Free Fatal Impressions by Reba White Williams Page B

only. He telephoned a highly placed friend at One Police Plaza and inquired about the case.
    “We’re treating it as a suspected homicide. Someone loosened the brackets holding the bookcases to the wall, and after that, it didn’t take much to pull them down. The woman was crushed—killed instantly—those bookcases and books weighed hundreds of pounds. The victim was Frances Victor Johnson, fifty-five, divorced, head of human resources at DDD&W. She was identified by her sister, Patti Sue Victor, who also works there. Because of Johnson’s job, she could open any locked door, but she had no business in that office. No one knows why she was there,” his friend said.
    “When did Johnson die?” Rob asked.
    “Between two and four Thursday morning. The brackets must have been loosened earlier, but someone had to be in the office at the critical moment to make sure the bookcases fell on the right person. Hunt Frederick—the big deal whose office it is—was with clients in Chicago on Wednesday. Came back on a charter jet in the wee small hours, landed at Teterboro Airport at five thirty this morning, and went straight to the office. He’s in the clear.”
    Rob made a few notes. Then, “Okay, got that. What else?”
    “Frederick’s secretary said the office was locked, and no one—including her—went in there all day Wednesday. She ate lunch at her desk and left for the day at five thirty. If she’s telling the truth—and we think she’s squeaky clean—someone got in after five thirty Wednesday night to loosen the brackets—and—”
    “Wait a minute, how do you know the shelves were loosened that night? Couldn’t someone have slipped past the secretary during the day?”
    “We think whoever did it wouldn’t have left the shelves hanging loose for long—they might have fallen accidentally, or might have been spotted. And no one could have been sure the office would be empty all day Wednesday, or if she left her desk, that she wouldn’t return and catch him or her in the act. To get out of the frame, Ms. Greene needs an alibi for the hours between five thirty p.m. Wednesday and five a.m. today. The suits at DDD&W will throw her to the wolves if they can. It’s CYA time,” his friend said.
    “How strong is the case against her?” Rob asked.
    “It’s pretty good. Her gallery is in financial trouble, and she needs the DDD&W job. Patti Sue Victor didn’t want her at DDD&W—Victor wants to be in charge of art and wanted DDD&W to hire a consultant that sucked up to her and gave her credit for everything to do with the company’s art collection. Victor told everyone that Dinah Greene was trying to steal her job, and her sister supported her. Both Johnson and Victor were agitating to oust Ms. Greene, and some people think they would have succeeded. There’s your motive, whether Ms. Greene intended to kill Victor or Johnson: get rid of the sisters before they got rid of her, and try to make it look like an accident. As you know, Ms. Greene discovered the body, and her excuse for being in the office this morning is weak. Why would she come in to check on work she’d finished last night? And everyone knows Ms. Greene hangs prints and can handle tools as well as a carpenter. She’s physically capable of doing the job. She’s the only stranger in the place, and the murder took place right after she started to work at DDD&W. If she doesn’t have an alibi, they’ll have nearly enough to arrest her,” his friend warned. “If she was a nobody, I think they’d indict her with what they have. But given who she is, they’ll have to go slow.”
    Rob wasn’t surprised that the brass knew all about the crime. A murder inside a company like DDD&W would make headlines, and the Hathaway name would raise warning signs all over the case. There’d be a lot of pressure on the police to solve this one fast, but they’d want to get it right. They wouldn’t arrest Dinah unless they were sure she was guilty, but they