Possessing Morgan:
A Matter of Conviction
by Aurelia
Part 13
See Part 1 for Disclaimers
Chapter 13
Morgan had trouble keeping her mind on the case. Her thoughts kept going back to last night’s dinner. Was it all just that easy? Andrea thought so but she wasn’t so sure, and that was the issue that kept interrupting her train of thought. Come on, Morgan, suck it up! Things to do, people to see…
But first things first…
“Miss Vaughan, you were in drug rehab a couple of years ago?”
“What has this got to do with Rose’s murder?”
“Just answer the question please.”
“Yes, in England. A private hospital.”
“What kind of treatment did they use?”
“Well, basically they locked me up like a prisoner and left me crying like a baby.”
“Did they use any drug therapy?”
“No, this place was more about counseling than drugs.”
“That doesn’t sound very therapeutic.”
“I didn’t think so at the time, but it worked.”
“Do you harbor a grudge against your father for locking you up like that?”
“No. Oh, at the time I did, but considering how it all turned out, I really can’t complain.”
“Oh come on, you must have been seriously pissed off at him dumping you in England in some crap hole half way across the world?”
“No, officer. As I said, at the time I was angry and desperate, but drug withdrawal does that to you. He was a very brave man to take the hard road knowing that I would hate him for it. He loved me, I know that now. Why is that of interest to you?”
Morgan’s eyes sought out Henry standing behind Chelsea Vaughan. She tried very hard to keep a straight face as he rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Well, maybe this all isn’t as cut and dried as everyone thinks. Maybe there are others who had motives for the death of Miss McManus. Right now everyone is a suspect, even you, Miss Vaughan. The fact that your father was about to change his will pushes you up that list just a little bit. Who was in? Who was out? Were you being given a smaller cut? Were you being shuffled out of his will completely?”
“I don’t care about his will.” Movement behind the woman caught Morgan’s attention. Her partner was openly snickering, his hand trying to cover up the sound.
“Don’t care? Oh, get real. Do you honestly expect me to believe that you don’t care whether your father leaves you millions in his will? Either you are very naïve, Miss Vaughan, or you think I’m a complete idiot.”
“What is your point, Detective?” Finally Mr. Marks commented. He had been content to sit and let his client get grilled.
“Miss Vaughan, while your own rehab did not involve any drug treatments, I am sure you are well aware that many centers, such as your mother… sorry step-mother’s…, do. It wouldn’t have taken much research on your part to discover the nifty little side effect of her medication. It would have been easy enough to find out that it was a hallucinogenic and would be capable of confusing your father enough to put your plan into action. Conveniently, you were supposedly at a friend’s house overnight, thereby establishing your alibi. Why did you leave early? Your alibi faltered, Miss Vaughan. She couldn’t account for your whereabouts after about 2:00 a.m.”
“It was 2:00 a.m. I went home. The party was too crowded and I wanted to be alone. So, I went back to my apartment and went to bed."
“And I don’t suppose you have someone to back up that statement?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You went back to your apartment, so there was nothing to stop you going to your father’s house. You find out that dear old daddy is going to change his will to include Rose McManus and God knows who else. You could not allow that to happen. So you plan to kill two birds with one stone. Or maybe it was three? You set up your father superficially for the murder of Rose McManus, but leave clues to implicate your stepmother.”
“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”
“You can’t tell me that Connie Vaughan isn’t a constant pain your ass? The woman is barely older than you are and she holds the wallet.”
“I don’t hate her.” Henry coughed, trying to cover up his disbelief. Chelsea tried to sound so damned sincere. Was this woman for real?
“Whatever you say, Miss Vaughan, but it’s gonna take a whole lot more than your statement to convince me otherwise.”
“This interview is over, Detective.” Marks stood and directed Chelsea out of the room, leaving Morgan and Henry facing one another.
“So, who’s the frontrunner then?”
“Henry, if I knew that they’d be in custody. It all sounds good, but we still gotta prove it.” She looked over at her partner. “Can you get someone to run down phone records on the family, especially Connie and Chelsea Vaughan. I want to know who they’ve been talking to in the last month.”
“Will do.”
Henry also left, leaving Morgan alone, facing the one-way mirror. “So, now what?” she muttered.
* * *
Morgan looked across at Henry, watching him at the computer typing up another report. How did he do that? She could barely find the alphabet on that thing and yet he moved around the keyboard with ease. He was certainly delineating the skills of the male stereotype. Sometimes she wondered if she had more male hormones than he did.
