"We have to look at the files from back then again." Mike turned at the intersection towards the BPD. 'Maybe there's a connection between Labo's disappearance and the thing Harry Upton is working on, this tax evasion story.'
"Hm --," Nikki grumbled. "That would mean that Harry Upton was already working on this story. I don't know -- besides, I'm pretty sure he's not telling us the truth. His facial expressions spoke volumes."
Mike gave her a meaningful look. 'Yeah, those talking faces --'
Nikki pretended not to have heard the comment and pulled out her cell phone again. "It should be easy to find out how long Harry Upton has been working on this tax case."
She called the BPD, got Peter Carducci's phone number, and dialed it. Carducci answered the call on the first ring.
"Good morning. This is Detective Veronica O'Laighin again from the Boston Police Department. Please tell me how long Harry Upton has been working on this bank thing?"
"Hm ... about three months, why?"
Nikki looked at her husband with a frown. "Are you sure?"
"As sure as you can be of your boss."
"Could he have started his research earlier and worked on something else in between? Two or three years ago?"
"For God's sake, how should I know what Harry did on the side three years ago? No idea, sorry."
"All right, that's all, thank you very much." Nikki was about to end the call when she thought of something else. "Oh, wait, please hold on."
"Yes?"
"I have one more question. Do you know a photographer named P. Dunin?"
"Yes, sure," Carducci replied without hesitation. "Patrick Dunin. He works for us from time to time."
"Can you tell me how I can reach him?"
"Hm ... I haven't been there myself yet, but as far as I know, his office is in his private apartment."
"You surely have his phone number."
While Nikki listened to the clacking sound of typing fingers on a computer keyboard, she pulled out her notepad with her free hand. She noted the phone number that the editor-in-chief dictated to her immediately afterward. 'Thank you very much.'
"You're welcome. But tell me, what about Harry?"
"Unfortunately, I can't give you any information on that at the moment, as I'm sure you understand."
Carducci let out a barking laugh. 'Yes, sure. In my job, it's different. Information is often passed from informants to us and then from us to the readers. Have a nice day.'
"Well?" Mike asked after his wife had ended the call.
"Carducci says Upton has been working on the story for about three months. It would have been without his boss knowing if he had gotten the information before that. But to be honest, I don't think that's very likely. I'll call that photographer Patrick Dunin, who took the picture of Upton and Labo. Maybe he can tell us something about whether or not the two knew each other."
She was lucky to reach Dunin at home.
"Yes, I remember," he told Nikki. "I photographed Miriam Labo quite often because she was a good subject. A beautiful woman, photogenic and very glamorous. People want to see that when they read reports about social events. But I thought the BPD had long since given up looking for her. She was generally considered to be dead."
"The case was never closed," Nikki dodged and asked, 'Are you archiving these pictures?'
"Yes, of course. I have a database that stores everything I've photographed in the last ten years."
"Can you search for pictures of Miriam Labo?"
Dunin laughed. "Of course. This database stores over a hundred thousand images. How could I find something without a search index?"
Nikki was satisfied. "That sounds very good. We'll be... just a moment..." She glanced outside and got her bearings. "We'll be at your place in about twenty minutes. Maybe you can start a search for Miriam Labo and Harry Upton by then."
"Sure, no problem. But may I ask what you are actually looking for?"
"I don't know exactly yet," Nikki answered truthfully and ended the call.
The photographer's house, probably from the 1970s, was idyllically situated at the end of a narrow path.
Nikki estimated the man who opened the door and smiled at them in a friendly way to be in his early forties. He was of medium height and slender build, without making a particularly sporty impression. His face looked soft and was framed by ash-blonde, curly hair that reached his ears. All in all, Dunin was an average, unremarkable guy.
"Come on, my office is next door," he explained, leading Nikki and Mike through the spacious living room. Most of the furniture dates back to when the house was built.
"You live beautifully here," said Nikki, looking out at the terrace, the garden, and the forest beyond through the large glass windows.
Dunin nodded. "Yes, I inherited the house from my parents. I make a good living with my pictures, but in this location, I couldn't afford a house of my own."
"Did you find the pictures?" Mike changed the subject.
"Yes, the database has thrown up some hits, but I haven't looked at them yet. I don't know what you're looking for."
The room they entered was about fifty to sixty square meters in size. Like the living room, it also had a magnificent view of the garden. Two walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves full of photographic equipment, folders, books, and brightly colored cardboard boxes precisely the right size to fit between the shelves. Photographs of people, some of whom Nikki knew, hung on the free wall. Politicians, actors, singers...
