Her work was everything, p.1
Her Work Was Everything, page 1
Her Work Was Everything
Zachary Goldman Mysteries #7
P.D. Workman
Copyright © 2019 by P.D. Workman
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 9781989415238 (IS Hardcover)
ISBN: 9781989415221 (IS Paperback)
ISBN: 9781989415191 (KDP Paperback)
ISBN: 9781989415207 (Kindle)
ISBN: 9781989415214 (ePub)
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* * *
To those who know that work is not everything
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Bonus material
Mailing List
Preview of She Told a Lie
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Also by P.D. Workman
About the Author
1
Zachary had heard about the death of Lauren Barclay in the news before he was contacted by Barbara Lee. It seemed like such a tragic waste. A promising young investment banker, she had been tragically killed in a slip-and-fall accident in her home. It wasn’t particularly newsworthy, except for the fact that she had been an attractive, brilliant young woman, and that played well in the press on a slow news day. There were a lot of quotes from family and friends about how awful it was and what a wonderful person she had been. There would be a lot of mourners at her funeral.
But he hadn’t really given it anything more than a passing thought. He had that little twinge of regret that he got when he read about a tragic death, but since he hadn’t known her and there didn’t seem to be anything unusual about her death, he had just given himself a second to feel bad for her and her family, and then moved on with his day.
Barbara Lee had told him that she wanted to meet about the death of a friend, but it wasn’t until they sat down together for coffee that Zachary found out the friend was Lauren Barclay.
“I just can’t believe it.” Barbara sniffled and wiped at the corner of her eye. “She was so brilliant, so full of life, I can’t believe she’s gone. It just isn’t fair. She was so young!”
Zachary nodded. “I read a little bit about it… there wasn’t any hint in the news that there was foul play, though. They said it was an accident. She slipped in the tub?”
“I can’t believe that. You don’t think that’s really what happened, do you?”
He looked into her bloodshot eyes. She was probably an attractive woman when she wasn’t a complete mess. Her eyes were red, her face was blotchy; it looked like her hair had been put up into a partial bun at some point, but she had wisps of hair going in every direction and she might have slept on it once or twice since she had put it up. She smelled of sweat.
“I don’t know anything about it, so I wouldn’t venture a guess,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me what you know about it? Why don’t you think she slipped?”
Barbara rummaged in her handbag for a tissue and wiped her red nose. “I didn’t even know she was home. She worked all hours, she was always at the office. I hadn’t seen her for days. Then I got home… it was the middle of the day, and I could tell that she’d been there. I called out to her, but she didn’t answer. I figured she probably came home to change and then had left again. Or maybe she’d fallen into bed and was catching a few winks before she had to go back. But she wasn’t usually home during the day, so I didn’t expect… to find her…”
Zachary thought he should touch her arm or make some other comforting gesture, but he wouldn’t want it to be taken the wrong way. She might not think he was professional and decide not to hire him.
“I’m so sorry… you were the one who found her?”
Barbara nodded, giving another sob. A bubble of snot blew out her nose and she wiped it away. If she had been the one to find her friend’s body, it was no wonder she was such a mess. He couldn’t imagine what that would have been like for her.
“Take your time,” he told her. “You don’t need to rush into this.”
“I just want… to get it all out. Everybody wants to know, but nobody wants to hear about it. They all think that they want to hear the details, but… it isn’t like watching a murder mystery on TV. It’s something that… it’s so unreal. I didn’t know what to do. It was such a shock finding her, I felt like she was a mannequin or it was a prank, I just didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t touch her. I called 9-1-1. And then… the police came, and the paramedics, and they all wanted me to tell them about finding her. I had to keep repeating it over and over again.”
She stopped talking to wipe and blow again. Her nose was red and raw.
“But they didn’t think there was any foul play?” Zachary prompted.
“No. But they didn’t ask if there was anyone who wanted her dead or if she had a boyfriend that was violent or she had just broken up with, or anything like that. Not like on a cop show or in a mystery book. They just asked about… when I’d been home last, what time I had found her, when she would have gotten home. The paramedics asked if she had a history of epilepsy or fainting spells. Just… like it was an accident.”
Zachary nodded. He sipped his coffee, which was still a bit too hot, but he wanted to give her time to think and to calm down a little. He would get more out of her if she were relaxed and composed than if she got all wound up and couldn’t think straight.
