DEATH BY HONEYMOON Read online

  She decided to use Clint’s password and log directly into his company’s network .

  There were letters from people turning to him for his opinion from all over the country, and beyond. Officials in Washington were contacting him regularly to support their bills. The information he gathered was vital to their decisions about where to drill, when and how. It seemed clear that Clint was doing a service to the entire world, both the drilling companies and the wild ocean life, shorelines, people, nations.

  Fascinated, Cindy wanted to read the presentation he wrote that had been cancelled - his report on the Tearwall Project. It had to be somewhere here in his company files . Several other reports of his were there.

  But to her surprise, the report on the Tearwall Project had been deleted.

  Cindy sent out a flurry of emails to three or four people in the company then, asking if they had a copy.

  It struck her then that the report might be on Clint’s personal computer. She quickly went to it, logged in as him and checked. As she did, Cindy was surprised to see that Clint had been heavily downloading his files from work, the last few weeks before the wedding. The Tearwall Project report had to be here. Cindy searched and searched.

  It wasn’t there .

  She got up from the desk and stretched. It was after one in the morning. She’d completely lost her sense of time. But she couldn’t sleep now, even if she wanted to. Her mind was spinning. She was troubled that Clint hadn’t told her that his presentation had been cancelled. Why not? He must have been embarrassed by it. Or, was there something in it that he didn’t want her to know? She couldn’t discount that possibility. More and more aspects of Clint’s life were now opening up in front of her eyes. She felt sick to her stomach. There was so much he hadn’t shared.

  As she looked about the room, the boxes of files along the back of the room caught her eye. Her heart leapt. Maybe there was a hard copy of the report stored there. He couldn’t have just thrown it out. Cindy ran to the boxes and pulled them open.

  These were neater, organized by subject and date, alphabetized in chronological order. That was a relief. She ruffled through them quickly. No sign or mention of The Tearwall Project Report.

  Cindy put the packet of files down on her lap. Perspiration was running down her back. Where was that report? What happened to it? The report would contain both a copy of his presentation and details about the project itself. She absolutely had to have it. It couldn’t have vanished into thin air.

  She needed a break, but didn’t have that luxury. Ann had been hurt. Who knew what would happen next? Both Heather and Clint’s little son could be in danger. She thought of how Heather’s face had grown ashen as she realized what was going on. Cindy didn’t really know what had gone on between her and Clint, but she certainly couldn’t let either of them be hurt. It wasn’t fair.

  What was fair? Cindy wondered, as she dwelt on everything. She remembered asking Clint about his research from time to time. He’d said by and large, it was confidential. She’d never probed further. She’d never probed anything. Those days were over now. There wasn’t a sentence she’d now let go by.

  Cindy had thought that Clint had told her everything about his life. They’d prided themselves on openness and honesty. Wrong. That frightened her. She’d always believed that life was fair, that there was order, balance and, at the end, justice for everyone. Now she questioned that .

  It was disheartening going through his papers though, retracing his steps. But she needed specifics: names, dates, information. She’d have to contact the firm to get it.

  Greg Hamden’s name suddenly came to mind. He and Clint had worked so closely together on the project. Yes. He’d be able to fill in the gaps.

  Then Cindy thought of Henry Greerson. Maybe he could also help. He’d called several times, saying he had something to give her. He’d asked to take her for coffee. Even though she never felt comfortable with him, Clint had always liked him. They’d worked closely together . Seemed like it was time to take him up now on his invitation.

  Cindy got up, went to the window and looked out at the garden. It was the middle of the night. The trees were being wildly buffeted by the winds that had gone on all day without stopping. The house felt fragile in the storm; not really not able to hold up under the wind’s constant onslaught. She was seized by a fear that a large branch would break off and crack the roof, or burst through the windows as the wind blew against the frail trees. Life suddenly seemed frail to Cindy, as though one could be blown away easily in any storm. She wondered what there was to hold onto? What could she really trust again?

  It was almost morning, but Cindy still couldn’t sleep. She needed to talk to Greg. Maybe he’d be willing to meet her for lunch?

  Cindy sat back down at Clint’s desk and emailed Greg, asking to set up a time for lunch.

  To her surprise, an auto responder immediately replied.

  Greg Hamden is no longer working for DGB Oil Company.

  Cindy was shocked.

  If you need to reach him, please contact his former assistant Bara, at the following phone number.

  Cindy had no idea why Greg was no longer at the company. He’d been there even before Clint started working there.

  She checked her watch: 5:15am. Bara wouldn’t be in for a few more hours.

  Eyes closing with exhaustion, Cindy decided to catch some sleep. And then to call Bara as soon as she woke.

  *

  Cindy woke at 9.15, and immediately called Bara. Clint’s former assistant, Cindy knew her. They’d actually met a couple of times.

  “I need to reach Greg Hamden,” she said when Bara picked up the phone. “Can you let me know how to contact him?”

  “I’m sorry, that information is not available,” said Bara in a clipped tone.

  This was ridiculous. Cindy would not be deterred. “It’s extremely important.”

  “Who is this calling, please?”

  “It’s Cindy Blaine, Clint Blaine’s wife.” Cindy was reluctant to tell her, but had no choice.

