Page 4 of Crosshairs
I handed her a tissue from a box on the table next to the couch. She nodded her thanks and dabbed at her eyes. She explained to me that she had gone into the bedroom around nine and had talked to her sister on the phone for about forty minutes. Afterward, she’d quickly drifted off to sleep. Her husband had not come to bed by that time.
I asked, “Is it usual for him not to come to bed at the same time as you?”
She nodded. “He liked to clear his head. He loved to look at the river from our balcony. He did it almost every night. He usually came to bed somewhere between ten and eleven.” She sniffled and looked like she was about to sob again. Then she gained control of herself.
Victoria Glossner said, “It’s just not fair. We had so many plans. We’d been through so much. We were talking about having another baby. How could this have happened?”
I asked all the usual questions. The ones about her husband’s friends and associates. If she knew of anyone who might want to harm him. I held off on the questions about potential drug use and gambling. It’s surprising how often one of those two vices is behind a homicide in an area like this.
She answered no to all of those questions.
I said, “You said you’d been through so much; was it anything that would’ve made someone angry enough to do this?”
She quickly shook her head and said, “Just some rough spots in his business. Nothing we were too worried about now. That’s what I’m saying. Our life was really good. Or at least about to become really good.” She started to cry. Then it turned into a flood of tears.
I waited silently, wanting to expand on what sort of business problems Adam Glossner had been experiencing. Before I could speak again, a tall, well-dressed woman came to the door.
When a patrol officer tried to stop her, she snapped, “I’m going in to get my daughter and I don’t care who doesn’t like it.”
The officer looked at me, and I just nodded. As the new woman marched toward the couch, Victoria Glossner looked up and then moaned, “Oh, Mom. Thank God.” She jumped up and hugged her mother.
Her mother said, “Get the kids, and let’s go to my apartment. We need to get you and them away from here.”
Victoria said, “I was just answering a few questions for this detective.”
Her mother didn’t even bother to look in my direction. She said, “That can wait until later.” Then she took her daughter by the hand and started calling for the kids.
They were all out of the apartment in less than a minute.
CHAPTER 6
VANESSA WRIGHT, A new detective with our squad, brought me the neighborhood canvass summary. She wasn’t quite my height of six foot three, but she stood well over six feet and could look me in the eye as she gave me the report.
Vanessa said, “We tried to hit all the buildings to the north, where we think the shot came from. Now we’ll swing south for a building or two. Does that sound thorough enough for you?”
I said, “Vanessa, I know you haven’t been in our unit for too long, but I’m not used to getting a professional report without some kind of a prank.” I saw her wide grin and beautiful, straight teeth. I added, “Someone told you to prank me, didn’t they?”
“I won’t say who, but itwassuggested that I should tell you everyone went to get breakfast and would start again sometime around lunch. I knew better than to even joke about that.”
I smiled and nodded, letting her know I wasn’t an officiousprick. I like pranks and I’ve played plenty during my career. Instead, I asked her about the canvass they had just completed.
Vanessa handed me a sheet of paper and said, “A couple of people thought they might have heard something. Maybe a pop or a bang sometime around 10:15 last night. One elderly man in a building to the north said he’d only talk to the boss. Claimed he had important information.”
Even the neighbor next door to the Glossners hadn’t heard or seen anything unusual. It wasn’t until she heard a commotion in the hallway this morning that she even looked out and saw the police officers. She knew Mrs. Glossner and the children. “That’s why she took them in while everything was going on.”
As we came out the front door of the building, I saw Lois Frang still standing there. I had to admire that kind of persistence. She yelled out, “What do you got, Bennett?”
I called back, “I have a slight sciatica problem and arthritis in my hip!”
“When am I going to get a straight answer out of you?”
“When I’ve got something worth saying.”
Detective Vanessa Wright led me to a building nearby, to the third-floor apartment of Walter Cronin, the elderly man who’d claimed to have information. When he opened the door, he was clearly happy to see Vanessa again. Despite having asked to talk to the boss, he didn’t care too much about me either way.
I said, “I heard you have some information that might be useful, Mr. Cronin.” I spoke a little louder than I normally do. I don’t know why—I just assumed an elderly man would have poor hearing.
“You bet I do.” He motioned us all the way into his lovely apartment. The eighty-six-year-old retired dentist had apparently had avery lucrative practice. After he made us sit on the sofa, he pulled out a notebook and said, “I’ve been detailing the shenanigans going on with this building for years. The fees this place charges are outrageous. There’s so much fraud going on I don’t know where to start.”