The Missing Piece

Detective Myles Baptise strode into the precinct, clocked in and shuffled over to his desk. Balding and a bit paunchy, he felt every bit of his almost sixty years. Yet, the man’s eyes were very much alive. His eye for the tiniest detail was legendary. It seemed that at least once a year he solved a case his colleagues had abandoned. It was twenty minutes before his shift was about to start, but he liked to get in early, an old habit. It gave him time to drink a cup of coffee, black, no sugar, and if he was in the mood, to chat with Detective Bob Brower, who worked the midnight shift.

 But Brower, whose shift was almost over, wasn’t at his desk, so he sat quietly looking out his second-floor window at the tree tops. The leaves were still green, but he thought he could see just a hint of red. Summer would soon turn to fall, which meant cooler weather.

 “Myles, if you’re out there and just sitting on your ass come on in here.” Captain Gordon Duncan called to him. Although the captain’s office was situated around the corner where he couldn’t possibly see whether Myles had arrived, he had heard the distinctive loud squeak Myles’ chair made when it moved.

 “I’m not in yet, Captain. Won’t be here for fifteen minutes,” Myles said, as he stood. He walked to Duncan’s office and saw Detective Brower sitting there, smiling.

 “Good morning, Myles,” Duncan said. “I was just giving Detective Brower here his assignment for tonight’s shift when a call came in to get someone from Homicide over to 1855 Old Hickory Place. Looks like some dame caught one in the left temple last night. Home invasion maybe.”

 Myles looked at Brower and whistled. “You take that one. That’s a big money area. They’re going to want a white face on that job,” he said.

 “Right, wealthy people prefer to wait until midnight for a little thing like murder. Gives them time to hide their jewelry,” Brower said.

 “Cut the crap,” Duncan said. “Myles, we’re short staffed. You guys both know that. Looks like it’s going to stay that way for a while. Bob, you’ll work the Elliston Diner thing tonight and, Myles, dark though you may be, get out to the home of Brian and Monica Hill and see what the hell happened.”

 Both men got up to leave, but Captain Duncan motioned for Myles to wait. “Myles, I don’t have to tell you why you got this case. The brass is going to be all over us to get this one solved quickly. Brower’s a good man, but he doesn’t have your instincts.”

 “Am I supposed to be grateful, Gordy, politicians looking over my shoulder?” 

 “You’ll be fine,” Duncan said. “One more thing. Be careful about the racial stuff. This isn’t like the old days. You open that door with the guys and they’ll run right through it. How many times do I have to say it?”

 Myles laughed. “So, it’s okay for you to say shit like, ‘dark though you may be’ but I can’t kid around?”

 Duncan put up his hands and said, “Guilty as charged. Just try to get this case nailed down quick. That Hill dame was a top-level executive at Pronto, well known in the community. This case is high profile all the way.”

While he drove out to what appeared to be a murder scene, Myles hoped it would turn out to be a suicide. He already had a lot on his plate. He thought about the company where Monica Hill had been working. Pronto was the largest publishing company in Nashville, producing e-books, magazines and music worldwide. The company was a major sponsor of both the Tennessee Titans football team and the Nashville Predators hockey team.

 Considering her address, he had no doubt that Monica Hill was a wealthy woman, welcome in the city’s top business and social circles. Now, she was dead. Where was her husband? Caught in traffic, he decided to call Sandra. “Hey, I just caught a rather high-profile case,” he said.

 “No, not the Monica Hill murder,” Sandra said. “It’s all over the news this morning.”

 “Yep, that’s the one.”

 “Why you, Myles?”

 “Because I’m the best detective east of the Mississippi, that’s why.”

 “What about west of the Mississippi?” She asked.

 “Well, that too, but I don’t like to brag,” Myles said. Sandra and Myles, married some 35 years, had two children, both grown and out of the house. Their son had just graduated from law school and their daughter was half way through an MBA program at Vanderbilt. They were proud parents and also heavily in debt thanks to student loans. Empty nesters now, they rediscovered each other. They were lucky and smart enough to realize it.

 “I wonder how your brother’s Pronto stock is looking this morning,” Myles said.

 “Not funny, Myles,” Sandra said. Her brother, a financial planner, was always offering stock tips. “You might get some media attention, honey. Monica Hill was a high-flying executive, Senior Vice President of Marketing.”

 “Guess I should have worn a bowtie this morning. They say anything about the husband?”

 “Only that he was out of town. You know what that means.”

 “Now, Sandra, you know better than to jump to conclusions.”

 “You telling me you’re not suspicious?”

 “I gotta go,” Myles said trying not to laugh. “See you tonight, probably late. I’ll call you later.”

At the Hill home, Myles was greeted by two uniformed officers and a crime scene investigation crew. The property was swarming with cameramen and reporters, standing on the immaculate front lawn waiting for updates. Myles walked into the home and turned left from the foyer into a spacious home office. A woman’s body was lying there in front of a desk. “Hey, Myles. You caught this case? Who did you piss off now?” Asked Marc Slifer, the first patrolman called to the scene.

