Josh sits up. “Interesting choice of w—”
“Shh,” Shawn says.
“Let’s talk about Walter Gordon.” Tracy crosses her legs; the key light above her casts a warm glow on her dark-brown skin.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m the one who identified Billy Donovan hiding out on the inside stoop of my apartment building the night Walter was killed in August of 2018,” Tracy says. “I saw what looked like a gun with a silencer in his jacket. Walter’s bodyguard, who’d noticed Billy Donovan following them earlier that night, said he saw the same man duck into my apartment building, which corroborates my account, and ultimately what solved the murder case of Walter Gordon.
“Now,” she says, turning her notecard, “according to an interview you gave with Newsweek in November of 2018, you stated that you ‘have no relationship with Billy Donovan,’ you’ve ‘never seen him before in your life.’ These are your words. So how can you explain the fact that I saw Billy Donovan heading to your office in our old building just two weeks after he killed Walter Gordon in August?”
“Wow, right off the bat.” Shawn wipes his face with a napkin.
“Jugular,” Josh adds.
“It’s true. He did visit our offices that day. However, I did not remember who he was, and I certainly didn’t remember meeting him. You have to realize, I run a multibillion–dollar company, so my schedule is fully enveloped in meeting after meeting, with countless business associates revolving in and out of that office. After the Newsweek interview was published, my assistant Kimberly Nicholson reminded me of Mr. Donovan, when and why he was there to see me. Kimbo confirmed that Billy Donovan was representing a marketing company we were thinking about hiring for the grand opening. Whether that’s who he was or not, I couldn’t say, but that’s the reason he got through security.”
“Lie.” Josh leans back in the sofa. “And where is Kimbo now, you lying sack of shit?”
“And where is Kimberly now?” Tracy asks.
“I have no idea. He left the organization, at one of the most important points in the company’s trajectory. No reason, no explanation. I assume he returned home to Louisiana, but he’s not answering any of my calls.”
“Last week, Billy Donovan was found hanging from a hook on the Upper West Side, with your former CFO Lennox Holcomb’s hard drive wrapped around his neck. This hard drive is important, because it had been previously stolen from police evidence.”
“Arguable, but that’s the general consensus.”
“Arguable, how do you mean?”
“The police say the hard drive was stolen, but we don’t know if the chain of custody was broken somewhere. Perhaps this Mr. Donovan worked for a company, oh, let’s say our biggest competitor, and was instructed to intercept the hard drive somewhere along the way. Or perhaps it was something more sinister. Perhaps he was hired to break into the police evidence and steal the hard drive. Then maybe he tried to sell whatever information was on that hard drive to the highest bidder, then was murdered by one of the other players. Lennox was our CFO, for God’s sake, no telling what proprietary information was buried in that drive.”
“A lot of theories. Did I hear you say Cooper Harlow might have something to do with this?”
“Please don’t twist my words, Miss Heissman. This Billy Donovan? I have no idea who this man is, who he works with, or how he got that hard drive. What alarms me is the manner in which he was killed. Someone was trying to send me a message.”
“Oh, dear God, he’s good,” Josh says. “He was the one sending the message.”
“Haylee!” Shawn screams. “Come back downstairs! You gotta see this!”
They hear a faint voice in the background. “No thanks.”
“Lennox Holcomb. Your CFO. He was murdered back in August as well. After Micah Breuer was acquitted, a former employee of yours, Jenna Ancelet, was arrested for that murder. Micah Breuer also worked for you. Do you see where this is going?”
“The optics are questionable. I understand that. I am heartbroken over it. All I can tell you is that the Pub War is real, and that competitors are capable of anything when your company is in their way.”
“The Pub War,” Tracy reiterates. “For our viewers, the Pub War is an ongoing battle of acquisitions, backstabbing, employee poaching, and market share wars between Élan International and Cooper Harlow. So again, Mr. West, I hear you suggesting Cooper Harlow had something to do with these three murders, the three being Lennox Holcomb, Walter Gordon, and Billy Donovan.”
“I’m saying no one at Élan had anything to do with any of it. We’ve done everything in our power to be transparent. We’ve opened up our servers to police investigation, we’ve cooperated fully with law enforcement, and we’ve been nothing but forthright. I encourage you to look for the evidence. You’ll find none.”
“Bullshit,” Josh says. “I’ve got twelve terabytes that say otherwise.”
“There was a fourth murder, Mr. West.”
“Oh, God, don’t do it, Trace.” Josh leans forward in his seat.
“A fourth murder?” West asks.
“Yes, the man many refer to as Ghost. He was a drug dealer found burned alive in Jenna Ancelet’s apartment right before she was arrested. Many forget about him. Because he’s black? Maybe. Because he was a poor man, a drug dealer, cast aside, forgotten? Probably. Ghost has a name. Bastien Morrell. He had a wife, a son. Did you know him, sir?”
“Of course I didn’t.” West’s eyebrows lower. “And I did not approve this question.”
“You approved anything I wanted to ask. There have been rumors of Élan installing illegal surveillance on company employees in their homes, including your CFO Lennox Holcomb. Evidence obtained from Jenna’s company laptop showed that Bastien Morrell installed a camera in Lennox Holcomb’s living room