“Hey Henry!”
“Yep. What’s up?”
“Want to go for a ride?”
“Sure thing. I’m just about finished here.” Now if she had been typing that same report, she would probably be as far as putting in her name and badge number.
“I’ll go and clear it with the captain while you finish up.”
“Okay,” he said absently, his mind already back at the computer to put the final touches to his report.
Morgan walked briskly to the Captain’s office, blithely ignoring the snide remarks as she passed Morelli’s desk. The guy was being more and more of an ass every day. She knocked firmly before entering. “Captain?”
Dark eyes looked up at her. “Ah, O’Callaghan. Any news?”
“The final forensics report on the Vaughan case is in. There are two sets of unknown prints in the kitchen.” She placed the paper in front of Markham. “Chang and I would like to go visit Vaughan’s office to interview the employees to see if there is anything going on around there. You know, disgruntled workers who might just like to put the old man away.”
“Fine. Let me know if you find anything.”
“You got it, Captain.”
Morgan stood at the door as Henry approached, watching as he slipped his arms into his coat as he moved towards her. “Ready?”
“Sure thing.”
“I’ll drive this time.”
“Is that a comment on my driving?”
“Do you want it to be?” She looked at his amused face, glad to see he didn’t take it personally.
“You think you can drive any better with one arm?”
“Oh, I keep forgetting about this thing," she mumbled, glancing down at her broken wing. "Nah, I just wanted to drive that’s all. I don’t get to do much these days. Oh well...think fast!” Morgan tossed him the keys.
She should have known. He had remembered nothing she had said. She would have even put up with his usual complaints about her driving abilities. You drive too slow, watch out for the pedestrian, turn left here. Henry was a miserable back seat driver. She had been tempted to pull over and just shoot him a time or two in the past.
“Let’s see the old man first.” The elevator was whisper quiet, accentuating even their breathing in the void. Morgan looked up to see a security camera in the corner. She nodded her head towards it. “That might be useful…”
The doors slid open to a receptionist sitting at a rather large officious desk. “Yes? May I help you?”
In unison they withdrew their badges, showing them to the girl behind the desk. “Detectives O’Callaghan and Chang here to see Mr. Vaughan.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, we don’t, but I’m sure Mr. Vaughan will see us.”
“I’m sorry Detectives, but if you have no appointment then you can’t see…”
“I’ll take care of them, Annette.”
The receptionist glanced to her right at an older woman that had just entered the room, dressed in a severe suit, her hair pulled back into a bun at the base of her neck. Talk about stereotypical. “Detectives, I’m Mr. Vaughan’s personal assistant, Ms Parker. Come this way please.”
They were escorted back into the elevator, taking it to the top floor. Morgan suspected that Vaughan had a say in the décor of this floor. They were greeted with large comfortable chairs and wood paneling, exuding an understated elegance that spoke money but not great wealth. She liked it… liked him.
“Ahh, Detectives. Good to see you again. Please… please come in.” The greeting was friendlier than it should have been, considering he was the prime suspect in a murder investigation. “Ms Parker, could you please arrange coffee for… three?” He made a silent inquiry and received two nods in reply. “Let’s talk in here.” He ushered them into his office, a carbon copy of the foyer on the top floor. “Have a seat.”
Morgan smiled at Henry as they both sat, their weight sinking into the thick cushion sitting on the chair. “Very nice, Mr. Vaughan.”
“I rather like it. Better than Monets on the wall, eh?” She could understand that, he was no connoisseur either. That moved him up one notch in her estimation of him.
“Don’t like art, Mr. Vaughan?”
“Yes I do, but who wants to spend several million dollars on something you just look at?” He laughed at Morgan’s face. “Not what you expected me to say, Detective?”
“In my experience, Mr. Vaughan, anyone who has money owns art.”
“Not me I’m afraid, despite my wife’s constant harping on it. She likes to keep up with the Joneses, or should I say keeping up with the Trumps.”
“How did you manage to stop her buying any?” He smiled wryly at her. “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
In a mock whisper, he spoke. “I said if she wanted to buy art then I would have to make cuts elsewhere in her budget to cover it. Somehow she never asked me again. I wonder why?” He laughed again, enjoying the conversation. Ms Parker arrived with a silver tray, handing the coffee cup to each of them, finally closing the large wooden door behind herself as she left.
“Enough chit chat. What can I help you with?”
“If you don’t mind me saying so Mr. Vaughan, you seem to be taking this murder in stride.”
