Annie Seymour 01-Sacred Cows (8 page)

“Miss Seymour? This is Allison.”

Hickey’s Allison. I’d forgotten all about her. I could tell her the case was closed, but maybe I could get another story out of this, especially since Mark Torrey was the city’s Mark Torrey. It was worth a shot.

“Hickey said I should talk to you.” Her voice was tight. She didn’t want to talk.

“Do you want to do this on the phone or do you want to meet somewhere?” I wanted to meet, I couldn’t see her face this way, gauge her reactions, see if she was telling the truth.

“I don’t like cell phones,” she admitted.

“Where are you?” I didn’t relish the idea of going out again, I wanted pizza to miraculously appear at my door, and then I wanted to go to sleep. But this could be my only shot to talk to this girl.

“I’ll meet you wherever you say.” I liked an agreeable girl.

I tried to think of a place where it was crowded enough to make her comfortable, but not crowded enough to keep us from talking. And a place that had food. “There’s a Mexican restaurant on State Street, where the street forks. Do you know it?” It had fabulous food and was rarely overcrowded.

“Yeah. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

My mouth was watering for a margarita, and I figured one wouldn’t make a difference and might make Allison more comfortable. I was already sipping it and tapping my foot to the conjunto music when she arrived.

Allison could’ve been Melissa’s twin, but blond. Her straight hair fell like silk around a perfect face and brought my eyes down to a perfect figure. She was about twenty, with intelligent eyes.

Since mine was the only table occupied by a single woman, Allison came over and slid into the chair across from me. “You must be Anne Seymour.”

I nodded. “I’m having dinner. Would you like something?”

She picked up a chip and nibbled it without dipping it in the salsa. “No, I have plans for a little later.”

I wanted to scream, what the fuck are you doing, but that would’ve been too much like her mother and not at all like an objective reporter. Shit, I was old enough to be her mother.

“I understand you and Melissa saw people from McGee Corporation.”

Allison nodded. “They liked her better than me, but if she wasn’t available, they asked for me.”

“Hickey says it was three different guys.”

“They were all pretty nice. They tipped well.” She kept moving her eyes so she was looking behind me, probably embarrassed. I didn’t blame her.

“Can you tell me anything about them? We’re having a hard time tracking down anything about the company.”

She picked up another chip. “They all thought they were pretty hot stuff.”

“Can you describe them?”

For the first time she looked me straight in the eye. “I met all three guys at different times. They’re all in their early thirties, very well dressed; one took me to the theater, the others to a couple of charity events. They seem to know everyone. I was surprised they didn’t have wives or dates and that they had to go through the agency.”

“The fast track?”

“Definitely.”

My tacos arrived, three of them, wrapped up tightly in soft tortillas, the guacamole ready to be slathered all over them. I took a bite and washed it down with a slug of margarita. Nothing was better than this.

“Did you ever meet Mark Torrey?”

“Oh, yeah, I saw him a couple of times. He was the best.”

I didn’t want to ask what he was best in, and she continued without seeming to notice my cringe. “He is the youngest, but he bragged he was head of the company. Said he’d be a millionaire by the time he was thirty-five. Kept talking about some project involving some company with a Norwegian name.”

“Lundgren?”

“Yes, that was it.”

“Did he say anything else about it?” I put my taco down.

“You’ve heard of it?”

I nodded. “They’re a big development firm, the city’s pushing them for a redevelopment project. They’ve already done some studies. What does McGee have to do with it?”

Allison shrugged. “All Mark said was something about how his company was going to make it all possible.”

I pondered that for a few seconds. I’d heard the city was trying to get some sort of grant for this project, which as of yet did not have a cute name attached to it. I didn’t cover that part of the city and had only a peripheral knowledge of the project, but if Marty hadn’t heard of McGee before, either, then maybe no one had.

“Did you ever go to the apartment?” I asked her abruptly.

She stared at the table and I saw a blush creep over her cheeks. “Yes,” she said.

“Listen, Allison, it’s not for me to judge what you do, but I guess I just don’t understand how a pretty, smart girl like you would do something like that.” I resumed eating my tacos, unwilling to let them get cold.

“It’s good money,” she said quietly.

