The day trader 2002, p.26
The Day Trader (2002), page 26
At ten oclock I walk straight into the reception area of Frank Taylors law firm. Its a small firm and I remember the office layout from the Christmas parties he threw. There are about ten offices beyond this reception area off of two corridors, and a few cubicles for the assistants in an open area in between the corridors. Where Melanie used to sit.
Good morning, sir. The receptionist is a prim woman with a high, starched white collar reaching almost to her chin. Can I help you?
Im here to see Frank Taylor.
Do you have an appointment? she sniffs, reaching for a leather-bound book on one side of her desk. I dont remember Mr. Taylor having any appointments this morning.
His office is all the way down the left corridor, isnt it? I ask as I move past her desk. All the way in the back, yes?
Wait a minute, she pipes up. You cant go in there like that. Stop! she orders shrilly as I stride into the corridor.
Out of the corner of my eye I see her reach for the phone, but I keep going, intent on what Im about to do.
Hello, Frank.
Taylors eyes flash up from a thick casebook as I move into his doorway. His feet are up on his desk, and he drops them heavily to the floor as soon as he recognizes me, then tosses the book on his cluttered desk and stands up. What are you doing here? he snaps, wincing and touching his ribs as he rises. He must still be hurting from that knee I dropped onto his chest a few nights ago. And his face doesnt look so good either. I beat the crap out of him, thats for sure. Felt good too.
We need to talk, Frank. The receptionist appears behind me, and I turn toward her for a moment, giving her a fierce look. Get out of here, I order. She stumbles away, petrified, and I close and lock the office door behind her.
My receptionist will call the police, Taylor tells me, sitting back down in his desk chair with a muffled groan. She has orders to do that if anyone barges past her desk. When youre in the divorce business, you have to anticipate that passions may run high. You have no more than three minutes before the cops get here, so you better tell me quickly whats on your mind.
I stare at him for a moment before I speak, thinking about the knife slicing through Melanies soft skin. You killed her, didnt you, Frank?
Taylor laughs loudly, then grimaces as pain ripples through his chest. Do you really think that, Augustus? Are you that stupid?
You told me yourself that your law practice is in a shambles. I motion at the door behind me. There were a lot of vacant offices along the corridor. Its a ghost town in here.
His eyes narrow. So? he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
I could always sense when we talked at his Christmas parties that Taylor didnt believe I was a very intelligent man. He always had a vaguely condescending manner, like he considered himself well above me on the IQ ladder. But suddenly I can see in his expression that hes worried Ive figured a few things out and that maybe Im not as average as he thought. I never understood why Melanie wanted us to take out those life insurance policies, but now I know.
Taylor pulls his arms tighter across his chest but says nothing.
Remember at the Grand that night you happened to show up? I continue. You accused me in front of a woman I was talking to of killing Melanie. You accused me of killing Melanie before she could sign her will, and that as a result her parents wouldnt get the money as she would have wanted. But that was all crap, Frank. Just legal mumbo jumbo you thought a guy like me wouldnt understand.
You let me worry about the legal issues.
Youre the secondary beneficiary on Melanies policy. Who gets the life insurance proceeds has nothing to do with a will, even if she had signed one. Somehow you got her to name you as the second before she died, which is all the insurance company really cares about.
Someone has been feeding you bad information
Dont lie to me, Taylor, I warn, raising my voice and taking a step toward him. He straightens up in the chair quickly and makes a subtle move for one of his desk drawers, but stops when I stop. I know youre the second on the policy. A guy named Scott Snyder dropped that bomb on me. Seems hes been taking quite an interest in my life lately. Hes a private investigator here in Washington, and though he didnt come right out and say it, he thinks I killed my wife.
Well, its good to know people like him are on the ball. Good to know it wont be long before youre where you belong. Behind bars.
I want to throw Taylor out of the fifth-story window behind his desk so he can feel the same pain Slammer did, but I keep my anger under controlfor now. Snyder told me all about slayer statutes too, Frank. Im seething and my voice is starting to shake. About laws that bar a person who causes bodily harm to another in the course of a crime from benefiting. So if Im implicated in Melanies death, youll get the money because youre the second. Youll get the million dollars.
Thats news to me, Augustus, Taylor says, trying his best to seem surprised. But its a terrible performance.
Your original plan was to kill me.
Taylor points at the door. Get out of here, Augustus. Ive had enough of this.
Then you were going to marry Melanie so you could get your hands on the insurance money to save your law practice.
Surprisingly, he nods. I wont deny that I wanted to marry her. I loved her very much.
Sure you did, I reply sarcastically. A million dollars worth. His hands squeeze tightly into fists, but he wont challenge me. He knows better than to try something after that night on my lawn. But Melanie wouldnt agree to all that, would she? I continue. She was willing to divorce me for you, but ultimately she wasnt willing to help you kill me. She went as far as to convince me to take out the policies, but when you pressed, she wouldnt go through with it. Down deep, Melanie wasnt the monster you are.
Taylor laughs as if to say that he finds my accusations ludicrous. You have quite an imagination, Augustus.
Is that what you and Melanie fought about outside the Two OClock Club the night of her murder? Killing me?