  There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, as if Cindy were the last person Bara expected to call.

  “I’m so sorry about Clint,” Bara said quietly then. “How are you?”

  “I’ve been better,” said Cindy.

  “I’d love to help you, but -” Obviously, Bara had been told not to give any information out.

  “Please,” Cindy interrupted, “Greg was Clint’s good friend. I don’t think he knows what happened to him.”

  Bara stopped a moment. “That’s right, Greg left before we heard about Clint.”

  “I know Clint would want him to be informed.” Cindy was playing on her feelings blatantly, but she had no choice.

  Bara relented. “Okay, don’t tell anyone I’m giving you this.” And she quickly gave Cindy Greg’s phone number.

  Cindy was thrilled to have it. “One more thing,” Cindy continued quickly, “Do you happen to have a copy of Clint ‘s report on the Tearwall Project? The one he and Greg worked on?”

  A stony silence greeted her.

  “Are you there?” Cindy asked.

  “Greg and Clint’s business files were emptied out,” Bara said. “ I don’t have any of them,” Her voice became clipped again.

  “There has to be a copy somewhere,” Cindy said.

  “You’re pushing it,” said Bara.

  “Sorry,” Cindy said, “and thanks for Greg’s phone number.”

  Cindy hung up in amazement. Pushing what? The Tearwall Report was beginning to seem like the crowned jewels. What could be in it?

  There were other people in the company who would know. Before Cindy contacted Greg, she sent a quick email to Greerson, telling him she’d love to arrange a time to meet .

  *

  Before she called Greg, Cindy went into the kitchen and poured a cup of steaming black coffee. Her lack of sleep the night before was beginning to take a toll. And Ann didn’t look well. Not only was she still exhau
sted but had an odd pallor. Cindy couldn’t let herself dwell on that now. But deep in the pit of her stomach, she was worried about her sister, scared that things weren’t going well.

  As soon as Cindy dialed his number, Greg picked up immediately.

  “Who is it?” he said hurriedly.

  “Greg, this is Cindy,” she started, in an upbeat tone. She wanted to start out on the right foot. She’d met him in passing, a couple of times, and remembered him as a lively, positive guy.

  “Cindy, who?” he sounded rushed.

  “Cindy Blaine,” she answered, disconcerted.

  “Oh,” he slowed down a second. “Well, congratulations on your marriage. How’s Clint?”

  Cindy felt a deep chill. “You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what? I’m not working at the company anymore.”

  Cindy couldn’t bring herself to say a thing.

  “You didn’t hear that I was let go?” Greg went on, even more hurriedly. “It happened while you guys were on your honeymoon. They told everyone I decided to leave. Well, it isn’t true . Frankly, I was surprised that Clint didn’t call when he got back to find out how I was . How come you’re calling and he’s not?” he seemed anxious to hang up.

  Cindy didn’t want to tell him over the phone. “I’d like to speak to you in person,” she said. “Can we get together for lunch?”

  “I’m not up to it,” he said, scraping his throat. “Tell me what you have to now. I’m a busy man.”

  This was not the Greg that Cindy had known, the guy who used to be understanding.

  “I can’t talk about it over the phone,” Cindy said.

  That got him mad. “Listen, I’ve had enough talking about the company. I’m done with it. Over. There’s nothing more I need to hear.”

  “Yes, there is,” said Cindy softly.

  “Listen, honey, I’m hanging up.”

  “Don’t hang up,” Cindy burst out, terrified of losing him. He was an important link to Clint. “Please, Greg, don’t.”

  “What the hell is wrong?” he said bitterly. “Can’t you respect my feelings? Just say what you have to over the phone.”

  “Clint is dead,” Cindy announced bluntly.

  Greg gasped.

  “He was killed on our honeymoon.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I need your help.”

  “Oh no, oh no,” he couldn’t speak.

  “Please meet me in person. I need to talk to you.”

  Cindy thought she heard a sob. He was still for a few moments and then spoke in a raspy voice.

  “You’ve got to be careful,” he said fitfully. “We can’t just meet anywhere.”

  “I’ll meet you wherever you want.”

  “Go all the way over to the East River,” he said in a hushed tone. “There’s a Promenade near the river. It’s pretty empty during the week. We can sit on a bench, around the bend.”

  The terror Greg felt poured through Cindy, making her heart clench.

  “Okay,” she said. She’d find out exactly where the Promenade was.

  “I’ll be there tomorrow at one o’clock,” Greg continued furtively, “there’s an entrance on 84th Street. Go East as far as you can. Then walk down to the river, and you’ll be on the Promenade. Don’t make a big deal of saying hello. Act as though everything’s natural.”

  “Got it,” said Cindy.

  And then before she could say another word, she heard a dial tone.

  Chapter 14

  The next day was hot and humid. Cindy drove to the City with the car windows down, letting the warm, moist, sultry air wash over her. She parked on a side street, and walked a few blocks East to the Promenade. It was a lovely residential neighborhood, with brownstones on the side streets and tall, elegant apartment buildings on the main avenues. As she got further East she came to a neighborhood park which bordered the Promenade. There were trees, a playground, a basketball court. Then, beyond that, the walkway along the East River.