“So what was the timing? You said she wasn’t usually home during the day?”
“No. She worked really long hours. They were supposed to be at the office before their boss got in, so like six-thirty or seven at the latest. And she would work past dark. She would come home late, sleep for a few hours, and then be back at the office before I even had breakfast. Her hours were crazy.”
“How long could she keep up like that? She must have had to take breaks on the weekend at least. Did she get a day off? Sunday?”
“She worked every day. It wasn’t a rule that they had to work on weekends, but everybody did. It was so competitive. If the other interns were there on the weekend, then Lauren had to be there on the weekend. Otherwise, people would think that she wasn’t as dedicated, and when her internship was up, they would just say goodbye and she’d have to find something else. No other investment banking firm was going to take her if she failed her internship there. She’d be… damaged goods. She’d have to find a job in something else, and she really wanted to be in finance. She really did.”
“Why was it so cutthroat? Is that normal?”
“For investment banking, I guess it is. They’re all like that. And Chase Gold is just a small firm, so if she couldn’t make it there, there’s no way that some Wall Street or Japanese company would look at her. She had to get a permanent position with Chase and work there for three years before she could go on to look for something else. No one would look at her otherwise.”
Zachary shook his head. “Why would anyone want to work like that?”
Barbara pushed tendrils of hair away from her face, making a half-hearted attempt to push them back into the bun. “Lots of professions are like that, not just finance. Look at doctors and nurses. They’re the same way. Long-distance trucking. Cab drivers.”
“They all have rules now about not being able to work more than a certain number of hours in a row to prevent people from falling asleep at the wheel or cutting off the wrong leg.”
“I guess. But this isn’t that kind of place. I don’t think there are any rules about not being able to work that long. She always worked for hours and hours. She slept at the office on the floor sometimes. Or didn’t sleep at all for two or three days. You can’t even imagine how bad it was.”
Zachary thought about that. He pulled out his notepad and jotted down a few notes to himself. Avenues to pursue. Things not to forget. Barbara’s eyes tracked his pencil as he scratched out the lines.
“You look like you’ve never held a pen before,” she commented.
Zachary’s cheeks heated. He looked down at his awkward grip on his pencil. Many teachers had tried to correct it during school. He’d moved among a lot of different schools, classrooms, and institutions, and the first thing they always tried to do was correct his grip.
“I have dysgraphia,” he said. “That’s the only way I can write. I know it looks bad to you, but it’s the only thing that feels right to me. It’s the only way I can see what I’m doing and form the letters.”
She shook her head and didn’t make any comment on his chicken scratch. He could write neatly. He did when he was filling out forms or writing something down for someone else. But it took two or three times as long if he wanted to make it tidy. When he was writing for himself, he could scrawl it however he wanted to. He could still read it. Usually. Sometimes. He could normally figure out what he had meant, even if he couldn’t read every word.
“Lauren had beautiful handwriting,” Barbara said, tears starting to make their way down her cheeks. “She should have been a schoolteacher, it looked like something out of a handwriting textbook. But…” she sniffled, “of course, teachers don’t make anything, and Lauren wanted to make a lot of money. A lot of money.”
2
“I don’t really know what an investment banker does,” Zachary said, “but I know it is something that I associate with making a lot of money. She was pretty wealthy, then?” He was thinking about motives. If there were anything to Barbara’s fears—and he had to assume for the purposes of his investigation that there was—then whoever had killed her needed a motive. And money was always a good motive.
“No, not yet,” Barbara said. “She was just starting out, so she wasn’t making a whole lot. We rented an apartment together, and it’s a nice one, not some little rat’s nest, but neither of us could have afforded it on our own. Maybe we could, but only if we didn’t need to eat or pay for heating or internet.”
Zachary nodded. “And if she was just starting, then she probably still had school loans to worry about too.”
“Yeah. All of that stuff. She wanted to get rich, but she wasn’t there yet. We are—were—both making good money for our age, but nothing like it would be if she got to be a permanent employee with a few years under her belt.”
“That makes sense. What’s the name of the place that she worked?”
“I have to look it up…” She pulled out her phone and fiddled with it. “We always just called it ‘Chase Gold,’ because it was close to that, and that’s really what they were trying to do. Chase after the gold and get as much as they could. For themselves and their clients.”