Taylors eyes flash to mine, and I see that Ive gotten his attention. We never fought, he says, his voice cold.
I have a witness who saw you two arguing that night. Shes a woman Melanie danced with. Erin would pick you out of a lineup with no trouble. You watched that routine so many times. Participated once too, didnt you?
Taylor licks his lips nervously but remains silent.
I take another step forward, and now Im right in front of his desk. This time he makes no move for the drawer. You were worried Melanie might go to the police, and you were desperate for cash, so you hatched a different plan right there on the street while you argued. One that would end up getting you the same amount of money as long as you could hang the murder on me. A million dollars tax free. You knew she had demanded a divorce from me the night before. You knew the cops would latch on to that as the motive for the murder. That and the insurance money, because I was the primary beneficiary. It was perfect, wasnt it? You couldnt have scripted it better.
Youre so far off. Youre desperate because you know the police are closing in on you.
Hes saying all the right things, but I can tell hes rattled. Ive figured everything out, and suddenly he understands that his perfect plan wasnt so perfect after all. You almost screwed up, I continue. You almost let your temper get the best of you. After I popped you at the Grand, you got your silver Mercedes and tried to run me down in the parking garage. You were drunk and pissed off and you wanted the money right away.
I told you before, I dont have a Mercedes!
I reach into my pocket and pull out the photograph of Melanie and him alongside the car. You may not now, but you did. The picture trembles with my fingers.
Suddenly theres a commotion in the hallway. The police have arrived quickly, as Taylor predicted they would. I know everything, Frank, I say quietly, aware that I have only a few moments of freedom remaining. But this is the way I want it. Im not going to run from Reggie. Im going to face him like a man. I know what Melanie did for you, at the club and in private. I know how she performed. She used to do the same thing for me. I hesitate, then point at him. Ill convince the Washington police that you are guilty of Melanies murder if its the last thing I do. I promise you that.
Itll be the last thing you try to do before they send a couple of thousand volts screaming through your body, he says. But you wont convince them, because I didnt do it. You did!
Mr. Taylor! comes a loud voice from the corridor.
The police are right outside, probably with their guns drawn. Im almost out of time.
Mr. Taylor, are you in there?
Yes, help me! he shouts suddenly. Hes going to kill me! He struggles to stand, holding one hand out in front of his face, clutching his ribs with the other. I watch in amazement as he tumbles backward over his chair just before uniformed policemen break down the door and spill into the room. His timing is impeccable. What a showman. Moments later my hands are cuffed tightly behind my back, and Im being hustled down the corridor toward reception by five officers.
Chapter 21
Reggie is subdued as he sits on the opposite side of a scratched wooden table in this sweltering, sparsely furnished interrogation room. Hes slouched down, chin on his chest, hands thrust deeply into his pockets, and he seems to be contemplating the toes of his cordovan loafers while he thinks about how he wants to proceed. A few beads of sweat glisten on his forehead.
You must have known Id find out about you going after Frank Taylor in his office this morning, he says quietly.
Standing behind Reggie is another man. Its the same guy who accompanied Reggie to my house the night he stood on my stoop and informed me of Melanies murder. The guy stands in front of the door to the hall like a sentry, arms crossed defiantly, his sports coat off so I can see the handle of a 9-mm pistol protruding menacingly from his leather shoulder holster. As if Id even think about trying to escape. This dimly lit room is buried in the bowels of the precinct, and I wouldnt stand a chance of making it out of here, even if I could get past Reggie and the other guy.
Did you hear me, Augustus?
I heard you.
What do you have to say for yourself?
As near as I can tell, its been about three hours since the cops brought me to the precinct. Most of that time Ive been confined to a cell down the hall with a couple of guys who looked like hardened criminals. Two uniformed officers brought me in here a few minutes ago to meet with Reggie. I wanted to look Taylor in the eye.
Why?
I shoot another quick glance in the direction of the man standing in front of the door. You know why.
Is Lewis bothering you? Reggie asks.
He isnt making me real comfortable with that gun sticking out of his holster, I admit.
Take a cigarette break, Reggie orders.
You sure? Lewis asks. This guys pretty big.
Ill be fine.
Okay. Ill be right outside if you need me, Lewis says before closing the door. I see him peering at me through the doors small window for a moment, then he disappears.
Now tell me why it was so all-fired important for you to be able to look Taylor in the eye, Reggie says.
I wanted to make certain he was the one who murdered Melanie.
Reggie pulls a pack of cigarettes out and offers one to me, but I decline. And?
And now Im certain he did it.
Tell me why youre so certain. Reggie removes a cigarette from the pack and taps the filter end on the table several times, then places it in his mouth. But he doesnt light it. Hes trying so hard to be good.
I take a deep breath. He had a clear motive.
Which was?
His law practice was failing, and he was broke. He needed the money from Melanies insurance policy to save himself financially.
But Melanies mother was second on the policy. You told me that yourself.
Somehow Taylor must have convinced Melanie to make him second. Maybe he asked her to marry him and thats when she agreed to make the change. I run my hands through my hair and realize that its gotten long over the last few weeks. But Im sure you already knew that. He strokes his thin mustache and looks away. Dont play games with me, Reggie, I say. Youre much too thorough not to have already uncovered that piece of information.
