“When it comes to murder, I never saw a reason to,” replied Decker.
Chapter 24
DECKER LOOKED AROUND and frowned. He didn’t like banks. Not since they had foreclosed on both his house and his car back in Burlington, leaving him with no roof over his head and no wheels under his butt.
Bradley Costa’s office at Baronville National Bank was spacious and filled with mementos from local events. The bank had sponsored everything from high school debate squads to Little League baseball teams, as well as the local Kiwanis and VFW branches.
The key to the city lay on his desk. There were no family photos because Costa had been single with no kids. They learned he had been born in New York, in Queens, gone to college at Syracuse, gotten his MBA at NYU, and worked on Wall Street before moving to Baronville.
Jamison studied the pictures on the wall. “Photo ops with the governor, the mayor, the town council, the police chief. And over there the local historical society, the ladies’ garden club, and the Daughters of the American Revolution. He was definitely a schmoozer.”
Decker’s gaze swept around the room.
It was neat, organized, efficient. And at the center of it was a man who’d been shot to death in an auto repair facility with a local drug dealer with whom he’d apparently had no connection.
They had spoken to people at the bank who’d worked with Costa. He had been uniformly described as friendly, hardworking, and scrupulously honest. They could give no reason for his murder, and none of them thought he could have had any connection to Michael Swanson.
“You think maybe Costa had a secret life no one else knew about?” Jamison asked.
Decker picked up a photo from the dead banker’s desk. It was of Costa and a young woman.
“I know her,” he said.
“From where?”
“She was the bartender at the Mercury Bar. Her name is Cindi. She and John Baron are friends.”
Jamison glanced at the photo. “Costa was a good-looking guy. And this Cindi is really beautiful. Maybe they were dating?”
“Let’s find out,” said Decker.
Jamison went and got Costa’s secretary, Emily Hayes, and they asked her about the picture.
Hayes said, “I think that was taken at a local business gathering Brad organized. He made a point of holding as many of those as possible. Baronville has some pockets of success and wealth, and Brad was good at tapping into that. He had cocktail parties and events at his home, that sort of thing. We’ve never had anyone here who really did that. He was a real go-getter. He had the energy that we truly needed. He’ll be sorely missed.”
From her look and tone Decker wondered if the fiftyish Hayes might have had a thing for the young and charismatic banker.
“So you know the woman?” he asked.
“Oh yes, that’s Cindi Riley. She owns the Mercury Bar.”
“She owns it?” said Decker with mild surprise. “She seems a little young to own a bar.”
“Well, her father owned it before her. She’s a good businesswoman, though, in her own right.”
“Were Costa and Ms. Riley dating?”
“Not that I know of, no.”
“Okay, but this was the only picture on Costa’s desk. I’m assuming he had his picture taken with lots of businesspeople.”
Hayes looked perplexed. “I don’t know what to tell you. As far as I know, Brad kept his personal life separate from work. And I wasn’t privy to him dating anyone.”
“How about John Baron?” asked Decker.
The woman frowned. “What about him?”
“Was he a client of the bank’s?”
“He used to have an account here, yes.”
“Did he know Costa?”
“If he did, I was unaware of it.” She stopped and her features turned thoughtful. “Now that I think about it, I believe the bank does hold the mortgage on the Baron property. But I don’t know the details of that.”
“Would Costa have handled that transaction?”
“It’s certainly possible, but I don’t know for sure. I don’t have the authority to look into client accounts and disclose them to anyone.”
“Okay, do you know Baron personally?” asked Decker.
Hayes pursed her lips. “No, I do not.”
“You sound a bit hostile,” said Jamison.
Hayes gave her a piercing stare. “My grandfather died in one of the Baron mines. And my mother did backbreaking work at the textile plant for years. Then she showed up one day for her shift and there was a sign on the door saying that it was closed. Permanently. No warning. And there was supposed to be a pension plan. But that was gone too. She died soon after, probably from all the stress.”
“But hadn’t the Barons long since sold out by then?” asked Decker.
She folded her arms over her chest and looked at him crossly. “And do you really think the Barons would’ve treated their workers any differently if they’d still been in charge?”
Decker said, “What else can you tell us about Costa? Did he come in to work the day he went missing?”
“Yes. He worked all day. Mr. Beecher, our president, called the police when Brad didn’t show up for work the next day and we couldn’t reach him.”
“But nothing seemed out of the ordinary at work that day?”
“Not that I’m aware of. He seemed fine. The police asked me that too, but I told them the same thing.”
“And after work, did he have plans that night?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but then again, he wouldn’t have told me.”
“Did Costa have any problems with anyone here?” asked Decker. “Or maybe with one of his clients?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“You keep saying that a lot,” said Decker. “Would you be aware of it?”
She bristled a bit but said, “I’m his secretary, so I probably would. He got along fine with everyone here. In fact, everyone liked him. He was a very happy person. As far as clients, the bank has had to call in some loans and foreclose on some properties, certainly. But people here pay their bills if they can. If they can’t and they have to lose their homes or their cars, they understand that. A contract is a contract.”
“Very fair-minded of them,” said Decker, whose tone betrayed that he did not actually believe this.
“Will you be going to Mr. Costa’s residence next?” Hayes asked.
“Why?” said Decker.
“You might want to water the flowers, is all.”
“So you’ve been there?” said Decker.
“I assisted with some of his business get-togethers,” she said primly.
After they left the building, Jamison said, “Well, she was tight-lipped, but maybe she doesn’t know anything either.”
“Or maybe she was just lying,” replied Decker.
Chapter 25
WELL, THE FLOWERS do need watering,” observed Jamison.
They were standing in the middle of Costa’s loft in downtown Baronville.
It was open and airy, with exposed brick walls, and decorated with a flair that might have come from the combination of a deep wallet and professional design assistance.
“It’s nice,” said Jamison as she looked around the space. “No expense spared, I’d say. There was a plaque downstairs that said this was one of the old textile mills. At least the Baron family left something to the townspeople.”
“Well, Costa won’t be enjoying it anymore,” noted Decker.
He glanced at a shelf built into one wall. On it were various framed photos.
He went over and studied them one by one.
“Look at this.”
Jamison joined him.
He was pointing to a photo of a Little League baseball team holding a banner.
“So what? We saw from his office that the bank sponsored baseball teams.”
“Right, but look at the coach.”
Jamison ran her eye over the tall, lean man smiling back in the picture.
“Good-looking guy. Who is he?”
“John Baron.”
“What? You’re kidding.”
He looked at the date engraved on the frame. “This was taken a year ago. So Baron coached a team sponsored by the bank but doesn’t know Costa, one of the bigwigs there?”