Obsessed, page 10
Terri glared at him but didn’t say a word.
Banning stood from his stool and said, “It was mostly nice chatting with you.”
I watched as he joined a group of chattering young men in the corner. Several of them were laughing and one slapped Banning on the back.
Terri sat at the bar and stared straight ahead. She mumbled to me, “I’ll meet you back on the corner. I don’t want to give this guy the satisfaction of thinking he chased me out of here. I’m going to have another drink.”
It looked like the direct approach was the only one I could take against Banning. This guy appeared pretty sharp. But first I wanted to gather more information. Unless I had everything nailed down when I talked to him, he might get more from an interview than I would.
Chapter 40
I WAS LATER than usual getting home, yet much earlier than I’d told Mary Catherine to expect me. I liked the little wave of surprise that ran through the kids when I walked through the door just as everyone was starting to eat dinner. Those smiles would stick in my memory forever.
I smelled chicken cacciatore. That meant Ricky had probably made it. Mary Catherine liked more traditional meat-and-potatoes dishes. Ricky was a great cook who specialized in spicier Italian and even Cajun cuisine.
I took a moment to run around the table and greet each kid individually. Then I gave Mary Catherine a kiss on the lips, earning us groans from just about every kid under sixteen.
Then I made sure to give my grandfather a hug. I hoped his presence here meant that he was getting a handle on all the extra work he’d taken on around the parish.
My grandfather made the kids sit still while he said a second prayer before I could eat.
Seamus said, “Dear Father in heaven, please bless the food that my grandson is about to receive. Protect him during the day and bless him in the evening. Amen.”
In prayer, my grandfather always knows exactly what to say. He had touched on something I feel strongly about: my blessings at home. No matter what happens during the day, when I come home to these beautiful, smiling faces, I always thank God for the wonderful blessing. It’s nothing I’ve ever said specifically to my grandfather. But he knows. Everyone knows.
I listened intently to each kid as they talked about their day. Sure, Juliana and Brian had days that were more similar to mine than the younger kids. Juliana was taking an acting class as well as her academic classes at City College. Brian was working hard at the air-conditioning repair service. He was also taking a class at City College.
Chrissy told us about petting the class guinea pig until it fell asleep in her hand. Trent told us he’d aced a geometry exam and that Sister Mala had held up his test as an example for the other kids.
What I really wanted to hear about was whether the boys had been bullied today. I didn’t want to ask about it. I didn’t want to make it seem like the focus of the boys’ lives. But it concerned me. It concerned me a great deal.
I looked over at Fiona and said, “Did you get a chance to practice free throws?”
She nodded excitedly. “Then I played Horse with Trent, Ricky, and Eddie. I beat all three of them and only had an H.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at the boys. You would’ve thought they’d been caught stealing something the way they looked down at their plates and mumbled.
When Ricky looked up, I could still see the shade of the black eye he had from the run-in with the bullies a few days earlier. He said, “On the bright side, Fiona doesn’t punch us while we’re playing.”
That earned a few snickers around the table.
That’s when Shawna chimed in on the subject for the first time. “Boys think they have it so tough. Girls get bullied too. All the time. Especially online.”
Ricky reached up and touched his black eye. He winced and said, “I don’t think I’d mind getting bullied online as much as being bullied in person.”
That opened an interesting conversation around the dinner table.
Chapter 41
THIS WAS THE kind of dinner conversation that most parents don’t get to hear. I had always taught the kids to be tolerant and respectful of other people’s opinions. This would be a good test of how effective I had been at getting that message across.
We all started to discuss the problem of bullying. Almost immediately the lines were drawn. The boys all wanted to act tough. The girls used reasoning. A classic gender schism.
Eddie said, “If our bullies didn’t carry guns, we’d have taught them a lesson.”
Jane calmly pointed out, “The first time they bothered you, I don’t remember hearing how super brave you were.” Her maturity made her calm delivery that much more devastating to the boys. All three of them sputtered for an answer, but nothing came out.
Bridget, normally quiet during these kinds of discussions, said, “I don’t understand why you didn’t just talk to the boys.”
Eddie groaned, then glared at his sister. “Believe me, they didn’t want to listen.”
Chrissy chimed in with “Why didn’t you just run away?”
Eddie appeared to be the official spokesman. He said, “Then the bullies win.”
“But you wouldn’t get beat up.” Shawna had offered it sincerely. “Who cares who wins?”
I got it. It was a tough situation. When I was their age, bullying had a different edge to it. There were rarely any weapons involved. Parents stepped in when things got out of hand. I remembered Matthew Callahan’s parents finding out he was taking lunch money from kids a grade younger than him. Matthew couldn’t sit comfortably for a day after his father paddled him for stealing and bullying. I’m not saying I agree with those kinds of parenting tactics. But there’s no denying that they occasionally got results.
Chrissy turned to my grandfather. She said, “Grandpa Seamus, what did you do in the olden days if someone was bullying you?”
Seamus leaned back in his chair and patted his belly like some kind of medieval Irish chieftain who had just finished off a meal of his enemy’s entrails. At least that’s how I imagined he viewed his display. Then he leaned forward and put his elbows on the table.
