Lack of Jurisdiction Read online

  * * *

  “Ms. Parker,” Luc Guillot greeted. It was after five, and he was standing at the security desk, chatting with the guards. “I’m sorry to rope you into more corporate work.” His eyes twinkled, remembering my proclamation that I wasn’t cut out for this type of career. “Is there anything I can do to make sure these exercises go smoothly?”

  “As long as all relevant authorities are notified, it should be fine.” I tossed a look at Jeffrey. “We’re disabling the sprinklers to prevent any flooding or leaks.”

  “Okay. If you need anything, you have my number.” Nodding, he said good night to the security guards and left the building. A few of the guards packed their belongings and followed him out.

  “Is anyone still upstairs?” I tilted my chin at the elevator banks.

  “Three guys are still in marketing, but I notified them that any alarms that sound are just a practice drill, and the elevators won’t be operational for the rest of the evening. So you shouldn’t encounter any problems,” Jeffrey insisted. He slipped his jacket on and made sure the office door was locked. “Also, after speaking with Mr. Guillot, your MT I.D. card has been reprogrammed with complete access. Everything you need is operationally available at your fingertips.”

  “Thanks. Enjoy your night.”

  “You too.” He snorted, amused, and went to the front door. “Just don’t ransack Mr. Martin’s office.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” I winked. If I wanted to ransack anything, it would be his house, but there wasn’t much fun in that since he would consider it a precursor to moving in together.

  Swiveling in the chair, I opened the relevant files, entered the proper commands into the computer, and went to the elevator. Perhaps there was a way to bypass the locking function without redoing the entire system or placing the elevator on a separate system. I stepped inside, glad that the MT building had a wireless network to access the alarms via tablet. At least if I got stuck in the elevator, I could bypass the security. However, since I was often paranoid and a little crazy, I made sure my cell phone was shoved in my pocket. It never hurt to have a back-up. Now, if I was really crazy, I would have taken a crowbar into the elevator in case the doors needed to be pried open. Faltering slightly before pushing the button, I decided the crowbar idea really didn’t seem that crazy, but I would risk it anyway.

  Pressing the button to the seventeenth floor, I waited for the elevator to arrive at the top level of the building. Then I stepped out, activated a few of the alarms, and used the fire service mode to open the doors. Stepping inside, I pressed the close door button, and the descent to the lobby began. So far, so good.

  The doors opened in the lobby, and I hit the smoke alarms and sprinkler key to fool the system into thinking the sprinklers were activated, even though they were currently disabled. The doors were forced shut. The elevator lurched slightly upward, apparently intent on heading for the fourth floor, and halted half a second later. The abrupt stop threatened my balance, and I grabbed the handrail. Sighing, I checked the tablet for an update on the situation.

  After resetting the alarm function using the tablet, I manually entered the reset code and turned the key inside the elevator to return it to normal functioning. The elevator descended a couple of feet back to the lobby, and the doors opened. That wasn’t particularly productive.

  Starting over, I repeated the process a few times. Everything worked properly as long as the sprinklers didn’t turn on. Once they did, the elevator car would lock wherever it was, even between levels. The between levels was the most troublesome factor, and in the event someone was disabled or injured, the elevator had to be functional.

  Repeating the process with the freight elevator, it didn’t encounter any of the same issues, and I realized it was because they were on separate systems. Crap. I let out an unhappy sigh, went back to the main elevator, and started over, mentally coaxing the system to obey the few tweaks and modifications I made as I went. After several hours of riding elevators, recalculating the security systems, and all the lurching up and down, I was nauseated and pissed.

  The simplest solution was to remove the smoke sensor from the elevator that way it would go down to the lobby and remain there in the event the sprinklers were activated. It was the easiest solution and possibly the best. Furthermore, in the event of a real emergency, the freight elevator could be used as transport if the main elevator was already disabled.

  “Ma’am,” one of the men from marketing asked, emerging from the stairwell, “whenever you finish, do you think you can turn off the emergency lighting?”

  “Oh, sorry.” Hitting a button, I returned the lights to the normal brightness. I turned off the blaring sound but didn’t think about the lights. “I guess I’m not making your jobs any easier.”

  He laughed. “Thanks.” He went back to the stairs, and I decided to call it a night. Making sure all the systems were reactivated, the sprinklers were working, and the security station was locked up, I waited another twenty minutes for the night guards to arrive, and then I went home. On the bright side, my entire day wasn’t wasted checking into a murder that the police didn’t want my help with.

  Eight

  “I’m sorry to make you do this again,” Jacobs offered, letting out a long exhale and flipping through a few forms inside the folder, “but start at the very beginning. Why did you apply for a job at PDN, and when did you begin working there?”

  “Roughly three weeks ago, I heard PDN was looking for a consultant to evaluate their protocols. And after my last case, I needed something that wouldn’t be physically demanding.” I shrugged. “Anyway, this was supposed to be easy. The Secret Service hired PDN as a private contractor to assist in protecting the international diplomats and a couple of congressmen who were attending the conference. Originally, PDN wanted their security plan evaluated, and since I had previous experience devising the remodeled security for Martin Technologies, it seemed like the perfect fit.”