So you think Taylor was banking on the fact that wed arrest you, Reggie continues, and that he would get the money from the insurance policy on account of the slayer statute.
Yes.
Reggie puts the cigarette under his nose and takes a long whiff, then pulls out a pack of matches and drops them on the table. Lets not forget that you had a very compelling motive too. Melanie was demanding a divorce and she was having an affair with Taylor. You needed the money as well. Reggies fingers crawl across the table toward the matches.
Ive been with Melanie since we were in high school. I couldnt have killed her. My God, she was my wife.
Like no husband has ever killed his wife, Reggie scoffs, rolling his eyes. People kill out of revenge and passion much more often than they do for money. I can tell you that from experience. The odds arent in your favor on that one, Augustus. A capable prosecutor will easily convince a jury of that. Reggie frowns. And it would be very difficult for that same prosecutor to convince a jury that Taylor would kill a woman for insurance proceeds when he wasnt the primary beneficiary on her policy. Prosecutors play the odds like anyone else, Augustus. After a while it becomes just a job for them. They indict the person they think they can convict. They lose sight of the human aspect. Its too bad, but you cant blame them.
Reggie is a hard man, but Ive always felt that down deep he liked me. Despite all of that tough talk about being able to remain objective and never being surprised at what people are capable of.
What do you mean, you cant blame them?
I mean that prosecutors in this city are judged by their conviction rate. They get raises for putting people in prison, not for letting them back on the street. Prosecutors want cases they know they can win, not ones they think they have a good chance of losing.
Frank Taylor is guilty, I say firmly. He had motive, he had opportunity, and he argued with Melanie the night of her murder. There was a witness.
Reggie looks up. Who? What was her name?
A woman named Erin who dances at a place here in D.C. called the Two OClock Club. I hesitate. I know youve been there. Erin said you showed up a couple of times asking questions, but that she was able to avoid you. I pause again. She and Melanie had a routine they did at the club. A bondage routine. Reggie stares at me but says nothing. Thats why you asked me if Melanie had ever performed for me when you came by Bedford that day. Thats why you tried to dig into our sex life. You already knew about Melanie and the club.
Yes, I did, Reggie agrees quietly.
How did you find out?
I checked Melanies social security records. We always do that in a murder case just to see if theres concealed income that could lead to another life that people close to the victim might not have known about. In this case, thats exactly what we found. Even places like the Two OClock Club have to pay the women who work there a small per-hour amount. Its required by law. Consequently they have to withhold taxes and social security. Like waiters and waitresses, the women make most of their money in cash tips, but they still get that tiny weekly paycheck, part of which has to go to the Social Security Administration. Thats how I found out. He folds his arms across his chest. Now, go on.
I take a deep breath. Erin saw Melanie and Frank Taylor arguing outside the club on a couple of occasions, I say, not wanting to think about Vincent. She saw Taylor shouting at Melanie a few blocks from the club the night of Melanies murder.
Ill check into that, Reggie promises, his fingers an inch from the matches.
I lean forward and snatch the matches away just in the nick of time. One more thing.
What? Reggie asks quickly, eyeing the matches longingly.
I close my eyes tightly. The night Melanie told me she wanted a divorce . . .
Yes?
The night before her murder.
Yes? he asks again impatiently.
Melanie had bruises on her wrists, as though shed been tied up. I saw them right after she asked me for the divorce. The ones the coroner identified.
Reggie stares at me intently. So?
Taylor was the one tying her up. She probably even asked him to do it the first time, I say, remembering a night long ago when she first suggested that I bind her wrists with my necktie and take what I wanted. She liked it. Im thinking on the irony of how she partly satisfied her need for power over men by being restrained. Taylor was enjoying it, I continue. He even did it at the club once. You can ask Erin. He thought he was the one who had the power in their relationship, but he was wrong. Ultimately it was the other way round. Melanie had all the power. Until he decided he couldnt take it anymore. I look away. It all blew up on him that night she asked me for the divorce. He needed the money desperately, but when he asked, she wouldnt help him kill me. So he killed her instead.
Whoa, kill you? Reggie asks incredulously. What are you talking about?
That was Taylors initial plan.
Do you have proof of that?
He was going to kill me, I say adamantly, even though I know I dont have anything at all that would stand up in court. Then he was going to marry Melanie so he could get the money to save his practice. But ultimately she wouldnt help him kill me so he killed her instead, betting that you would come after me as the murderer. Just as you have.
Youre reaching, Augustus.
His plan was ingenious, and youre doing exactly as he knew you would. Frank Taylor is a monster, Reggie.
Reggies eyes narrow. It was your blood beneath Melanies fingernails, Augustus, not Frank Taylors. Our lab people confirmed that yesterday.
Thats no surprise, I reply calmly. The night before her murder, the night she asked me for the divorce, she became violent, beating my chest over and over. I tried to restrain her without hurting her, but at one point she was able to wrench her hands free. It was then that she scratched my neck, I say, pointing to the faint scars below my left ear. That happened the night before her murder.