“Is it that good?” When I wanted extra cash in college, I typed kids’ English papers.

She smiled, the blush now gone. “Yes. You’d be surprised.”

No, I probably wouldn’t be.

“I don’t come from a rich family. I’m on scholarship.” Which made it even more sad, but I didn’t say anything. “Melissa, well, I’m not sure why she did it, I think mostly because she knew if her parents ever found out they’d really hit the roof. They’re loaded, she really doesn’t, didn’t, need the money.”

“Are there drugs involved?”

Allison looked away again, and I could see the truth in her profile, but I waited to see if she’d tell me.

Finally she turned back to me. “Those guys, the McGee guys, they always had coke on them, and once they tried to get me to do heroin. But I’m not into all that. I’m not sure about Melissa. We didn’t talk about the drugs. But I think maybe she got off on it. She got off on a lot of bad shit.”

“Do you know David Best?”

“Sure. He was at that party that night, bugging her again.”

“Bugging her about what?”

“Oh, she let it drop what she was doing later that night, and he was pissed. He didn’t want her to see anyone else, even though they broke up. He was really possessive.” No news there. “When she called me later, she said he’d followed her from the party.”

“She called you?”

“She was out with Mark. He wanted a threesome.”

I tried not to let my shock show. “So.” I kept my voice even. “Did you go?”

Allison shook her head. “I couldn’t. I had a test the next morning and had to study. But she was upset about David. Said she thought he was outside the building.”

No shit. “I wonder how he got in,” I mumbled to myself, and Allison frowned.

“What?”

“They arrested him tonight, David. Didn’t you know? They found his fingerprints in the apartment, someone saw him in the hallway.”

“But that’s not possible.” She seemed so sure.

“Why not?”

“She wouldn’t have let him in. Neither would Mark.” She had a point.

I needed to talk to Mark Torrey and the other McGee guys. I had a nagging feeling in my gut that something was very wrong with all this. “If you see Mark again, or any of the others, could you let me know? I want to talk to them.”

Allison frowned. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

Now she gets a conscience.

“Listen, I don’t think these guys are on the up-and-up, I’m not sure what it is, but it could be dangerous for you.” I needed to talk to them and I wasn’t above scaring her.

She shrugged. “I’ll see.”

I handed her my business card. “I’d really appreciate it.”

I finished my tacos and margarita after she left. I hoped she’d reconsider.

CHAPTER 7

I found a pair of black trousers in the back of my closet and put it together with a white short-sleeved blouse. It was too warm for a blazer, but I figured it looked solemn enough for the memorial service. As I ate a bowl of Rice Krispies, I remembered my mother said something about the Peabodys contacting her firm. Maybe I could try to find out something at this service. It would be crass to talk to the parents, but there was always a close friend or relative who might know something and would be willing to talk.

I tried to call the City Hall reporter before I left. I needed to ask him if he’d heard about McGee in all the discussions about Lundgren, but he wasn’t home, even though it was a Saturday morning.

The newsroom was a wasteland of piles of paper, idle computer terminals, and a faint smell of Chinese food and popcorn. Dick Whitfield sat in my chair, typing furiously. I threw my purse down on the desk.

“A roomful of computers and you pick mine?”

“I didn’t think you’d be in.” But he didn’t seem surprised to see me.

“Save that and get into the electronic library. Do a search on Lundgren and McGee.”

He stared at me. “Are they connected? I mean, no one has made that connection.”

At least he knew who Lundgren was. “Just do it.”

No hits on both together. Only on Lundgren, nothing on McGee. We stared at the screen.

“What’s going on?” Dick asked.

I shrugged. “Beats me. But my source says McGee is involved somehow in the project.”

“No shit.”

I skimmed the latest story about the city’s redevelopment plans. Lundgren’s design and engineering studies were completed a few months ago, and the city was trying to secure some grants for the project. Where would McGee come in? Maybe Torrey was just talking out his ass when he bragged to Allison. But I couldn’t help but think there was something there. Call it weird intuition.

“There’s got to be something here,” I said.

I suddenly remembered Dick was supposed to be the enemy. But I just wasn’t in the mood.