Seamus said, “You mean way back in the forties and fifties? Back before science had been invented?”
Chrissy nodded her head vigorously. The older kids, Mary Catherine, and I all had to keep from laughing out loud. I was a little nervous about the answer because I’d heard a few stories about my grandfather’s youth in Ireland. I wasn’t sure they were the kind of stories I wanted my kids to hear. At least the ones still in elementary school.
“It was a different world back then. I went to a school attached to a Catholic church. I played soccer in the afternoons until someone introduced me to baseball. I remember one year I got a baseball bat for Christmas and I felt like someone had given me a ticket to a whole new life. It was nothing like today.”
Eddie looked at my grandfather and said, “That sounds exactly like today.”
Seamus laughed. “Every generation thinks they’re facing new issues. Did I get bullied as a youngster? Sure I did. I don’t even remember any specific incidents. I got into a few scrapes, and my mother used to paddle me when I got home, and tell me not to fight. One thing I learned: bullies hate to be confronted. I don’t think I won many fights against bullies, but I must’ve done all right because I don’t remember it happening too often. Bullies are cowards. The boys you described, who have to carry a gun to feel important, are the biggest cowards of all.”
I loved seeing the twinkle in my grandfather’s eye as he told these stories with incredible detail, enthralling the kids. I enjoyed seeing the kids follow every word and want to hear more. In this case, my grandfather even gave me an idea. What was Kyle Banning if not a bully? Wealthy, good-looking, and entitled. Maybe it was time I stopped nibbling around the edges and headed directly to the bully’s stronghold. Not his house but his office.
Chapter 42
THE NEXT MORNING, all I could think about was surprising Kyle Banning at his office. I did a little research on Banning’s employer, Lancet Financial. It wasn’t considered one of the big players, like Fidelity or Bain. It was exactly the kind of place an ambitious young man like Kyle Banning would use as a stepping-stone before moving on to one of the big hedge funds. I wasn’t sure exactly what he did for the company. His degree in economics was from Princeton. I was not sure what that prepared you for, but it sounded impressive.
The company occupied the top three floors of a building in lower Manhattan on Canal Street. It used to be some sort of warehouse, and they’d kept the working-class facade on the outside, but the inside was quite trendy. Soft lighting and expensive prints on the walls. A terrarium covered the center of the big lobby. A small palm tree and other tropical plants filled the climate-controlled glass hut.
I walked directly into one of the elevators and hit the button for the eighth floor like I knew where I was going. No one in the lobby gave me a second look. Exactly why I’d dressed a little nicer today. I was wearing my favorite blue sport coat with some nice Pierre Cardin slacks. I thought a suit might be overdoing it.
The elevator opened to the reception area of Lancet Financial. An attractive young woman looked up from her computer and smiled as I approached the desk. I had debated whether I should identify myself or just ask to see Kyle Banning.
Just as the young woman asked if she could help me, I saw Kyle Banning walking down the hallway directly toward me. I smiled at the young woman and said, “Never mind. Here’s the man I need to talk to real quick.”
Banning looked up, and I stuck out my hand. I said, “Kyle Banning? I’m Michael Bennett. Can we talk in your office for a minute?”
I appreciated the confusion on Kyle Banning’s face. I thought he recognized me but couldn’t put his finger on why I seemed familiar. Exactly why I hadn’t brought Terri Hernandez with me on this interview. He would definitely remember her.
“Do I know you, Mr. Bennett?”
“I don’t believe we’ve ever met officially.” I turned slightly, hoping to lure him away from the receptionist. He followed my lead, then started to walk with more purpose, so I followed him. A few doors down from the reception area we turned into a small but comfortable office with a view of Lafayette Street, where I could just make out the front of 11 Howard, a boutique hotel a block away.
I reached over and pushed the door shut so we were alone in the room. The movement seemed to startle Banning. I pulled out my badge and ID. I said in my best official voice, “I’m a homicide detective with the NYPD. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Banning looked at me and said, “Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t have to answer your questions. Is that correct?”
I didn’t answer. It didn’t sound like I needed to.
Banning said, “It’s not my policy to talk to the police while I’m at work. I’m paid by the Lancet corporation to do my job while I am in this building. I’m paid quite well and I’m very effective at my job. What I am not paid for is to chat with public employees. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
This was not turning out the way I’d expected. But I didn’t move. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard my grandfather’s voice. Kyle Banning was a bully, and I was going to stand up to him.
Banning said, “Did you hear me? I’m asking you to leave. Right now you’re trespassing. If you don’t leave, I might even call the NYPD to escort you out of the building. I wonder how embarrassing that would be for you.”
I didn’t want to tip my hand or give him any ammunition to accuse me of harassment. I swallowed my anger and nodded but had to throw in, “Perhaps we’ll meet again soon.” I backed out of his office like I was expecting to be shot from behind if I turned.
Banning had a smug grin on his face as he said, “I doubt it,” then slammed his office door in my face.
I endured a few stares as I marched out of the office.
Chapter 43
I LEFT LANCET Financial and drove up the Henry Hudson, heading out of Manhattan. It wasn’t a trip I particularly wanted to make. I was going to meet with Suzanne Morton’s parents at their home in Yonkers.