However, the room was dominated by a vast dark wooden desk in the middle, piled high with documents and camera accessories. There was only enough space in front of the iMac's large display for a keyboard and mouse.
"Just a moment." Dunin sat down at the desk and clicked the computer mouse a few times, whereupon a mosaic of about thirty images appeared on the monitor.
Nikki leaned forward to see anything on the reduced-size images.
They showed situations similar to those on Nikki's cell phone.
Galas, dinners, vernissages, premieres... People in chic clothing are laughing, with glasses in their hands more or less full. In most of the pictures, Nikki spotted Miriam Labo and realized that she really had been a very attractive woman. Long, black hair framed an almost Mediterranean-looking face with high cheekbones and a stunning figure that she knew how to emphasize with the right clothes.
"These are all I have," Dunin explained, looking at the miniatures.
"Can you please go through the pictures and enlarge them?" Nikki asked with a frown.
The photographer nodded and clicked on the first of the so-called thumbnails, which showed Miriam Labo. The picture filled the entire screen.
Nikki studied the scene carefully, and Mike also focused on the display. About ten people were in the picture with Labo, and Nikki didn't recognize them. "Next, please."
They went through the pictures one by one. The sixth picture showed a heartily laughing Harry Upton in a dark suit, white shirt, and discreet tie.
Standing in a group with other men, he had a smoking cigar between his fingers. Again, Nikki didn't recognize any of the others.
She found what she was looking for in the thirteenth or fourteenth picture. Harry Upton and Miriam Labo were sitting in the background between dancing couples. Their faces were a bit pixelated, but there was no doubt they were the two. They leaned towards each other and looked into each other's eyes. Upton's hand was on the table right next to the actress. However, it was not possible to see whether they were touching.
"Look," Mike said and stroked his beard several times. 'Like two lovebirds in intimate togetherness. It seems that your gut feeling was right this time.'
Nikki grinned at her husband. 'This time?' The small triumph did her good.
Two more pictures were found showing Upton and Labo together, both of which show them standing close together.
They had Dunin print out the relevant pictures, which, thanks to his high-quality color laser printer, produced results in true photo quality.
After they said goodbye to the photographer, Mike grimly said, "Right, now back to Harry Upton. I'm really looking forward to his explanation. You were right; the guy is dirty; otherwise, he wouldn't have lied."
That's precisely what Nikki was pondering. "I don't know --"
"What now? You had the strange gut feeling about Upton's talking face."
"Yes, but that was because he wasn't telling the truth about Miriam Labo. Whether that really makes him dirty is another matter. We should let Upton come to the BPD."
Mike shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. Then he'll have Ashlyn with him again, chattering away after every sentence."
Nikki took a deep breath. "Yes, maybe," she replied thoughtfully. "Nevertheless, we'll learn more from Upton this way than at his house. His wife isn't at the BPD."
xxx
On their way to the station, they ran into Detective Martin Thune in the hallway. "Have you just got back?"
"Yes, why?"
"Something is going on here, I can tell you. Nick is going nuts."
Mike stopped abruptly, almost knocking Nikki against him. "Why?"
It was a question that Nikki had also been asking herself. Her captain and uncle didn't lose his cool quickly.
"The press have been besieging us for half an hour. Phone, email, even the good old fax machine. A video of Harry Upton has appeared on YouTube. Apparently, someone filmed him on his way here yesterday morning."
"Shit," Mike exclaimed and started walking. Nikki took a deep breath before nodding at Thune, and they both followed Mike.
In the bullpen, Mike immediately sat at his desk and turned on his laptop. Less than two minutes later, he had found the video.
It was about two minutes long and showed Upton, barefoot and covered in blood from head to toe, shuffling along the sidewalk like a zombie. The quality of the video, which had apparently been filmed with a smartphone, was not particularly good, but it was certainly enough to send a shiver down the viewer's spine.
"The thing has apparently been there since yesterday afternoon," explained Thune, who, like Nikki, was standing behind Mike, staring at his laptop. "But hardly anyone was interested. About an hour ago, someone recognized Harry Upton and put his name on the video. Since then, it has already had thousands of views and is becoming a hit on Facebook."
"I didn't know that Upton was so well known outside his region," Mike growled.
"He probably isn't," Nikki replied with a frown. "The damn mechanism is quite simple: if a few people locally know him and have posted the video on Facebook for that reason, it only needs to be shared on one or two well-frequented pages. Several of the people who see it there will share it, and before you know it, you have a snowball effect. And then it no longer matters who can be seen on the video."
"The professor again --" Mike murmured, addressing Thune.
When the video ended, Nikki reached past her husband, took the computer mouse, and scrolled down the page a bit so they could read the comments written about the video. "Look, see for yourselves."