Dick was scrolling through the headlines, and something jumped out at me. “Stop, go back a couple.”

“Torrey joins City Hall staff,” I read. “Click on it.”

Mark Torrey was appointed assistant corporation counsel. He formerly worked for developer Lundgren and Associates. Shit. If he was involved with the redevelopment plans on behalf of the city, this was a huge conflict of interest. Or a big fucking scandal.

“He’s got to be a major player,” I said, more to myself than to Dick. “Why did he leave Lundgren for the city? The city pays shit, he probably was rolling in dough before.”

“He says here that he wanted to ‘give something back’ to the city he grew up in.” Dick was getting into it, even though we didn’t know what we were getting into.

“Bullshit. There’s money for him in this, and probably for a lot of other people, too.” I wondered if Torrey was really in California.

I thought about Allison and wondered if she saw Torrey or one of the other McGee guys last night after she saw me. It was possible. She was a little squirrelly. I wished I hadn’t given her a carte blanche off the record and that I’d gotten her phone number. I’d have to go hunting her down at the school, and who knew if I’d have any luck.

The phone rang, startling both of us.

“Newsroom,” I answered.

“I thought I’d find you there.” I’m sure my mother has embedded some sort of radar tracking device on my person without me knowing about it. Either that or she really is the genius she likes everyone to think she is.

“What’s up?” I was watching Dick scroll down through more headlines.

“Tonight, dear. I’m calling to make sure you haven’t forgotten.”

I sighed dramatically. “No, Mother, I haven’t forgotten,” although I almost had. But I wouldn’t let her know that. “Eight o’clock?” I was guessing, I couldn’t remember if she’d given me a time.

“That’s right. Wear something flattering. Maybe you could have your hair done, it always looks like you’ve just come out from under a helicopter.”

I bit back a smart retort that would get me nowhere. I had no intention of “having my hair done,” but now I would be self-conscious about it all night.

“I’m a little busy,” I tried.

“I’m serious, Anne. I want you to look your best tonight.” She had an ulterior motive, and those usually involved a man.

“I don’t want to get fixed up,” I said, very aware of Dick’s eyes on me and not on the computer. I didn’t want him knowing my business.

“He’s just someone I want you to get to know. Just be friendly.” I heard the dial tone and hung up.

“Your mother found a man for you?” Dick’s eyes were laughing, and he was trying not to smile. “What about that cop?”

“I don’t want to discuss it.” I stared at him, hoping looks really could kill, but he just continued to sit there. “We need to find out what’s going on with this city project. I wonder where Kevin is.” Kevin Prisley was the City Hall reporter.

“He’s in Block Island for two weeks,” Dick volunteered. “Left yesterday.”

Why wasn’t I in the loop anymore? Maybe I really should leave this business, if I couldn’t even keep tabs on my colleagues and this boob could.

The boob was talking. “Maybe you could do this escort thing and you could meet these guys undercover.”

I didn’t think so. “Give me a break, Dick. Hickey Watson already told me I wasn’t exactly what his clients are looking for.” And after spending time with Allison, I knew I didn’t want to be on the inside in that world.

“But they wouldn’t have to know anything about you before, well, your date. And maybe you could ditch them after dinner or something, after you get your information.”

I shook my head. “I can barely get through one of my mother’s dinner parties without vomiting. It would be a disaster.”

Dick was quiet for a moment. “You know, Annie, your mother is in the in-group. She knows everyone. Maybe she knows about Mark Torrey and McGee, and Lundgren.”

I’d had the same thought, but it was too horrifying to think we were both on the same wavelength. I had seen Torrey at one of her parties, so this was not out of the realm of possibility.

“Maybe this dinner party won’t be a wash, maybe you could ask some questions. Do you know who’s going to be there?”

The usual players, I was sure of it. My mother’s firm’s partners, some politicians, some high rollers. I’d met them but paid them no mind, just like I ignored my father’s friends. Sometimes I wished I were an orphan. I sighed, the last two days settling into my shoulders. I was tired. “I really don’t want to work tonight.”

“But you don’t want to go to this party, either.” He paused for a second, then, “Why don’t I come as your date? Then your mother can’t get on your back about men and we can both ask questions.”