Page 138 of Passions in Death
When she left, she got the gimlet eye from the admin that suggested she’d gone over her allotted time. Probably had, she considered as she kept right on going.
But it had been worth it.
Former staff—a good angle. Make him angry? She’d have done that anyway, but it was a solid tip to do that as quickly as possible.
When she walked back into Homicide, Jenkinson, his tie, and his partner were missing, as were Baxter and Trueheart. Santiago and Carmichael huddled at his desk. Eve hoped they consulted on a case and weren’t making a bet that Santiago would surely lose.
Peabody signaled her.
“Jenkinson and Reineke caught one. Baxter and Trueheart are with a suspect in Interview A. And I talked to some former classmates. Actually three. Two were full of Shaunbar, and how Barney was such a star on the field and an inspiration otherwise. But then I got an earful from a… Julian Prowder.”
“Fill my ear.”
“Okay. He was careful at first. High school, who remembers, who cares. But then it turned out he remembered a lot and cared a bunch more. Let’s see.”
She pulled her notes, though Eve could tell she didn’t need them.
“Puffed-up prick, stuck-up jerk with a stick up his ass. More than happy to narc on a fellow student for any infraction, but kept it down-low. Any guy who so much as looked at Shauna too close became a prime target for just that. He said Barney would wait and watch for a misstep, then pounce.
“Apparently Prowder wasn’t among the best dressed in that era—family of three boys, and he was the youngest. So hand-me-down time. He said Barney liked to sneer and snark at him about his clothes, but again, down-low because he liked to pretend he was above the fray. And Shauna wasn’t one for snarking that way.”
“A different perspective. Keep at it. I’m going to dig up former employees at the men’s shop. Let’s see what they think about Barney’s managerial style.”
“That’s a good one.”
“More Mira’s than mine, but yeah.”
Then, she decided as she went to her office, she’d take another page from Feeney.
She’d put in some thinking time.
It took her awhile, but when she found one—a LeRoy Vic—she hit gold.
“Yeah, I can talk about Greg Barney, the fuck.” Vic, age thirty-five, mixed race, sun-streaked brown hair, scowled on-screen. “I had an opportunity for a manager’s position at Orlando’s in Brooklyn. My wife was having a baby, and we wanted to move there to be closer to our families. It would’ve been a step up for me—a solid raise. I worked five years at On Trend, the last two as assistant manager under that prick. And what does he do? He gives me a crap eval. How my work ethic declined, I’ve taken too much time off, my customer service tended to be shoddy.”
“You disagree with that evaluation?”
“Damn right. I always covered for Greg, or anybody, when they needed some time. Did I take some time, too? Sure. My wife had a real shaky first trimester, and she needed me. I had the time coming, and I took it. But my work was never, ever shoddy, and I had top sales six months running.”
“Can you speculate why his evaluation was so poor?”
“I can tell you why. He didn’t want me to get the job. I wouldn’t have known about the eval, but the outgoing manager at Orlando’s told me. He said how I’d aced the interview and so on, so I confronted Greg about it, and he said, like he’s my keeper or something, how it was for my own good. How I couldn’t handle that job, and was making a mistake taking on the responsibility when I had a kid coming.”
“I see. What did you do about it?”
“I wanted to quit, but my wife talked me out of it. And she was right. What I did? I made copies of my sales records, and I contacted some of my regulars, asked for references. And I got them. I got passed over for the manager’s slot, but I got a sales position, and I took it. Then I quit.
“That was two years ago. I’m manager now, so Greg Barney can kiss my ass. He had no right, no fucking right to do that, to decide what was best for me and my family. But he’s the type who always thinks he knows best.”
“I appreciate your input.”
“You ought to talk to Sharlene Wilson. She was in sales, and he pushed her out. Maybe a year and a half ago.”
“Would you have her contact?”
“Haven’t talked to her in a few months, but yeah. Give me a second.” Muttering to himself about Barney—asshole, prick, bullshit eval—he dug it up, gave it to Eve. “So, what did he do?”
“I’m just gathering information in an ongoing investigation.”
