Winter Market

Park Slope, Brooklyn, NY

Monday, May 19

Alex had learned to trust her first impression of people she interviewed, especially at the scene of the crime. Most people were unable to conceal their true feelings about the victim, and many critical bits of information unintentionally spilled out while the events were fresh.

She pushed through the double doors into the shopping area where she saw cops in uniform, CSU techs and just one civilian – a white man in his forties. As she approached him and introduced herself, Alex checked his shoes: black loafers, with black soles.

John Lasalle, the store manager, looked stressed and tired but alert. It wasn't difficult to guess that the lead-up to the store's opening had left him short on sleep, food and time. He'd probably been dealing with one emergency after another for months. Maybe he was the type who thrived under pressure. Could he be the type to strike out violently under pressure?

"I can't believe this," Lasalle said. "I just saw Bob a couple hours ago. What happened?"

"We're not sure yet," Alex said. "Can you tell me about the security system? Is it true you've had problems with it?"

"That's the understatement of the year." Lasalle's eyes grew wide. "Oh no, you mean it happened again? Someone got in? Oh, my God." He pressed both fists to his forehead. "That stupid bug in the stupid system! I should have stayed! But Bob wouldn't let me – he practically threw me out the door and told me to go home." There were tears in the man's eyes. He reached out and touched Alex's arm. "What happened to him?"

Alex wanted to wait for Bobby to join her so they could both see Lasalle's reactions, so she said, "We haven't determined that yet. What time did you leave? And why did he make you leave?"

"It was... oh, about five o'clock. See, I was planning to come back in at four AM with the early crew for the produce deliveries, and Bob wanted me to be rested up. He's like that – thinking of others, taking care of others."

"So you were at home tonight when the security company called?"

"Yes, my wife took the call – I was asleep." He started to flip open his phone, but closed it immediately. "Sorry, it's reflex. I realized I need to make phone calls about deliveries. I'll have to redirect to the other store..."

So far she wasn't making him for a murderer. In fact, Alex thought he hadn't fully grasped the situation yet, and was automatically trying to resolve this latest crisis. As Lasalle spoke, he lightly touched her arm again. It was probably a habit, and it seemed harmless to Alex.

She heard Bobby approach and stop just behind her – very close. Lasalle dropped his hand, looking intimidated. Bobby was undoubtedly doing his rendition of Protective Male. Without turning to look, Alex calmly gestured with her pen. "Mr. Lasalle, this is my partner, Detective Goren. This is Mr. John Lasalle." She asked, "Was anyone else here at the time you left?"

"Frannie Szabo - that's Bob's daughter – and her two kids. She came by with them after school, and we were running though a final inventory check. They were expecting her husband to pick them up."

"So Mr. Winter was planning to work alone?" Bobby asked.

He shrugged. "Everything was pretty much ready for the opening, although he was hoping Ron would come," Lasalle replied.

And Ron is...?" Alex asked. That was the name of the other caller on Winter's cell phone.

"Bob's son. He's manager of the Long Island City store – I was assistant manager there for five years."

"Do you know if Ron came?" Alex asked.

"I don't know."

Bobby said, "The security guard says there were no cars in the lot when he got here. Does Mr. Winter park on the street?"

"No. Bob's house is only half a mile from here," Lasalle said. "He walks whenever the weather's good."

"This is a family business," Bobby said. "A Mom-and-Pop store?" He was still hovering over Alex's shoulder, so she moved a step to the side. She was sure Lasalle had gotten the message.

"It started that way," Lasalle said, "but with this new store it's getting big. For a couple years now, Nancy – that's Mrs. Winter - has been hinting to Bob to turn it all over to Ron. I've heard her mention Florida, where their son Mark lives."

"But instead of retiring he expanded the business," Alex said. "What about Frannie? Why not turn it over to her, too?"

"I agree with you – she could do it," Lasalle said. His hand moved as though he was going to touch Alex's elbow again, but he stopped himself with a quick glance at Bobby.

"Does that cause friction in the family?" Bobby asked.

Lasalle shrugged. "The grocery business is high-stress – you get used to it. They get along okay. Frannie's a lot younger than her brothers – she's the baby of the family, you know? Her kids are still young. She doesn't work in the store, but she takes the books home every weekend and double-checks everything, clears up the discrepancies."

Discrepancies - that sounded interesting. Alex quickly shared a glance with her partner before asking, "So there are problems with the books?"

"Nothing serious, mind you! Just normal mistakes. Bookkeeping's not Ron's strong suit, if you know what I mean, so Frannie puts it in good shape."

Bobby leaned forward a little. "What is Ron's strong suit?"

"He's a good man with the vendors and customers." Lasalle actually touched Bobby's arm before he stuffed his hand into his pocket.

Alex smiled. She was willing to bet Lasalle was a good man with the customers and vendors, too – and probably didn't need anyone to clean up his bookkeeping. He clearly liked Mr. Winter a lot, and seemed fond of Frannie; however, Ron wasn't on his top-ten list. His praise of Ron sounded rehearsed and not at all genuine.