  “Okay.” Jacobs glanced at me, hoping for a more Cliff notes version of these facts. “How did you go from evaluating security to providing security?”

  “I wasn’t really providing security. The day before the conference, I went through a final check of the hotel with Mr. Eastman. We completed numerous drills, and something struck me as odd. The original foundation was expanded, and the subbasement led to some abandoned subway tunnels. It seemed like a potential risk.” He gestured with his hand that I move the story along. “Anyway, turns out I was overanalyzing the risk, so for my efforts, Eastman assigned me sentry duty on Monday, the first day of the conference.”

  “So until then, you weren’t supposed to be on-site during the conference?”

  “Well, since the Secret Service vetted all of us, I was supposed to be in the control room, watching the monitors, but instead, I was tossed downstairs.” I saw the question in his eyes and added, “Yes, it was on Paul Eastman’s order. He also told me to go home early that day. At the time, I was stiff and sore and didn’t give it a second thought.”

  He sucked in some air between his front teeth and scratched his chin. “Do you remember anything strange happening Monday?”

  “No. There was the occasional hotel employee running to the storeroom or service room or whatever’s down there, but I was rather isolated.” I shrugged it off, recollecting the hours alone and the boredom. “Oh wait, there was a caterer that forgot his identification, but they didn’t allow him access to the hotel. Or at least that’s what I heard over the comms.”

  He nodded. “Then Tuesday, you were upgraded to the control room?”

  “Yes.” I closed my eyes, remembering meeting with Paul in his hotel suite Sunday night and then the way our first conversation began on Tuesday.

  “What is it?”

  “Eastman was renting a room at the hotel. He took me there the day before the conference began, hoping to exploit my connection to Martin Technologies by putting the CEO in contact with one of the European businessmen for
an alleged finder’s fee. He said he didn’t have a problem with alcohol that night, but I think he was drinking before he came into the control room on Tuesday.” My eyes darted around the room, remembering minute details. “He tried again to gain access to MT’s CEO by extending an invitation to go out to dinner Tuesday night. That’s why we argued and what caused me to storm out of the room. When I came back, monitor nine was messed up, and he didn’t know why. Or so he said.” It didn’t sound like Eastman was trying to get me to leave the room, but he was distracting me.

  “Interesting distraction tactics,” Jacobs said, reading my mind. “But it’s circumstantial at best.” He stood and collected his notes. “Thanks for coming down here.” When I didn’t budge from the chair, he asked, “Was there anything else?”

  “Paul showed up at my apartment yesterday. He’s concerned and wants to hire me to prove his innocence.”

  “Huh,” he scratched his head, “well, have fun being a P.I. but don’t get in our way.”

  He strode out of the interrogation room, and I rubbed my eyes. I missed working with Detectives Nick O’Connell and Derek Heathcliff. Hell, even Thompson was a little more into the give and take than Jacobs.

  On my way out, I glanced forlornly at the empty desks in major crimes, but there were no friendly faces. Continuing to my car, I checked the time, stopped for lunch, and took my food back to my office. After my enlightening conversation with Jacobs, I was having doubts about Eastman’s involvement and guilt. Then again, there was still something incredibly suspicious about the guy when it came to Martin. I wasn’t ready to rule him out as a killer, but I was willing to play nice and hear him out. The more information I had on the situation, the better off I’d be. Knowledge could only aid my rational thought processes in making a decision. Plus, I didn’t have anything better to do.

  “Ms. Parker,” Eastman said, entering my office and glancing around, “or can I refer to you as Alexis? We were friendly before you started giving me the cold shoulder.”

  “Have a seat, Paul,” I replied, forcing my tone to remain neutral and detached. “Why don’t we start at the beginning?”

  “Well,” he gave me a half-assed smile that didn’t make it to his eyes, “I was born in a small town in Maine.” My glare would have killed someone smarter. “However, I’m guessing that’s not the beginning you were referring to. Maybe you’d rather I start with the smartass brunette who sauntered into my office building less than a month ago and asked for a job.” The retort was on my lips, but he soldiered on. “Fine, we’ll start with PDN entering the bidding wars for the government contract.”

  “And we have a winner.”

  “Look, PDN is just a job. I’ve been doing it for three or four years now. It pays the bills, has great benefits, and gets me close to the action. You remember our discussion from Sunday evening, I assume.” I nodded. “Great. It’s nice to know someone was paying attention.”

  “I’ve been paying attention, and I would suggest you cut the bullshit and get on with your story.”

  “Seriously, Alexis, what happened to us? We were friendly at work. Hell, I thought you might actually be a friend, a person to confide in. I let you lead me by the nose on that cockamamie stunt through the subway tunnels, and then I assigned you guard duty. But you pull a complete one-eighty, and I don’t know why. What gives?”

  “Excuse me?” My jaw dropped. “You think you were doing me some grand favor?”

