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The Broken Window

“You’re hardly a suspect, Mark,” Pulaski said, laughing himself. “But, yeah, it’s probably better to wait. I’ll see if my brother can make it too.”

“Mark.” A soft voice spoke from behind them.

Pulaski turned to see Andrew Sterling, black slacks and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up. A pleasant smile. “Officer Pulaski. You’re here so often I should put you on payroll.”

A bashful grin.

“I called. The phone went to your voice mail.”

“Really?” The CEO frowned. Then the green eyes focused. “That’s right. Martin left early today. Anything we can help you with?”

Pulaski was about to mention the time sheets but Whitcomb jumped in fast. “Ron was saying there’s been another murder.”

“No, really? By the same person?”

Pulaski realized he’d made a mistake. Going around Andrew Sterling was stupid. It wasn’t as if he thought Sterling was guilty or would try to hide anything; the cop just wanted the information quickly-and frankly, he also wanted to avoid running into Cassel or Gillespie, which might’ve happened if he’d gone to executive row for the time sheets.

But now he realized he’d gotten information about SSD from a source that wasn’t Andrew Sterling-a sin, if not an outright crime.

He wondered if the businessman could sense his discomfort. He said, “We think so. Seems like the killer had originally targeted an SSD employee but ended up killing a bystander.”

“Which employee?”

“Miguel Abrera.”

Sterling immediately recognized the name. “In maintenance, yes. Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. A little shaken up. But okay.”

“Why was he targeted? Do you think he knows something?”

“I can’t say,” Pulaski told him.

“When did this happen?”

“About six, six-thirty tonight.”

Sterling squinted faint wrinkles into the skin around his eyes. “I’ve got a solution. What you should do is get your suspects’ time sheets, Officer. That’d narrow down the ones with alibis.”

“I-”

“I’ll take care of it, Andrew,” Whitcomb said quickly, sitting down at his computer. “I’ll get them from Human Resources.” To Pulaski he said, “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Good,” Sterling said. “And let me know what you find.”

“Yes, Andrew.”

The CEO stepped closer, looking up into Pulaski’s eyes. He shook his hand firmly. “Good night, Officer.”

When he was gone, Pulaski said, “Thanks. I should’ve asked him first.”

“Yeah, you should have. I assumed you did. The one thing that Andrew doesn’t like is to be kept in the dark. If he has the information, even if it’s bad news, he’s happy. You’ve seen the reasonable side of Andrew Sterling. The unreasonable side doesn’t seem much different. But it is, believe me.”

“You won’t get in trouble, will you?”

A laugh. “As long as he doesn’t find out I got the time sheets an hour before he suggested it.”

As Pulaski walked toward the elevator with Whitcomb, he glanced back. There at the end of the corridor was Andrew Sterling, talking to Sean Cassel, their heads down. The sales director was nodding. Pulaski’s heart bumped hard. Then Sterling strode off. Cassel turned and, polishing his glasses with the black cloth, looked directly at Pulaski. He smiled a greeting. His expression, the officer read, said the businessman wasn’t the least surprised to see him there.

The elevator arrival bell dinged and Whitcomb gestured Pulaski inside.

The phone rang in Rhyme’s lab. Ron Pulaski reported what he’d learned at SSD about the whereabouts of the suspects. Sachs transcribed the information on the suspects chart.

Only two were in the office at the time of the killing-Mameda and Gillespie.

“So it could be any one of the other half dozen,” Rhyme muttered.

“The place was virtually empty,” the young officer said. “Not many people were in late.”

“They don’t need to be,” Sachs pointed out. “The computers do all the work.”

Rhyme told Pulaski to go on home to his family. He pressed back into his headrest and stared at the board.

Andrew Sterling, President, Chief Executive Officer

Alibi-on Long Island, verified. Confirmed by son

Sean Cassel, Director of Sales and Marketing

No alibi

Wayne Gillespie, Director of Technical Operations

No alibi

Alibi for groundskeeper’s killing (in office, according to time sheets)