 “Must have been God himself, Marc. Otherwise I would’ve been playing saxophone for the Nashville Symphony instead of working another homicide.”

 “Symphony? Please, Myles, a jazz band maybe.”

 “That would be okay too. What do we have here?”        

 Officer Slifer ran through what they knew so far, which wasn’t much. A PR representative for the Nashville Police Department stood by listening. A housekeeper had found Ms. Hill lying face down on her office floor, a single gunshot wound to her left temple. There was no sign of forced entry and the gun’s shell casing was missing. “The CSI guys are looking for prints, screwing around with blood spatter patterns, the usual,” Slifer said.

 “Time of death?”

 “Sometime between ten o’clock last night and maybe two o’clock this morning.”

 “Where’s the husband?” Myles asked.

 Slifer smiled. “On his way home from the Upper Peninsula in Michigan.”

 “He’s been informed of his wife’s death?”

 “Yeah, Marty Briley told him,” Slifer said.

 “Where’s Sergeant Briley now?”

 “Writing a report in his car, probably. You didn’t see him when you came in?”

 Myles left the office and started to walk over to Briley’s car, but the PR officer stopped him. “Don’t talk to the media, Detective Baptiste. We’ll take care of that.”

 Myles pushed past the officer and walked out to the long driveway. He spotted Briley sitting in the passenger’s seat of his vehicle. When Briley saw him approach, he stepped out of his car and waited until Myles was about six feet away. “The husband,” he hesitated and checked his notes, “is Brian Hill. The guy was really broken up when I told him. One of the worst reactions I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen some beauts,” Briley said.

 Myles nodded. “I’ll take him off the suspect list immediately then.”

 “Don’t be a wise ass, Baptise. I’m just telling you how the man took it. Not good.” 

 An hour later, Brian Hill arrived. A tall, sandy haired man who wore wire rimmed glasses, he jumped out of the patrol car that had picked him up at the airport and sprinted toward the house. Standing at the front door were two officers who knew what to expect. They restrained him and explained that his wife’s body was already on the way to the morgue.

 “Take me there. I want to see her. Do you know who did this? I want some answers.”

 Myles had been standing nearby, purposely watching to see how Mr. Hill behaved. Very few people realize how many times homicide detectives go through scenes like this one. Myles knew that guilty people have a way of telling on themselves.

 “Mr. Hill, I’m Detective Myles Baptise, Nashville Police, homicide. I’m sorry for your loss. We do need you to identify your wife’s body, but I have a few questions I’d like to ask before we do that.”

 Brian Hill relaxed his body and took a good look at Detective Baptise. “Can it wait? I’d like to see my wife, please.” Hill, his eyes already red, started crying again.

 “Murder cases are best solved within the first 48 hours, sir. I need your help, please.” Myles’ tone was gentle.

 “I wasn’t here. I was in Michigan. I don’t know anything.”

 “I understand. But, it’s possible you know something and don’t realize it yet.”  Myles took Hill by the arm and steered him past the spot where the outline of his wife’s body was and into the kitchen.

Hill was shaking and mumbling to himself, “Who would do this? Why would someone shoot Monica? My God!”

 By noon, Myles was sitting at his desk, waiting for the CSI report. The autopsy would take time, but considering Monica Hill’s stature, it would probably be expedited. Captain Duncan walked over to his desk, stroking his chin, which had a few days of stubble on it. He was trying to grow a beard again. “First impression?”

 “Husband’s in the clear, I think, but too soon to write him off. We’ll need to check phone, text messages and financial records, the usual stuff.” 

 “His demeanor seemed about right then?”

 “So far. I gotta tell you Captain, we got very little to go on. One thing we noticed, though, was her cell phone and laptops were missing. We had Mr. Hill look around to see if anything else was missing, but he didn’t think so”

 “Phone company and ISP should be able to retrieve most of what’s missing anyway,” Duncan said.  “Nice house?”

 “What do you think? Three acres of land. No one heard a shot or saw a vehicle pull in or out of the place. It’s a palace, no doubt about it, ten thousand square feet of luxury,” Myles said. He took a bite out of a pulled pork sandwich he’d picked up at a food truck on the corner. Captain Duncan turned to go. “Oh, I almost forgot Gordo, I saw something Anita will find interesting.”

 “I doubt it.” Anita was the captain’s wife.

 “Well she likes to do jigsaw puzzles, right? We found a card table with a halfway done puzzle about fifteen feet from where the shooting happened.”

 “Yeah? Must be a large office.”

 “Every room in that house is huge, so why would the woman with all those rooms use her office to do a damn jigsaw puzzle?”

 Duncan laughed. “You ask the husband why?”

 Myles grinned. “You know I did. He said she did puzzles when she needed a break from work.”

