Green Kills (8 page)

Sunnyvale, October 18, 2013, 8:35 AM

“I have to admit they cleaned the room really well,” muttered
Gadi. “The little shits wiped out all the evidence.” He pulled a chair from a
nearby table and sat at Liah and Ronnie’s table in the hotel dining room.

“Yes, that’s fine, Gadi, you’re welcome to join us.” Liah smiled
at him.

“Late last night, probably because the hotel management
pressured them to do so, the police approved cleaning the room your Christian
had slept in. After I checked in, I paid the room a little visit. Everything is
spotless. It’s impossible to reach any conclusions about what actually took
place in there.”

“Why did you let them know you’re interested?” Ronnie wondered.
“Why would you want to draw their attention?”

“Who said I asked for permission? I just said I dropped by the room
for a visit. I visited several other places in the hotel as well, it was pretty
interesting.” Gadi smiled mischievously. “Besides, at the very least, the night
clerk already knows I’m interested. He knows you’re interested as well. At
least that’s what he told me last night. Do you know how much a desk clerk
working for this fancy hotel makes a month? It’s a scandal! On the other hand,
his measly salary gave the hundred-dollar bill I just happened to have in my
pocket pretty good purchasing power. Being a good person, I thought the money
should be in the hands of someone to whom it could really make a critical
difference.” Gadi stopped and winked at them. “Would you believe I’m able to
use ‘purchasing power’ and ‘critical’ in a single sentence without getting
confused? To make a long story short, by mere coincidence, the desk clerk
needed to print out a list of all the guests who stayed in the hotel yesterday,
including the checkout times of those who’d exhausted the ‘Sheraton
experience.’ He was so excited by my philanthropic display that he accidentally
printed two copies. One of them is now in the hands of Benjamin O’Hara, a New
York detective I’ve been cooperating with for many years. I assume we’ll know
if we have a possible lead by the end of the day.” Gadi spread his hands
forward, leaned his head back slightly, and gave them a proud look, like a
child expecting to be praised for his resourcefulness.

“Who said we’re going to investigate what happened?” asked
Ronnie with mock anger. “What my company wants is to get out of this without
our name being mentioned and move on. Do me a favor and let go of it. It would
be a pity if your help drags me into this mess. It’s better for me, for the
fund I’m working for, and for TDO to remain invisible. OK, Gadi?” Ronnie tried
to explain, even though he knew Gadi had now entered his “selective deafness”
mode. The moment he had his sights locked on something, curiosity became the
only force that drove him, and until he could satisfy it, he would remain
locked on target like a cruise missile. His target’s destiny would be that of a
cruise missile’s as well.

“Understood, sir.
And you’re welcome.
Shall we eat something? I’m dying of hunger.”

The three of them went over to the buffet, which was laden with
numerous dishes.

“Nothing beats the cheeses you get in Israeli hotel breakfasts,”
mumbled Liah, a hint of longing in her voice. “Who would want to eat beans or
miso soup for breakfast?”

The two boys weren’t listening. They were busy filling their
large plates with food and exchanging meaningful glances, understood only by
them. For a moment, they seemed to her like a pair of lovers, and she felt a
pang of jealousy. Their eyes scanned the restaurant and its guests, and once
they’d finished their coordinated examination, they signaled a confirmation to
one another with a mutual wink of an eye. Liah couldn’t help but admire the
fact they were able to perform these actions while selecting food and
conducting small talk about the weather, the flight and other nonsense she knew
did not really interest them in the least. “You’re acting like two second-rate
spies,” she said sarcastically, “whispering and sending each other
signals
. Who do you think is listening to you? That old lady
over there who’s going to collapse to the floor if she adds one more slice of
bread to her plate? Oh, I know, those two young guys over there wearing suits.
They’re the enemy. Take it easy, boys. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Look, Liyush,” Gadi addressed her with a nickname he’d just
invented,
“you know I’m not prejudiced against anyone, I’m
just suspicious of everyone. You can never be too careful. I’m not really
afraid of the old lady. I think I have a fair chance of beating her in
hand-to-hand combat. The young guys over there are really detectives. Good job.
Now let’s eat.”

