Murder in Immunity: A Doyle & Acton Mystery by Anne Cleeland

Author:Anne Cleeland [Cleeland, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-09T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

They approached the front desk, where it was clear that the receptionist was expecting them. “Oh, yes, Officers; of course, we’d like to help in any way we can—such an awful thing to have happened.”

“You were surprised to hear it?” asked Williams.

The young woman nodded. “Everyone was. And it’s so very sad, because we all wondered why we didn’t sense that he was so unhappy—we could have got him into counseling. The company would have paid for it, after all.”

“Did you know Enrique well?”

She considered. “Not as well as the chaps in the back—the drivers, and the other guards. The office staff doesn’t interact with the warehouse personnel, as much.”

“I’d like to speak to some of the men he worked with—it should only take a few minutes.”

“Of course,” she said as she pressed a button that allowed the security door to open. “This is a good time, because the trucks are here, mostly. We avoid morning drives, because we don’t like to get stuck in traffic.”

She led them into the cavernous, echoing warehouse, where a dozen transport trucks were lined up, behind the closed warehouse doors. A few men sat at a break-table off to the side, and they regarded the two detectives with open curiosity, when the receptionist gestured them their way.

As they approached, Doyle made the usual assessments a detective makes when sizing-up witnesses. No one has anything to hide, she decided. They’re relaxed, and curious—not a’tall alarmed, by the brace of detectives who’ve shown up on their doorstep.

Williams began, “We’d like to ask a few questions about Enrique, if you don’t mind.”

“Ask away,” said one man. “Although I’m not sure there’s much we can say; we were all blown away by the news.”

“Has he ever shown signs of violence? Did he have a temper?”

“No,” the spokesman said flatly. “I mean, he could take care of himself, if we got into a pub-scuffle, or something, but he wasn’t aggro.” He paused, and then added, “Besides, they’d never let him work here, if he didn’t keep his nose clean.”

Williams nodded. “Did he ever grouse about his girlfriend?”

The others stared at him for a moment, and one man was seen to duck his head, and smile behind his hand.

The spokesman offered, “You lot are barking up the wrong tree, officer. He wasn’t much interested in women, if you know what I mean.”

There was a small, profound silence, and then Williams said, “I want to make certain we are talking about the same person.” On his phone, he pulled up a snap of the decedent, and showed it to them.

“Yeah, that’s him.” The others all nodded.

Williams closed the photo, and offered in a neutral tone, “It appears that he was living with a woman, and there was a domestic dispute that resulted in a murder-suicide.”

The others all stared in surprise, and the spokesman offered, “Really? I always had the sense he lived alone—he never mentioned a roommate to me. He had friends, of course.”

Williams poised his pen. “Can you give me any information about his friends?”

The spokesman tilted his head in apology.

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