 Two days after the shooting, Myles had Brian and Monica Hill’s phone and computer records as well as their financial transactions. He asked his colleague, Bob Brower, to work overtime one morning and help him sift through the documents.

 “Well, if this lady was having an affair, she did it the old-fashioned way; payphones and unsigned Hallmark greeting cards,” Brower said.

 “Is that how it’s done?” Myles asked, smiling. “The husband’s clean too. No recent life insurance policies, either, no secret G-Mail accounts, nothing.”

 “No kids, right?” Brower asked.

 “None.”

 “What about family and friends? What did they think?”

 “Molly and Sam according to everyone I spoke with.”

 “Molly and Sam?” Brower asked.

“You never saw the movie, Ghost, the one with Whoopi Goldberg?” Myles leaned back in his chair. It squeaked.

 Brower got up to get coffee. “Yeah, I saw it; about thirty years ago. Who remembers names like that?”

 “Details, my friend, details.”

Myles was confident now that he could rule out the husband as the perpetrator. It wasn’t just the lack of any forensic evidence that might have incriminated Mr. Hill. No, this guy had quickly become a pain in the ass.  Myles had given the guy his business card the morning they met. Now, the guy was calling two or three times a day for updates, asking Myles if he’d talked to so and so yet, people who worked with Monica, people who worked for competitors. Brian Hill had even offered Myles a list of names, men Monica had dated as far back as high school.

 Myles knew that most of the men who killed their wives often gave themselves away by avoiding contact with the officer working the case. Not so with Mr. Hill. When a candlelight vigil was held for Monica, standard in cases like this, Myles was impressed that Brian refused to participate. Candles weren’t going to bring his wife back. The man really was broken by what happened to her. Naturally, the homicide squad made sure to have a few of its men and women attend the vigil. A photographer took pictures. Like Scott Peterson and a host of other highly publicized cases, it wasn’t uncommon for the murderer to attend these things. It was long shot of course, but ignoring the event would have been a mistake.  

 The forensic reports were no help either. As he expected, there were no prints found that might lead to a suspect who had a record, a B&E guy, maybe a robbery gone wrong kind of thing. Myles was sure the autopsy wouldn’t reveal anything either, like illicit drugs in her system, a drug deal gone wrong.

 The staff working Monica’s vigil had done a good job of gathering and organizing names and the contact information of many of the people who were in attendance. The single largest category of attendees was people with no apparent connection to Monica, the ones just looking for something to do that night. The next largest were her co-workers. Pronto was a large company.

 “Hey, Captain, you got a minute?” Myles asked.

 “Make it quick.”

 He walked into Duncan’s office and sat. “I got nothing on the Hill case so far. I’m going to see what I can do at Pronto. I need to interview some of their execs.”

 “I was hoping that wouldn’t be necessary,” Duncan said. “Damien Lesnak, called your old buddy, Pat Tedesco to let him know they want the case resolved quickly, but made it clear to the chief he doesn’t want his people or the company’s name run through the ringer.” Lesnak was Pronto’s CEO. Myles and Chief Tedesco had been partners for eight years.

 “And?”

 “And he’s a heavy hitter, contributes to both parties at election time. A pillar of the community” The captain shook his head. “Regardless, it’s the right thing to do since we’re getting nowhere. Go ahead, but be discreet and wear your best suit.”

 “I’m wearing my best suit. I just finished putting my kids through college, remember? Maybe the department can get me a new suit, something nice. A new shirt and tie too.”

 Duncan waved him off. “In case I’m asked by our friends upstairs, I want a list of the people at Pronto you plan to interview.”

 “Got it. Can I at least expense a new shirt and tie?”

 Duncan shook his head. “Get out of here.”

Myles went back to his desk and called Damien Lesnak. He reached his assistant, Judie Rodriguez, and explained his purpose. He gave her a list of names and asked that she clear it with Mr. Lesnak and schedule each person in turn. He wanted to start with Ms. Hill’s closest colleagues. 

 “This will take a while to put together. I assume you’d like to see Damien too?”

 “Yes, please. I’d like to start with him, if possible.”

 “Fine, I’ll call you as soon as I have everything arranged. Might not be until tomorrow. Is that okay?”

 Myles was fine with it. It would give him the rest of the day to catch up on another case he’d been working on.  

 When he got home that night and told Sandra about scheduling interviews with Pronto’s top executives, she insisted they dip into their emergency fund. “Honey, I don’t want those people looking down on you. You need a new suit anyway.”

 “Maybe it’d be better if I go in there looking more like Columbo. Let them underestimate me.”

 “Do you really think the answer to this crime is located somewhere within the walls of Pronto? You realize how big they are? Their reputation is excellent.”  

 “Good point Sandra. Maybe I should buy the suit and apply for a job instead of looking for Monica Hill’s murderer.”

 “Hush, fool. I doubt you’ll find your perp there, but if I’m wrong, whoever did this is as good as caught.” They kissed then and Myles wanted to push the matter further, but Sandra said she had to get dinner on the table.  

