If She Ran. Блейк Пирс
what passed for weekend casual for someone who belonged to a yacht club like this one.
“You Agent Wise?” the man asked.
“I am. And this is my partner, Agent DeMarco.”
DeMarco only nodded, her anger and bitterness from the previous night still very much present. When they had parted ways at the hotel last night, DeMarco hadn’t said so much as a single word. She had managed a simple “good morning” over their quick breakfast but that had been it so far.
“I’m James Cortez,” the man said. “I spoke with you on the phone earlier this morning. The other guys are out on the veranda, ready and waiting with coffee.”
He led them through the club, its high ceilings and warm environment utterly charming. Kate wondered how much it cost to be a member here for a year. Out of her price range for sure. When they stepped out onto the veranda that overlooked the Long Island Sound, she became certain of this. It was beautiful, looking directly out onto the water with the tall shapes and haze of the city on the other side.
There were two other men sitting at a small wooden table that held a large plate of pastries and bagels as well as a carafe of coffee. Both men looked up at the agents and got to their feet to greet them. One of the men looked rather young, certainly no older than thirty, while James Cortez and the other man were easily in their mid-forties.
“Duncan Ertz,” the younger man said, extending his hand.
Kate and DeMarco both shook the men’s hands as they went through a quick round of introductions. The older man was Paul Wickers, freshly retired from his job as a stockbroker and more than willing to talk about it, as it was the second thing that came out of his mouth.
Kate and DeMarco took a seat at the table. Kate took one of the empty coffee cups and filled it, doctoring it up with the sugar and cream that sat by the plate of breakfast pastries.
“It hurts to think about poor Missy and those kids this morning,” Duncan said, biting into a Danish.
Kate recalled the trauma of last night and felt that she needed to check in on the poor woman. She looked across the table at DeMarco and wondered if she needed to check in on her, too. Removed from the situation, Kate was starting to understand that perhaps DeMarco had taken it so hard because of something in her past—something she had still not gotten over yet.
“Well,” Kate said, “Missy specifically mentioned you gentlemen as those closest to Jack outside of his family. I was hoping to get some insights into the sort of man he was outside of his home and work.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” James Cortez said. “From what I know, Jack was the same man no matter where he was. A straight shooter. A kind soul that always wanted to help others. If he had any flaws, I’d say it was that he was a little too involved with his work.”
“He was always good for a joke,” Duncan said. “They weren’t funny most of the time, but he loved to tell them.”
“That’s for sure,” Paul said.
“There were no secrets he told you guys about?” DeMarco asked. “Maybe an affair or even thoughts of an affair?”
“God no,” Paul said. “Jack Tucker was insanely in love with his wife. I’d feel safe saying that man loved everything about his life. His wife, kids, work, friends…”
“That’s why this makes no sense,” James said. “I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but from an outsider’s perspective, Jack was a pretty standard guy. Boring, almost.”
“Any idea if he might have any connections to the victim of a murder that occurred eight years ago?” Kate asked. “A guy named Frank Nobilini who also lived in Ashton and was killed in New York.”
“Frank Nobilini?” Duncan Ertz said, shaking his head.
“Yeah,” James said. “Worked for that big-ass ad agency that does all the sneaker jobs. His wife was Jennifer…your wife probably knows her. Nice lady. Into community beautification projects and is very active with the PTA and things like that.”
Ertz shrugged. Apparently, he was the newbie of the group and knew none of this.
“You think Jack’s murder is linked to Nobilini’s?” Paul asked.
“It’s far too early to know that just yet,” Kate said. “But given the nature of the murder, we have to look at it from that viewpoint.”
“Do any of you happen to know the names of anyone Jack worked with?” DeMarco asked.
“There’s only two people over him,” Paul said. “One of them is a guy named Luca. He lives in Switzerland and comes over three or four times a year. The other is a local guy named Daiju Hiroto. I’m pretty sure he’s the supervisor over the Adler and Johnson NYC offices.”
“According to Jack,” Duncan said, “Daiju is the kind of guy that practically lives at work.”
“Was it common for Jack to have to work weekends?” Kate asked.
“Here and there,” James said. “He’d done it a lot lately, actually. They’re in the middle of some huge job to help bail out a nuclear decommissioning company. Last time I spoke with Jack, he said if they straightened it all out in time, there could be a lot of money involved in it.”
“I’d bet good money you’ll find almost the entire crew working today,” Paul said. “They might be able to tell you some things we don’t know about.”
DeMarco slid one of her business cards over to James Cortez and then picked a cherry Danish from the plate in front of them. “Please give us a call if you think of anything else over the course of the next few days.”
“And maybe keep the idea of the case from eight years ago to yourself,” Kate said. “The last thing we need is for the people living in Ashton to get into a frenzy.”
Paul nodded, sensing that she was speaking directly to him.
“Thanks, gentlemen,” Kate said.
She took one more long sip of her coffee and left the men to their quiet breakfast. She glanced out at the sound where a sailboat was slowly coasting out into the water, as if tugging in the start of the weekend behind it.
“I’ll get the address to Jack Tucker’s office at Adler and Johnson,” DeMarco said, pulling out her phone. And even in that, her tone was distant and cold.
She and I are going to have to hash this out before it gets out of hand, Kate thought. Sure, she’s a hard-ass but if I have to put her in her place, I won’t hesitate to do so.
The offices of Adler and Johnson were located in one of the more glamorous-looking high rises in Manhattan. It was located on the first and second floors of a building that also contained a law firm, a mobile applications developer, and a small literary agency. As it turned out, Paul Wickers had been correct; most of the team Jack Tucker had worked with was in the office. The workspace smelled of strong coffee and though there was a great deal of busyness among the eight people working, there was a somber mood as well.
Daiju Hiroto met with them right away, escorting them into his large office. He looked like a man torn—perhaps between his need to get this massive project finished on time and the humane reaction to the death of a co-worker and friend.
“I learned the news this morning,” Hiroto said from behind his large desk. “I had been at work since six this morning and one of our workers—Katie Mayer—came in with the news. There were fifteen of us here at the time and I gave them all the option of taking the weekend off. Six people thought it best to leave to pay their respects.”
“If you did not have this team to oversee, would you have done the same?” Kate asked.
“No. It is a selfish answer, but this job has to be done. We have two weeks to finish everything and we are a bit behind. And more than fifty people’s jobs are at risk if we don’t pull it off.”
“Of your team, who do you think would have known Jack