Read Face Value for Free Online Page B

you know Harry Gibbs?”
    â€œSure. We go way back.”
    â€œJerry did all the talking during their meeting with the detectives, which lasted less than an hour. Stanley just observed. When it was over, he’d concluded that Gibbs was a recovering alcoholic who’d been recently divorced.”
    Tommy stared at me, lips pursed, and then he nodded. “Harry did have a drinking problem. That’s how we met. Department made us both attend AA meetings at headquarters. Heard he got divorced last year. Stanley figured all that out, eh? What did he see in Sari?”
    â€œThat she wasn’t depressed. She was agitated but not depressed.”
    Tommy squinted. “Pretty thin.”
    He flicked the cigarette butt away and checked his watch. “Gotta head back.”
    Tommy winced as he got to his feet.
    As we started back down the sidewalk, he said, “So what’s Stanley think I can do for you, Rachel?”
    â€œI understand everyone in the firm parks in the garage. After seven at night, you have to use your keycard to access the walkway to the garage.”
    â€œThat’s correct.”
    â€œI assume there’s a computer record for each night’s keycard users, correct?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œWe’d like to see the records for whoever used their keycard the night she died. Especially between nine and eleven. That’s the medical examiner’s estimate for the time of death. She was wearing a wristwatch that shattered in the fall. The time on the watch was 10:03, which is probably the time she died.”
    â€œBetween nine and eleven? It’s probably just going to be people in that law firm. Only lawyers work that late.”
    â€œCorrect.”
    Tommy stopped and turned toward me with a frown. “You understand these computer records aren’t public documents.”
    â€œI do, and I could get a subpoena for them if I had to, but I’d prefer to keep this confidential.”
    â€œAnd why is that?”
    â€œI knew Sari. Her father asked me to ask some questions about her death. The cops have concluded it was a suicide. Stanley believes otherwise. The cops have closed the matter, and they’ve pretty much dismissed Stanley’s evidence. Was it a suicide? I don’t know. I’m just trying to wrap up loose ends. One of those loose ends is the computer records of the cardkey users that night.”
    He rubbed his chin.
    â€œYou’re asking a lot, young lady.”
    â€œI realize I am. Here’s my card.
    He held my card out toward the streetlight and studied it for a moment. Then he put it in his pants pocket
    We started again toward his building, which was less than a block away. As we walked, I thought again about what Stanley had told me to say to Tommy. He hadn’t told me why—just what. When we reached the entrance, Tommy turned to me.
    â€œI’ll think about your request, Rachel. No promises.”
    â€œI understand, Tommy. One more thing. It’s what Stanley asked me to tell you. He told me to tell you that when you think about Sari Bashir you should also think about Mary Liz.”
    Tommy stared at me, his gaze growing distant. And then, without a word, he turned and entered the building.

Chapter Nine
    We met the following afternoon at Kaldi’s Coffee in the DeMun area. Just Tommy Flynn and me. He’d called that morning and left a message with my secretary that he’d be there at four-thirty.
    He was at a small table in the back room when I arrived. I got an espresso and joined him. His shift started at six, and he was dressed for work—a nickel-gray long-sleeve shirt with epaulets, pleated-patch pockets with flaps, a security officer patch over the left pocket, black tie, black slacks, and thick-soled black shoes. With his shock of gray hair, bushy eyebrows, round face, and double chin, he reminded me of John Madden, the NFL color commentator and former football coach.
    â€œHere you