Zachary waited while she tapped through a few screens on her phone, searching for it in her contacts or on an internet browser. He made a couple of other short notes while he waited. Things to look into. Questions to ask. Who would want to kill a young woman who spent all of her time working and was still in debt?
“Yeah, here it is,” Barbara offered. “Drake, Chase, Gould.” She spelled Gould for him to make sure he got it right. “She was really devoted to her job. And I don’t just mean that she liked it or put a lot of hours in. She did, but there was more to it than that. She thought they were the best company to work for, and that they were going to get her everything she wanted. She was always saying how good the management was, how well they took care of their employees, how good the other people she worked with were. She thought they were going right to the top. That they would compete with the Goldman Sachs and Wells Fargos of the world. They just started up a few years ago, and their portfolios were amazing, especially considering how short they had been in business. Or so she told me.” Barbara sniffed and rolled her eyes. “Multiple times.”
Zachary smiled at that. Nice to hear about someone who liked her job. “That’s great.”
He leaned back in his seat. The coffee shop didn’t have particularly comfortable chairs. He supposed it was to encourage people to have their coffees and to move on, not to just camp there drinking lattes and using the free Wi-Fi all day long. He looked at Barbara.
“So what makes you think it wasn’t an accident? Tell me about the things that made you concerned.”
“You think I’m just crazy, don’t you? Everybody just looks at me like I’ve got two heads. How could a slip in the bathtub not be an accident? It’s like being hit by a bus, the classic accident that everyone uses as an example.”
Zachary waited. He wasn’t the one who was doubting her opinion or sanity. He waited for her to stop defending herself and to fill the silence with her concerns. She would, if he just waited.
“It just doesn’t fit that Lauren was even home,” Barbara said. “Like I said, she was never home during the day. Between ten in the evening and six in the morning, if she was lucky. That’s it. No weekends. No days off. No afternoons going home to have a nap. She just shouldn’t have been home.”
“What was the time of death?”
Barbara looked at him. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What time had she gotten home? You were out of the apartment from when until when?”
“I was out with a friend overnight. So I didn’t get back until… ten or eleven o’clock. That’s when I found her. But she was never home at that time of day.”
“But if she had been running a bath at six, and hit her head then, that would make sense.”
Barbara sighed. “I know. Everybody says it makes perfect sense. But it doesn’t. She was young and healthy. She wouldn’t just fall down and die. She wasn’t drunk or doing drugs. She didn’t have any diseases that would have made her pass out. To just step into the tub and fall down and die…? That doesn’t make sense either.”
“Sure. I understand that. No one expects something like this to happen. But she could have had the flu, or just wasn’t paying attention and slipped.”
“She wasn’t an old lady. Maybe old ladies slip and fall like that, but Lauren never did. If she slipped, she would have caught herself. If she got hurt, she would have called someone to help her.”
Zachary made a couple of notes of questions to pursue. He’d have to talk to the medical examiner’s office, and he really didn’t want to. He would have to psych himself up for it.
“What was the mechanism of death?”
Barbara frowned. “She… fell…?”
“Yeah. Did she drown? Or did she die from the blow to the head? Brain swelling or bleeding?”
“Drowning, I guess. She did hit her head, but then she went into the water. That’s where I found her. I guess… she knocked herself out, and then she didn’t know that she was drowning, couldn’t do anything about it.”
“The medical examiner hasn’t made a finding yet?”
“I don’t know. I guess that’s what they’re working on right now.”
“Okay. We’ll need a copy of their report once there is a finding. I’ll put in a requisition for it.”
Which meant that he would take the elevator down to the basement level at the police station. He would walk up to the desk and fill out one of the forms in his neatest printing, trying his best to avoid an intensely awkward situation with Kenzie.
He wasn’t sure how she was going to react. Things had been pretty quiet since they had broken up. He felt horrible about the way everything had ended, but he hadn’t called her and begged for her to come back. He hadn’t given her excuses for his behavior or followed her around in his car. He had done his best to just back out of her life and forget about what they had shared together.
But going back there, onto her turf, he didn’t know how she was going to treat him. Would she yell at him and call him out the way that Bridget did? Would she go all quiet or ignore him? Or just stare at him with her dark, intense eyes boring into him, hating him for the time she had wasted on him?
“Uh… Mr. Goldman?”
Zachary blinked and refocused on Barbara. It was Barbara he had to talk to and interact with. He needed to stay focused on her. “Sorry, just thinking about something. What was that?”
