“What about the wife?” she asked. “What about Stella Perkins?”
“She really wasn’t too much help the first time, now was she?” Pawlowski said.
“But the last time we spoke to her, we didn’t know about the connection to Albrecht. it might be worth asking her about some of his financial information…just to see if she knows any little details that might be worthwhile and hidden in all those binders of information in his office.”
“That’s a good point,” Pawlowski said.
“And you know,” Ava said. “If thereisanything damning, wouldn’t it almost make sense that he’d keep that information at home? If he’s got financial ties to Albrecht that he didn’t wantpeople at his work finding out about, it would be foolish to keep it all at the office.”
“Then why keep the letter there?” Pawlowski countered. “Sure, it was hidden and all, but still…”
It was a good point, and Ava had to admit that it didn’t make much sense—unless he’d kept the letter close at hand in his work environment in the event he ever felt cornered or pinned in by Albrecht. If something like that ever happened, the letter was essentially proof that investors involved with the Chrysler Building were trying to snip investors from other sources.
The truth of the matter was that they just didn’t have enough information to make any sort of informed theory. Hopefully, Stella Perkins would be able to help.
“Well, then, let’s get going,” Ava said. “Wouldn’t it be very convenient if we just happened not to be here when and if Miller decided to kill the case?”
Pawlowski grinned, apparently enjoying Ava’s slightly rebellious side. “Are you this devious back at your old precinct?” she asked, getting to her feet, and already heading for the doors.
“Every now and then,” she said. And as she also got to her feet and started following behind Pawlowski to the doors, she couldn’t help but think of Frank. He would have probably also been in agreement that sneaking out was the right move, and she wondered how he might handle this situation She missed his take on things, his rigid and by-the-book way of thinking. And as she and Pawlowski headed out to speak with Stella Perkins, she wondered what she might be missing in terms of this case without Frank by her side.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Stella Perkins had seemed detached and almost bored the first time Ava and Pawlowski had visited, but Ava was pretty sure the grief of losing her husband had caught up with her since then. When Stella answered the door, she looked very tired. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was a mess, and she looked pale. At the same time, though, she looked almost pleased to see the two detectives at her doorstep.
“Agents…Gold and…I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name, dear,” Stella said, looking apologetically at Pawlowski.
“Pawlowski. It’s okay. It’s not really easy to remember. It’s not like it rolls off the tongue or anything.”
“Well, come in,” Stella said. “Can I offer you come tea or something?”
“No, thank you,” Ava said. “I do apologize for coming back by, but our hands are tied. Mrs. Perkins, may I speak bluntly?”
“Of course,” she said. They’d all settled down around the long dining room table, Stella practically melting into her seat.
“Detective Pawlowski and I believe that we have found just enough speculative evidence to suggest that your husband did not kill himself But the simpler facts of the case all seem to point to that conclusion. Our concern is that if we can’t come up with something undeniable, his death will officially be ruled a suicide and we’ll be taken off the case.”
“Yes…I feared as much. I’m happy to do anything I can to help.”
“Well, we now have reason to believe that he was being contacted by some people that were working with investors for the construction of the Chrysler Building—that he was being asked to convince some of his company’s investors to start pushing their money towards the construction and futureinvestments in the property. So far, we have no evidence that Mr. Perkins was in fact doing this, but we know he was at leastasked.”
“Does that surprise you?” Pawlowski asked.
“If you’re asking me if he ever mentioned those connections, the answer is no,” Stella said. “As I said before, Alfred never really talked to me about his work.”
“Did he ever bring work home with him?” Ava asked.
“Yes, all of the time. I believe he often brought materials related to some of the bigger, more important clients.”
“Does he have a room he used as an office?”
“Yes. Would you like to see it?”
“Yes, that could be a huge help,” Ava said.
When Stella led them through the house, Ava once again noted how distraught the poor woman was. She moved like a phantom in her own home as she led them down a large hallway that ended at a closed door. When she reached out and opened it, Stella seemed to let out a sigh. Ava wondered if the door had been closed ever since her husband had died.
The door opened up onto a gorgeous yet simple office. A mahogany desk sat in the center of the room, and there were leatherbound books stacked on two small bookshelves behind it. The room smelled of old cigar smoke and a hint of leather. On the desk, two neat stacks of paper rested.