Two days later, Myles showed up at nine o’clock, in a new Joseph A. Banks suit, white shirt and a colorful new tie. He was ushered into Damien Lesnak’s outer office, which was surprisingly modest.

 “Thanks for coming in detective. We’re all devastated by Monica’s death. Have you made any progress on the case yet?”

 “Some, but we’re really just getting started.” Myles said.

 “Do you have any questions for me?”

 “Yes, I do.” Myles hesitated for a moment. “Forgive me for asking Mr. Lesnak, but where were you on the night of the murder?”

 “Wow! You do get right to it, don’t you, detective? I wish some of my associates would be as direct as you are. To answer your question, I was home alone. I remember because, sadly, I was working on Monica’s performance review. She was a stellar performer.”

 “I see. Where were your wife and children?” 

 “My wife took them to visit her parents in Atlanta for a few days.”

 “Thank you, Mr. Lesnak,” Myles said. “Just one more question for now. Have you ever been in Monica Hill’s home?”

 “Never. But she and her husband, Brian have been in my home a couple of times.” 

 Myles wrote the response in his notebook. “I believe I’m ready to meet with your key employees.”

 “By all means, detective. For the record, we refer to our people as associates. Is there anything else I can do to assist you before I get you over to the conference room?”

 “I know our officers have inspected Ms. Hill’s office, but I’d like to see it for myself at some point.”

 “Of course, when your interviews are completed, I’ll personally escort you.” Damien gently touched Myles’ elbow and pointed him toward the conference room. When they got to the room Myles saw an array of juices, coffee, fruit and pastries. “Help yourself detective.” He smiled and turned to go, but stopped for a second. “Nice suit,” he said. Then he was gone.

 For no reason at all, Myles didn’t like the man. He was a very handsome guy, full head of black hair, pushed straight back and wearing one of his preferred Brioni two button suits. He walked over to the carafe, poured some coffee and waited. By 2:30 that afternoon, Myles had interviewed five key executives and he’d spoken briefly with Judie Rodriguez too.

They all seemed cooperative, friendly even. Naturally, he asked each one, as a matter of routine in such inquiries to explain their whereabouts on the night of the murder. The Chief Operating Officer, Anthony Moulds, a native of Great Britain, had the most unimpeachable story. He and his wife had spent that night at St. Thomas Hospital’s emergency room with their nine-year-old son. “Did you tell any of your co-workers where you were that night?” Myles asked.

 “No,” Mr. Moulds said. “My wife and I wanted to keep that quiet. We felt Damien would be upset if we incurred the kind of medical expenses we might be looking at,” Moulds took a deep breath, to maintain his composure. “Our son may have a chronic, degenerative, illness that would require extensive, long term care. Believe me, Pronto’s insurance rates would rise, which might affect earnings per share. Damien would hate that,” he said. “That man can calculate in his head the impact of an extra postage stamp on earnings per share.” 

 As far as Myles could tell, Monica Hill didn’t have any enemies at Pronto. She was well liked and respected by her colleagues. Pronto was indeed a great place to work. Salaries, bonuses and benefits were very generous. Business was good and turnover was minimal. Monica’s work was up to date. She wasn’t behind schedule and there were no complaints about the quality of her work. Another dead end.

 A week later, Myles and Sandra went to a small Italian restaurant near the Vanderbilt campus to celebrate their wedding anniversary. Their daughter, Kristi, who had told them she was too busy to join them, surprised her parents, walking in with a friend just as the Baptiste’s were about to order dessert. “We’re just in time,” she said. “Y’all know Steffi.”

 “Of course,” Sandra said. “Nice to see you, Steffi.” The young women sat down. “Well, Kristi, your father met one of Nashville’s most successful business leaders recently.”

 “You told me, Mom, Damien Lesnak, right?”

 “That man’s a pig, or so I’ve heard,” Steffi said.

 “Where’d you hear a thing like that?” Myles asked.

 “Oh, Daddy, please don’t start. Steffi interned at Pronto this summer. They’ll probably offer a her a job. It’s nothing more than that,” Kristi said.

 Myles looked at Steffi. “I shouldn’t have said that. People talk. Mostly it’s in jest though.”

 “I understand,” Myles said. “Can you give me an example, you know, the kind of things people said?”

 “Mom, would you make him stop please?” Kristi asked.

 Sandra rolled her eyes. “Steffi, do you mind answering a couple of questions so my husband’s evening isn’t ruined?”

 The server came to the table with cappuccinos for everyone and the pastry Myles had requested. “It was nothing really. A couple of the women and one guy told me not to be alone with Damien if I could help it. Both women said, ‘He has roving hands.’”

 “Does he?” Myles asked.

 “I was never alone with him,” Steffi said.

 “What did the man tell you?”

 “I don’t remember exactly. Something about Damien being persistent. Oh, yes, he said, ‘Damien takes it right to the line and he’ll cross it unless you’re firm.’”

