed in a hard stare on Tony’s face. “We’ll do that.”
“We need a list of all the employees of the club,” Gin said to draw the bodyguard’s attention away from Trey. “And if you could indicate which ones were working there last night that would be helpful. Can you get that for us in the next hour?”
“You’ll have it before you reach your car.” Tony lifted a heavy arm and pointed toward the short hallway. “Which is down the elevator on the other side of that door.”
When Trey took a half step closer to the houseman, Gin got to her feet as well and lightly tapped him on the arm. “I think we’ve got what we need here.” She showed no reaction when Tony’s eyes narrowed. Let him chew on that for a while, she thought as she sent the live-in houseman a polite nod. “We can show ourselves out.”
Not waiting for a response, she did an abrupt about-face and headed straight for the door, with Trey right behind her. Once in the hallway, he closed the door with a hard snap before Tony could get to it, then turned to Gin with a satisfied look on his face. “If he’s the housekeeper, I’ll eat my shorts.”
She made a face at him. “Thanks for putting that image into my head, but fortunately, I won’t have to see it. Good old Tony is definitely an old-fashioned bodyguard, which begs the obvious question.”
“Yeah.” Trey jabbed a finger against the elevator button, waiting as the doors slid noiselessly open. “Why do they need one?”
“There is that,” Gin agreed before stepping into the empty car and leaning back against the wall. “And why now?” At Trey’s questioning look, she tapped one finger against the rich wood at her back. “According to Durham, he and Worthy have been a couple for seven years, but good old Tony has only been with them for two.”
“He could have had a predecessor,” Trey pointed out as they exited the elevator.
“Possible.” Gin crossed the lobby and pushed open the heavy glass doors leading outside. She took one last look at the valet standing in front of the building, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched them pull away. With that kind of lifestyle, it was not only possible but entirely logical that Mark Worthy had employed some kind of bodyguard for years. Wads of money not only drew friends, but enemies as well. So it wasn’t hard to believe that Tony was just the latest in a string of bodyguards, although they now preferred to be called personal protection specialists.
But hired muscle was hired muscle no matter how you tried to dress it up, and as for Tony being the current one in a long line, she thought it was very probably, but it would need to be checked out.
Chapter Six
They’d barely taken three steps off the elevator when Gin spotted Richard Turner staring at her through the glass barrier enclosing the Cybercrimes Unit. When he made a move to heave himself out of his chair, she had no qualms about throwing her partner under the bus. Making a quick turn, she darted down the enclosed walkway off to the right, leaving Trey all alone in Turner’s direct line of sight.
Telling herself it was his penance for showing up late to the crime scene the night before, she took a circular route to the Homicide Unit. Once inside, Gin headed straight for her cubicle in the back. It didn’t have as much space as the others but did have the advantage of not putting its occupant on display through the transparent walls.
Safely tucked away in her corner, she took a moment to savor escaping Turner’s oversized nose for gossip, even though her partner had been caught in the Cybercrimes agent’s net, then booted up her computer. Opening one the police file to an email from Stephen, she’d barely read through the first paragraph when Trey stomped by, shooting her a disgusted look. Knowing exactly why he was annoyed, she sent back a cheeky grin before pointing at her screen. “I’m going through the Santa Fe case. If you’ll take the one in Seattle, we can swap afterwards, and then compare notes.”
“Fine.” Trey took two steps over to the next cubicle and plopped down in the chair. Without sparing Gin another look, he leaned toward his screen and scrolled through his emails.
You’ve got to be quicker on your feet, hotshot, Gin thought, although she prudently kept that to herself. As soon as she was alone, she put in a quick call to Cap, intending to find out what Justin was so insistent on talking to her about. Frowning when he didn’t pick up, she left a brief message for him to call her back as soon as he could, then firmly turned her thoughts to the case right in front of her.
For the next twenty minutes, she was engrossed in the police report concerning the death of one Casey Harding. Her brow furrowed as she read the autopsy findings that stated the cause of death could have been the impact injuries from the car plunging into a shallow gorge, or from the fire that engulfed it as it went over the edge. She was carefully going over the photos of the evidence found at the scene when a shadow fell across her screen. Twisting around at the waist, she looked up at Stephen who was standing behind her, arms crossed over his chest.
“You aren’t answering texts?”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Tapping the message icon, she skimmed through the text from Stephen. “Okay. We’re back in the office.”
“Funny.” Stephen stepped to the side and leaned over to tap Trey on the shoulder. “I need you to both listen up. I have some news from Agent Cameron. Since I have plans for the afternoon, I’m only going to repeat it once.” He waited for Trey to maneuver his rolling chair closer to Gin’s cubicle. “While you two were out interviewing the club’s business manager, Justin heard back from Detective Stroberg. He roused some people out of bed before the crack of dawn, and it seems the cleaning crew were short-staffed, and just the two women were on site last night. Stroberg went out to do the notifications and interview the families right after he heard back from the cleaning company confirming who was working at The Oasis last night. The upshot of those discussions is that the detective is convinced the two women were in the wrong place at the wrong time and had nothing to do with the fire.”
Trey steepled his hands together and leaned back in his chair. “They could have heard the two men arguing with whoever attacked them and thought they should find a place to keep out of the way.”
