Dying for Mercy with Bonus Material Page 12
“Good idea,” said Eliza. “And see what you can learn about that accident. I have a feeling that what happened back then is directly related to what’s happening now.”
CHAPTER 58
On the ride out from Manhattan, Annabelle and B.J. came up with their plan of action. First they would go to Zack Underwood’s architectural office, get some exterior shots, and see if they could talk their way inside.
“Don’t hold your breath,” said B.J. “I doubt the cops are gonna let us anywhere close to their crime scene.”
“You’re probably right,” said Annabelle, “but we can try. At least we can be thankful that Underwood’s office is outside the park. If it were inside, we’d have no chance of getting any video at all.”
Any hopes Annabelle and B.J. had that KEY News would be alone in thinking that the Zack Underwood murder could be related to Innis Wheelock’s suicide evaporated when their vehicle pulled off at the Route 17 exit. They spotted two local-news satellite vans and a couple of cars they recognized to be carrying crews from other networks.
While B.J. shot video of the office building, police cars, and yellow tape cordoning off the crime scene, Annabelle made the obligatory plea to the officers guarding the building to allow KEY News to get some interior shots.
“No dice,” said one of the cops.
“How about giving us an interview?” suggested Annabelle.
“Nope.”
“Just a short one?”
“What part of the word ‘no’ don’t you understand?”
Annabelle shrugged. “Thanks so much for your cooperation,” she muttered as she walked away.
The only reassuring thing was that none of the other newspeople seemed to be getting anywhere either. Annabelle and B.J. sat in their car watching as, one by one, representatives of the competition made their case to law enforcement and were duly rejected.
“I’m not going back until we have something the other guys don’t have,” said B.J.
“Yeah, but what?” asked Annabelle. She stared out the window, trying to think of what else they could pursue. “Maybe we could take a stab at getting into the park and see if we can get some reaction from the rich residents.”
B.J. shook his head. “Ain’t gonna happen, and you know it.”
“All right,” said Annabelle, coming up with an alternate suggestion. “Let’s get some reaction from the locals in town.”
“What do we have to lose?” asked B.J. as he turned the key in the ignition. “It’s better than sitting around here and doing nothing.”
As B.J. steered the car from the parking lot onto the busy road, Annabelle spotted a woman on the other side of the street. She was leaning against a tree and staring at the office building. Something about the distressed expression on the woman’s face caused Annabelle to reach out and grab B.J.’s arm.
“Hold it,” she said.
“What?” asked B.J., keeping his foot on the brake.
“See that woman over there?” Annabelle nodded across the road. “Let me go over and talk to her.”
She got out of the car and crossed over to where the woman was standing and smoking a cigarette. A bunch of discarded butts were scattered at her feet. Annabelle sensed the woman’s vulnerability.
“Hello. I’m Annabelle Murphy, and I’m with KEY News,” she said.
“Nice to meet you,” the woman answered automatically as she shook Annabelle’s hand weakly.
“It’s such a terrible thing,” said Annabelle, pointing toward the building across the road.
“It is terrible.” The woman’s voice cracked. “Awful, awful.”
“Did you know Zack Underwood?”
The woman closed her eyes and whispered, “He was my boss, and I think I might have been the last person to ever see him alive.”
Eureka!
This woman was definitely not the last person to see Zack Underwood alive. His killer held that distinction. But all the same, Annabelle tried not to show her enthusiasm as she got the woman to reveal her name and agree to an interview.
“Would you be willing to go to a more private place to talk?” asked Annabelle. “We’d rather not do this standing on the side of the road with cars passing by and making noise.” She failed to mention that she also didn’t want to do it within sight of their media competition or the police.
Aurelia Patterson appeared uncertain. “Where would we go?”
“I’m afraid I have to look to you for a suggestion,” said Annabelle. “I’m not really familiar with the area. Is there a park we could go to? Or someplace else that would be quiet?”
When Annabelle brought Aurelia over to the car and introduced her to B.J., he was impressed. It wasn’t just luck that had led her to approach the troubled-looking woman across the street—it was an ability to read people and an innate sense of what leads to follow in pursuit of a story.
But when the two women got into the car and Annabelle announced that they were going to Aurelia’s house in Tuxedo Park for an interview, B.J. knew that luck, fate, the news gods, or whatever you wanted to call it was on their side. Sometimes it just worked out like that.
As the car drove north on Route 17, Annabelle wanted to make sure they weren’t taking advantage of the upset woman.
“I know that the park frowns on cameras coming inside,” she said. “Are you sure you’re all right with this?”
“They don’t have to know,” said Aurelia. “I just want to get to my own place, where I feel safe. And if something I know or say can help find out who did this horrible thing to Zack, then I want to make it public. We can do the interview inside the house, and nobody will be any the wiser.”
The guard at the security gate recognized Aurelia and waved the car through.
The Patterson home was not grand. It was a standard-size ranch built in the 1960s.
