CHAPTER 19

 

It was ten-thirty and Alan was on his second beer when Charlie finally called back.

“Please tell me you’ve had some luck,” he answered.

“Need I say this has nothing to do with luck, my friend?” Charlie said.

“I know; it has everything to do with skill and finesse. Now please tell me what you’ve found out.”

“I’ll start with the woman. Marcy Markham is deceased. She passed away last April, a couple of months after her layoff from UrbanGroup.”

Chloe was murdered in May, Alan thought, so he could definitely rule Markham out. Still seemed a little suspicious, though.

“Did you happen to find out how she died?”

“I knew you’d ask that so I dug a little deeper. She died from a pre-existing heart condition. No foul play suspected.”

“Hmm, so what about Gerald Thomas?”

“Where do I begin? This guy has clearly had a rough time of it since losing his gig at UrbanGroup. Troubles began not long after his release. He was picked up on a DUI a month later. It was his first offense and he was somehow able to keep his driver’s license.”

“Wait a second. How in the hell did you find that out?”

“It’s a matter of public record. In fact practically everything I got on Thomas was from public records.”

“So he’s had trouble with the law,” Alan said.

“Yup and plenty of it. Shall I go on?”

“Yes, please do.”

“He was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct at a campus bar a few months after his DUI. He didn’t get any jail time but had to pay a sizeable fine and was put on probation.”

“Jesus, the guy must be a drunk.”

“Make that, is definitely a drunk. He was picked up for DUI yet again and lost his driver’s license.”

“Hmm. Did you find anything about his employment?”

“I did. He apparently was unemployed for quite a while after being laid off from UrbanGroup until he finally got a job as a cashier at Wal-Mart. That only lasted a few months though. His last known employment was at a Burger King. That gig pretty much ended shortly after his second DUI.”

“So this guy is really on the skids,” Alan said.

“Pretty much looks like it.”

“Do you by any chance have an address for him?”

“I do. He lives in an apartment just off campus. You want the address?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

Charlie read off the address as Alan jotted it down.

“Got a phone number for him, too?”

“No luck there—there’s no record on file of a land line for him. He could very well have a cellphone, though. Do you want me to find out if he does and try to hack the carrier for his number? Pretty costly task, I remind you.”

“Go for it. I think I still have a couple of pennies to rub together.”

“You got it. I’m emailing you the links that pertain to my research on both of these folks in case you want to refer to them.”

“Thanks a million, Charlie. I have a feeling you’ll be hearing from me again soon the way this investigation has been going.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Ciao.”

Alan clicked off.

I just may have finally found the murderer, he thought.

If Gerald Thomas didn’t do it he would be surprised.

He chugged down his beer and went to the kitchen for another one.

He returned to the family room, turned up the stereo, and stretched out in the recliner. Pan promptly jumped onto his lap.

Although he knew very little about Gerald Thomas, he considered what he knew about the case and factored Thomas into it to see how he fit. Here was a man who at one time had had a very good job at a reputable financial firm. Yet not long after he is given a managerial position at a new branch—no doubt along with a sizable salary increase—the whole bottom suddenly drops out. He loses his gig altogether.

Thomas was probably already salty at the fact that Marcy Markham was making more money than he was despite his seniority in the company. Could this have been because she was a woman—another one of McPherson’s conquests? he wondered. Whatever the case, Thomas’s layoff was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The man wanted revenge—to pay McPherson back and pay him back royally.

Thomas was well aware that McPherson loved his little daughter more than life itself. Christ, she was all the man ever talked about whenever he wasn’t cracking the whip to raise company quotas. And many were the times he had shown the kid off at the office. About a week before the ax fell on his job, McPherson was telling the elite staff at the company (which he had at that time still been a part of) that his little princess had a birthday coming up and wanted a puppy. Although his wife was totally against it, Chloe’s daddy by God was not about to let his little girl down. He would go ahead and get her that puppy in spite of how the missus felt about it.

Thus Thomas’s plan for revenge was hatched. He would find a way to lure young Chloe out to the street by the playground at school so he could kill the child and break McPherson’s freaking heart. What better way to get back at the scum-sucking sonofabitch? And although he didn’t really relish the thought of murdering a child, what the hell? Nobody ever said that paybacks weren’t a bitch.

He would show Travis McPherson that you don’t fuck with Gerald Thomas.

A couple of weeks later, he followed through with his plan and it was in fact a perfect crime. Nobody had so much as a clue to who killed little Chloe. The cops packed it in. Justice was served.

But time wore on and his luck went south. Couldn’t get a decent job and eventually became wrought with guilt that he had actually murdered an innocent young child. He hit the bottle to try to deal with it all and got nailed for DUI. Twice. That only made him want to drink more. And more.

Soon he had become a raging alcoholic. He didn’t really give a shit if he lived or died.

Why did I murder that girl? What in the hell was I thinking?

 

Alan considered the scenario he had just conjured up and wondered how far it was from the truth. Was Gerald Thomas the sort of person who could hold such hatred and revenge?

He intended to find out.

Tomorrow morning he would check out Thomas and find out what made the man tick. Standard surveillance and anonymity would be the best way to turn up the heat on this case. Simply quizzing the man or calling the cops to take him in for questioning would be utterly useless. He needed something concrete before making any sort of move.

He took another swig. His wheels were turning.