"Is there anyone you know who had something against Mr. Winter?" Alex asked.

Lasalle chewed on his lip for a moment. "We had to let an employee go about a month ago for stealing. We caught him on the security camera, packing cartons of cigarettes into his locker. This was at the Long Island City store. The guy had the nerve to be upset at us for spying on him, as he called it."

Bobby asked, "Who fired him?"

"Bob did it himself."

"Did you press charges?" Alex asked.

Lasalle shook his head. "No. We got back the cigarettes, and let it go at that. I hope to God it wasn't a mistake."

They took the name of the man, and were making arrangements with Lasalle to get access to the security video when they heard a disturbance at the front of the store. A woman's voice carried back to them.

"Let me through! He's my father!"

Lasalle called, "Frannie!"

In a few seconds a young woman with long, light brown hair dashed out of a nearby aisle, paused for a moment as she located Lasalle, and then headed directly for the doors to the stock room. They all moved to block her way, and Lasalle caught her in a bear hug.

"You can't go in there, Frannie," he said. "Please, please."

She struggled against him, but soon relented. Lasalle released her, but when she began to weep he embraced her again more gently.

"What happened, John?" she cried. "We were just here with him, and he was fine!"

"I know, I don't understand it either," he replied, patting her back gently. He gradually drew back as she calmed herself. "Frannie, this is Detective Eames and Detective... sorry, I-"

"Goren," Bobby said, giving his handkerchief to Frannie. "We're very sorry about your father, Mrs. Szabo."

"Thanks," she said to Bobby. She wiped her eyes and nose, and pushed her hair back from her face. Alex guessed she wasn't older than thirty. "What happened to him? Was there an accident?" Frannie's eyes shifted to the doors behind the detectives, as though she might try again to run in there.

"We don't think it was an accident," Bobby said. Both Frannie and Lasalle were absolutely frozen as Bobby continued. "Mrs. Szabo, your father hit his head on one of the tables; it looks like he died from that head wound."

"Who did this to him?" Frannie asked.

"We don't know yet," Bobby said. "Do you think you can answer a few questions for us?"

"Yes, of course," Frannie replied. Lasalle started to object, but she quickly turned on him. "No, John, I have to! This is my father..." She choked up, but within a few moments she pulled herself together enough to look Bobby in the eye. "What do you want to know?"

Alex found a clean page in her notebook as Bobby said, "We noticed a call on his cell from you tonight."

"Yes, my children and I were here this afternoon, and I called Dad to let him know when we got home. John left first," she said, nodding at Lasalle, "and we stayed until about five-thirty, I think – I'm not sure of the exact time Jim got here. My husband picked us up." She took a deep breath, slowly in and out.

"You didn't drive?" Bobby asked.

"No, we walked - the school's only a few blocks away. Anyway, I called when we got home, because Dad likes to know we're okay..." Tears welled again, and she didn't refuse Lasalle's arm around her shoulder.

"And was anyone here with him then?" Alex asked.

Frannie shook her head. "No, he said he was about ready to lock up." She blotted her eyes with the handkerchief. "Of course, in Dad-speak that could mean he'd still be working an hour later. You know?"

"I know just what you mean," Alex said. She liked this young woman and felt sorry for her. "Does he usually keep much cash in his wallet?"

"Yes, he does – well, I'm not sure how much, but always something. Tonight he gave the kids nice new five-dollar bills for their help, and he tried to slip me a twenty to buy them pizza."

"And he carries his wallet with him?" Bobby patted the breast pocket of his suit coat.

Frannie paused for just a second before correcting him. "Yes, but in his back pocket." She touched the hip pocket of her own jeans.

"Oh, right," Bobby said, with a quick glance at Alex.

Alex gestured toward the back room as she asked, "Do you know if the safe in the office was open? And do you know what was inside?"

Lasalle looked grim as he replied, "It should have been locked – but we discovered that those shutdowns leave it unlatched. This afternoon Bob and I took seventy-five hundred dollars out of the bank. It's mostly smaller bills and coins, to seed the cash registers in the morning."

Bobby asked, "Who has the combination to the safe?"

"I do," Lasalle replied, "and Bob, and Ron."

"We'll need you to check the contents." Alex then looked at Frannie. "You don't know the combination?"

"Not yet," she said. "Dad was going to tell me – you know, as a back-up."

Lasalle's cell chirped. He excused himself and walked a few steps down an aisle as he began to talk rapidly and quietly.

Bobby also slipped away, and Alex knew he was checking to see if the coroner was ready to remove Mr. Winter. She hoped he'd persuade them to go out through the loading dock. She didn't want Frannie to witness the sight of her father zipped into a body bag, rolling by on a gurney.

Frannie's eyes followed Bobby, so Alex asked, "Do you need to make any calls, Mrs. Szabo?" She took a step in the other direction, causing Frannie to turn away from the stock room doors.