- And there are zombies, after all
- Who is that?
- Hey guys, has he been badly beaten or what?
Answer: I know him. It serves him right for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.
Answer: Yes, Harry Upton from the newspaper. Who knows, maybe he killed his old lady, lol. She supposedly has tons of money.
Answer: It's staged, right? The guy didn't really walk around Boston like that, did he?
Answer: It's definitely from Halloween
"Mike, Nikki, there you are." They all turned to look at Captain Nick Simms, standing at the bullpen's door. He didn't need a loud voice or any other kind of behavior. With his graying hair cut short and very athletic build, he exuded the kind of unassuming authority you felt and accepted from the first time you met him.
"We'll issue a press release. A brief description of the situation, a call for information about Miriam Labo's whereabouts in the last two and a half years, and a picture of her. Maybe we'll get lucky. In any case, the press will back off. At least for now. What about you?"
Mike reported in brief sentences about their visits with Upton and Dunin and concluded that they wanted to summon the journalist to the BPD.
Nick nodded slowly. "Do that. And then please have the report on my desk." Then he disappeared back into his office.
It took almost an hour before Upton sat across from them in an interrogation room.
To their surprise, the journalist turned up without Ashlyn. Nikki wanted to know why he didn't want her sister present.
"Where is Ms. O'Laighin?" was the first question she asked Harry Upton.
Upton shrugged. "Do I need my lawyer? You said on the phone that you wanted to ask me a few more questions. I told you yesterday that I want to help you as much as possible. I don't need a lawyer for that."
Nikki glanced at her husband, then Mike turned to Upton. "Yesterday, you stated that you didn't know Miriam Labo personally and that you had only met her this one time. Do you still stand by that?"
Nikki could see that the man was uncomfortable, even though he was trying to hide it. She reached over, pulled the file from in front of Mike, and opened it so that Upton couldn't see the contents. She studied the picture on top. "Please answer my partner's question."
Upton's eyes flickered quickly between the folder's cover and Nikki's face. "All right, I may have met her again somewhere else, but that's normal for these occasions."
"But you didn't know her personally?"
"What do you mean, personally? No, I didn't."
Nikki leaned forward, put the file in front of her, and held up the top picture in which Upton and Labo were chatting. Upton squirmed.
"Like I said, it could have been..."
Nikki showed the journalist the pictures one by one. Last of all, she held the picture of the two sitting together at the table in her hand. She looked at him meaningfully for a few seconds, then placed the image on the table before her and said, "Does this look like a chance meeting you with someone you don't know personally?"
Upton stared at the picture in silence for a while, then exhaled and nodded. "Yeah, okay. You're right. I knew Miriam better than I'd admitted. But it was limited to some stupid parties, you have to believe me. She thought this boring behavior was just as ridiculous as I did. So we teamed up and made those evenings a lot more bearable. That's all."
"If that's all, why did you lie to us this morning?" Mike's voice had taken on a sharp undertone.
Once again, Upton shrugged. "Because of my wife."
"You can't admit to your wife that you talked to an actress at some reception?"
"You don't know Christine. She's insanely jealous."
If Harry Upton's statement was true, Nikki would have to correct her image of him a little. It annoyed her that she should have been mistaken about a man she would not have thought of as being afraid of his wife. Moreover, she considered Christine Boutroux a very calm person, to whom a strong emotional feeling like jealousy did not fit.
"I didn't get that impression at all," she said. 'On the contrary, I found your wife very self-controlled and self-confident.'
"I can only repeat myself: you don't know her."
That was undoubtedly true. But Nikki wasn't that much of a fool; she was sure of that, neither in Harry Upton nor in his wife, Christine Boutroux.
"Let's summarize. Mike put his forearms on the table and interlocked his fingers. "You show up at our place, covered in blood, and supposedly don't know what happened. In the apartment you came from, a violent crime has obviously been committed against a woman who has been missing for two and a half years and was presumed dead. You claim not to know this woman, but you must admit that you haven't told us the truth. We find her fingerprints all over the apartment. And yours. So you were both there." He looked at his fingernails. "Now tell me, how will this affect us?"
Upton let out a sigh. "Yes, I know, but you must believe I had nothing to do with this. Whatever may have happened."
"Why?" Nikki asked with a frown and repeated after a while. "Why do we have to believe you?"
"For God's sake!" Upton banged his hand on the table. 'I came to you voluntarily; have you forgotten that already? Why would I do that if I had killed Miriam Labo beforehand?'
Nikki looked him straight in the eye. "Exactly, for that reason. It would be a brilliant move if you had killed Miriam Labo beforehand."