45
The following morning, Laurie was waiting with Charlotte in a conference room at Ladyform’s corporate offices when the Met’s former security officer Marco Nelson walked in for his nine o’clock meeting. Charlotte introduced herself as the head of Ladyform’s New York operations and introduced Laurie simply as “Laurie.” Marco was about six feet two inches tall, and Laurie estimated that he probably weighed around two hundred pounds. His dark gray suit was tailored to accentuate his athletic frame. He wasn’t as large as Ivan, but was certainly strong enough to have thrown Virginia Wakeling from a roof.
Charlotte began by giving Marco an overview of Ladyform’s security needs: a technician to review their data systems for protection from hacking and other cyber crimes, as well as physical security for fashion shows and other industry events. Marco was prepared with glossy handouts touting the various services provided by his company, the Armstrong Group.
“Who’s the Armstrong?” Charlotte asked.
Marco smiled. “There is no Armstrong. It just had a more security-oriented ring to it than the Nelson Group.”
“So you’re the boss of the shop?” Charlotte asked.
“Technically, but we all work as a team.”
“I got your name from a former co-worker of yours at the museum,” she said. “Sean Duncan?”
“Sean, he’s a great guy. He was second in charge when I was there, but he deserved that promotion. He’s a friend of yours?”
“No. Actually, it was Laurie who was speaking to him about another matter, relating to the museum.”
Laurie took that as her cue to jump in. “Sean made it sound like a dream security job. Why did you move on from there?” she asked.
“Honestly? I’d make a lot more money protecting your fashion shows than a museum. And that’s even after I give you one of the fairest rates you’re going to find in the business.”
“It wasn’t because of the investigation into your girlfriend stealing from the museum gift shop?”
Marco looked annoyed by the question, but still seemed to view it as part of the usual vetting process by a new security client. “Did someone at the museum tell you that? That was total absolute nonsense and I would be rude if I told you what’s on the tip of my tongue. I left for one reason only. I needed to start making more money.”
“Your girlfriend wasn’t stealing?” Laurie asked.
Nelson grimaced, probably seeing the chances of landing a new client circling down the drain. “Unfortunately, she was. But I had no idea. If she did it on nights I was working, it was probably because she thought I’d go easy on her if I caught her—which I didn’t. She had a secret pocket built into her purse. Maybe I could have been more thorough, but protocol only called for a quick, visual scan of the employees’ personal items. If I had started digging around and grabbing the sides of purses to search for secret compartments, I would have been violating our own procedures. No one ever would have pointed a finger at me if it weren’t for the fact that we were dating. So, I got a new job, along with a new rule: no dating at work,” he finished with a chuckle.
Laurie had to admit, it was as good of an explanation as he could have offered under the circumstances.
“I don’t actually work for Ladyform, Mr. Nelson,” she said. “I’m the producer of Under Suspicion. The matter I met with Sean Duncan about was the murder of Virginia Wakeling.”
He shook his head as he realized the true reason for this meeting. “That’s pretty dishonest, calling me down here under false pretenses.”
He started to get up from his chair, but Charlotte stopped him. “I do need security. And I was impressed by your pitch, as well as your explanation for what happened at the museum.”
Nelson sat back down quickly.
“A woman was killed,” Laurie said, “and you were the last person to see her alive, other than her killer . . . or killers. There’s a reason I wanted to speak to you.” She pulled the two photographs of the Jacqueline Kennedy dress from her bag. “Look, that bracelet was there before the exhibit opened, but was gone by the time Virginia Wakeling was killed.”
He studied the pictures carefully. “My ex-girlfriend was stealing jewelry from the gift shop, not from the galleries. What she did was bad, but it wasn’t the same as a museum heist.” He stopped suddenly and squinted, as if searching for the details of a memory that had just come back to him. “The alarm,” he said. “A silent alarm got tripped in the exhibit that night. I got an alert from our Dispatch Department. I was one of the guards who responded. You think it was because this bracelet disappeared?”
“Until we know what happened to it, it certainly seems possible. Do you remember if it was still there earlier in the night?”
“A small detail like that? No, I doubt any of us would have noticed, except the curator, I suppose. That was Cynthia Vance’s exhibit.”
“Did she notice anything missing that night?”
“No, because that was the year she had to miss the Gala. The first time in her entire career, to my knowledge. She had mono and was out for a month. When we got to the galleries, we didn’t see anyone, and nothing seemed out of place. We figured it was tripped by one of the outside vendors who were working on the cameras.”
“Does Cynthia Vance still work at the museum?” Laurie asked.
“I would assume. She’s the type that will stay there until God has other plans.”
Laurie made a mental note to contact Cynthia Vance as soon as possible. The possibility of the bracelet being connected to Virginia’s murder had never been considered, but it would be nice to have this one loose thread tied up.
“You told the police that Virginia was upset when she went up to the roof—as if she’d been arguing with someone. We’ve learned from a different witness that her son and son-in-law were seen arguing earlier in the temple room. Is it possible that she had a confrontation with one of them?”
“I have no idea who she was talking to. It was hard for me at the time to even explain to the police why I had the impression she’d been in a tiff of some kind. She never said that, to be clear. She just said she wanted to be alone and needed some fresh air. But she was looking back toward the party with an expression I would call a glare. I definitely had the impression that she was annoyed with someone and wanted a break. She had told me once that the roof was one of her favorite spots in the city. It never dawned on me she’d be in danger there. I warned her it would be cold out there. She said she didn’t intend to stay more than a few minutes.”
Laurie asked a few more questions, but it was clear that Marco had told them as much as he knew. “I really appreciate your willingness to talk to me,” she said, “especially given the way we brought you here this morning.”
He held up both palms. “No hard feelings. In my line of work, I understand that you do what you need to do to get the right result. And whether it’s now or down the road, I do hope you’ll consider me for your security needs, Ms. Pierce.”
Charlotte promised that she would follow up, and Laurie believed her.
As Marco was about to leave, he turned back around. “Good luck with your show, Laurie. My biggest regret of my career is not going up to the roof with Mrs. Wakeling. I wake up sometimes in the middle of the night, picturing her falling.”