  Cindy was almost afraid to walk down to the river. She had no idea what state Greg was in or what else she was going to find out.

  A few ice cream vendors lined up along the entrance to the park, smiling at Cindy and asked if she wanted some. Cindy wished she could buy an ice cream for both her and Greg, but thought better of it. This meeting was peculiar. She didn’t know how he would react.

  She walked down the pathway slowly. When she got to the river, there he was, standing exactly where he said he would be .

  Greg was a slim guy in his thirties, just a little taller than Cindy. He wore khaki pants, a blue tee shirt and a baseball cap, pulled low, with dark sunglasses. He saw her immediately, nodded and looked down.

  Cindy came over stood next to him.

  “Let’s just walk,” he said under his breath.

  They started walking. As he’d said, the Promenade was mostly empty. A few people sat on benches at the river’s edge, watching boats pass by. In the park that bordered the Promenade, some sunbathers were stretched out, lying on the grass. Thick, white summer clouds filled the sky.

  Greg turned and looked over his shoulder a few times as they walked.

  “We’re going North,” he told Cindy. “Right around that bend is a bench I love. It’s under a big tree, protected from view.”

  “Great,” Cindy said.

  They came to the bend, turned a slight corner and there was a huge, sheltering tree. Under it was an empty bench.

  “We’ll sit here,” Greg said instantly . “There’s always a breeze.”

  Cindy and Greg sat down on the bench and he finally breathed a little more easily.

  “They have tentacles everywhere,” Greg said. “You have to be careful.”

  “Who has tentacles?” Cindy asked.

  Greg turned and opened his huge brown eyes wide . “The company.”

  “I see,” Cindy said.

  “What do you see?” Greg was quick on the uptake. He was quick about everything, and right to the point.

  “Not much,” said Cindy.

  “You’re in danger.”

  It was as if a cold wind blew over Cindy. She’d felt there was danger, but to hear it said like that aloud made it more real, almost as if she could smell it. Otherwise, lulled by the beautiful trees, sky and late spring afternoon, the whole world seemed in harmony.

  “Clint was never careful enough,” Greg went on. “I told him that over and over.”

  Cindy couldn’t let his fear overtake her.

  “Clint loved to talk. He talked too much. He got so excited when he found something out, he’d tell everyone. I’d say, Clint, shut up. He called me paranoid. Oh God, I can’t believe he’s gone. He was a wonderful person.”

  Cindy wanted to put her hand on his quivering arm to comfort him, but he was too overwrought. He and Clint had worked together for three years. This had to be a huge shock.

  “How’d he die?” he finally asked.

  “The Coroner called it accidental drowning.”

  “Bullshit,” Greg blurted out. “Did you see the Coroner’s report yourself?”

  “No. I wasn’t in shape to see anything then.”

  “Check the Coroner’s report yourself,” Greg said.

  She would. That was a good idea.

  “Why did they fire you, Greg?”

  “I’ll tell you what I can. I’m only here because of Clint. I have an agreement with the company not to say anything to anyone. That’s not unusual in a termination agreement. In exchange they gave me some funds.”

  “I’m not just anyone.”

  “I’m not stupid. I realize that. And I have a moral obligation to keep you from harm. Clint’s death was definitely not an accident.”

  Cindy was beginning to feel cold and edgy.

  “Clint went much too far. He got a lot of warnings to stop poking around in the research he was doing. “

  “Research on the Tearwall Project?”

  “He wasn’t supposed to tell you about it.”

&nb
sp; “He didn’t. I found out.”

  “He always had to go to the limit with everything. But the company had millions and millions of dollars committed to the drill. The more we explored, the worse it looked. You get the drift of what I’m saying? He was digging up information nobody wanted. “

  “I need dates, facts to bring to the authorities,” Cindy said.

  Greg turned and looked at her straight on. “There are lobbyists involved. Congressmen. You think the cops can help?”

  “I need facts, details,” said Cindy.

  “Whew. You’re just like him. Playing with fire.”

  Greg looked out at the river that stretched before them. “Beautiful here, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Very,” said Cindy.

  “Peaceful, secluded.” Greg tapped his fingers along the bench. “If you’re quiet, you can even hear the birds singing in these trees.”

  “He didn’t believe it when I told him he was putting us in danger.”

  “Why not?” Cindy zeroed in.

  “Clint discovered something too big to handle. But he wouldn’t let up. He was like a dog with a bone, felt he was out there, saving the world.”

  With that, Greg was done. He got up from the bench abruptly. “Who did he save? Not even himself.” He looked very sad then.

  “Wait a minute,” Cindy reached out for him. “Please, I need more information to go to the police.”

  “It’s bigger than that. They won’t be able to do anything for you. They take orders from above.”

  “Then I’ll go to the police.”

  “Keep dreaming,” Greg said. “The best thing you can do now is get out of town . Don’t threaten the company. Don’t poke around. Pretend Clint’s death was an accident. Play the part of the grieving widow.”

  “Forget it,” she said. “How could I live with myself if I kept everything buried? What do you think of me?” Cindy felt worse than before.