The Victim's Wife Page 8

  Max had been just a couple of years away from sixty-five, but I suspected that he had been still quite a ways out from retirement. He seemed like the kind of man who would have run the company for as long as they would let him.

  After further research, I was able to find a political blog that he had posted to nearly every day.

  I read through the first couple of articles, expecting to find some personal information, but it was not long before I realized that it was all just politics.

  If I found any political angles as part of the case, I would come back and review it further, but for now, I just made a note of the site’s address and considered my first initial foray of research into Max complete.

  I stared at a blank page on my notepad and wondered if there was anything I was missing about Max.

  Max had been a dynamic character.

  Taking what little I knew of Mason, and what I had just learned of Max, it was easy to believe that the two had butted heads frequently about a great many things.

  Max seemed to fit the bill of an eccentric CEO. As he didn’t have more than a handful of stockholders to keep happy, it was easy for him to focus on the perks of his job. If things were going well enough, his partners might not have cared what he did or did not do with company resources.

  On the company blog, I took note that while he was CEO, Meridian Solutions had purchased a Gulfstream jet, which he had used as his personal vehicle for gallivanting all around the country and sometimes the world, judging by the posts I found there. I had not yet seen the financials, but I assumed there had been no grumbling about his use of company resources since the company had been doing very well.

  They were doing very well if they had a Gulfstream as company property, I muttered, wondering how much money Max thought he was going to make by bringing in venture capital.

  After that, I researched Frank. He was the newest of the partners, having joined the firm within the last five years if his company profile on the website was correct. I studied Frank’s picture, memorizing his face. He had a mustache, sharp angular features, and looked like he spent a lot of time outdoors. His hair was sun-bleached, and he sported a natural tan.

  I’m basing a lot on just a single picture, I chuckled, making a mental note that many of these observations might not be true.

  I didn’t find much of interest about Frank. By the end of my research, I wondered what value he brought to the company as a partner. Frank had a technical background, similar to Vivian’s, so he seemed redundant when compared to the role she played.

  Where did Frank come from?

  Why was he introduced into the company?

  Was he in fact redundant?

  I wrote down each question on my pad of paper. I then ordered another pastry and continued my research.

  13

  When Ronald Berg agreed to meet with me, I had expected we would meet at my office or perhaps at a coffee shop or maybe even over lunch; instead, he insisted I come to his office at Meridian Solutions.

  I pulled into the parking lot and parked my car with only a small amount of trepidation. I hesitated for a moment before I got out and looked up at the big building.

  I wasn’t one who was usually intimidated, but the massive corporation in front of me spoke of enormous wealth, both on the part of my client and his partners.

  Even though it should not make a difference, people with money could influence all sorts of things that those without could not. In a way, I felt like I was walking into the den of the beast as I walked up the sidewalk, ignoring the sunshine and chirping birds as they didn’t suit my mood.

  My research into Meridian Solutions had suggested that they probably did in excess of five hundred million in revenue a year.

  Why was that not enough for Max? I wondered as I approached the door, nodding at the security guard.

  “Who are you here to see?” The gruff man asked, staring with eyes that made me feel like he was trying to see into my soul.

  “Ronald Berg, I have an appointment.”

  “Name?”

  “Mitch Turner.”

  The guard typed my name into the computer and gave me another glare while he waited for the search results to come back. “Looks like your cleared for entry. You’re to go to the fourth floor. I will know if you go somewhere else.” He sounded a little disappointed as he spoke, handing me a name badge that I clipped to the front of my suit.

  “Thanks,” I said, brandishing a smile that I hoped he found annoying.

  I will know if you go somewhere else, honestly?

  What kind of operation were these guys running here if the security guard felt he needed to make threats?

  It was no wonder why Ronald wanted me to come to him. This place was intimidating.

  The lobby was vast. It seemed to take up most of the first floor of the office building, although I did see some offices located at the back. Most were conference rooms, judging by the signs I saw on the doors.

  I glanced back at the security guard and was not surprised to see he was staring at me.

  I bet he knows who I am, I thought.

  I glanced at my watch and saw that I still had fifteen minutes before my meeting with Ronald.

  What are the chances?

  I walked back to the guard. “Do you have a moment?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Were you working the night Max Moyer was killed?”

  The guard sneered. “I’m not going to answer that question.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s none of your business, is it?”

  I nodded and gave him a smile, which made him frown all the more. “Thank you for your time.”

  Odds were good that he had been working that night. His evasiveness made me wonder if he knew something.

  I stopped a few feet away and pulled out my phone. I made a note to have Winston look into the security guard to see what he could learn about the man. I also made a note to see if he could find the security logs and security camera footage. Any relevant security camera videos should be turned over to me by the prosecution during the course of the investigation, but I sometimes had a different idea of what was relevant.

