Once a Killer (39 page)

“You look like you’re in a world of your own,” Caroline said, picking up the check from the table. “Shall I put this on my card?”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. “I was thinking about work.”

“I can’t believe you’ve managed to get home so early these last two weeks. And no work this weekend, either. What’s wrong with you?”

The truth was, since Jenks had taken him off all client work while he assisted the FBI with their investigation, there had been very little to do. Rather than sit around the office, having to deal with the suspicious looks and awkward questions from his colleagues, over the last two weeks, Michael had left the office around five most evenings.

“I’m sure this is just the calm before the next storm. It won’t be long before things get hectic again.”

“I’m not complaining. It’s been lovely to have you home at a decent time for a change. You should do it more often.”

When they arrived home, the phone was ringing. Caroline ran to answer it while Michael carried in the girls’ boxed-up pizzas. He knew they’d never eat them; they never did. All the same, he made sure they were put away in the refrigerator, just in case. It was one thing for the girls to decide they no longer wanted them, but quite another for him to throw them away without permission. In the background, he could hear Caroline talking to someone on the phone in the study. Her mother would often call at this time of day, but it didn’t sound like she was talking to her, as Caroline’s tone seemed a little stilted.

Moments later, she came into the kitchen with a confused look on her face. “Michael, it’s Art Jenks on the phone. He’d like a quick word with you.” She pointed to the phone on the kitchen wall.

Michael feigned surprise. He’d been wondering when he’d hear from the Dudek’s senior partner. Part of the agreement he’d struck with Caravini was that Caravini was supposed to contact Jenks and assure him both Michael and Towers were completely innocent and had nothing to do with the leaking of client information outside the firm. Caravini must have made that call. Why else would Jenks be calling him at home?

“I’ll take it in the study,” he said, walking out of the kitchen.

He closed the study door and picked up the handset. “Art, how are you?”

“Michael, I owe you a huge apology,” Jenks said in a slow, somber tone. “I heard from Caravini on Friday evening. He made it absolutely clear that Towers had nothing to do with their investigation. I’ve just come off the phone with him, and he starts back tomorrow morning. For a young man and all he’s been put through, he was immensely gracious. I think he’ll go far.”

“I never doubted him. I tried to tell you he’s one of the good guys.”

“I know. You made that very clear from the start, and you were right. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” Jenks paused. “I’m sorry, too, that we pulled you off your client work. That wasn’t right, and I understand how it would have looked to your team and the other partners. We got that completely wrong. You deserved better than that from the firm. I just hope you can forgive me and put it behind us.”

“You had to take the FBI’s investigation seriously. I get that. While it’s been an uncomfortable couple of weeks, for what it’s worth, if I’d been in your shoes, I’d have probably done the same thing. The firm has to come first.”

“Thank you for taking it so well. I should never have doubted you or Towers. You’re one of our stars, Michael. One day, I can see you taking on my role. I mean that.”

“I’m flattered. For now, I’d settle for getting back to my clients.”

“Starting tomorrow, that’s exactly what you’ll have.”

“I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll have a quiet word with Glen first thing, just to make sure he’s okay.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate that. Thanks for making this call much easier than it might have been.”

After Michael finished the conversation, he joined Caroline in the lounge while the girls were upstairs, changing into their pajamas.

She had a quizzical look on her face. “What’s Art calling you for on a Sunday evening?”

“It was work related. Just something he had to cover before I get to the office tomorrow. I told you the quiet spell wouldn’t last.”

“He said he was sorry for having put us through all this. I just laughed, but I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. What did he mean?”

Michael thought for a moment. What could he say? For obvious reasons, he’d not told Caroline anything about the FBI investigation, and she certainly knew nothing about his suspension from all client work.

“I don’t know. I can only assume he must feel guilty about the workload I’ve had to carry since making equity partner. He knows how tough that can be for the families.”

Caroline frowned. “It didn’t sound like that’s what he was getting at.”

Michael shrugged. “I’m going to go check on the girls,” he said, leaving the room before he had to field any more difficult questions.

The following morning, Michael arrived earlier than usual at his office. There was a lot of client work to catch up on; two weeks could be a long time on an M&A transaction. He had to see where each deal was up to before he could speak to his clients later in the day to assure them he was over his recent “illness” and was now back in charge of their assignments. The first person he’d speak to when making those calls would be Etling.
What must she have been thinking?

When Michael heard Towers’s voice in the open-plan area outside his office, he asked if he could have a quick word with him in private. Towers skulked into the room, failing to make eye contact when he took a seat across Michael’s desk. He looked as if he was expecting a bollocking.

“I want you to know there are no hard feelings about any of this,” Michael said. “You did the right thing telling the FBI everything you knew.”

Towers shook his head. “I kept telling them you’d never have anything to do with leaking client information, but they just wouldn’t listen. Then they started threatening me, telling me how they were going to throw the book at me. They weren’t interested that I’d done nothing wrong.”

“I know that, Glen. They tried applying the same pressure on me.”

“The last thing I wanted was to point the finger at you.”

