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"Frank was a good guy. I was sorry to hear how his life ended," said Jared. His hands were clasped and rested on the edge of his desk. "Whoever did that to him must have had something serious against him. I can't believe the person just left him there in that freezer."
"I take it that you knew him on a personal level," I said.
"I did know him a bit. Frank Duvall worked as a teller here. I would think as a friend of his, you would know that already."
It was my turn to recoup. "He always told me he worked in restaurants," I said. "I just met him soon after he started at Steven's Steakhouse."
Jared leaned forward. "I guess he wouldn't tell a lot of people about his work here. He didn't leave on exactly good terms."
"What happened to make him quit the job here?"
"I'm not sure if these are actual facts, but rumor had it around here that some money may have been missing from West River Bank. Everything was hush-hush when he left. He always cashed his paycheck right away. I know that much for sure."
"Is it possible to talk with the Bank Manager?" I asked.
"The manager at the time has since retired and moved to Florida. I think Frank was having serious money problems. That would explain why he immediately cashed his paychecks. It made me think he paid his bills in cash. Again, I have no proof of his methods of finances."
"Do you have any ideas about who could have killed Frank? I'm thinking possibly someone who worked with him here," I said.
Jared opened his hands wide and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't have any idea who would have done that. It's not like he left the job recently. I can't think of anyone who had a beef with him now."
He stood and reached for a business card. "Take this with you. If you want to talk more, just give me a call. I don't know of anything else I can tell you at this point." I was being dismissed.
When I turned to go, a sudden scowl showed on his face. A trim woman I had noticed earlier in the office next to his appeared in the doorway. She apologized for interrupting when she handed him a note.
"This may be important," she said. She didn't cowl in front of the investor and gave the impression she could hold her own.
The thing that hit me most was Jared's immediate impatience that was so visible. I excused myself and thanked him for his time. I was happy to leave the two together. I supposed they butted heads more than once in their workday.
I sent Daniel a text and told him to call me when he could. I let him know I had nothing concrete but wanted him to know about my conversation with Jared Freedman. As it turned out, my visit with the investor left more questions than answers. I was sure Frank Duvall had at one time been a customer of Jared Freedman. I was also certain they knew each other better than Jared let on.
When my cell rang, it was Daniel. "What do you have?" he asked. "Wait a minute and I'll pull over so we can talk better." I wondered what made Daniel so reluctant to fly. Something else I wanted to find out from him.
"I got to meet Jared. I didn't get much info. But I can imagine how getting a call from him when he isn’t happy would be an unpleasant experience." I laughed. "Does Steven know Jared?"
"He has never mentioned him to me," said Daniel. "You can ask
him when you see him the next time."
I made a mental note to do that. Daniel told me he needed to get back on the road and so we said our good-byes.
Thoughts of the Steakhouse owner and the investment banker swirled through my head like the blowing snow that circled around me.
Chapter Eight
My cell phone rang just after my call with Daniel ended. I hoped my disappointment wasn't evident when I heard Steven's voice.
"Laila, I just heard from the police. They have witnesses who say they saw Frank stealing alcohol from the Steakhouse. I guess you know what that means."
"I see how it could be a motivation for you to have killed him," I said. "It may help if you have any ideas of who may have committed the murder. Does anyone come to mind?"
"Believe me when I say I've been thinking a lot about that. Someone does come to mind and makes more sense than me killing Frank over a liquor theft. Can we meet someplace and I'll tell you what I think."
We agreed to meet at his restaurant. He promised dinner for me and I took him up on it. When I arrived, he had already grilled a steak and had a salad ready. He set the plates in front of us. Instead of sitting down, he paced back and forth. He must have something big, I thought.
"I do have someone else who may be a possibility for the cops to look at," he said. I waited for him to go on. His face became animated. "One afternoon when Frank played Santa to the kids, three teenagers came into the restaurant. This wasn't their first time. I had to run them out once when they started harassing one of my servers. This time it was much worse."
"What happened?" His nervous strides spilled over on me. "Why don't you sit down and talk?"
