Wonder Guy (15 page)

“An understanding, eh?” Levinson eased back into his chair, steepling his hands before him. “What sort of understanding do you have in mind?”
And now to the point.

“You’ve heard of Batman, right?”

“Right.” No need to mention the size of the comic book collection he’d amassed as a teen and still preserved in plastic slipcovers on shelves in the attic. “So you’d like to keep your identity a secret, is that right?” It fit the costume, and if this guy was the real deal, he’d be a fool not to take advantage, but how would it play with City Hall?

“Yes sir. Unless you want to hear the story of my origins on another planet in another plane of existence.” The lips below the mask quirked again.

“Why should the Minneapolis Police Department make an exception for you? Why shouldn’t you follow the same rules everybody else has to follow?”
Give me something I can take to the councilmen.

“Sir, I believe in doing the right thing and that usually means following the law.”

Levinson had a few reactions to that ‘usually’ but let it ride.

“But I can be a lot more helpful to the police and the people of Minneapolis if I can keep my identity a secret. I wouldn’t want to endanger my–the people I care about if, in the course of fighting crime, I were to make enemies who might make them targets for revenge.”

“That’s understandable, and I don’t want innocent civilians endangered. But I can’t have anonymous vigilantes accountable to no one running rampant in my town either.”

“Batman got to keep his secret identity as far as the police of Gotham City were concerned, and they even had the bat signal to call him. And sir, would you rather have criminals get away with crimes I might be able to prevent?”

“Are you suggesting the Minneapolis Police Department can’t do its job in protecting the people of Minneapolis? No.” He held up a hand. “I know. It’s only too often the damage is done before we’re even called. If we had twice the manpower and there’d still be more than we could do.” In fact, his predecessor had lost the position of police chief because of the steady rise in crime rates in recent years. Not that anyone wanted to increase the department budget.

Levinson wasn’t a man to doubt his senses. He’d seen this guy flying, soaring unsupported up to the window. If there’d been any kind of wires or harnesses, he’d have seen them when the man came through the casement. “Would it satisfy you to reveal your identity to a couple of select individuals as your contacts on the force?”

Wonder Guy stepped back toward the window. “I’m sorry. No one can know. If I didn’t keep the secret I wouldn’t trust anyone else to keep it, and too much depends on it.”

Levinson reached out before the costumed man exited the same way he’d come. “Wait. I’ll tell you what.” The chief leaned further across the desk, “Save your stories about alien origins. I’ll instruct the officers handling your cases to list you as Wonder Guy and you can wear your mask and costume and a Viking helmet for all I care, while they take your witness statements. But,” his tone deepened to a warning growl, “if there’s any evidence you’re misusing the privilege we’ll revisit the whole issue.”

“Thank you, sir. I don’t know how I got these powers or how long they’ll last but I want to make them count while they do.” Wonder Guy extended a gloved hand and they shook.

Levinson’s had a vise-like grip, and had caused many a man to wince, but he might as well shake hands with a marble statue for all the give in this character’s clasp.

“Right, then.” The police chief pressed the intercom on his desk phone, “Betty, call over to the precincts handling the “superhero” cases. Tell them to send the detectives in charge up here.”

* * * *

Detective Algerson, a tall, middle-aged man with slightly balding dark hair, greeted Gloria in the lobby at ABM. He flashed his badge and gave her a nod and the dour look of a basset hound.

“I’ll want to interview Ms. Willard’s other co-workers,” he said as Gloria escorted him to the security desk to check in. As they waited their turn, she told him the same thing she’d told him earlier over the phone. She hadn’t seen Jo again after they’d returned from lunch yesterday.

“I confirmed her presence at the parade yesterday. We did find her image in some of the footage. What time did you arrive back at this location?”

“It was nearly 1:30. We were late. I’ll bet security can confirm the time we used our passes.”

“Good.” He spoke to her over his shoulder as he presented his badge at the security desk and turned to sign the register. “I might have more questions for you later, after we’ve checked that out.”

Gloria wouldn’t let go of him that easily. She had questions of her own. She turned toward the elevators, leading the way. “I can bring you up to HR and introduce you there. Then I’ll head home. The boss gave me the afternoon off.”

“Men have died for less.” He spoke dryly enough to confuse her.

“I beg your pardon?” She hit the call button for the elevators.

“Sorry, Ma’am. Police humor.” The lines of his face drooped, in no way suggesting anything related to what she’d call humor.

“That’s not very funny.”

His tone turned apologetic. “This has been confirmed as a murder investigation, and we have to consider every possible motive.”

Gloria gaped at him as they stood waiting for the elevator doors to open. Was he suggesting she might kill Jo for an afternoon off? Why would anyone want to murder Jo? It must have been some random thing, a mugging gone awry. “It couldn’t be murder. Everyone loves Jo.”

“Apparently someone felt otherwise,” the detective said as they entered the elevator.

“It must have been some stranger.” Gloria used undue force to punch the button for the fourth floor. “No one who knew her would do it. Where did you find her?”

“We’re not disclosing that information at this time. The body was moved from the scene of the killing, so we can’t discount the possibility the attack occurred here at her workplace, or anywhere else she many have been since she was last seen alive.”

Leading the way from the elevator to the HR reception desk, Gloria tried to digest this latest disclosure. None of it seemed real. Jo couldn’t be dead.

She waited until Mary finished a call and turned to them with a smile, then introduced the detective.

