Ocean Rescue
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A small group of police officers was waiting for them at the front of the building. One was carrying a body bag, which he handed to Sergeant Gannon. The three men moved away from the building and into the bright sunlight of an unseasonably warm January day in Santa Monica, California.
Sergeant Gannon looked around at his team and smiled. “Good work out there.” He turned toward the building they’d just left and nodded at the two fire trucks that had been parked on the street outside. “You guys got everything under control?”
“We’ve got the whole place cordoned off,” said one of the officers. He pointed down the block where two other fire trucks could be seen parked alongside a squad car and ambulance. Several uniformed police officers were walking up the sidewalk toward their location. There was no sign of any residents or onlookers nearby.
Gannon nodded. “All right. I’ll let you handle things here then.”
As they walked toward the ambulances, Sergeant Gannon turned to his chief of detectives and asked: “What do you want me to do with him? Do we take him in?”
Boyd frowned as if this question had never occurred to him before. “No. We’ll get him to a hospital first.”
When they reached the ambulances, Captain Boyd took over. He opened one of the doors and gestured inside. His men helped the wounded man into the back of the truck while Lieutenant O’Neill stood by with one hand on the man’s shoulder and another holding onto a bloodstained towel.
Lieutenant O’Neil nodded. “He’ll probably need stitches.”
Captain Boyd nodded. “Yeah, we’ll give him some painkillers for that too.” Then he turned to Lieutenant O’Neill and raised his voice so everyone in earshot would hear. “Hey! You! What are your credentials?”
The young lieutenant stepped forward to speak to the captain. “I’m John O’Neill, Special Agent with the FBI.” He held out his ID card. “And this is my partner, Detective David Nolan.”
There was silence among the firemen for several seconds and then Captain Boyd sighed. “Fine. Get these guys out here then and go check on the victim. Let me know when you’re ready to move.”
They closed the doors after they’d helped their unconscious colleague onto a stretcher and then hurried to make room for other firefighters and paramedics coming up behind them. Once they were all inside the ambulance, the captain shut the door with his foot and started the engine. The ambulance rolled off the curb and turned toward the street leading away from the scene.
Captain Boyd watched it leave. “All right. Where to now?” he asked the agents.
One of them pointed down the sidewalk towards one of the buildings on the corner. “That one. It looks like we’ve got our man there.”
The captain nodded. “Let’s find out what happened first.” As they approached the building, he stopped and called for his driver to stop beside him.
The three men climbed out of the ambulance and headed across the sidewalk towards the front entrance of the building, where they joined a small knot of curious bystanders who gathered near the entrance to watch the drama unfolding inside.
Boyd pushed through the crowd and entered the lobby where he found two uniformed police officers standing guard at the reception desk. Their hands were full of papers, and they both glanced up briefly as the captain arrived. Then they went back to work.
A security guard followed them into the lobby, but he made a quick U-turn immediately upon entering and walked swiftly towards the elevators. A few steps behind him, one of the firemen entered the main corridor ahead, heading towards the elevators.
They passed a large conference room with several desks filled with paper files stacked on top of each other, and they heard voices from within. Another man dressed in business casual attire hurried out of the conference room as they came close. He stopped in surprise when he saw the three men approaching.
When he noticed that they were law enforcement personnel, he quickly returned to the corridor and disappeared in the direction he had come from.
Gannon and Nolan stepped into the elevator together, with the man from the fire department trailing behind them. The doors closed. “How’s he doing?” asked Gannon.
David Nolan shook his head. “Pretty bad. Two broken ribs and maybe a concussion. We’re going to take him straight to the hospital.”
Gannon looked at his watch as they started descending to the ground floor. “We don’t have much time.” He pressed his thumb against the button that would take them to the second floor and then continued. “It sounds like there are lots of people in here working hard. But where will we find him?”
“You know this place better than I do,” answered Nolan. “I haven’t been down here since I first moved to New York.”
They waited for the elevator doors to open again, and Gannon pushed through the crowd waiting to use the elevators.
The fireman followed him. “What’s going on?”
“Looks like we’re looking for a suspect,” said Gannon. “Maybe the murderer.”
“So what are you gonna do about him?”
Gannon smiled. “We’ll get him soon enough.” He stepped out of the elevator and turned left, following the hallway past the lobby and towards the back of the building where the offices were located. “This way.” He led the fireman into an area containing rows of glass office cubicles with metal filing cabinets on top. “We need to hurry.”
The fireman followed, and they walked down the corridor until they reached a set of double doors. A sign on the wall read ‘Employees Only.’ Gannon put his hand on the knob, opened the door, and walked inside. His eyes scanned the office quickly before he turned back to the fireman. “This has gotta be where he works.”
The young officer nodded. “Yeah, it does.”