His expression sobered. ““It’s all an act, Detective. A little piece of me died that day. I didn’t know her well or for long but what I was able to discover was that she was a wonderful girl. I will miss her greatly. As to my demeanor, I’m just happy to see you, Sergeant.” Vaughan’s eyes caught Morgan’s, leaving the rest unspoken.
Before Henry could ask, she butted in. “We’re here to check up on your employees, Mr. Vaughan. Can you think of anyone who would harbor a grudge against you?”
“No one comes to mind.”
“Could we please have a list of your employees?”
He pushed his intercom. “Ms Parker, could you please arrange an employee listing for the detectives? Thank you.” He regarded the two of them. “Anything else?”
“Who in your company would have access to your funds, are authorized to use the company account, and has a working knowledge of the accounting system?”
“Ms Parker and the Chief Financial Controller, Roland Perkins, are the only two authorized to release payments from the company account, besides me of course. Ms Parker has access to the account numbers for my private account. I believe Mr. Perkins may also have that information. Anything requiring payment goes through those two people or myself.”
“Was there anything else out of the ordinary about to happen in your life, say such as an impending divorce, the shifting of a large sum of money or possibly a new business venture? Maybe something that someone may object to?” It was a longshot but if money was involved she didn’t want any sudden surprises.
“Hmmm… well Connie is staying. Shifting money? Noooo. The only thing I can think of that would be considered out of the ordinary is an external audit on all my finances.”
“Business or private?”
“Well, it was supposed to be business only, but I had decided that my private finances needed an overhaul as well. It’s been a few years since the books were scrutinized.”
Interesting… Morgan’s mind latched onto the word ‘audit’ and a number of possibilities sprang to mind. “And who knows about the upcoming audit?”
“I had mentioned it to Connie. She wasn’t too happy about that.” He smiled at the memory of her hissy fit and whether she was worth the aggravation. “Perkins and Ms Parker, of course. Oh, and the household staff. We needed to get the household account into order.”
“We’d like to interview Ms Parker and Mr. Perkins, if that is possible. Oh, one more thing. Were you aware of Rose having a boyfriend or someone she was friends with?”
“Not that I can recall, Sergeant. She was a pretty quiet person and spent most of her nights in. I think she was doing some night course, but I’m not sure. Maybe the cook would know that.”
“Thank you. I will check into that.”
There was a knock on the door, followed by the arrival of Vaughan’s private secretary, or as she preferred to be called his personal assistant. Semantics. “Thank you, Ms Parker. Could you please ask Mr. Perkins if he would come to my office?”
“Is there anyone on that list that stands out for you, Sir?” The old man scanned the pages quickly before handing it over to Morgan.
“As far as I am aware, everyone is happy here. But, then again, that’s my opinion, not theirs.” From what she had seen of the man she suspected that it may be true, but who knows what grudges are harbored in the lower ranks if they choose not to voice them?
The intercom buzzed, drawing Mr. Vaughan’s attention. “Yes?”
“Sir, it seems Mr. Perkins has not been into work for the last week.”
“When was he first noticed missing?” Morgan couldn’t help but jump into the conversation.
“A week ago. The same day of… your unfortunate incident.”
“Ms Parker, a moment please. Mr. Vaughan, do you mind us using your office to interview your secretary?”
“I have no objection. Do you want me to leave?”
“Ms Parker may be more inclined to talk more freely without you here. We will only be a few minutes.” The redhead watched the two pass each other at the doorway, carefully taking in the body language passing between them. As far as she could see, Vaughan wasn’t concerned by whatever his secretary would say.
“Please sit, Ms Parker. I just have a couple of questions for you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ma’am. God, she hated that. It made her sound like an old maid.
“Are you aware of anyone in the company who would harbor a grudge against Mr. Vaughan?”
“Mr. Vaughan? No, Detective.” It was the way she said her boss’s name that prompted the next question.
“How about Mrs. Vaughan? How do you feel about her?”
“She’s…,” Ms Parker thought for a moment, “…I don’t know how I feel about her.”
“I think you do. Tell me what you think about her, and please be candid. Otherwise, Ms Parker, you will leave me to come to my own conclusions, and believe me I can be very imaginative.”
“I don’t like the woman.” The words were mild but the intonation was venomous. Morgan suspected that there was more than a boss-employee relationship here, even if it was one-sided.
“Enough to implicate her in the maid’s death?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh come now, Ms Parker. What you feel for Mr. Vaughan goes beyond a simple employer-employee relationship, doesn’t it?”