The three of them quieted down and concentrated on the plates in
front of them.

“Mr. Saar?” Ronnie raised his eyes and saw the two suit wearers
standing over the table. One of them quickly flashed a detective’s shield clipped
to his belt.

“Yes. How can I help you?”

“We’d like you to join us for a brief conversation, after you
finish your meal. We can conduct it in the hotel lobby or down at the station,
wherever you choose.”

“I suppose I know what this is all about, and I’d be delighted
to speak with you. How about fifteen minutes from now in the lobby?”

The two young men nodded in agreement and returned to their
table, where they continued to follow each of Ronnie’s movements. Gadi kept on
eating as if all this had nothing to do with him. “Liyush, well done
identifying those two,” he said into his plate. “You’ve got yourself one hell
of a bride, Ronnie.”

“Enough with your nonsense, Gadi,” Liah snapped at him. “This is
not a game anymore. Ronnie, what do you plan to do?”

“Mainly to listen and try to get some information from them.
It’s nothing to be excited about. They know I had nothing to do with this.”

“Then how did they find you so quickly?” Liah insisted.

“They think like Gadi, only they have more manpower to handle
information processing,” answered Ronnie with ease, while in his mind he was
already busy planning the tactics of his conversation with the detectives.
“They must have run a background check on Lumner and my name came up. Once they
discovered I was at the hotel, someone in the police decided it could be
worthwhile to talk to me. The easiest explanation is that our friend from last
night had a word with them and perhaps, to impress the police, decided to play
amateur detective as well, and now they think I might know something.
Everything is fine. Don’t worry.”

“If you’d like,” Gadi said while chewing, “you can turn the
large key in the bundle I gave you last night a hundred and eighty degrees.
That way I’ll be able to hear your conversation with the policemen. Anyway, the
GPS is working and I’ll know if they happen to decide to take you down to the
police station.”

Ronnie took the keys out of his pocket and activated the
transmitter according to Gadi’s instructions. “Behave
yourselves
,”
he said and left the dining room. The two detectives hurried after him.

Gadi gave Liah a long stare. “What?” she asked.

Gadi didn’t waste any time. “I didn’t believe Ronnie would ever
trust a woman again. You know he was in a very serious relationship before you,
and she really hurt him?”

“I know. She cheated on him with her ex-boyfriend. We don’t have
any secrets.” Liah’s eyes were buried in her coffee mug.

“I’ve never seen him so in love. Promise me you won’t hurt him,”
Gadi added.

Liah immediately rose from her seat. “Thanks. I need to get back
to the room.” She gave him a light kiss on the cheek and left without turning
her head. Before entering the elevator, she stole a glance at the lobby and saw
the two detectives sitting next to one of the tables with Ronnie by their side.

“Thanks for agreeing to speak with us. I’m Detective Quincy and
this is Detective Rogers,” opened one of them. “As you know, Mr. Christian
Lumner was found dead in his hotel room yesterday. He left a brief suicide note
which was as mysterious as his death. I understand you’re sitting on the board
of directors of the company he worked for, and wondered if you had any piece of
information you think might shed some light on this incident.”

“Just out of curiosity, how did you find out I’m a member of the
company’s board of directors?” answered Ronnie with a question of his own,
keeping his tone light to mask his deep interest in the answer.

“From the company’s
directors
registry.
It has your name as the chairman of the board as of October 1st,” Quincy
answered willingly.

Ronnie felt as if he’d just received a baton blow to the head.
As far as he knew, changing the name of the chairman in a company’s
directors
registry was a process that took time and would
require his signature on the documents. As he had held the position less than a
week, his name, along with his forged signature, must have been submitted even
before he’d agreed to accept the job.