  “Wasn’t I?” He genuinely looked confused. “I’ve read your résumé. You like to think of yourself as a cop, so I let you play the part to feel useful.” I blinked, not sure which of those incorrect statements to attack first. “No one could honestly believe that doorway in the subbasement would lead to anything, but you seemed so adamant about wanting to appear useful.”

  “It was a risk,” I rebutted, wondering why I was even arguing over moot points.

  “Whatever you have to tell yourself to get through the day. From the few MT board members I spoke with, it’s quite apparent you loathe corporate work, so letting you play guard was just me being a nice guy. And the thanks I get is you accuse me of something sneaky and underhanded, continuously insult my professional work ethic in front of my subordinates, and then to top it off, you practically threw me under the bus on the murder charge. Oh, and let’s not forget your accusations that I’m harassing and stalking you.”

  “Since you’re obviously delusional and believe all that insanity you just spewed, why are you even here? This is for paying clients, people who actually believe I’m not some hack and that I can solve their problems.”

  “Because if you’re insane enough to think some ancient door is a threat, then you won’t leave a single stone unturned when it comes to investigating an actual crime, and seeing that I’m not the killer, there’s no harm in paying you to figure out who is.”

  “Wow, apparently I’m neurotic to the point of having some type of obsessive compulsion for investigating and assessing threats, or so you believe.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You’re wrong about pretty much everything.”

  “All right then.” He stood. “This was a waste of my time.” He went to the front door, pushing it open.

  I was steaming mad, but my mouth moved on its own volition. “Wait.” He turned, the obvious victory playing across his eyes. “You’ll pay my daily rate, plus expenses and incidentals, and I want to know what your interest in Martin Technologies is.”

  “How much are we talking?” he asked smugly, stepping back into my office and taking a seat, crossing his legs in a very self-satisfied manner that I wanted to knock out of him.

  Scribbling a number on the back of my business card, I slid it across the desk. “Why were you renting a room at the hotel during the conference?”

  “I told you I like to stay close to the job.”

  “I want the real reason.” But he didn’t respond as he flipped my card over in his hands as if considering the proposal. “If you make me start guessing, you won’t like the result.”

  “Actually, I like that idea very much. I’ll tell you what,” his grin was evil, “if you can tell me why I was there and it’s correct, I’ll hire you. And if not, then maybe it’d be best if we stay away from each other.”

  “Damn, now you have me over a barrel. I can either work and collect a paycheck, or I can be rewarded with an even greater prize of never having to see you again.” I took a breath. “You were at the hotel to make contact with someone. I’d guess it was a few of the business tycoons. Maybe it was a job search. Maybe it was a booty call. Hell, maybe it was to sell secrets. I hear corporate espionage is lucrative nowadays. But let’s be real honest, whatever motivation you like to tell yourself is legitimate is horse shit. It’s really because you like to drink a little too much.”

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Right. That’s what you said in your hotel room. And since I’m being so brutally honest, the drinking thing is probably the least of your worries right now.”

  He glowered. This exercise in evaluating my deductive skills wasn’t helpful. There was little to work with, and with the limited details I knew of Paul and the conversations we had, there were only so many conclusions I could draw. Obviously, he wasn’t fond of any of them, but he didn’t storm out of my office in a huff, so I must have hit the nail on the head. I was still determining if I was pleased or upset that he didn’t leave when he took a slow, deep breath and produced his wallet.

  “Do you take credit cards?”

  “I’ll bill you. But first things first, what in god’s name drove you to request a meeting with James Martin?”

  “Can’t we start with a general apology, some mending of fences, and maybe grab a beer?”

  “Maybe drinking should be off limits while you’re in my company. And since you’re still sitting here and you haven’t been harmed, I think enough fences have been mended for the foreseeable future. We can agree to act like adults, so now, as an a
dult, would you be kind enough to answer the question?”

  “It’s more complicated than it seems.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I cleared my schedule.” He still looked uneasy, so I added, “We’ll start with an easier question. Did you hire me simply because of my connection to Martin Technologies?”

  “No.”

  “After I passed the background checks and you inquired about my references, was that when you changed your mind about my usefulness?”

  “No.”

  “Okay,” I sighed, feeling my patience wane and a kink develop in my neck, “then be a dear and explain when everything changed.”

  “Nothing changed. I just thought you’d help a guy out.” Leaning back in my chair, I swiveled slowly back and forth, waiting for an elaboration. My interrogational skills were stellar, and I could break him. Too bad I didn’t have a cup of coffee to sip slowly while eyeing him over the rim. “It was Bernie’s idea.”

  “Is that your imaginary friend?”

  “No.” He narrowed his eyes, silently communicating that my sarcastic remarks weren’t professional or particularly mature for someone in their early thirties. “Bernie’s the marketing director at Klaus Manufacturing.” Something darted across his face. “You might as well know, Alvin Hodge introduced us.” I stopped swiveling and jotted down a few notes. “If you don’t believe me, ask Alvin yourself.”

  “Paul, Alvin Hodge is dead.”