“When people think of Tuxedo Park, they automatically imagine ‘mansion,’” said Aurelia as the car turned into the driveway. “They don’t realize that there are some smaller houses, too. Not everyone is rich, and not everyone is a member of the Black Tie Club.” She leaned forward in her seat. “Pull around to the back so no one will see you bringing in the camera.”
A black-and-white border collie greeted them when they entered the house. Aurelia bent down and hugged the dog, not letting go for several moments. While she guided her pet out into the yard, B.J. determined the best place for the interview and set up the lights.
“She seems like a decent sort,” B.J. whispered conspiratorially to Annabelle as he plugged an electrical cable into the wall. “Trusting, too, leaving us alone in her house like this.”
“Yeah,” said Annabelle. “Why do I feel like I should be protecting her?”
“Get over it,” said B.J.
Annabelle began with the standard questions, asking Aurelia to state and spell her name and identify herself in regard to her relationship with Zack Underwood.
“I’ve been his secretary for six years,” said Aurelia. “I’ve been with him since he opened his office in Tuxedo.”
“Did you enjoy working for him?” asked Annabelle.
Aurelia’s eyes filled with tears, and her lip quivered. “I can’t believe we’re talking about him in the past tense,” she said. “Zack was a wonderful boss, very easygoing, at least as far as working with people is concerned. I started with him just after my husband left me. I hadn’t been in the workforce for a very long time, and I was unsure of myself. I knew nothing about architecture, but he was very patient with me, explaining terms that I needed to know and procedures that needed to be followed. But Zack was no pushover. When it came to his work, he was exacting, a perfectionist.”
“That’s why Innis Wheelock hired him,” observed Annabelle.
“Yes,” said Aurelia. “And because Zack had spent time training in Italy. Mr. Wheelock liked that. I used to hear them talking about the things they loved in Roman architecture.”
Annabelle was about to begin what she knew would be
the toughest part of the interview for Aurelia.
”Would you like some water before we go any further?” she asked.
Aurelia shook her head. “No. I’m all right. Go ahead.”
“Can you tell us about the last time you saw Zack?”
Aurelia gripped the arms of the chair. “It was late yesterday afternoon. Zack had gone to Mr. Wheelock’s funeral and then the lunch at the Black Tie Club afterward. He came back to the office, but I don’t think he got any work done. I don’t think he could concentrate. Around five o’clock he told me to pack it in for the day and that he was going to go for a run. That was the last time I ever saw him alive.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks. “I think I could use that water now,” she said. Aurelia got up, walked into the kitchen, and took a bottle from the refrigerator. When she returned, she had composed herself.
“I left after he did,” she said, “and I wasn’t sure if he’d taken his keys with him or not. He’d forgotten them other times, so I left the door unlocked. I figured he’d be back in a half hour or so and that it would be all right.” She stopped talking and considered what she’d done. “If I had only locked up,” she said finally, “Zack might still be alive.”
“If somebody wanted to kill him, they were going to find a way,” said Annabelle gently. “A locked door wasn’t going to stop that.”
“Thanks,” Aurelia said, sniffling. “I appreciate that.”
“Let’s go to what happened this morning,” urged Annabelle.
“All right,” said Aurelia. She took a deep breath. “I came to work at the regular time, but as soon as I got there, I should have known that something was wrong.”
“Because the door was still unlocked?” asked Annabelle.
“Not just unlocked—it had been left ajar. Zack’s car was in his parking space, so at first I thought he’d come in early. I called out to him, but nobody answered. I should have called the police right then. I wish I had, but I went into Zack’s office.”
Aurelia stared straight ahead, re-creating the scene in her mind.
“I know this is very difficult,” said Annabelle, “but can you describe what you saw?”
Aurelia nodded, closing her eyes for a moment before continuing. “The office had been ransacked,” she said. “There were papers and books strewn around everywhere, drawers had been pulled out and their contents thrown all over the floor. The first thought I had was that I was going to have a terrible job cleaning it all up.” Aurelia began to cry in earnest. “Can you believe that? I was worried about the mess.”
Annabelle and B.J. waited for Aurelia to compose herself so that she could go on to describe the discovery and condition of Zack Underwood’s body. But when she did speak again, she deliberately changed the subject.
“Once the police are finished searching the room, they want me to come in and figure out if anything is missing.”
B.J. pulled his head back from the camera and looked at Annabelle. They each knew what the other was thinking. They had to press Aurelia for the details of the murder scene. The trick was not to alienate her; they wanted to be able to call on her in the future. She might confide in them what, if anything, was taken from Zack Underwood’s office and perhaps be a source for information about the police investigation into his death.
“I know this is very difficult, Aurelia,” said Annabelle. “But can you describe what else you saw?”
“You mean how Zack looked?” asked Aurelia.
Annabelle nodded. “Yes, and whatever impressions you had.”
