that managed to get to the crime scene before he did. âNeedlessly conspicuous way of disposing of the bodies, all right. Show-offy.â
âThe whole schmear of handcuffing them together and shooting them through the eye,â Marian went on, âall that had to be aimed at getting coverage on the news. Thereâs no other reason for it. It was meant as a warning.â
âUnless thatâs what weâre supposed to think,â Foley said with a smirk.
âBut a warning to whom?â Marian asked, ignoring him.
âYah,â the captain said, âand a warning to do what? Pay up? Keep their mouths shut? Toe the line? Weâve got to find out what our four dead men were up to lately.â
The families of the murder victims had been notified. Theyâd all been awakened in the middle of the night to find a uniformed police officer and a plainclothesman waiting at the door, their terrible news clear on their faces. All but one: the youngest victim had had no family in New York. It had been Captain DiFalcoâs job to call the young manâs mother in Idaho and break the news.
The youngest victimâs name was Jason OâNeill. He was twenty-nine years old and had been with Universal Laser Technologies for two years. Prior to that heâd been employed by a PR firm until Universal lured him away to do the same sort of work for them.
âI asked his mother if she still had Jasonâs last letter,â Captain DiFalco said. âEvidently he didnât write much, but he called every week. Mrs. OâNeill said he hadnât sounded worried about anything the last time she talked to him, which was Thursday. He said heâd just got back from Washington, where heâd met with a congressman from Maine, and he was going back next week for an appointment with Senator Wagner of Wisconsin. The whole conversation sounded to me like a little bragging, a little name-droppingâjust the sort of thing to make a proud momma even prouder. She had no idea what he was working on.â
âMaybe the answerâs in Washington,â Foley said hopefully.
So Jason OâNeill was a small-town boy making good in corporate America, meeting with the nationâs lawmakers and doing Important Things. âHe must have been a real hotshot,â Marian said, âif a firm like Universal Laser would send a twenty-nine-year-old to represent them in Washington all by himself. Or did they? What about the others? Were they in Washington too?â
DiFalco didnât know. âThatâs something weâll have to find out. I want you to contact Universal Laser as soon as you get your team organized, never mind what time it is. Do you want to split this list, or what?â
âLetâs see what Universal has to say first,â Marian suggested. âWhat does the FBI have on the others?â
The elder statesman of the four victims had been named Conrad Webb. In sound health at sixty-seven, heâd been with the firm since its founding, always on the business end, and was in fact a principal shareholder. The FBIâs list of Webbâs industrial and governmental contacts read like a Whoâs Who of shapers and movers.
â Government contacts,â Foley stressed. âThe answerâs in Washington, I tell you.â
Webbâs children were grown and scattered about the country; his sixtyish wife had collapsed when the officers brought her the news, Captain DiFalco said. Mrs. Webbâs housekeeper had chased the police away, telling them to come back later. âSend somebody, or go yourself,â the captain told Marian.
The wife of the bald murder victim had been more stalwart; sheâd excused herself when she learned her husband was dead and then returned a little later, red-eyed but relatively composed, to ask for details. The bald manâs name was Sherman J. Bigelow; he was fifty years old and had been the head of Universal
Yusuf Toropov
Allison Gatta
Alissa York
Stephen J. Beard
Dahlia West
Sarah Gray
Hilary De Vries
Miriam Minger
Julie Ortolon
M.C. Planck