 Myles was quiet on the ride home. Sandra knew better than to break his concentration. Before they left the restaurant, Myles, in spite of his daughter’s objections, got Steffi to give him the names of the people who warned her about Damien Lesnak.   When they pulled into their garage, Sandra said, “I guess you’ll be doing a few more interviews at Pronto.”

He leaned over and kissed his wife. “You got that right. Happy Anniversary, baby.”

“You know as well as I do a lot of executives take advantage of their position. That makes them despicable, but it doesn’t make them murderers,” Sandra said.

When Captain Duncan heard about the conversation Myles had with his daughter’s friend, he let out a low whistle. “You could be opening up an entirely different can of worms here, Myles.”

“I don’t know what we have here Gordy. The way I see it, if this guy Lesnak is a harasser, chances are good that the behavior doesn’t stop with him. Ms. Hill could’ve been aiming at any number of guys, more than one probably.”

 “You think there’s a connection? Seems like a stretch to me,” Duncan said.

 “At the moment, it’s only a what if, Gordy.”

 “So, let me hear your theory on how something like this might play out,” the captain said.

 “There’s no evidence that the murder was personal, like a love triangle. She was executed like it was a hit. And, from talking to Pronto’s executives, including the CFO, and their auditor, the company’s clean. So, it’s not like she was about to blow the whistle on some shady financial dealings. But what if she was being sexually harassed? Maybe she got tired of it. Maybe somebody like Lesnak finally crossed the line, you know?”

 “And to shut her up, the guy put a bullet in her head?”

 “Could be. If it happened, whoever it was, had a lot to lose,” Myles said. “These days a man could lose his job, his status, money and very likely, his family. Lesnak’s got a wife and three kids.”

 The captain tapped his pen on his notepad. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Talk to the victim’s husband. Maybe she would have told him about the harassment. Do that before you schedule any more interviews at Pronto,” he said. “It bothers me that we didn’t find anything on her computer that could lead us in that direction.” He glanced at his cell phone. “Listen, Myles, we don’t have any solid evidence yet that we’re even dealing with harassment. An intern’s gossip won’t cut it. Tread lightly.”

 Myles stood up to go. “As far as the husband knowing about the harassment if there was any, I’m not so sure she would have told him about it. If your wife had a job paying close to a million a year, would she tell you about something like that?”

 Myles called ahead and drove over to the Hill residence. The man had lost weight and grown a beard. He looked haggard. The house was still neat, thanks to the housekeeper. Brian Hill opened the door before Myles had a chance to ring the bell. “You come here to tell me you have a lead?”  

 “Not exactly, but I do have a question I need to ask. It’s a bit sensitive.”

Brian grimaced. “What?”

“Did your wife ever mention anything about sexual harassment on her job?”

 Brian’s jaw dropped. “Is that what this was about? Are you saying she was harassing someone?”

 “No, sir. What I’m asking you is if she ever told you she was being harassed.”

 “She never mentioned anything like that to me. She was at such a high level, I doubt that would have been a problem.”

 The men were standing in the foyer. Myles noticed the office light was on. He saw the card table was still there and he walked over to it. Brian Hill followed him. They stood in the office looking at the puzzle. It was Andrew Jackson’s Hermitage, completed now except for one piece near the center of the puzzle. “I finished Monica’s puzzle. It gave me one last thing I could do with her.”

 “There’s a piece missing.”

 “I looked all over for it,” Brian said. “Best guess is it got lost during your investigation. Probably fell on the floor and got swept into the trash. You guys made a real mess.”

 “Sorry.

 “Brian, did you and your wife ever socialize with her co-workers here in your home?” Myles asked. 

 “Once. She knew I didn’t care for it. I’m a very private person.”

 “It might help to know who was here,” Myles said.

 “It was her direct reports,” Brian said. Maybe a dozen, including significant others. It happened five years ago, not long after Monica took the job.”

 “Was Mr. Lesnak or any of the other executives here?” Myles asked.

 “No, just the people who worked for her.” 

 Miles nodded. “Do me a favor, Brian. Look around your home, your closets, filing cabinets, places where Monica might hide documents, something that might relate to sexual harassment.”

 “You really think she was killed over a sexual harassment claim?”

 “Too soon to say. I’m looking for anything that might give someone a motive to harm her.”

 Myles drove back to the precinct and went right to work. He called Lesnak’s office and spoke with Judie Rodriguez again to let her know he planned to interview three additional associates, all of them working in upper middle management.  “Can you hold a moment please?” She asked.

 Thirty seconds later, Damien Lesnak was on the line. “What’s this about Detective Baptiste?”

 “Just a few loose ends that I need to tie up, Mr. Lesnak.” Myles was glancing through the notes of his meeting with Brian Hill as he spoke.

 “Such as?”

 “Have you ever been in Monica Hill’s home?” Myles liked pushing Lesnak.

 “I believe I’ve answered that question already and I don’t appreciate your insinuation by asking it again.”