“He doesn’t know.” She sadly replied. “He doesn’t even know I exist. It’s ‘Ms Parker’ this and ‘Ms Parker’ that. I’m sure he doesn’t even know my first name.”
“It’s Grace.” A deep voice came from the door. “Of course, I know who you are Grace Parker.” Vaughan looked at Morgan. “I’m sorry, Sergeant, I couldn’t stay out any longer. I’m expecting an urgent overseas call any minute that I have to take.”
“Thank you, Mr. Vaughan. I’ve finished with Ms Parker for now. However, I would like her to come down to the precinct for a further statement and fingerprints.” She looked at the stricken woman. “It’s just for reference purposes only. So we can eliminate you from our investigation.” Or confirm it… Morgan had a feeling this was one of the unknown fingerprints.
“One thing before I go. I need Mr. Perkins’s address please. Is there any other place that he would go, like a vacation house? And....ahhh...would you have a photo of him on file?” Morgan turned to the secretary and received a nod in return.
“Henry, can you help Ms Parker? I want to have a word alone with Mr. Vaughan.” She knew she received a quizzical look even without looking, not prepared for explanations at the moment. “Thanks, partner.”
After the door closed, Vaughan spoke up. “You wish to say something Morgan?”
“You are aware that you are a prime suspect in a murder, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Your attitude is strange. You seem to be nearly nonchalant with the fact that you could be arrested and arraigned for the crime at a moment’s notice. Are you sure you understand the seriousness of the situation?”
“I do, Detective, but if it was an open and shut case I would be in jail already. I have every confidence in you, Morgan. Despite the fact that I have no clear memory of what had happened I know that I’m not capable of killing someone, especially Rose. The truth will protect me.”
“I hate to tell you Mr. Vaughan…”
“Arthur.”
“Arthur, there are a lot of people in jail who said the same thing. Don’t be too confident in the justice of truth. However, I will do the best I can to uncover that truth.”
“Like I said, I have every confidence in you.”
“Just don’t be cocky about it, okay Arthur?” He smiled sweetly at her and Morgan couldn’t help but smile back. What was it about this man that just cried out to her?
* * *
“You gonna tell me what’s going on between you two?”
“Nothing. I keep telling you that, but you don’t believe me. We went for a walk in Central Park on Saturday, that’s all.”
“You and Vaughan went to Central Park?”
“Vaughan? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m asking about you and Vaughan, but thanks for the update on the counselor. Central Park, huh?” Henry’s knowing smile emerged again annoying the hell out of Morgan. “No. Why haven’t you arrested him yet?”
“You’ve seen the evidence. He had no gunshot residue either on his hands or his clothes. There was blood spatter on the soles of his shoes, so he would have had to been lying down at the time of the shooting. He was loaded with a hallucinogen so I doubt he would have been able to focus on anything. And finally there was only one single set of perfectly clear fingerprints on the gun grip and no place else.”
Henry thought for a moment. “Ah...and what has that got to do with the price of tea in China?”
“Think about it, Henry. If Vaughan had carried that gun all the way downstairs... from the upstairs bedroom... and held onto it all the way to the kitchen, wouldn’t the prints be smudged in some way and not perfectly clear?”
“Ohhhh, I see said the blind man!” She had him thinking, his initial question forgotten for the moment. “Okay, but what are these private conversations? Are you plotting something?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“No kidding!”
“I dunno, every time I look into his eyes he reminds me of someone.”
“That’s easy enough solved. Don’t look.”
“Easier said that done, my friend. Easier said than done.”
* * *
Perkins, however, proved to be very elusive. A search of his apartment turned up nothing except the fact that he left in a hurry. The perishables in the refrigerator were already beginning to mold. Grace Parker was able to track down an address for a vacation home and Massachusetts State Police were following her request that Perkins was a “person of interest” in a homicide case. Photographs had been circulated to all major transport systems out of the city in the hope of catching him leaving, but she suspected the trail was cold already after a week. He would be long gone.
* * *
“So how did it go?” Markham intercepted Morgan and Henry at the coffee maker, refreshing his beverage for the tenth time.
“It was very interesting. The secretary has a thing for her boss and hates the wife’s guts. The Chief Financial Controller disappeared the moment the maid was killed and hasn’t been seen since. I suspect both these people are the missing identities belonging to those two unknown fingerprints. Suddenly this case has taken a new turn.”
“And what are you doing about it?”