Aurelia shifted her gaze from Annabelle and concentrated instead on her hands, which she twisted in her lap. “At first I just got the sense that somebody else was in the room. I could see something in my peripheral vision.” She paused for a moment. “It turned out to be Zack.”
“On the floor?” asked Annabelle.
Aurelia shook her head, still staring at her hands. “No. He was sitting in an armchair.”
“So you think he was killed as he sat there?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Aurelia. “Zack hated that chair. He never sat in it.” She continued, with some hesitation, “I think he was…positioned there.”
“What do you mean?” asked Annabelle.
Aurelia nervously cleared her throat before speaking. “I think somebody wanted Zack to look like he was posing as a king.”
“A king,” Annabelle repeated. “I’m sorry. I don’t get it.”
“Zack looked like he was sitting on a throne, holding a scepter in his hand.”
“A scepter?”
Aurelia nodded.
“What was it made of?” asked Annabelle.
“It wasn’t a real scepter,” said Aurelia. “More like a reed or a stalk.”
“A plant of some kind?” suggested Annabelle.
“Yes.”
“Could you tell how Zack had been killed, Aurelia?”
The woman closed her eyes. “There were marks around his neck,” she whispered. Her hands trembled, and her face was ashen.
“Aurelia, are you all right?” asked Annabelle with concern. “Are you up to going back to the office?” She motioned to B.J. to stop recording. “The police are probably ready for you to take stock of what’s in there. We can talk more sometime after that.”
CHAPTER 59
After dropping Aurelia back at Underwood’s office, Annabelle called the newsroom and listened to instructions.
“Linus definitely wants a piece for the show tomorrow morning,” she told B.J. when she got off her BlackBerry.
Both of them calculated what elements they already had.
“Obviously, the best thing we’ve got is the interview with Aurelia,” said Annabelle. “But the only other element is the office exterior video. We can pad the piece with the file of Innis Wheelock’s funeral when we explain the supposed connection between Wheelock’s and Underwood’s deaths.”
B.J. frowned. “That’s all right, I guess. But I wish we had more.”
“Well, the cops aren’t saying anything yet.”
“We could go ahead and try to get some MOS,” suggested B.J.
Annabelle sighed. “All right, but all the others will go for man-on-the-street reactions. I’d like to have something else.”
As they drove toward the center of town, it occurred to her. “I know,” she said. “Turn around.”
“Where are we going?” asked B.J. as he slowed down.
“The library,” said Annabelle. “We passed it as we drove here this morning.”
The stone exterior of the Tuxedo Park Library was in keeping with the historic tone of the area.
Except for the woman behind the circulation desk, Annabelle and B.J. had the library to themselves. They approached the librarian, who looked up from what she was doing and smiled.
“We’re looking for some information on an accident that happened about twenty years ago in Tuxedo Park,” said Annabelle. “I did a Google search but found only a short mention of it in a Times Herald-Record article out of Middletown, New York.”
“I didn’t live here then,” said the librarian. “But maybe there’s some account of it in the Tuxedo News. It’s not available online, so I’ll have to do a manual search. Do you have an approximate date when the accident happened?”
Annabelle told the librarian when the article had run. She and B.J. followed the woman to the other side of the library.
“This is the Tuxedo Park History Collection,” said the librarian, gesturing to the shelves. “Let me check through our archives for the Tuxedo News editions that ran around the time you’re interested in.”
Fifteen minutes later the librarian returned, carrying a stack of old newspapers.
“Start with these,” she said. “But please be careful with them. They’re the only copies we have.”
Annabelle and B.J. began flipping through the pages.
“Here’s something,” B.J. said with excitement. “It’s buried in the back of the paper.”
“Good,” said Annabelle. “Now we know to look in the editions after this one.”
The following edition featured a bigger story, right on the front page. Annabelle read it aloud.
“‘The crushed blue Mustang convertible, found abandoned on a secluded section of West Lake Road in the park last week has been identified as belonging to 31-year-old Martin O’Shaughnessy, a town resident employed as a landscaper for many Tuxedo Park estates, among them the house of Innis and Valentina Wheelock. Mrs. Wheelock is widely considered a favorite in the next gubernatorial election.
“‘Police are looking for Martin O’Shaughnessy, but so far have been unable to find him.’”
Annabelle could find only one more article. It ran the following week.
“‘Police may be near to closing the case of the mysterious abandonment of a car on West Lake Road two weeks ago. Tracing the car to Martin O’Shaughnessy, a landscaper and village resident, police now suspect that O’Shaughnessy has fled to Ireland. Martin O’Shaughnessy’s brother, William, told police his sibling had been dissatisfied with his work situation. He also said Martin had been talking for quite some time about going to live in Ireland, the country from which their parents had emigrated.
“‘Officer Clay Vitalli stated that since no real crime was committed, other than abandoning the car in a ditch, authorities are satisfied and do not plan to pursue matters further.’”