  I couldn’t resist. I glanced back at the security guard and gave him a wave and another smile, making him growl audibly. I don’t know what it was about me that wanted to provoke somebody in a position of authority, but sometimes I just couldn’t stop myself from poking the bear.

  As I had the time, I brought up some notes on my phone that I had made back in my office, reviewing all the questions I wanted to ask Ronald. I scanned through them quickly, trying to keep as many in mind as possible and hoping to make progress in finding answers to these questions today.

  As I walked towards the elevator, the door dinged, and Vivian Fuger got out.

  When our eyes made contact, I gave her a reserved smile and looked away, my typical pattern for dealing with individuals I passed randomly on the street. Vivian, however, recognized me.

  “Your Mitch Turner, aren’t you?” Vivian said, stopping in front of me.

  “I am.” I studied her and decided to play it straight, rather than pretending to be ignorant. “And you are Vivian Fuger, my client’s partner.”

  Vivian nodded. “Soon to be former partner,” she said as if it were painful for her to imagine Mason leaving the company. I took note of her expression but focused on her eyes, trying to decide whether or not it was fake. My working theory was that she was an excellent actor.

  “Really?” I said, “I have not yet heard anything about that.”

  “Yes. Mason has agreed to sell his ownership in the company, and that deal will be closing by the end of next week.” Her eyebrows rose. “And don’t you start getting any funny ideas. He came to us and suggested it was time for him to get out of the business.” Vivian shook her head. “One thing I can say about Mason, he has always been loyal to the company, even at great expense to himself. It must be like selling his own child to sell it
now, especially under these circumstances.”

  I nodded. “I see.”

  “When he made the offer, we thought hard about it but decided to take him up on it. It seemed like the smartest thing to do. I suppose Mason recognized that even if he’s found not guilty at the end of all this, something I highly doubt since I saw him right afterward, the company does not need the publicity attached to the trial.” Vivian must have noticed my skeptical look because she gave me a cold one of her own. “We have lots of important things we are working on. We can’t afford the distraction that the criminal trial of a founding member would bring.”

  “I suppose it’s natural to distance yourself from him,” I said, carefully emphasizing every word.

  “Indeed. The business must be seen to first. He understands this.”

  “Ms. Fuger,” I said, “may I call you Vivian?”

  “Sure. Most call me Viv, and you can feel free to call me that too if you like.” She gave me a smile that seemed almost friendly. It was quite the contrast when compared to the cool look I had just received, further solidifying my suspicions that she was skilled at schooling her face.

  “Viv, would it be okay if I stopped by your office today to ask you a few questions? I’m just trying to get a feel for what things were like between Max and Mason.”

  “Of course, I would be happy to meet with you. Max and Mason were both good men. Meridian Solutions would not be what it is today without either one of them. I think everybody can agree on that. I just don’t understand how they both got so angry that the situation ended up like it has; however, I’m happy to help in any way that I can.” She pulled out her phone, bringing up her calendar before looking over at me. “I’m busy for the next hour, I’m just running out to my car to get something I forgot on my way in this morning, but I could see you after that.”

  “That would be great.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  As Vivian walked away, I could not help but take note of her confident gait again. She was a woman of substance and had a bearing that I assumed came with the position of power, wealth, and prominence that she had obtained while with the company.

  As I waited for the elevator, I wondered if she was Max’s true murderer.

  14

  I was shown into Ronald Berg’s office a few minutes later, but he was not yet there.

  “He shouldn’t be long,” Ronald’s personal assistant Arnie Mercer said as he opened the door, “he had to step out after his last meeting. Can I get you anything while you wait? We have bottled water, soda, and wrapped Nabisco cookies if you’d like.”

  “Sure, a Coke would be great.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Ronald’s office was nearly triple the size of mine and looked like it belonged in the wing of a museum more than a place of business. One corner of the room contained a display of African art.

  In the opposite corner, he had pictures of him on a glacier surrounded by dogs. There was a sled and some snowshoes leaned against the wall. In the middle of the room was a conference table that seated twelve people. Along the far wall was his desk. He had four chairs in front of it.

  I decided to see how he would respond if I sat at the conference table rather than a chair at his desk, so that’s where he found me when he walked in a minute later.

  “Ronald Berg,” I said, standing and extending my hand to him.

  Ronald was a man of medium height but looked to be in excellent shape. I put him in his late forties, perhaps a bit older. He wore an expensive suit. He made me think of an older man trying hard to impress a younger lady.

  Why is this forty-nine year old trying to dress like he’s twenty?

  Vivian?

  Ronald took a deep breath and gave me a cool look before looking down at my hand. He refused to take it. “I don’t shake hands.” There was an air of superiority around him that was so palpable I could have sliced it with a knife if I had known where to cut.

  I nodded. “Where would you like to sit?” I studied him closely. He hesitated for just a moment, then pointed at his desk.