"I should call Mom again... and my husband..."

Alex held out a hand to guide her in the same direction Lasalle had gone, then moved to be in the way in case Frannie decided to try for the stock room. She looked like she could be a very determined person.

Bobby returned within a minute. "They're taking him out the back," he whispered.

"Good. Did they find blood on the floor?"

Bobby nodded. "The killer used alcohol wipes – from a holder on the wall, like that one." Bobby pointed to a plastic dispenser mounted by a nearby refrigerated meat display case.

Alex asked, "Was he helpful enough to leave his fingerprints?"

"Maybe. They found alcohol and blood traces leading toward the exit by the loading dock – so he must have used the back entrance."

Just then they heard Frannie, her voice rising in surprise. "Ron's there? He drove to your house instead of here?" There was a pause, and when she spoke again she definitely sounded irritated. "I'm just saying, he practically had to drive past the store, and he knew I was here!" Another pause; she sighed deeply. "I know, Mom, I just – look, I have to call Jim, and then I'm coming right over."

Alex looked up at Bobby – a lift of his eyebrows told her he was also interested at signs of friction between Frannie and her brother.

Frannie returned, holding out Bobby's handkerchief. "Thanks for letting me use this. Um, I need to get over to my Mom..."

"Of course," Alex said. "We just have a couple more questions, if you don't mind." At Frannie's nod she asked, "Do you know of anyone who had a grudge against your father, someone who might have come here to confront him?"

Frannie's forehead creased in a frown. "You think it wasn't a robbery?"

"At this point we have to consider all possibilities," Alex said.

Frannie looked up at the ceiling. "Oh boy, I don't know... Everybody likes him." After a few moments her eyes snapped down to meet Alex's. "The only person I can think of - and really, I never thought he was an enemy or anything like that... There's another grocery store that's our main competitor in Queens - Best Fresh Foods. Mr. Beldsen – he's the owner – he also wanted to buy this place." She jabbed her finger downward. "But Daddy got here first."

"That must have been a while ago," Bobby said.

"Yes, about a year ago," Frannie said. "He actually tried to sue us. Ron could tell you about that – he dealt with Mr. Beldsen and the lawyers."

"Do you think Mr. Beldsen would have hard feelings?" Bobby asked.

Frannie shrugged. "I only met him once, about three or four years ago."

"Okay, thank you" Alex said, closing her notebook and holding out a business card. "Feel free to contact us if you think of anything else. We're very sorry about your father."

Alex let her head roll left to right in an attempt to relieve her tired neck muscles. It was past ten o'clock, but the temperature had remained mild after a warm spring day. She and Bobby had been about to leave the crime scene when her phone rang: it was Captain Ross, asking for an update. She leaned against the car limply as she told him what they'd seen and deduced about Winter's death.

"...seventy-five hundred from the safe was emptied out," Alex said, "and Winter's cash and credit cards are gone. We put an alert out for the cards."

"Any suspects?" Ross asked.

"We have the names of two men," she said. "A former employee who was fired for stealing, and a business competitor who fought Winter over the retail property."

"What about the family?" Ross asked.

"We got a statement from the daughter," she replied, "and the store manager. We should be able to confirm their alibis. We made arrangements to see Winter's wife and son tomorrow. CSU will let us know if any fingerprints pop with a criminal record."

Alex stared blankly at the Winter Market storefront – now without the Grand Opening banner - as the captain reminded her that he needed to be kept informed of all developments, and that the Mayor was personally interested in this case. When she finally hung up she pressed her palms over her eyes.

"Want me to drive?" Bobby asked. She felt the car sway a little as he leaned against it beside her.

With her eyes still covered, she shook her head. "Thanks, I'm okay – just starving. I didn't have a chance to eat before the call-out. How about if we find a place nearby?"

"Sure."

Alex was suddenly sure what Bobby was about to say, and with an energy she hadn't felt a minute ago she swung a hand down to clamp onto his arm. "So help me, Goren, if you suggest that Indian restaurant, I'll smack you upside the head!"

He cleared his throat. "Okay, no Indian food," he said.

She grinned widely. "Just so we're clear on that."

Alex expected him to tease her about this newly revealed phobia, but there was no response. She turned to look at him inquiringly. Bobby slid his arm out from her grip, moved away from the car and shoved his hands into his pockets.

What had happened? They'd been relaxed and comfortable, and then in two seconds everything froze over!

"Bobby?"

"No, it's fine. We'll, uh..." He wouldn't look at her. "...find a diner, or..."

Alex started mentally to rerun their dialogue, but just then a large silver sedan pulled into the Winter Market parking lot.

She met her partner's eye – their awkwardness had vanished again, and they were both on the alert. They waited to see if the car came back out. It didn't.

"Now who could that be?" she said. As they crept toward the parking lot, Alex adjusted her jacket to have quick access to her gun holster.