The room was empty, but they could hear voices from another room beyond, deep in the bowels of the building. As they crossed to it, the voices grew louder. The men hurried into a large boardroom with polished dark wood furniture. Several desks with computers were arranged around a long conference table with eight chairs.
The men walked slowly toward the back of the room, searching for anything unusual. At the last desk, they saw someone sitting alone in the chair nearest the door.
He sat at his computer, typing rapidly, and didn’t notice them enter until they stood next to his desk. Gannon held up the badge. “FBI,” he announced calmly as he held it near his face.
The man glanced over and then jumped when he recognized Gannon’s face. He grabbed for his wallet and pulled out his ID, flipping it open and displaying it to Gannon as though he’d never seen it before. “FBI?” he gasped, and then looked closer at Gannon’s badge.
Gannon took a step closer, still holding his badge close. “Do you have a minute or so?”
The man nodded. “Sure.” He lowered himself into his chair and looked up at his two visitors. “What can I do for you? You seem to know my name.”
“Where were you working yesterday morning between 8:00 AM and 9:00 AM?” Gannon asked, and the man froze for a moment, confused by the question. “Who hired you?”
The man leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Are you kidding me?” he finally answered. “There’s no way you think I’ve got something to do with the murder of a prominent businessman and his family. Don’t you think it would make more sense for you to ask someone else?”
“Why did you come here?” Gannon asked.
“To work,” he said. “That’s all I was here for.”
Gannon sighed and dropped his badge to the desk. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall behind him. “Is that what you were doing when you came into the office yesterday?”
The man nodded. “Yes.”
“And how long ago did you start working?”
“A little after seven,” the man replied.
“Did anyone call in sick today?”
“No,” answered the man. “Everyone works here.”
Gannon studied the man’s face. “You were working in the building this morning. Where were you between 7:00 and 10:30?”
The man hesitated again, looking down at the table for a moment. “I was home,” he finally said. “With my wife, and kids.”
Gannon looked over at Nolan and then back to the man, who sat there staring up at his employer, not seeming very intimidated. It seemed to Gannon that the man already knew something. “How many years have you worked at this company, John?”
“Twenty-eight,” answered the man. “Almost two years now.”
“What’s your role here?”
“My job title is ‘office manager,’ ” he answered.
“Can you describe what kind of work you do for the company?”
“Oh, sure,” the man replied. “Maintenance, answering phones, scheduling meetings – that sort of thing.”
“Do you have any idea if Mr. Pendergast had plans for tomorrow morning?”
“No.”
“Have you ever heard him speak about someone named Paul?”
“Not really. Who’s Paul?”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” said Gannon. “But when you left here yesterday afternoon, did you see anybody leave the office?”
“Well, maybe one or two people,” he admitted. “Just ordinary employees coming in early to get started on their work. There are four others besides Pendergast.”
Gannon looked over at Nolan and then back at the man, who sat in silence. They waited for several seconds until Gannon finally decided to try a different approach. “If you don’t mind my asking, are you married?”
“Why? Are you planning to interrogate me like some criminal?”
Gannon stared hard at him. “No, nothing like that. Did you bring anyone back to your place last night, after work?” The man shook his head. “Did you go anywhere after work?”
“Not really,” he answered. “Most days, I just go straight home from work. I’m usually dead tired after the day I’ve had. But yesterday was a busy day.”
“What was happening yesterday?”
“We had a lot of deliveries,” the man answered, as though it was obvious. “People bringing boxes and supplies to the office. We were running behind schedule on a few projects.”
Gannon nodded thoughtfully at the man’s words. “Was anything unusual happening yesterday?”
He hesitated again but then nodded. “Well, we got a call from our printer.” His eyes widened in surprise at that.
“Your printer?”
“Our graphic design department uses a print shop downtown.” He shrugged. “They had some problems.”
“Something to do with your job, specifically?”
Again, he hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to decide whether to answer. Then he nodded slowly and reached across the table to pick up the phone. “Yeah. That’s right,” he said to the caller. “Bring the rest of it to us, okay? Bring the whole truck and unload it.” He hung up.
Gannon turned to Nolan. “See if you can find out where that printer is located.”
“On it,” said Nolan.
Gannon returned his attention to the man. “When did you finish work yesterday?”
“Seven-thirty,” he answered.
“Were you scheduled to go to an event tonight?”
“An art auction,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding more interested than before. “It’s part of the company benefits package.”
“Where’s that being held?”
“In town. Not far from here. You know that area around Main Street?”
“Yes.”
“So anyway, I got home pretty early yesterday and I went straight to bed. And then when my wife got home later, she called me and woke me up.”
“You were asleep?”
“Yes. My wife wanted to talk to me about something, but I couldn’t hear her because I was asleep. So I told her to come back later.”
“You’re married?”
“Yes,” he said, without much enthusiasm in his tone.
There was a sudden loud crash from the kitchen of the bar across the street, followed by the sound of breaking glass and shouting. Nolan immediately got up and crossed the road toward the noise, his gun drawn as he did so. Gannon watched him carefully through his sunglasses.
