Chain of Evidence

CHAPTER 26

With Bud Gorman having retraced Zeller’s former employment to Proctor Security, Dart started with Terry Proctor.

The security firm occupied the top two floors of a four-story cement and steel structure on Asylum Street. The receptionist, in her late twenties, wore a gray wool Italian suit with black buttons and a white blouse buttoned at the collar. At Dart’s office, the receptionist was an Irish sergeant with a wart on his chin and a scowl on his face. After waiting a few minutes, Dart was led down a hallway lined with corporate citations and black-and-white photographs of international cities. Terry Proctor imagined himself a big player in corporate security, when in fact he was small potatoes. The big boys, like Kroll Associates, had never heard of him and never would. His office overlooked a section of the Connecticut river, brown and lazy, and a view east of barren trees interrupted by buildings. It had been decorated like a cheap tearoom. Muzak played from hidden speakers, making Dart slightly nauseated. He half expected a cocktail waitress.

Proctor was ruggedly handsome, six two, with piercing blue eyes and wide shoulders, but he dressed like a used-car salesman. He wore gold-plated cuff links and black glasses etched with a bifocal line. His hairpiece matched his glasses; his smile, the cufflinks-gold fillings. Dart sank into a brown vinyl couch that hissed at him like a snake. Proctor worked a remote control device, aimed it at the wall, and the music stopped. Thank God!

“I had hoped you might be looking for employment,” Proctor said. To Dart he came across as a male madam trying to lure Dart into homosexual prostitution.

“Walter Zeller worked for you after he left the department,” Dart said.

“It was quite the coup when we got Walter,” Proctor said, though he looked a little nervous, Dart thought. “A huge disappointment when he left. But then again, with all he’d been through-personally-not too big a surprise. I’m not sure he’ll ever be happy in the private sector.” He advised, “Some people aren’t made for this work. And I’m not saying it’s easier or more difficult than what you’re doing, where you are now-different is all.” He toyed with his wristwatch-also gold-plated, some of the finish worn off.

“Can I ask what he was working on when he was with you?”

“Of course you can ask.” He smiled a toothpaste smile and offered Dart a patronizing look. “If only I could answer,” he said, the smile not leaving his face. “The strongest selling point for any private security firm is confidentiality, Detective-the cornerstone of our business. I’m sure you understand.”

“It goes no further than me,” Dart promised. “I’m not here to lift your skirt.”

“Joe,” the man said earnestly, leaning forward and speaking softly. Dart wondered if the office had a hidden tape recorder. He basically confirmed this when Proctor reached out and triggered the remote, returning the music and covering his voice. Guys like Proctor thought of themselves as big shots; the real big shots never let on. “You wouldn’t believe the NDAs I have to sign. Nondisclosure agreements. The boilerplate runs twenty pages. Many go over fifty.” This length seemed to be a source of pride for Proctor. “You wouldn’t believe the penalties-seven figures in some cases. I’m bound legally and morally to keep my lips zipped-that’s all there is to it.” He didn’t have a moral ounce in his body. “So are my employees. It’s one reason we pull such large paychecks. People come to us to keep things quiet. Okay? Sorry.”

“So even if you wanted to help me, you couldn’t,” Dart tested.

“Of course I’d like to help.”

“Bullshit. Let me tell you something, Proctor. I’ll come here with subpoenas if I have to.”

“You’ll have to,” the man said, offering another staged smile, seemingly unaffected.

“Corporate? Private? Anything you can give me.”

“Sorry.”

Dart saw resistance in the man’s eyes. He didn’t want Dart to have this information. Out of stubbornness, or guilt?

“I’m in a position where I have to have no comment, Joe. I wish I could help you. Okay? Sorry.”

“What makes a man leave a cushy security job after only a couple months?” Dart asked. “That’s not privileged.”

“I told you: As far as I could tell he just wasn’t ready for this. We operate differently than you guys. Sure, we pay well; and for that we expect loyalty, dedication, attention to detail. My take is that Walter needed more time. He needed more time to grieve over his wife’s death-that’s my opinion.”

“You’re saying it was for personal reasons.”

“Absolutely.”

“Nothing to do with his work,” Dart pressed.

The man looked uncomfortable.

“You can answer that,” Dart reminded.

Proctor flashed his plastic smile. “You want to tell me what it is that you are working on, Joe? What’s your interest in Zeller?”

“Are we both interested in Zeller?” Dart asked.

“We serve a necessary function. I help ease your workload whether you acknowledge that or not.”

“You break laws to accomplish your clients’ needs. We uphold those laws.”

“We break the little laws-the ones you wish you could break. Chain of custody? Warrants for search and seizure? We’re rarely after a court settlement. We do what we’re hired to do.”

“To break the law.”

“Not at all. You know that, Joe. We play within the accepted boundaries. If we didn’t, we would be out of business. You know that.”

“You won’t help me with Zeller?” Dart asked.

“I can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to-”

“And if I subpoena you, and it happens to leak to the media-”

“Are you threatening me, Joe?”

“I’m warning you, Terry,” he said, having never met the man before. “I’d rather keep the gloves on, but if they come off … I want you to know that I’m serious about this. We’re not talking about taking bedroom pictures of some CEO’s unfaithful wife.” This somehow caught Proctor where he lived. The man squared his shoulders and sat back in his chair, his face red, his fists and jaw clenched.

In an angry voice he said, “Don’t be an asshole, Dartelli. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I need answers.”

“You won’t get them here.”

“I’ll get them.”

“We’ll see.”

On his way back, Dart found a pay phone and called Gorman. “I need a client list for a security firm in town. Can you get it for me?”

“Proctor Securities?”

“Can you do it?”

“I can identify all deposits, and I can trace those deposits to bank accounts. Will that do?”

Dart gave him the dates of Zeller’s employment at Proctor.

“Are we getting somewhere?” Gorman asked hopefully. Part of the reason for the man’s participation over the years, Dart had come to understand, was the excitement. The speeding tickets were just an excuse.

“We’re getting somewhere,” Dart answered. But the closer we get, the worse it looks.