“I understand,” he muttered, trying to reorganize his thoughts. “Unfortunately,
I don’t have any information that might explain Christian’s suicide. Had I
suspected he would perform such an extreme act, I would have alerted the
authorities in advance instead of waiting for a disaster to happen.”

“You have a slightly unusual accent,” Rogers cut him off,
wrinkling his forehead with interest.

Ronnie hated comments like that. Occasionally, Americans he’d
meet would drop hints that he didn’t really belong. At least that’s what it
felt like. “Yes, I’m Israeli, and even though I’ve been living in the States
for more than ten years, I still have my Israeli accent.”

“Do you know why Mr. Lumner was here?”

“He flew here to discuss the possibility of raising money for
the company with venture capital funds. Unfortunately, he never got the chance
to meet with them. I can’t understand why a man with suicidal thoughts would
fly from Boston to California only to commit suicide…”

“The hotel desk clerk who checked him in on the night of his
arrival claims that Mr. Lumner received a disturbing call in the middle of the
night. Do you happen to know anything about that?”

“No, I don’t. I suppose the easiest thing would be to look at
his phone’s incoming call list and see where the call was from.”

“At the moment we have no information about the caller’s
identity,”
came
the answer. “The list of recent calls
in the cell phone we found in his room had been erased.”

“Why would someone about to commit suicide delete the list of
calls from his phone a moment before the act?” Ronnie stopped for a moment,
scratched the back of his head, then muttered, “Are you sure this is a
suicide?”       

“Why do you say that?” Quincy hurried to ask. “Do you know of
any enemies who threatened to murder him?”

“Of course not.
But the flight to the
West Coast, deleting his call log, the call he received in his room in the
middle of the night, his request to the desk clerk to hold any calls—”

“How do you know about the call he received in his room?” Rogers
barged into his words, sticking to the role of the hardened, crafty
investigator.

“Let’s give each other a little credit. I assume the desk clerk
told you about the conversation I had with him last night. I’m trying to be
open and fair with you and expect you to do the same, as much as duty allows
you to. Now, with your permission, let me ask again: Are you sure the man
committed suicide?”

Quincy and Rogers exchanged a quick glance, and after Rogers
nodded in agreement, Quincy offered, “The official police investigation line is
that it was a suicide. Our working premise is that Mr. Lumner wanted to spare
his wife from finding his body and decided to take his own life far from home.
Nevertheless, we’re still examining other possibilities. I have to admit, the
questions you’ve raised crossed our minds as well, and we can’t shake the
feeling it all seems too organized, as if someone staged a neat and tidy
suicide by the book. From our experience, that’s never the case. We’ve asked
for a court order to get the call list from Verizon, his cellular provider.
We’ll have the list tomorrow at the latest. I wonder why it was so important to
the deceased, or whomever else it was, to erase the information about the
telephone calls. Perhaps he had a lover who’d left him and he didn’t want us to
find out. Who knows?”

Ronnie was startled. The detectives didn’t say it outright, but
it was clear they had not entirely ruled out the possibility of murder. “Allow
me to ask, how did Christian kill himself?”

“With sleeping pills.
The chambermaid
found him in the morning. The initial blood tests showed he had enough alcohol
and benzodiazepines in him to take down an elephant.”

“Sleeping pills and alcohol.
The
question is
,
where did he get such a large number of
sleeping pills in the middle of the night? It’s unlikely he’d brought them from
home to commit suicide here, of all places. We spent the entire previous day
together,
then
we shared a car to the airport. At no
point did he act like someone who was tired of living.”

“We’ve been bothered by the same question. We canvassed the
pharmacies in the area that were open during the night, and we found no
evidence of sleeping pills being sold. The only explanation for him having so
many sleeping pills is that he’d brought them with him. Which is, as we’ve
already agreed, very strange,” Quincy summed up.

“I assume you’ve already told his wife…”

“Yes, she asked for our help with bringing the body back to
Boston.
Poor thing.
They have one-year-old twins,”
answered Quincy, and for the first time his voice was filled with human
emotion.