 “She had a party there about five years ago not long after she joined your firm. Are you certain you’ve never been there, Mr. Lesnak?”

 “Never. Are you certain you’re the right man to be conducting such an important investigation? I’m beginning to wonder.”

 “Is there a problem?” Myles asked, sitting up straight now. 

 “Is there a problem? What do you think? I can’t get my people to focus on our business because they’re all completely caught up in the mystery of Monica’s murder. Unless you have a pressing need to speak to one of my employees, something beyond tying up loose ends, I suggest you get on with the business of finding her killer and leave us alone.”

 “I’m sure you meant to say your associates. I can interview them in the privacy of their homes, if you prefer, but interview them I will.” 

 Lesnak was momentarily quiet. “I’ll have Judie set up a conference room for you at six o’clock tonight. That will minimize the disruption factor.” He hung up without waiting for a response.

 Myles arrived promptly at six and was ushered into a small conference room by a young man who introduced himself as Russ Pride. “I’m the admin for Joann, our VP of Human Resources. You’ve asked to see three people, Diane, Regina and Mitchell. Who would you like to see first?”

 “The order you listed is fine, Russ.”

 Myles spoke with each of the three people Steffi had mentioned. He never mentioned Steffi by name, but he let each one of them know that a source within the company suggested that he speak with them. None of them would confirm that Lesnak, or any other executive, sexually harassed anyone. In fact, the two women denied it and they denied they ever warned one of their associates that Lesnak might be a problem. Mitchell came the closest to an admission when he said, “Some of the guys in the C-suite joke around a little, but it’s nothing serious. Ours is sort of a loose culture, about what you’d expect with such a creative bunch of contributors.”  But when Myles pressed him, Mitchell held firm. No one crossed the line as far as he knew.

 It looked like Myles was at a dead end yet again. As he was putting away his notepad, Russ entered the conference room. “How’d it go?” He asked.

 “About the way I expected.”

 Russ walked over to the window and looked out into the parking lot. “Detective, take a look at Mitchell walking to his car. He’s doing the same thing Diane and Regina did. I watched them. Notice anything?”

 Myles sighed and walked over to the window. He studied Mitchell as he approached his car. “He has his head down, kind of looking at his shoes.”

 “Right. What does a thing like that tell you, detective?”

 “Could mean any number of things, Russ. What’s your take?”

“They didn’t tell you the truth. Maybe they feel bad about it.”

 “Is there something you want to tell me, Russ?” 

 Russ moved away from the window and picked up one of the chocolate chip cookies that had been sitting in a dish. “I was listening in on your conversation. I held my ear to the door just long enough to get the gist of your line of questioning.” He took a healthy bite of cookie.

 “Why?”

 “I had a feeling, I guess. Listen, detective, sexual harassment has happened here and it still does,” Russ said. “These people won’t tell you that, though.”

 “And why not?”

“You have to understand, Detective Baptiste. We’re paid very well here and the benefits are incredible. Have you ever heard of a 401k plan that matches a hundred of your contribution? And that’s just for starters. No one wants to rock the boat.”

 Myles checked his notes. Something didn’t add up. “I’m under the impression, Russ that your CEO is very cost conscious. Why such generous benefits?”

 “The benefits were already in place when Damien got here, and the chairman of the board, the guy who put them in place when he was CEO, likes them.”

 “I see,” Myles said. 

 “And sexual harassment happens everywhere. Even in these times.”

 Myles nodded his head. “And if it leads to murder?”

 “That’s why you and I are having this conversation, detective. Monica Hill hired me. I worked for her for two years. We trusted each other.”

 “I’m sure you did.”

 “You might find it interesting to know that Pronto made three settlements with women in the last sixteen months, complete with non-disclosure agreements of course.”

 “How do you know that?”

“Wait here five minutes,” Russ said. When he returned he was holding a manila folder stuffed with papers. He handed them to Myles and said, “Copies of the settlements and non-disclosure agreements. You’ll find that all of them involved our intrepid CEO, a real asshole in my humble opinion.” 

 “That doesn’t make the man guilty of murder, Russ.”

 “Do you have time to take a walk with me?” Russ asked.

“Depends on where we’re going.”

 “Upstairs to Mr. Lesnak’s office.”

 Myles hesitated for a moment, trying to consider whether Damien Lesnak might still be in his office. Seeing the man now wouldn’t be wise. He wanted time to review the documents Russ had just given him.

 Russ noticed Myles’ hesitation. “He’s gone for the day. The Titans are playing a preseason game tonight.”

 The two men walked up to Lesnak’s office. The side door was locked, but Russ had a key. He switched the lights on. “Let me give you the tour,” Russ said. “Ever see Mr. Lesnak’s office before?” 

“Only his outer office.”

 “I’m not surprised. He doesn’t let many people into his inner sanctum.”

 “How is it that you have a key to your CEO’s office, Russ?”

 Russ wagged an index finger. “The VP of Human Resources has keys to every office. I know where she keeps them.”  

