“… hours but that’s just not Mr. Lepke. He’s never missed a night with me since the day we married.”
Small wonder, I thought.
“How long have you been married?” Aaron asked, taking a mug of coffee from her and nodding thanks.
“Two years and three months,” she said dispensing mugs to Hale and myself. She made it sound like she had been serving a sentence.
In response to Aaron’s puzzled look she said, “Yes, I know what you’re going to say, and yes, we met while Mr. Lepke was still in prison. We were married a week after his release. A week after he paid his debt to society,” she added sounding a little more forceful behind her disarming smile.
“Has he been practicing again?” Hale asked.
She smiled sweetly, innocently, perfect white teeth.
“Not in so many ways. I mean, he is a genius as you know. But he was acting more as a consultant, as far as I know he never signed off on things, just advised if that’s what you were getting at. He’s always been one to obey the law.”
“Since his release,” Aaron added.
“Exactly.”
“Who did he advise?” Aaron asked.
“Come now Lieutenant, you probably know better than I do, why Mr. Alekseeva, of course. That was his only client. But with all the various holdings and businesses he was very busy with just that one client, advising.”
“No doubt,” said Aaron.
“So as far as you know, Mrs. Lepke, where was the last place your husband would have been?” Hale asked.
“Like I was telling Ms, I mean, Agent Dziedzic when you arrived, he was at his office.” She set down her coffee mug and pulled business cards from a small, brown leather holder. The kind someone might carry in their pocket.
“This is Mr. Lepke’s office address. As far as I know that’s where he was. I just don’t know where he may have gone.”
“Accounts Services. He could be a window washer for all we know,” I said.
If my remark made any impression you sure as hell couldn’t tell.
“Did you go to his office?” Aaron asked.
“No, I phoned about seven-thirty but there was no answer. I would have gone over there but I don’t have a key. Mr. Lepke was a very private person in regard to his business activities. As I said earlier, when I didn’t hear anything back I phoned the police,” she smiled sparkling white teeth again.
I took out my cell phone, made like I was reading a text message then shot a couple images of Lori without the flash. She glanced at me but I didn’t think she knew I had photographed her.
“Excuse me, sometimes these things are like a leash,” I said.
Lori smiled another assault of sparkling white teeth.
We asked a number of other questions, most of which the lovely Lori answered perfectly. She smiled, we smiled, then thanked her and departed.
Chapter 77
Back at the bunk-bed dungeon I asked the question I presumed was on everyone’s mind.
“Okay, riddle me this, Batman. How does some lowlife like Marvin Lepke score the likes of the lovely Lori? While he’s still behind bars?”
“I think that’s why they call him “The Manipulator,” Aaron said.
“You mean Mr. Lepke?” Hale joked.
“Him too,” Aaron answered.
“I would say the timing of his disappearance is interesting on two fronts. Obviously with the Valdem Bank all over the news it gives one reason to pause. The other thing is, don’t you sort of wonder if old “Marvin the Manipulator,” when he wasn’t preoccupied with lovely Lori, hadn’t returned to his old embezzling ways? This time possibly underestimating the guy he was embezzling from?” I asked.
Hale smiled,
“Do you mean to tell me that despite what his wife said, Mr. Lepke hadn’t completely learned his lesson?”
“Or once he learned it he then promptly forgot it,” Aaron added.
“She’s not exactly what I would call wracked with concern or fear,” Val said.
“The wife, Lori?” Hale asked.
“Very strange,” Aaron added.
“Yeah, how nice of you to come. I’m perfectly made up, I have a great figure. By the way, check out how I can move this fantastic ass when I walk. Care for some coffee? Oh, and did I mention, Mr. Lepke seems to have gone missing. Like he was an attachment to the vacuum, or something,” I said.
Nikki was sitting on the couch, in what had become her corner, making notes on what looked to be a six-inch stack of transcripts.
“Nikki, do you recognize this woman?” I asked, showing her the image of Lori Lepke on my phone.
Nikki studied the shot.
“There’s two more after that one,” I said.
She was already shaking her head, then advanced through the other two images.
“Very pretty, but I have not seen her before, I think,” she said and handed my phone back.
“I’m guessing she might end up with a pretty tidy sum should Marvin go missing. Given Braco is the other player, was she involved? Or, just fortunate? I don’t know,” Hale said.
“Well, I think I know,” Val said. “There is either an element of the Stepford Wives in this whole thing, or she really is a dumb blond. I’m not sure which.”
“Any unusual activity in Marvin Lepke’s bank accounts might tell us something. Or at least point in a direction. I can get a warrant for his offices. I wonder if it wouldn’t make sense for you to report to Peters, maybe let him know we’re going to Lepke’s office and it might be a good idea if you were there.” Aaron said. He had his phone out and was dialing.
“I’m due to report in anyway. Maybe they’ve come across something out there,” Val said and reached for her phone.
Chapter 78
Val reported in to Peters who was as consistent as ever, having absolutely nothing to add.
Aaron picked up the warrant on the way to Lepke’s office and a license number from the DMV on Lepke’s car.
“Not bad, old Marvin’s tooling around town in a Mercedes CL600 coup. They start somewhere over a hundred grand. Nice set of wheels for an ex-con little more than twenty-four months out of the slammer, obeying the law, and just working to try and get his life back together.”
“Who says crime doesn’t pay?” I said.
The four of us met in the parking lot behind the building. Located in a forgettable two story structure, Lepke’s office felt remarkably similar to the call centers we had raided earlier in the week. The Tenants Directory identified Accounts Services as unit 6B.
Since we didn’t have a key, Aaron located a building-maintenance man who let us in with his passkey, then hung around until Hale told him we’d call if there was anything else we needed.
Marvin the Manipulator’s office was tastefully furnished if 1969 was your thing. A waiting room was inhabited by a matching upholstered couch and chair, big gold flowers haphazardly splotched all over them. Both the chair and couch were covered by heavy protective plastic. There was an Early American style coffee table positioned in front of the furniture with not so much as an outdated National Geographic on it. In the corner, between the couch and chair, was a brass lamp pole stretching from floor to ceiling with three brass lampshades, angled in different directions, none of the lampshades held a light-bulb.
“The place just makes you want to shout ‘sock it to me,’” I said.
“Wouldn’t want anything to harm that gorgeous upholstery,” Val laughed.
There was a doorway beyond the couch, which Hale entered. It was the office. We knew that because there was a desk with a black leather chair on wheels behind it. And not much else.
“When was the last time you saw an office without chairs for clients to sit in?” Hale asked.