“You saidleaving us,”Pawlowski said. “Who else is there?”
“We have a three-year-old son and a nine-year-old daughter. They’re currently with my mother. My daughter is quite upset and whenever I would try to calm her, she just…well, she’d rather be with her grandmother. My mother insisted she take them…so I could take care of funeral arrangements, insurance things…”
“And I assume the children were here on the night we’ve been talking about.”
“Yes, they were.”
“No nannies or maids or anything?” Ava asked. As she asked, her heart seemed to stutter a bit. She realized in that moment just how methodical she was being. But she knew this woman’s pain a little too well. She’d lost a husband recently, too, after all. It made her wonder what it might mean that she was able to compartmentalize this woman’s situation and the case. She supposed it meant that the work she’d found as a detective—the very same job Clarence had enjoyed—had helped her to heal.
Stella frowned and took a sip of her coffee. “Well, we used to have a woman that served both functions. But we let her go two weeks ago because of the worries of money.” She laughed softly, an almost forced noise. “And being a mother with no assistance these last few weeks…it’s been eye-opening. But also lovely in its own way.”
“Mrs. Perkins, have any of Mr. Perkins’s co-workers or associates been by since it happened?” Aba asked.
“No. Not a single one. One of his partners did telephone me to give his condolences, but that’s all.” She sighed and showed the first sign of emotion since they’d arrived. “Ladies, I do appreciate the attention you’re giving this, but I’m afraid your efforts are being wasted. As much as I would love to think that Alfred didn’t do this awful thing…I believe it’s exactly whatdidhappen. I don’t know why he chose that building other than…well, Alfred liked to do things big. I supposed he figured if he was going out in that way, he may as well make a spectacle of it.”
Ava digested it all: insurance papers, kids at home with her, a sister that had been with her through most of it. These would leave trails of some kind, offering potential routes for her and Pawlowski to take. But in speaking with Stella, Ava was starting to think Pawlowski was right. All signs pointed to this beinga suicide—that Alfred Perkins had pitched himself off into the sky from the top of the Chrysler Building, ending his life and troubles while providing for his family at the same time.
It was depressing, but also rather touching in a grim way. And oddly enough, Ava found herself hoping this was indeed what happened. It was certainly much preferable to the idea that someone had killed her husband in that same manner. But even as she and Pawlowski left, that possibility gnawed at the back of her mind, reminding her just how much work was involved in getting to the top of that building, of how desperate someone would truly have to be in order to go through with it.
“So where to next?” Pawlowski asked.
“I think we need to see where Perkins worked,” Ava said. “I think it’s time we take a trip over to Wall Street.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ava found the building at 40 Wall Street nearly as intimidating as the Chrysler Building. Though she lived in the city and did her best to stay abreast of news and current events, she tended to ignore most of the stories coming out of Wall Street. This had become especially true since the crash, the suicides, and the infinite drama that now seemed to spill out of that part of the city. That’s why she was surprised to see that the top portion of 40 Wall Street seemed to still be under construction. Apparently, though, the lower floors were fully operational.
When Ava and Pawlowski entered the building, they found themselves in a large, gleaming lobby. The floors were made of hardwood and, on the right-hand side, tile. The lobby led directly to one of the largest front counters Ava had ever seen. There was enough room for at least twenty people behind it, but currently there were only three women. One of them was chatting with a man in a suit and bowler hat. The one closest to them gave them a smile and waved them over.
“Good morning, ladies,” she said. “Is there anything I can do for you today?”
Ava showed her ID and badge, something most women she spoke with seemed to be almost mesmerized by. This woman was no different, looking back and forth between the badge and the two women in front of her as if she were witnessing a bit of black magic or sorcery.
“We’re Detective Gold and Officer Pawlowski with the NYPD. We’re currently looking into the death of a man that worked here. Alfred Perkins.”
The name registered with the woman at once. She frowned and nodded. “Oh my, isn’t it just terrible?”
“Did you know him?” Pawlowski asked.
“Oh, not well. Just enough to wave and say hello as he came in.”
“Would you happen to know where his office was located?”
“I believe he was on the fourth floor, though I don’t know which office. Check in with Mr. White, on the fourth floor—he’s the first office on your left. Mr. White was Mr. Perkins’s supervisor. He can help you, I’m sure.”
Ava and Pawlowski left the front desk and headed for the elevators. After their trip to the Chrysler Building, Ava nearly suggested they take the stairs instead, but kept it to herself. They took the elevator up to the fourth floor and as they entered the hallway, Ava was starkly reminded of how Wall Street was, in its own way, also feeling the crushing weight of the market crash. She saw empty offices and desks, cluttered boxes, and piles of papers that she assumed to be the belongings of workers that had either buckled under the pressure or had been let go.
It was almost eerie in a way, a detached sort of feeling that sank into her as they finally came to Mr. White’s office. His door was open and when Pawlowski knocked, he looked up and gave them a huge, radiant smile.
He was a bear of a man, quite handsome in a rugged way. The suit he was wearing almost seemed odd fitting on him. He had the appearance of a man that might spend most of his time in the wilderness, not on Wall Street.
“Can I help you ladies?” he asked.
This time, it was Pawlowski that made introductions. White’s face softened a bit, the huge smile fading at the edges when he learned why they were visiting.
“Well, his office is the fourth one down the hall on the left,” White said. “You’re welcome to have a look around if you like.”
“Is there anything you may have noticed that seemed strange about Mr. Perkins in his final days?” Ava asked.