The sun had just begun its work when Marlin stepped into the private gym. A longtime member, he usually arrived at 6:30 a.m. and put in a solid hour at the weight machines and treadmill. Like all things in his life, he worked out to an extreme. A part of him knew he was compensating for his short stature but that didn’t matter. The key to life was making the most of what you have, not whining about what you don’t.
As he stretched legs, arms, and back, he thought of the pot of gold handed him. He couldn’t be sure what was going on, but he knew enough to recognize that mommy-dearest had somehow gotten herself in a world of hurt. He’d be a fool not to capitalize on her blunders.
Today it would be his upper body that got the workout, but it would be his mind that would do the most exercise. He could barely sleep last night for the thoughts and plans ricocheting in his overstimulated mind. Once his muscles were warm and stretched he settled into the weight machine and began pumping his pectorals, feeling the smooth motion of his arms as they hoisted the weights.
With each exercise he reminded himself that what he was doing was for the good of the firm. The duty to defend the firm fell to Judith, but she had abandoned her post and apparently become the catalyst for corporate injury. As senior vice president, he had to act. The mantle of responsibility fell to him and he could not allow outside forces to destroy what his father had built even if that outside force was once the chief insider.
And there were the stockholders to consider. He had a responsibility to those who had invested in the firm. Of course there were the board members, all heavily invested. If Judith ruined the company, then some of them would suffer financial harm and at least two of them were facing retirement in the next year. He could not allow Judith to jeopardize them and their families.
Sure, there would be those who would accuse him of selfish motives. Privately, he wouldn’t deny it. So what if protecting others happened to help him in his goal of leading Find, Inc.? He couldn’t be blamed for that. Business people understood the bottom line was always the deciding factor in decision making.
Marlin moved from the weight machine to the curl bench and free weights and began to work his biceps. Eight reps in he began to feel the burn and it made him smile. Nothing he did in the gym today could remove the giddiness inside. Perhaps he should feel guilty.
But he wouldn’t.
The black TwinStar AS355 business helicopter skimmed through the air at 150 miles per hour. Pennington sat alone in the passenger cabin taking one of the four beige leather seats and watched the ground, newly lit by the sun, scroll past. The rental company had come through for him, as well they should. Cal-Genotics poured a lot of money into their pockets over the last ten years. They had been good about not asking questions.
The pilot banked northeast as they passed over Riverside and headed toward the San Bernardino National Forest. He had made this trip before and knew what to expect. Soon the pilot would change directions again to skirt the controlled airspace of San Bernardino International Airport, then move back on track to the pine-covered mountains where his destination lay nestled in trees and accessible by only one road.
Pennington wondered what was happening at Dr. Zarefsky’s house. Surely the crime scene people were scouring house and grounds alike. And while he sat in the comfort of the business chopper, Danny “Silk” Saccio was being grilled by the police.
Saccio earned the name Silk with his smooth talk and ability to lie with impunity. The rest of his name was a fabrication. As a young man he wanted to be thought of as the guy with mob connections. Truth was, despite his name, he was more Irish than Italian. The stupidity of the desire dawned on him one day while reading a newspaper report about a mob hit on one of its own. He decided a new goal was in order. In the end, Silk Saccio became a private detective and made a good living fingerprinting corporate execs, doing background checks, and following cheating spouses. He had one other attribute that put him on the top of Pennington’s first-call list: loyalty. Saccio had an odd ethic but he could be counted on to never roll over on a client or a buddy.
The events of a few hours before replayed in Pennington’s mind.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Silk Saccio sounded more stunned than he looked. “A body?”
“Yeah. His name is … was, Dr. Zarefsky. Got that? Alex Zarefsky.”
“Alex Zarefsky. I got it.” Silk took no notes. He knew better.
“Alex Zarefsky is a famous and rich infertility doctor. Early this evening, the police were here because someone reported shots fired.”
“And they wouldn’t leave without poking around and making a nuisance of themselves.”
“That’s right, Silk. Apparently, someone snuck in when the gate was open for the police and hid. We don’t know when, but he got in the house. There was a struggle; things got knocked over including some silverware. Zarefsky took a knife in the back. As he was bleeding to death he used a fork to scratch a name in the wood floor of the kitchen.”
“Name scratched into the floor. Got it.”
“You were called because I recommended you for some security work at his home and clinic. He told you some woman has been harassing him and he didn’t know why.”
“Which means I don’t know why.”