 Myles started walking through the spacious office, moving slowly. Damien Lesnak was a collector, big time. On the long credenza behind his desk sat a collection of Batman memorabilia including statuettes of Batman, Robin, the Joker, two Batman gumball machines and a beautiful twelve-inch replica of the Batmobile. There were several posters on the wall too.

 Off to the right side of Lesnak’s mahogany desk, along the wall, was a magnificent display of Coca-Cola artifacts, including two curio cabinets filled with Coca-Cola serving trays from the 1920s. There was functioning red and white Coke machine from the 1950s between the cabinets too. A Coca-Cola themed Lionel Train set rested on a side table. “It’s like a museum in here,” Myles said. He was impressed.

 “That’s the first thing people notice,” Russ said, “The man is an insatiable collector. Look at his conference table and his desk. See those little items? He doesn’t just collect valuable things. He collects bits and pieces of junk too.”

 Myles looked at Russ and shrugged, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed something.

 “I know, detective. It doesn’t make him a murderer. But he does have a weird side. Thought it might help,” Russ said. “We’d better get out of here.”

 “Right. Before we go, I’d like to take a few pictures. My wife will love seeing this. She’s something of a collector too.”

 “I’m not sure you should do that,” Russ said.

 “It will only take a minute. Myles pulled out his cell phone and started snapping photos. “Thanks again, Russ. You’ve been very helpful.”  Myles assured him that the files would be kept confidential unless they were needed to solve the case.

 As they walked to the elevator, Russ said, “One last thing, detective. Those copies I gave you. I didn’t make them for you. The last time I spoke with Monica, she asked me to make the copies. I know she hated what was happening. We’ve lost some excellent women who didn’t threaten to file complaints. They just left; hurt, bewildered and damaged. I asked her if she was going to do something about our fearless leader.” Russ drew a deep breath. “She said, ‘When the time is right, maybe.’” He paused for a moment. “I think she’d had enough though.”

 “Why didn’t you give her the files, Russ?

 “I never got the chance.”

 “Who knows you made the copies?”

 “Anyone who took the time to check the copier’s hard drive would know.”

 “Does anybody routinely do that sort of thing?”

 He shrugged. “All I can tell you is that Damien has a fetish about copies. He hates them, doesn’t think they’re necessary. A waste of money in a digital age. It wouldn’t surprise me if he kept tabs.”

Myles went home that evening and sorted through the material Russ gave him as well as his notes from his interviews. He also took notes of his conversation with Russ. Sandra noticed he was unusually quiet during dinner. She knew enough to leave him alone. He was zeroing in on something, but not quite there yet. She’d seen it before, many times. She brought him a glass of wine and kissed his forehead. He thanked her and went back to work.

 The next morning, he walked straight into Captain Duncan’s office, not even bothering to punch in. “I need a search warrant for Damien Lesnak’s office.”

 “Whoa, Myles. Are you trying to get us both fired? I got an earful from the mayor himself about you harassing Pronto’s employees last night, performing, you’ll like this, a witch hunt.”

 “Look, I can close the case and let it go if you like. I know Damien Lesnak won’t complain. I think he’s our man.”

 “What makes you think that, Myles?”

“Let me lay it out for you.” He reviewed the sexual harassment settlements, Lesnak’s penchant for collecting things, what he saw in the CEO’s office and the promise he secured from Russ that he would testify about what he knew if it came to that.

 “I don’t know Myles. I can’t disagree with you, but I doubt the DA can get a conviction on what you have. For one thing we have no proof that Lesnak knew that Ms. Hill was planning to expose him. Without that, where’s our motive? The word of her former secretary? Keep digging.”

 Myles was through digging. He had his man. He knew it, could feel it in his gut. He went back to his squeaky chair and sat, plotting his next move. It had to work. He waited until five o’clock to make his first call. “Russ, it’s Detective Baptiste. I need you to do something for me and it has to be done now.”

 “What do you need?”

 Myles told Russ what he needed and asked him to call back as soon as it was done. Fifteen minutes later, Russ called him. “Nice work,” Myles said.

 He took a deep breath and made a call to his old friend. He put it all on the line for him. “It’s a long shot, Pat, but we go way back and I need this.”

 Chief Tedesco scratched the top of his head. “I don’t know, Myles. I think Lesnak might be too sophisticated for a gambit like that.”

 “Perhaps, but I have no other way to nail this guy.”

 “You’re gonna get me fired, you know that?”

 “You can thank me later. Be sure to play up that earnings per share thing when you talk to him.”

 Chief Tedesco made the call to Lesnak, who had become a friend over the last few years.

 “Listen, Damien, I need a favor.”

 “Another ticket for the Titan’s opener next week?”

 “No, I’m good. Our guy, Detective Baptiste, thinks he’s got one of you nailed. Now I’m not supposed to be telling you this, so you and I never talked.”

 “Telling me what? And nailed for what?” Lesnak asked.