When he saw the man returning, he turned back to the other man. “And when you came home this morning, what happened?”
The man frowned. “I didn’t come home. Actually, I slept in. Then I took a quick shower and headed off to work.”
“Work?” asked Gannon.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Are you asking about my job?”
“That’s part of it.”
“I guess I was a little late for work this morning. I overslept – it happens.”
“How long ago did you leave home?”
“About eleven, I think. Unloaded the car in the garage and drove straight in, but I didn’t get there until noon.”
“Okay,” said Gannon, reaching for his notebook. “Let’s start with your wife’s name.”
“Sheila,” he said quickly and then repeated it. “Sheila O’Dwyer.”
“What does your family call her?”
He shrugged and shook his head, unsure of how to reply.
Gannon turned back to the man. “Who is Sheila’s brother?”
The man hesitated for a moment and then said, “Her older brother.”
“And his name is…”
“David.”
“Is David married?”
“To a woman named Amy.”
“Does your family have any connection with the O’Dwyer family?”
The man shook his head. “My father’s side of the family all live in New York City,” he said, almost proudly. “But my sister and her husband, they live up near Rochester.”
“Rochester, Minnesota,” corrected Gannon, thinking of the small city not far north of here.
“Right,” said the man. “And their kids are all local, so we see them once or twice a year.”
“Do you know how long your sister has been married to David?”
“A couple of years. Two summers ago, they were both at my dad’s birthday party and they got engaged then too. They’ve been living up north ever since, which is why I don’t see much of them now, except for Christmas.”
“And is David still with Amy?”
“Yes,” said the man firmly, “he is. He’s been seeing Amy for two years.”
“What about you – is there anyone special in your life?”
He frowned. “You mean a girlfriend or someone like that? No. There isn’t anyone.”
“No one special?”
“Nothing serious, no.”
“Have you talked to David lately?” asked Gannon, knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to keep it casual.
He frowned again, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Has your brother called you recently?”
“Not recently, no.”
“You haven’t spoken to him since the day before yesterday?”
“Uh, maybe.”
“When did you speak last?” asked Gannon. “Last week? Last month?”
The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Um…last winter.”
“Winter?” exclaimed Gannon.
“Yeah. Late December. It was just after Christmas,” he added, looking away from Gannon. “We usually exchange messages over Facebook and email at Christmastime. We used to see each other on the holidays when we lived close together, but he moved up here and now I hardly ever see him.”
Gannon nodded. “So how often would you say you speak to him?”
“Every couple of months,” he replied, shifting his attention back to Gannon. “Sometimes less frequently than that. But I don’t know – if you count phone calls and emails, then maybe it’s more like every five to six weeks.”
“Where is David living right now?”
The man looked down at the table. “They bought an old house up near the lake.”
“Lake?” asked Gannon, surprised. “How far from town is that?”
“It’s about thirty miles north of here.”
“North of Rochester, Minnesota,” added Gannon.
“Right,” said the man.
“What’s that area like?”
“Up in the lakes region, it’s quite – a nice place to raise a family.”
“Did they buy the house in Rochester because you moved up here?”
“I guess so.”
“And where did your father’s family live?” asked Gannon.
He hesitated again and then said, “They still live in New York City. My grandparents and my parents.”
“You’re sure there’s nothing going on between your family and the O’Dwyers?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just thinking out loud. Your sister and your brother-in-law and their kids are living in Rochester and your sister and her husband are visiting them next week. So maybe there’s some kind of connection between your sister and the O’Dwyer family.”
“That could be.”
Gannon waited.
After a minute or two, he decided he’d better push further.
“Is there anything unusual about the relationship between David and Amy?”
The man shrugged and looked away, staring at the wall across the room. “As far as I know, they seem like a normal couple to me.”
“Anything that would give us reason to think otherwise?”
“I don’t know,” answered the man. “If you were asking about infidelity or anything like that, then there’s nothing. If they were having problems, they didn’t talk about them to me.”
“And what’s your relationship with your brother-in-law like?”
He hesitated again.
“I don’t even have a relationship with David – he never talks to me,” said the man, clearly embarrassed by this admission.
“What about Amy?”
“Amy? Why, what about her?”
“Does she treat you well?”
He laughed nervously. “Yes, she does.”
“Good,” said Gannon. “Then what I need you to do is look up your brother-in-law online and tell me if there’s any information available about him or his family that seems unusual or strange to you. Do that and call me back tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning?”
“Do you know what time it is right now?” he asked, leaning forward and raising his voice slightly. “Your brother’s missing and you’re telling me you haven’t had a chance to check out the guy who might be responsible for his disappearance?”
The man glanced around at the other patrons in the coffee shop and then quickly lowered his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Okay, I’ll get to work on it now.”
The End