“Right. He called you to come over and check the grounds. He told you he didn’t want to call the police — ”
“Because they made a hash of things the last time they were here and he was also afraid they wouldn’t believe him.”
“I like that last part. Good thinking. Here’s what I want you to do. Walk into the house but only as far as the end of the foyer. The kitchen is to your left. There’s an opening, so you can see into it. You look, you see the body, you walk back out and call the police and wait for them.”
“And that’s all I know, right?”
“Right. If they remember that I was here earlier and ask about me, tell them you don’t know where I am but you have my cell phone number. I’ll give it to you. Encourage them to call. I’ll take it from there.”
“You know, this is no small thing you’re asking me to do, boss. The cops are liable to drag my fanny downtown — ”
“One hundred thousand dollars.” Pennington smiled. He understood where Silk was headed. “Cash if you want it that way.”
“That’ll do it.”
“Remember, you touch nothing. When all is said and done, they will find no evidence to hook you into this. No fingerprints, no blood splatter on you, nothing. Just tell the story as I gave it to you.”
Silk nodded then stared at Pennington for a long moment.
“No,” Pennington said. “I didn’t kill him. I’m leaving because I made a promise to protect some of his property. You don’t need to know about that. I can be reached.”
Silk continued his gaze then gave a reassuring nod. Pennington fought the urge to smile. Silk wasn’t the only one who could lie on a moment’s notice.
“Five minutes.” The pilot’s voice pulled Pennington back into the moment.
“Understood.”
It was going to be a long day and timing was everything.
“You sure you didn’t touch the body?” The detective stood tall and slender and looked like he had just crawled out of bed. The newborn day cast a pale light on his features as he stood close to Silk. He gave his name as Detective Jed Cary.
“Of course, Detective. I’m a professional private investigator. I didn’t get my license out of a cereal box. I know not to mess with a crime scene. Especially a murder scene.” Silk pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. “Mind?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Come on, Detective. It’s not every day I see a client face down in his own blood. It may be everyday work to you, but it’s a shocker to me.”
“You seem a little nervous, Mr. Saccio.” The cop looked at the driver’s license, PI license, and business card Silk had given him.
“And if I was all cool and calm and collected, then you would suspect something else was wrong. Of course I look nervous. I am nervous. I didn’t get here in time to save a client.”
“Judging by the size of this house, he must have paid you pretty good.”
“Not a dime yet. We were negotiating for some work for his firm. He’s a fertility doctor. You know, he helps women get pregnant who can’t get pregnant. Fixes their plumbing or something.”
“I know what a fertility doctor is, Mr. Saccio. What’s the name of his firm?”
“Ah, the ol’ let’s-test-the-suspect’s-statement approach.” He fingered the unlit cigarette and struggled to recall what Pennington had told him. “Coast Fertility Care Center is the business he talked to me about. I wouldn’t doubt he has other enterprises. I was hoping to score some work on those too. I guess that won’t be happening.”
“So you didn’t scratch the name in the floor?”
“I told you, boss, I didn’t go in the kitchen. I made it as far as the foyer, saw him dead on the floor and exited.”
“You didn’t try to see if he was alive?”
“No. The gigantic pool of blood and unblinking eyes made me think that his day was done for good. Dead is dead, Detective. You know that. Sometimes you can just tell, and this is one of those times.”
“Did you see the name he wrote?”
“Not really. It looked like a word not a name. Find was what it looked like to me, but like I said, I didn’t go in the kitchen.”
“It’s a name. He wrote two words: Judith Find. Any idea why he would do that?”
Silk stuck the cigarette in his pocket. “No. The name means nothing … wait a sec. Judith Find? Isn’t she that interior design chick I see on television every once in awhile?”
“Maybe. Do you have any reason to believe that’s her?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“I need you to go downtown for a few more questions. Oh, and I’m going to need your clothes.”
Silk had expected this. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll go downtown. You can have everything I’m wearing from shoes to skivvies. I’ll get my old lady to bring some fresh duds. But while I’m there, I want you to take whatever else you need. I give you permission to swab for DNA, take hair samples, examine and photograph my hands, the whole nine yards. But let’s do it all in one fell swoop, shall we? I don’t want to keep driving to the station because you need one more thing. I hate downtown traffic. So do it up right, Detective. I ain’t got nothing to hide.”
Fifteen minutes later, Silk slipped into the backseat of a patrol car and wondered how he’d spend the one hundred thousand dollars coming his way.