Pulse

22

T he Times had the heat wave above the news about Ann Spellman being murdered. An odd order of importance, but Quinn guessed it made sense, depending on who you were.

While Pearl held down things at the office, and Fedderman, Sal, and Harold were in Ann Spellman’s neighborhood talking to neighbors, merchants, and friends of the deceased, Quinn went to Clinton Industrial Designs to question Louis Gainer. He left the Lincoln parked outside the office, in a loading zone he knew was seldom used, and took a subway downtown to Third and Lex. Then he returned to the surface world and walked to East Fifty-fourth Street.

Clinton Industrial Designs occupied the top floor of a ten-story office building. A financial adviser and a dry-cleaner occupied the first floor. Quinn entered the building through a door located between them. He stepped into an ancient, creaky elevator, pushed the 10 button, and up he went with surprising smoothness.

A small, bustling woman scurrying about in a reception area informed Quinn that Louis Gainer didn’t see people without an appointment. Quinn flashed her his ID and told her again he wanted to speak with Gainer.

The woman didn’t seem impressed. But she thought things through for a moment, then hurried over to a desk and said something into a blue phone. She replaced the receiver, staring at Quinn and obviously wondering about the nature of his visit.

Then the blue phone jangled, and she picked up the receiver and talked and listened. Mostly listened.

When she hung up, she smiled and came over to Quinn at almost a dead run.

“Mr. Gainer will see you. I’ll take you back.”

Quinn had to walk fast to keep up with the woman. They went through a door in the back wall of the reception area, down a narrow hall, and then through another door that led to a large loft area with skylights illuminating desks and drafting boards. Three men and two women were at the boards, working away like kids taking a final exam. Another man, sitting at a desk, stood up when they approached.

He was average height, lean, and muscular, wearing a white shirt, and a tie with a loosened knot. His brown slacks were made voluminous by pleats. He had dark wavy hair, open Irish features, and an engaging white smile.

The kind of guy people would describe as a lady-killer.

Quinn wondered how close that description was to the truth.

He introduced himself and, when the woman who’d escorted him was gone, Quinn told Louis Gainer he wanted to talk to him about Ann Spellman.

At the mention of her name, Gainer seemed about to start sobbing.

But he didn’t. Instead he simply nodded, his eyes moist, and led Quinn to a room containing a long table and ten identical wooden chairs down each side. There were matching black leather upholstered chairs at each end of the table. In one corner were a fax machine and phone. A computer with a large flat-screen monitor mounted above it was in another. The walls were adorned with framed color photographs of what looked like building lobbies. There were no people in any of the lobbies, only ferns.

Gainer sat down in a large leather chair at the head of the table, and motioned for Quinn to sit in the first wooden chair on his left. Some kind of power play?

Quinn lowered himself into the chair and was surprised by how comfortable it was.

“What exactly does your company do?” he asked.

Gainer seemed relieved that they weren’t getting right to the topic of the late Ann Spellman. “We design and install both public and private common spaces, taking into account ambience as well as functionality.”

“Ah,” Quinn said. He leaned slightly toward Gainer. “And Ann Spellman was one of your designers?”

At the mention of the victim’s name, Gainer winced. A normal enough response. They’d been close. “She was one of our best designers, and was in charge of one of our industrial units.”

“Yet you fired her.”

“No, no. The board fired her. We-they had no choice.”

“Something about her work or attitude?”

“Something that became inevitable,” Gainer said.

“Her reaction to being dropped by you?”

Gainer obviously didn’t like where the conversation was going. “You mean on a personal level?”

“The most personal.”

Gainer seemed to give that some thought, shifting position in his high-backed chair. “Well, yes. It was partly my fault for letting our relationship go as far as it had. She and I were good with each other, but in a temporary way. I knew that, and I thought she did. When I had to end it, I knew how she’d take it. Especially since I didn’t give her the kind of explanation I owed her.”

Quinn thought there were a lot of I’s in that answer. “And what was that explanation?”

“I’m in love with another woman. We’re going to be married.” Gainer sighed and looked at a blank wall as if there were a window in it and he was gazing outside. There was a lot of light, but it was artificial. There were no windows in what had to be the conference room. “You can see the company’s position. At least I could.”

“Hell hath no fury…?”

“Exactly.”

“You might have told her the truth,” Quinn said, “given her a chance to react. She might have surprised you and wished you well.”

Gainer smiled sadly. “That would have been a surprise, all right.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That the company was letting her go for economic reasons. That it was a board decision and had nothing to do with her competency.”

“How did she react?”

“By calling me a sack of shit.” He breathed in and out and looked ashamed. “Maybe she’s right.”

“And then you told her you and she were over?”

“No. She naturally assumed that. I mean, after I told her I was firing her. She thought I was cutting her loose from the company because I wanted to end our affair finally and forever. I don’t recall which of us, or either of us, came right out and said it was over. But believe me, it was understood.”

“And this conversation was when?”

“Three nights ago.”

“And that was the last time you saw her alive?”

“Or dead,” Gainer said.

“Where were you last night?”

“When Ann was killed? I was with the woman I’m going to marry. I have restaurant receipts. After we had dinner, we went with friends to the theater. I even happened to run into a man I went to school with. During intermission.”

“You seem to be covered for every minute.”

“Like it was planned?”

Quinn smiled. “Don’t get ahead of me, Mr. Gainer.”

“I mean, I could have paid somebody to kill Ann, and made sure I had an alibi. But I had no reason to harm her. She was gone from here, gone from my life.” He wiped away what might have been a tear. “To tell you the truth, I miss her. We were lovers. We were also good friends.”

“Friends or not, the company couldn’t take the chance.”

“No. We couldn’t even let her come back for her things. Had them delivered to her.” He looked beseechingly at Quinn. “You don’t know how fiercely competitive this business is. You have to be a hard-ass just to survive.”

“Like my business,” Quinn said.

“Yeah. From what I’ve heard.”

Quinn stood up. “Anything to add?”

“I don’t know what it would be.”

“Maybe a confession.”

Gainer sat back as if struck by a blow. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“You’re asking me?”

“I’m trying to be cooperative. I didn’t do anything. I’ve got nothing to hide.” Gainer wiped at his eyes again. “Go ahead and check my alibi.”

“We will.” Quinn saw the fear in Gainer’s expression, along with the hope. This guy should never play poker. “I know what you think, Mr. Gainer, that maybe you should have lawyered up and gone mute. That you handled this meeting wrong. But you didn’t. Not if you told the truth.”

“Do you think I killed Ann? Or hired someone to kill her?”

“No,” Quinn said. “Right now, I don’t.”

“Thank you,” Gainer said.

Quinn went to the door. “But that’s right now.”