Читать книгу Malicious - Jacob Stone - Страница 23

Chapter 16

“A soft guy like you won’t fare well in prison. If I were you, I’d use the time you got left on the outside to toughen yourself up.”

Dalton Fowler’s reaction gave him away. He should’ve either acted confused or angry; instead he froze for a heartbeat before forcing a big horselaugh.

“You’re a funny guy, Brenner,” he said, his laughter giving way to red-faced chortling.

The reason Fowler called Fred Lemmon by the name Brenner was because when Lemmon was brought in three weeks ago to fill Eckhardt Engineering’s newly created position of vice president of corporate compensation, he was introduced as Mark Brenner. This was a bogus position, and only the company’s CEO knew who Lemmon really was.

“That might be true,” Lemmon said, “but ten years in prison is no laughing matter, even if you’re lucky enough to serve it out in a federal country club instead of in the California correction system.”

Fowler decided to change tack. The amusement dried up instantly, leaving his face chalky white with indignation. He should’ve gone with indignation first, but he had badly miscalculated. His hands balled into fists as he got up from his chair and took a step toward Lemmon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in a soft, menacing tone.

“Of course you do,” Lemmon said. “But let’s not waste any more time. Just sit down, okay?”

“Stand up!”

Lemmon sighed and stood up. Fowler took another quick step forward and threw a punch at Lemmon’s jaw. Lemmon could’ve just stepped away from it, but he instead ducked the punch while at the same time driving his right fist into Fowler’s stomach. That took the air out of Eckhardt Engineering’s vice president of public relations. Lemmon took hold of his elbow and guided Fowler back to his chair, and then retook his own seat.

“Let me explain the situation to you so you don’t keep acting stupid,” Lemmon said. “My name’s not Mark Brenner and I have no idea what a vice president of corporate compensation would even do. I’m an investigator with MBI, and I was brought in here to find out who’s been selling Eckhardt’s bids to Thompson Solutions. And you’re the guy.”

Fowler sucked in just enough air to force out, “That’s insane. I don’t have access to the bids.”

“You might not, but Alice Gleason does, and I followed the two of you to the Sunspot Motel three nights ago. I even snapped a couple of photos of you while you got on her laptop. This was when she was in the shower.”

Alice Gleason was the administrative assistant to the vice president of new business development. As far as Lemmon was concerned, the company had too many vice presidents. Lemmon had also fibbed about what he told Fowler. The part about following them to the motel was true. It was also true that Gleason had brought her laptop with her. But the blinds had been closed so Lemmon was unable to see what went on inside the motel room, although he knew Gleason had taken a shower after she and Fowler had had their tumble in the sack, and he also was pretty sure around fifty minutes after they had entered the room he heard through the flimsy motel door not only the shower turn on, but also the sound that laptop computers make when they’re powered on.

Lemmon could see the calculating look in Fowler’s eyes as he remembered that the blinds had been closed that night.

“One of the slats didn’t fit right and it created just enough of an opening through the blinds for me to take photos,” Lemmon said. “But that’s only part of what I have against you. You’re done, Fowler. At least if I show anyone what I have.”

Fowler reacted as if he’d been slapped. He bit his lip and asked, “What do you mean?”

“I might want to burn what I’ve collected,” Lemmon said with a guilty smile. “I’ve got expenses with two kids in college, and I’ve had my eye on a sailboat. A Corsair. Forty-eight grand used. So I’m offering you a one-time deal. A hundred and fifty thousand and I tell Eckhardt that it’s just bad luck that they keep getting underbid by Thompson.”

“So you’re a greedy swindler,” Fowler said.

“Fortunately for you, not that greedy. Otherwise I’d be asking for everything Thompson gave you. You’re still going to make out.”

Fowler laughed bitterly. “Not after you grab seventy percent.” There was more of that calculating look, then, “I’ll give you forty grand. That’s it.”

Lemmon breathed in deeply as he manufactured a pained look. “Make it forty-eight grand so I can buy the sailboat.”

“I ought to kick the crap out of you for sucker punching me earlier,” Fowler said, his mouth forming a soft pout. “But fine, I’ll pay you. It will be worth it to never have to see your cheap, swindling face again.”

Lemmon smiled at that. “I don’t know, forty-eight grand doesn’t make me all that cheap, but whatever makes you feel better about this. I want the money wired to my account today.”

Lemmon handed Fowler a folded sheet of paper, who took it as if it were something diseased.

“You’ll get it. Now get out of my office before your stench makes me lose my lunch.”

Lemmon shook his head sadly at Fowler as he got up from his chair. “If you’re going to be a thief you should learn to treat your fellow thieves with more respect.”

Lemmon whistled the tune “We’re in the Money” as he left Fowler’s office. Waiting for him in the office he’d been given was Chester Eckhardt, the founder and CEO of Eckhardt Engineering. Eckhardt’s round, jowly face was livid with rage.

“Did you get all that?” Lemmon asked, because he had kept an open cell phone connection with Chester Eckhardt while he had been in Fowler’s office.

“Every word,” Eckhardt said, his voice shaking with anger. “I’d like to go in there now and break his jaw.”

“I don’t blame you. If it will make you feel any better, I gave him a good shot right in the breadbasket.” Lemmon tapped his own stomach. “The way the color drained out of his face, I’m lucky he didn’t puke on my shoes. The good news is you have enough now for an arrest, but I’d suggest waiting for him to wire the forty-eight thousand into the account you set up. It will make the case against him that much stronger.”

Eckhardt was still seething. “You don’t think Alice Gleason was involved?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. I grilled her pretty good. If she fooled me, she’s a damned good liar. And a sociopath.”

“I don’t believe she’s that,” Eckhardt said with a decisive nod of his head. “Just someone who got taken advantage of. But I’ll be talking to her. And I’ll be wanting to look at her banking records.” He held his hand out to Lemmon. Lemmon took it, and fought to keep from wincing. It was almost like a python had wrapped itself around his hand.

“I’d been hoping that being underbid like we were was a fluke. That sonofabitch Fowler might’ve cost my company eighteen million dollars.” Ekhardt cleared his throat, and added, “This incident has made me realize I need to open a new position. Vice president of corporate security. It’s yours if you want it.”

Lemmon thanked him for the thought, but told Eckhardt he was afraid the position would become too boring once the other employees saw what happened to Fowler. After a few more words with Eckhardt, Lemmon bid adieu. He waited until he was outside before shaking his hand crushed by Eckhardt’s beefy paw. He further waited until he was in his car before calling Morris.

“I rolled the dice like we talked about and got a useable confession, and am available to help with this serial killer case.”

“That’s good,” Morris said, his voice sounding weary over the phone. “We got another body. A doorman by the name of Javier Lopez who was working at Heather Brandley’s condo building.”

“That was fast.”

“Yeah, it was, although I think it was partly a murder of necessity. That the killer needed Lopez dead. We should be able to confirm this after we get a look at some phone records. But I also suspect this psycho wants to keep us from catching our breath. Anyway, I can certainly use you on this. Are you still in San Diego?”

“Yep, I just got in my car. I’ll call you when I get to LA.”