I was trying not to let emotion dictate my actions. Sure, I was pretty hot about the way Kyle Banning had dismissed me. I needed some real evidence to confront him with. Something that would get his full attention.
On the flip side, I hadn’t given up any details of the investigation or even the fact that he was a suspect.
I easily found the Mortons’ lovely two-story brick home in the middle of Yonkers. Sometimes it’s hard for me to wrap my head around a neighborhood so close to the city comprised of just houses. I couldn’t see any high-rises in the distance. Visits like this make me question my reasons for still living in the city with so many children.
I saw David Morton’s Saab in the driveway and knew he’d probably stayed home from work just to talk to me. I’d contacted them a few days before, asking if I could meet with them. After Banning cut our interview so short, I’d called to see if they could talk to me this morning. I had kept my reasoning vague. I even had made it sound like I was just checking on them as a friend. That’s a shady thing to do. That’s why I intended to check on them while I interviewed them.
Rachel Morton offered me coffee as we sat in the downstairs living room. There were pictures of the family all over the walls and on tables. Two parents, beautiful Suzanne, and her younger brother, Paul. Disney World, the Empire State Building, somewhere out west with mountains. They were smiling in all of them. I hoped they’d be able to find those smiles again someday. But I knew it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
I checked for subtle signs of emotional distress while I spoke to David and Rachel Morton. Rachel’s eyes were rimmed with red and David appeared to be under the influence of prescription pills. His speech was slurred, and sometimes he seemed to just stare straight ahead while Rachel answered my few questions.
Then she asked, “I thought Detective Stanton from New Rochelle was handling this case. Why are you asking questions?”
“I’m just helping Detective Stanton out.” I didn’t want to complicate matters or upset them further by suggesting their daughter might have been the victim of an active serial killer. Once I had proof, I could talk to them about it.
Suzanne had mainly lived in the NYU dorms, but I asked to see her room at home.
Rachel told me Detective Stanton had already looked through it, but it had taken him only about ten minutes.
That annoyed me. Ten minutes wasn’t enough time to find anything.
It appeared to be a typical young person’s room. Suzanne had a planner from last year on her wall. A rope chair hung from the ceiling. A couple of framed photos showed her with girlfriends at Coney Island and a few other places. One photo had Juliana in it. There was nothing at all unusual about her room.
Rachel Morton told me about their efforts to get into Suzanne’s iCloud account, but so far they had had no luck. Apple essentially refused to deal with the police. Suzanne didn’t appear to have written down her passwords anywhere. It was an awkward situation. Technically, I was not assigned to this homicide. It wasn’t even within the NYPD. It wasn’t like I could take Suzanne’s computer back to my office and have our forensic people look through it. That would cause far too many questions. I was afraid Bill “Suicide” Stanton wasn’t as dogged in the investigation as I would’ve liked him to be.
That’s when I had an idea. “Were Suzanne and her brother close?”
Rachel Morton shrugged. “They’re a little over three years apart. I never considered them close. But they didn’t fight all the time like some siblings do.”
Just then Paul padded out of his bedroom, probably for the first time today. I called his name, and he slowly walked backward till he was in the doorframe. He didn’t appear to be surprised to see a stranger in his house. He just stared at me, waiting for my question. He wore a thick, terry-cloth Stony Brook robe that hung open over shorts and a Green Day retro T-shirt.
I said, “Any idea how to get into your sister’s iCloud account? You don’t have her user name and password, do you?”
He mumbled, “Always S-u-z-e-M. And she used to use cheer123 for most of her passwords. Try that.” He couldn’t have had less enthusiasm in his voice. He shuffled away from the door as soon as he’d answered.
I typed in the details and had instant access to Suzanne’s voluminous iCloud account with all her photos. I was about to ask Rachel Morton if I could look through the account from my office. I wanted her to know exactly what I was doing. Then, about the twentieth photo in, I stopped and took a closer look. It was a picture of Suzanne at some kind of party.
And Kyle Banning was standing right next to her, smiling.
Chapter 44
THIS NEW PHOTO of Kyle Banning with Suzanne Morton was a bombshell. I needed help. I emailed the photo to Walter Jackson as I raced back to my office from the Mortons’ house in Yonkers.
Police work isn’t a solitary activity. It’s a team sport. That’s why we have specialists. People like Walter, who know where to find any piece of information. Our Tech Unit can break down any computer or internet issue like it’s magic. And sometimes you just need smart people to bounce some ideas off of.
That’s why I called Terri Hernandez, Walter Jackson, and my lieutenant, Harry Grissom. Terri agreed to meet all of us at the Manhattan North Homicide office so everyone could listen to what I had so far on the case. We were still focusing on the two victims from the city. Suzanne Morton was in the mix, but we had plenty to do, and Suzanne was still a New Rochelle case.
We met in Walter’s office, which was the largest. He’d earned it through his hard work. As I stepped inside, I was reminded how important it was for him to have some space. Files, books, and logs were in neat piles on shelves around the walls. The office was a testament to a working intelligence analyst.