 “He thinks either you or your chief operating officer, Anthony Moulds, murdered Monica Hill to keep her from exposing a pattern of sexual harassment at Pronto.”

 “Nonsense.”

 “Wait, a second, Damien. Let me explain. He has some evidence and a witness who can substantiate the harassment charges. He thinks one of you is in possession of something taken from Mrs. Hill’s home on the night of the murder.”

“Are you serious, Patrick? This is unbelievable,” Lesnak said.

 “Well, for what it’s worth, Baptiste thinks it’s Anthony, because the guy’s alibi for that night didn’t hold up. He was where he said he was, but it was the night before the murder. Apparently, he was in the emergency room at Saint Thomas Hospital with his son. Gonna cost you by the way, very expensive.”

 “Is that so?”

 “Yeah, apparently it’s a serious illness, a real shame, but that’s what Baptiste heard and as you know, he’s very thorough.”

 “Okay, when do you want to do this. Let’s get it over with.”

 Chief Tedesco called Myles as he got off the phone with Lesnak. “It’s all set. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

 “Have I ever steered you wrong, Pat?”

 “Plenty of times.” The men laughed.

The next morning at 6:30, Detective Baptiste and Chief Tedesco arrived at Pronto. Both Anthony Moulds and Damien Lesnak were waiting for them. The men went up to Damien’s office first. Myles pretended to look closely at the Coca-Cola items first, then drifted over to the credenza and gave the Batman collectibles a careful going over. He barely glanced at the conference table.

 “Gentlemen, I’m ready to take a look at Mr. Moulds’ office,” Myles said.

 “What’s your hurry, Myles. This stuff is cool,” the chief said. He smiled at Damien, who looked relaxed and confident.

 “Chief you can come back later. If you don’t mind, I’m done here.”

 “That’s why I stopped being his partner,” Chief Tedesco said. “Very bossy.”

 The four men walked over to Anthony Moulds’ office. Unlike Damien, Moulds’ office was nearly pristine, very little clutter. It didn’t take long to find what Myles was looking for. Sitting in a Lenox bowl that held a few pieces of hard candy was a jigsaw puzzle piece. Myles had his man.    

 He picked up the puzzle piece. He had no doubt it was a perfect fit for Monica Hill’s jigsaw puzzle. “Mr. Moulds, where did you get this?”

 “What is it? I don’t believe I’ve seen that before?”

 “Are you sure about that?” Watching the exchange, Damien Lesnak maintained a poker face.

 “I’m quite sure, sir.”

 “Have you ever been in Monica Hill’s home?”

 “Detective, I believe you asked me that question during our previous interview. My answer has not changed, I assure you.”

 Myles was enjoying the moment and trying hard to hide it. He turned to Damien. “Mr. Lesnak, have you ever seen this puzzle piece before?”

 Absolutely not. What exactly are we doing here? Our associates will be arriving for work soon. Whatever it is you plan to do; can you please get on with it?”

 Myles looked at Chief Tedesco who nodded. “I agree, we should get on with it. Mr. Lesnak, you’re under arrest for the murder of Monica Hill. You have the right to remain silent…”

 Back at the precinct several officers were sitting in the breakroom. Myles accepted congratulations from his fellow detectives and his captain. Chief Tedesco, looked at his watch. He had a meeting with the mayor in fifteen minutes. “It was fun to work together again, Myles. How did you know that Lesnak would fall into your trap?”

 “It was the old ego-greed parlay. He thinks he’s always the smartest man in the room. By planting the puzzle piece in Moulds’ office, he thought he could get us off his back and avoid at least some of the medical expenses for the Moulds’ child. And, by the way, the man’s bonus was tied to achieving a certain earnings per share number.”

 “But when you saw the puzzle piece in his office the night before, why didn’t you just nail him then?” Detective Brower asked. “Why go to all that trouble to set him up?”

 “The puzzle piece by itself wasn’t enough. Could have come from anywhere. Remember we were never going to be able to demonstrate motive beyond a reasonable doubt, or find the weapon. Lesnak was too smart for that, at least. When he put the piece in Moulds’ office, you know as well as I do, it was a magnificent tell.” 

 “Show us the pictures, Myles,” Captain Duncan said.

 Myles pulled out his cell phone. “I took a picture of the conference room table with the puzzle piece the night Russ showed me Lesnak’s office. I couldn’t believe it. I had the shape of that missing piece memorized. Then, just before I called the chief, I gave Russ a call and had him take photos of Anthony Moulds’ office before Lesnak had time to make the switch.”

 “What would possess a guy like Damien Lesnak to steal a puzzle piece after he shot Mrs. Hill?” Brower asked.

 “He’s a collector, Bob. Couldn’t help himself,” Myles said. He stood and stretched. He felt the satisfaction he always felt when he closed a case. He really was the best homicide detective east of the Mississippi. Maybe west of the mighty river too.

 “Anybody feel like a Coke?” He asked.