Gloria lingered nearby while the detective tersely explained his business.

“That’s not possible,” Mary exclaimed on hearing the news. “Jo called in this morning, said she was sick.”

“We believe the person you spoke with was the murderer, hoping to delay discovery of the crime.”

“Oh no.” Mary looked stricken, her eyes wide and face pale. “Oh, this is horrible.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’ll need your help to see that the killer is brought to justice. Please think back and tell me anything you can remember.”

“Of course.” Mary dabbed at her eyes. “But I don’t remember anything out of the ordinary.”

The detective pulled out a notepad and pencil. “Would you describe the voice of the caller for me?”

“She said she had a cold. She sounded so hoarse I’m not even sure it was a ‘she.’ It might have been a man, disguising his voice, talking a bit high, you know?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He scratched beside his ear with the pencil. “I don’t suppose you folks record incoming calls?”

Mary paused, pursing her lips. “Why, I don’t know. You’d have to talk to someone in security about that.”

“I’ll take him back and introduce him, show him Jo’s cubicle after he’s done here.” Gloria led Algerson through the security door, past the break room and back to the payroll section where Jo worked. Had worked. Jo’s cubicle stood between Patty and Anne’s and the alcove housing the fax, printers and the mail station. Now the two women from neighboring cubicles hovered at the edge of Jo’s empty space, talking in low voices. Mary must have called them from the front desk.

“You heard?” Gloria asked as she drew near.

“It’s awful.” Anne choked on the words. Her eyes shone damp. Reddened eyes and nose did little good for her pale redhead’s complexion. The evidence of tears threatened Gloria’s grasp on her own. They pressed heavily behind her face. She had to hold herself together. At least until she got home. First, find out everything possible about what had happened to Jo.

“I can’t believe it.” Patty looked stunned, as dazed as if she’d run smack into a wall. The whites of her dark eyes showed stark against her chocolate skin.

“I know.” Gloria shared a commiserating look with the two before turning to present the detective waiting behind her. “This is Detective Algerson. He’s investigating Jo’s death and wants to ask some questions.”

“That’s right.” Algerson stepped forward and Gloria made herself inconspicuous, taking a step back and to the side, near the fax machine. “Just a few basic questions. We want to establish Ms. Willard’s whereabouts prior to the time of her death.” He pulled out his notepad. “First, would you spell out your full names for me?”

Gloria looked into Jo’s cubicle. Not empty, really. Printouts lay splayed across the work area beside her keyboard. Her collection of calendars decked the bland gray walls like garlands of kittens and nosegays of Far Side cartoons. Jo’s favorite Dilbert mug sat to one side, still holding a couple inches of yesterday’s coffee. Odd, Jo never left the office without washing her coffee mug. Gloria frowned.

“When did you last see Ms. Willard?” Algerson went on.

“She was still here when I left for the day,” Patty said.

“Yeah. She usually comes in early and leaves early, but yesterday she said she wanted to finish up her project.” Anne stood with her arms crossed, holding tightly to her elbows. “She was so responsible.”

Yes and tidy.

“Do you know anything about the project she was working on?” Algerson pursued. “Or what time she left?”

“She was wrapping up reports on last year’s payroll taxes,” Patty answered. “She said she had a couple items to follow up on. I don’t know how late she stayed.”

“I don’t think she left at all, not on her own. Look.” Gloria pointed to the mug on Jo’s desk. “Jo always washed her mug out at the end of the day. Always. She liked having it clean and ready for coffee first thing when she came in.”

Patty gasped. “That’s right.”

“Oh my God.” Anne shuddered visibly. “Do you think something happened to her here?”

“No,” Algerson said, scanning the area. “I don’t see any signs of violence here, presuming your desks are always this cluttered.”

Gloria swallowed hard against a sour surge in her gut. She felt light-headed.

“The clutter’s normal.” Anne’s pale complexion flushed. “We get a lot of paperwork.”

“What’s going on here?”

Gloria had missed the approach of the stout, gray-haired woman in a gray suit-dress, and so had Patty and Anne, judging by their guilty starts.

Patty recovered first. “Oh, Ms. Dexter. This is Detective Algerson. He’s here about Jo.” She turned to the detective. “Ms. Dexter supervises HR.”

“Yes, and you should have come to me first before disturbing my workers.” The older woman’s eyes narrowed at the detective as if pinpointing strike zones.

The detective turned to Ms. Dexter. “Of course. Perhaps you’ll tell me more about the projects Ms. Willard was working on before her death?”

“Certainly. Why don’t we step into my office so these two can get back to work.” Ms. Dexter cast a significant look at Patty and Anne, and a questioning one at Gloria as if to ask what business she had being there. All business. As if the woman hadn’t known and worked with Jo on a daily basis for a couple years.

“I guess I’d better be going.” Gloria turned toward the elevators. She wouldn’t learn any more while the detective stayed closeted with Ms. Dexter.

She had to get away. Away from the reminders of Jo’s death. She still couldn’t digest it, or accept it as real. From the look of things, Jo might return to her empty cubicle at any moment, turn on the computer and take her usual seat. It seemed impossible for the world to have changed so completely in one short day.

* * * *

For the next half hour, Levinson fired off a seemingly endless stream of questions about Wonder Guy’s powers, under the claim of anticipating cases in which the hero might be of particular use to the police.

“X-Ray vision?” The chief leaned across his desk as though he might lunge at his visitor on the least provocation.