“Mass State Police are checking out his country home and airports, train and bus terminals are being covered by our boys and transport police. But a week has gone by and I think if he’s gonna escape he already has.”
“And?”
“And we’ll check out his financial records. He certainly has the credentials to do the money transfer. The forensic boys picked up some fingerprints and DNA from the apartment for reference. We’ll see if he is the second unknown fingerprint at the crime scene.”
“Good, very good. Well, you told me so.”
“I did?”
“Sure, you said that things weren’t as they seemed. Do you have a crystal ball in that pocket of yours?”
Morgan couldn’t help but look down. “Sir, I would either have two or none at all. One pretty one is just plain showing off.”
“G’wan get out of here, Miss Funny Lady.”
“You don’t want me to be funny?”
“I’m laughing on the inside, Morgan. Back to work.”
“Sir! Yes, sir!” She briskly brought her feet together, saluted and did an about-face, earning a quiet chuckle from her boss as she made her way back to her desk.
* * *
The day had gone by very quickly with all the new evidence and motives now available to them. She had ordered a rush on the Perkins prints and Grace Parker came in the early afternoon to submit her fingerprints and to make a formal statement. It seemed Vaughan was being more than generous in allowing his assistant to come in during work hours. Morgan couldn’t deny it, he was being more than cooperative with her. She only hoped to that her gut feelings were right about him.
Morgan contemplated the new twists to the case as she sipped her rapidly cooling coffee. It was bad enough to drink the cheap crap without it being cold too. She sauntered over to the coffee maker and looked into the pot. There was about half an inch of swill left swimming with dregs of the coffee so she weighed up her options. Take it and have to filter the coffee through her teeth, make a new pot or nuke the cold one she had. Not feeling particularly generous, she opted for the third.
“Hey, O’Callaghan! Phone call on three!”
“Thanks!” She sat down with a thump in her squeaky chair, reaching for the receiver in one smooth motion. “O’Callaghan.”
“Hey MoMo.” She knew that voice.
She didn’t know what to feel. Anger, fear, confusion and curiosity all wanted a piece of her, but she just didn’t want to face any of it right at this particular moment. What the hell...? “What do you want?”
“Not even a hello for your brother?”
“You got nothing to say that I wanna hear, Brennan.” The receiver was returned to its cradle with a bang, the anger portion driving her action.
A minute later the phone rang again. “Hey O’Callaghan! It’s that caller again.”
“Tell him I’ve gone home.” Morgan’s stony face told Velasquez she would not argue the point.
“Errr… I’m sorry, you just missed her. She’s gone for the day.”
Morgan saw the annoyed look from the detective. “Sorry, I’m not in the mood to argue with him.” He had stirred up a multitude of emotions in her, fueling the beginnings of a headache and the throbbing inside her plastered arm.
* * *
Andrea was glad that court was over. It had been a long grueling day. She had been ill prepared for the case and it was only her ‘creative lawyering’ as she liked to call it that kept the case going at all. Tonight she was going to have to put in some overtime to be prepared for tomorrow.
She had stopped by Markham's office and he apprised her of the new discoveries in the Vaughan case. Interesting. This case was showing more intrigue by the minute. She detoured to see Morgan, professionally of course, to hear from the woman herself how the case was developing.
Andrea peeked briefly into the squad room to find Morgan, spotting her hunched over her desk, her broken wrist tucked in tightly against her body and holding her head. Her heart went out to the tall redhead, feeling that pain as if it were her own. She could see that the woman was in no mood for idle chit-chat and decided to leave her alone. A rumble in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Detouring to her office to pick up her wallet, Andrea decided to visit the deli around the corner for a salad and a frappuccino.
She emerged into the sunlight, the warmth of the day still hanging in the atmosphere and touching her skin. Two of the detectives were on the stoop smoking their lungs out, taking huge drags from their rapidly dwindling cigarettes. At the bottom of the stairs four uniformed officers were chatting, trying to decide where to meet after they changed out of their uniforms. The force seemed to be as much a social club as a public service.
Tonight was the night. Mulling over in her mind just how she was going to break the news to Joel, she decided the direct approach was best. No more softening the blow with big fancy words or heartfelt sorrow. He deserved the truth and he would get it.
Andrea didn’t immediately react to the loud crack that whipped through the air. Pain exploded through her chest and her eyes widened in confusion. She looked down to see a splash of red expanding quickly from a hole in her blouse, her thoughts scattered to the winds as she crumpled to the top step of the station house.
Feedback is always appreciated. You can contact me at aurelia_fan@yahoo.com.au