Free Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 03 - Money is Murder by Carolyn Arnold Page A

him.”
    “All right, we’ll carry on without it then. On our way, let’s try to make friends with the front doorman. Maybe something will slip out.”
    “He clammed right up for the police.”
    “Darling, you know how it works, but these days we’re just your average citizen.”
    Sean wrapped his arm around her waist. “Yes, average, if most have billions in their portfolio.”
    Sara laughed as she collected their printout. She knew immediately—the texture of the paper, the thickness. Her expression fell somber.
    “What is it?”
    “The paper.” She pulled her eyes from the sheet to meet Sean’s eyes. “This isn’t the same stock that Cindy printed her suicide note on. This is at least fifty pound paper and there is watermark in it. See.” She angled it so he could get a good look. “The evidence report said the paper was regular copy paper, twenty pound, recycled, white.”
    “She probably has some of that around here somewhere.” Sean rummaged through cabinets and seconds later shook his head. “I’d say the note was printed somewhere else.”
    “That spells intent. Cindy didn’t take her own life. She was murdered, and it was premeditated.”
    “It also means it was someone who had access to her flat, or the ability to get in.”
    “Which could pretty much sum up any Universal employee.”
    “Yes, except for Robert.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “The divorce was her idea. She didn’t want to see him anymore, for whatever reason, why give him access?”
    “Except you are forgetting one thing—our smiling doorman downstairs. Robert got in now. He obviously either has a key or is buddies with the doorman.” Sara pressed her lips and watched comprehension sink into Sean’s eyes.
    “He lied to us. He is guilty.”
    “It’s a possibility,” Sara conceded.
    “So, we let her killer waltz out of here. We’ve got to get over to his place.”
    “If we’re lucky and that’s where he’s headed. And how does Reid fit into all of this, or does it?”

     
    The doorman was stationed outside on the street. He was basking in the sunshine, his face heavenward and his eyes shut.
    Sean tapped his arm.
    “Oh. Hey, Mr. McKinley.” He pressed on a smile. “Did you find what you were looking for?” His eyes passed to the laptop perched under Sara’s arm.
    “Yes, thank you, but we’d like to talk with you about something. Mind if we step inside?” Sean gestured through the windows to the lobby.
    “Of course not.”
    They stepped in from the exposure of the street to the privacy and quiet of the interior.
    The doorman ’s face pinched up. “Name’s Percy, by the way.”
    Sean shook his extended hand, and then Sara did.
    “We have to ask you some questions about the night Cindy died.”
    Percy ’s mouth curved downward and he shook his head. “There’s not much to say, and I said it all to the police. Why do you want to know?”
    “We’re just curious, that’s all.” Sara smiled at him.
    Sean observed Percy ’s defensive attitude melt away.
    “Well, this is a secure building. Unless Ms. Quinn gave the okay for a visitor to be let up, he wasn’t.”
    “He?” Sara adjusted the laptop, but S ean took it from her.
    “Listen, him, her—whoever. If Santa Claus showed up, she would have had to approve him.”
    “We had company when we went up today. Do you know anything about that?” Sean asked.
    Percy’s eyes went between Sara and Sean. He wiped his lips, twisting them. “I didn’t figure it hurt to let him up. Maybe I figured wrong, and, if so, I apologize.”
    “Does he still have a key to her apartment?”
    “I didn’t unlock the door if that’s what you’re thinking.”
    Sean turned to Sara. He could tell by the light in her eyes that she picked up on his silent communication. Benson had told them the husband no longer had a key. Strike two for the New York City Detective.
    “All right, you have a great day.” Sean nodded toward the sidewalk. “Enjoy the