  “Would it be okay if we sat over there?” He looked at a notepad that I had already set out on the conference table. “I see you have set up here, but I would like to multitask if that’s okay. I’m incredibly busy.” He glanced at his watch. “A few things have come up, and I’m afraid I don’t have the full twenty minutes I promised you. I will give you what I can.”

  “Of course,” I said, picking up my pad and briefcase before following him over to his desk and sitting down in a chair.

  Ronald was agitated. He looked at me like I was an unwanted insect he just wanted to shoo away.

  The man was smart enough to wonder if I had been trying to get a read on him based on where he wanted to sit for the interview.

  If I’d known just how stuck up this guy is, I would have sat in front of his desk just to pander to him to see if he’d be more willing to answer questions.

  As it was, I had the distinct feeling it would not be long before I was dismissed and that his request to sit at his desk was just a precursor to that.

  I sat where he had indicated. He approached and stood behind his chair, as if thinking of telling me to leave right away, then he looked at his watch, muttered something, wheeled out his chair, and sat down.

  I had only been with the man for a couple of moments, but I was already starting to dislike him. I had come to this meeting with hopes of getting a feel for the office, particularly the upper management of the company, but I was now sure I would not walk away with much.

  Ronald logged into his computer without looking at me while muttering under his breath. I thought I heard several derogatory terms in there, including a statement about how lawyers are parasites, but I pretended like I could not hear him.

  Why did this guy agree to meet with me if he was going to treat me like this?

  Perhaps the answer was in my question. He wanted to treat me like dirt because he was in a position of power. He wanted to rub it in my face. He wanted to waste my time. I had met people like this before, and they were always infuriating, but what made it worse was getting angry at them, which was what they wanted. The only thing I could do was take it and move on.

  Regardless, I was not going to let this guy get to me. I had worked with far more arrogant people in my time, and I knew my way around handling them.

  I gave him a moment, watching him the whole time with unblinking eyes. I was tempted to clear my throat to get the conversation started, but I decided to wait, if only to see how long he was willing to play this charade before he dismissed me.

  He might have thought he was messing with me, but in reality, all he was doing gave me further ammunition to suspect him as being in league with Vivian in setting up Mason.

  You just painted a target on your back, buddy.

  It was several minutes before Ronald glanced at me.

  “Now that’s done with,” he said, “I can answer a few questions.” He looked at his watch. “I am afraid I do have very little time, so please make this speedy.”

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I appreciate it.”

  I paused to give him a chance to say something polite back, but he had no response. He had also found a sense of composure because he was no longer glancing this way or that but was now holding steady eye contact. He stared like a bird of prey waiting to pounce.

  He is just looking for an excuse to get rid of me. Time to give him one.

  “I will be as mindful of your time as I can. I just have a couple questions. I am trying to get a feel for Max and Mason’s relationship. I want to understand the tension between them. As near as I can tell, it has been there for a while, and the unfortunate event—”

  Ronald snorted. “Unfortunate event? Is that what you call murder?”

  I waited. He had more to say.

  “Well, I think it’s simple enough, isn’t it?” Ronald said, his eyes trying to bore into me like a drill.


  “How do you mean?” I asked, willing to take the bait if only to get this over with.

  “Mason lost his temper and killed Max. I just don’t know how else to put it. I don’t think there’s anything else really to say about it.”

  “From what little I know of the situation, it appears that—”

  Ronald was turning red in the face now. “It appears you are trying to set a murderer free.”

  “If now is not a good time—”

  “Will there be anything else?” Ronald’s voice was clipped.

  I hesitated. I’d been hoping to get a feel for Ronald’s relationship with Max and Mason and the office’s overall temperature.

  It appeared I had found it.

  I was starting to wonder if Ronald was stonewalling me and just trying to come off as an arrogant jerk to keep me from seeing that.

  Or maybe he had invited me here solely as a power trip.

  I didn’t have enough context about Ronald yet to frame his actions, but I could tell that further questions would be unproductive.

  “I think that’s probably going to cover it for now. Would you mind if I saw Max’s office? If Mason’s office has not yet been cleaned out, I’d like to see that as well.”

  Ronald pulled up his phone and pressed a button. “Arnie,” he said, “please show my guest over to the offices belonging to Max and Mason.”

  Ronald stood as he hung up. “I’m sorry I don’t have any more time for you today, Mr. Turner. Please excuse my brusqueness. I hope you don’t feel that this was a waste of time, I intended to answer more questions, but I’ve just too many things to do.”

  “It is not a problem, not at all.” I gave him a smile that I hoped he found irritating. “In fact, you’ve been a great help.”

  15

  Arnie approached the door to Max’s office, moving aside a piece of caution tape.

  “We put that here to keep curious employees out,” he said when he saw me looking. “The police released the scene last week.”

  “Smart. Whose idea was that?”

  “I think it was Vivian’s.”