“You had to tell the truth. The fact is I asked you to research Grannis as a potential new client. Neither of us knew he was a crook until you discovered the rumors as part of your research. And it was a good thing you picked it up, too. God knows what might have happened if we’d taken him on as a client. Things could have been much worse.”

“I’m sorry it looked like I was dropping you in it.”

“You didn’t. I’d have acted the same way if our roles were reversed.”

There was a knock on the door, and Steve Bradford was standing in the doorway. He looked serious.

“I’m sorry to butt in like this,” he said. “Have you heard the news about Amanda Etling?”

Michael frowned. “No. What news?”

“She’s dead. She and her husband were killed on Friday night at their weekend home in the Hamptons.”

Michael looked at Towers, whose jaw was wide open, and then back at Bradford. “Oh my God!”

Chapter 56

O
NE
W
EEK
A
FTER
C
ROUTEN’S
M
URDER
, police divers pulled his bloated corpse out of the East River. There was nothing on the body to suggest who it was, but it took only a day to make the identity. The fingerprints came up on the database as a match with Crouten’s FBI’s staff records.

Caravini had to see the body before he could believe the news. While he’d reported Crouten as missing a couple of days earlier, he struggled to comprehend that he was actually dead.

“Looks like a professional job,” said the senior police officer accompanying Caravini into the viewing room at the police morgue.

Crouten’s body was lying on a gurney, covered by a white sheet from the waist down. Caravini kept staring at the bullet entry wound at the top of Crouten’s forehead, just below his hairline. His nose looked broken, too.

“Any idea where it happened?” Caravini asked without taking his eyes off Crouten.

“Not yet. They think he was in the water for about a week. He could have traveled miles in that time.”

“I guess there are no clues as to who did it?”

“There’s no evidence on the body, but we’ve yet to finish up. Is there anything you can tell us that might help? Could this be related to his work in some way?”

“Hard to tell,” Caravini said, looking up at the officer for the first time. “We make a lot of enemies in this job. It’s more likely than not this has something to do with one of our investigations. I can’t imagine anyone else doing this.”

“We’re going to want to spend some time with you going over your recent cases.”

“Of course.” Caravini narrowed his eyes. “Not right now, though.”

“I guess it can wait a day or two.”

“Thanks.” Caravini turned to go. “You know where to contact me.”

It was three miles back to Federal Plaza, but Caravini chose to walk it rather than take a cab. He needed some fresh air and a chance to think. Guilt weighed on his conscience when he remembered the hard time he’d given Crouten after learning he’d stopped the Grannis investigation. He hadn’t deserved that. Nor had he deserved being taken off the assignment and parked behind a desk, pending a move back to Washington. Caravini had allowed his own personal agenda and ambition to cloud his judgment of Crouten. For years before that incident, he’d been one of his best field agents, with instincts that were normally right on the money. Quite why he’d given up on the Grannis case so easily when the evidence was screaming out for further investigation, Caravini would never know. It was out of character. In hindsight, he should have spent more time with him to get to the bottom of it.

As he walked, Caravini pondered the police officer’s question about their recent cases. At this time, the department had five active investigations where Crouten had played a pivotal role, and Caravini ran through each of them in turn. One name kept coming back to him: Grannis. From the moment he’d seen the bullet hole in Crouten’s head, he knew in his gut that Crouten’s murder must have something to do with the Grannis investigation. While all of their cases would benefit from the disappearance of a key agent, it was hard to imagine any of the suspects in those cases doing anything like this—except Grannis. He was known to have organized crime connections, and the man had a violent past; the others didn’t.

Caravini entered the FBI building and, while swiping his entry card at the barrier, finally connected the dots. Grannis must have had something on Crouten that he could use as leverage. If not, then he must have threatened his colleague with violence. Whatever it might have been, Grannis must have leaned on Crouten in some way to stop the investigation a few weeks ago. That had to be what happened. Why else would one of his best agents choose to terminate a major case in the face of such overwhelming evidence? Somehow, Grannis must have discovered the investigation had been reopened. Maybe he killed Crouten to stop it going any further.

Crouten’s body had shown evidence of a beating, and there had been bruising on his wrists, as though he’d been tied up. Had he been tortured? Crouten wasn’t stupid. Even though he was no longer on the case, he was bound to have known something about Caravini’s sting operation. Had Grannis discovered their plan before murdering Crouten? It made sense. So far, Grannis hadn’t traded in BIX stock at all; that wasn’t right. Hoffman had told him he expected Grannis to begin buying the stock almost immediately. Apparently, that’s what he’d done on all the other deals, and yet, not on BIX.
Grannis may be on to us.

As soon as he reached his office, Caravini punched in the number for Hoffman.

“I need to see you urgently,” Caravini said, making no attempt at pleasantries.

“What’s it about?” Michael asked. “I could do without this right now.”

“I need you to do something on Grannis.”

“Haven’t I done enough?”

“It’ll be enough when I say so. Do I need to remind you that our agreement requires your ongoing cooperation?”

“Look, I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”