Page 31 of View from Above

Her father’s office had been built along the entire northside of the building with a smaller ornate desk guarding entry.

A single assistant popped to her feet as Mallory and Payton approached. Perfectly pin-straight hair, a long thin nose, and thick arched eyebrows added to the grace and femininity of her father’s—now her—trusted confidant. The woman’s oversized white sheer blouse and wide black slacks and heels highlighted thin shoulders and a lean frame that reminded Mallory of Roland Kotite’s preference for mistresses half his age. A brilliant white smile flashed wide as Joy Leonard headed them off. “Ms. Kotite, good to see you. I have everything you asked for set up in your office down the hall. Company financial records, security logs, and employee records.”

“Thank you, Joy.” She motioned to Payton beside her. “This is Payton Nichols. He’s helping me out today.”

“Yes, nice to see you again, Detective.” Joy extended her hand to shake.

“You two know each other?” Mallory asked.

“I interviewed Ms. Leonard during the original investigation into Roland’s death.” He shook, nodding clear appreciation, and she couldn’t help but feel the two halves of her lives were colliding. Before her father’s death and after.

“Right.” Mallory targeted the large oak desk her father had commanded for years just through the door. And froze. There, in the same position he would’ve looked down at her, sat a portrait of the titan himself. It shoved her out of the moment and into one less solid. One where he’d made her feel small, insignificant, and a traitor. For the last time. Roses, ribbons, and candles stretched along the dark stain beneath the frame. “Did you…” She couldn’t get the words out as the large portrait of her father stared back at her. Accusing. “I’ve never seen that portrait before.”

“Oh, yes. I thought it would be nice to have a place for the people who worked for your father to pay their respects.” Joy folded her hands in front of her. “I know it’s been a month, but it’s still not real, is it? How do you really pay tribute to a man who did so much for the people of this company and so many others he litigated on behalf of? You were very lucky to have such a great man as a father.”

Mallory lost the will to continue the conversation as all the nasty lies she’d uncovered about her father spidered into awareness. “Yes. Lucky.” A brush of Payton’s hand grounded her in a way she’d never experienced, and she’d never been more grateful for his support in coming back here. “I’d like all the records you pulled delivered to this office, please. That way, I can start cleaning out some of my father’s possessions as I go.”

Joy positioned herself between them and the door to the office. “May I ask what you’re going to be getting rid of?” She looked between Mallory and Payton. “I was Roland’s assistant for six years. I helped him set up his office when he redesigned it. I know where everything is, and I know he wouldn’t want anything moved or touched or thrown away. Roland valued his privacy. I’ve made sure no one has disturbed any of his collections or private documents.”

Right. Because the man’s daughter wouldn’t know any of that. “I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t mind now, Joy. The man is dead.”

Joy blanched as though she’d been physically struck. Smoothing invisible wrinkles from her blouse, her father’s assistant forced a weak smile, but it never reached her eyes. And it was then Mallory understood. Joy Leonard hadn’t just been her father’s assistant. Like Keira Wood and Virginia Green, she’d become so much more. One of many. Joy cleared her throat. “Is there anything I can get you two? Coffee? Water? We have a fully-stocked bar down the hall as well. I think I might still have some of Roland’s favorite scotch if you’d like.”

“No.” Payton moved into Mallory’s peripheral vision. “Just those records moved to this office, please.”

“Of course. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll have everything you requested.” Joy hustled down the hallway toward Mallory’s chosen office as though trying to hold herself together.

“She was involved with him.” Mallory watched as her father’s assistant disappeared. “Who knows for how long. He obviously meant a lot to her.”

“She was in love with him. It’s written all over her face. Can’t blame her for wanting to preserve his memory by making sure no one disturbs his office. My mother did the same thing before I tore that house apart to get rid of any evidence I even had a father.” His voice tendrilled through her insecurities and set her on solid ground. “Come on. If Roland’s killer was drugging him during the weeks leading up to his death, there might be something in here that can help us narrow down who’s behind it.”

She crossed the threshold into the conference-sized room dedicated strictly to her father’s ego. Including the wall of dozens of original vintage Cabbage Patch Kids watching her every move.

“That is something I wasn’t expecting.” Payton scrubbed a hand down his face. “Ever.”

“They’re rare, if you can believe it. They can sell upwards of two thousand dollars apiece. The ones with original birth certificates can go for more online.” Mallory forced herself to stay on task and not on the chubby faces, wool hair, and soft clothing she’d loved to play with as a child.

Payton studied the wall-to-wall shelves filled with smiling faces. “Roland doesn’t seem the type to go out and shop for dolls, even if they are valuable.”

“He didn’t.” She heard the quake in her voice as she took a seat behind the throne her father had used to detach himself from everything and everyone who didn’t serve his interests. But as with many reminders she had of how awful her father had been during her life, there was a part of her that felt what Joy had felt. Loss.

“They’re yours, aren’t they?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re not here to catalogue his collection of dolls.” She filed through the stack of papers in the first drawer of his desk. Accounts payable, client notes, depositions—nothing out of the ordinary or that would give them any idea of why her father had become a target.

“Here is everything you requested, Ms. Kotite.” Joy Leonard strode into the room steadier on impossibly high heels than Mallory could manage in flat boots with her arms full. The devastation in her expression was gone. Only a hint she’d been crying ringed her blue eyes. She set the stacks of logs on the far end of the desk, careful not to disturb the shrine she’d built. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Actually, there is,” Payton said. “Ms. Leonard, you knew everything about Roland Kotite. His favorite restaurants, the way he preferred his scotch, his schedule, who his clients were.” His gaze cut to Mallory. “Even personal matters.”

“That was my job. Mr. Kotite trusted me.” She nodded as if that answer alone satisfied his inquiry.

“I know I asked you this a few weeks ago, but was he having any problems up until his death?” Payton asked. “Anything you might’ve remembered since the investigation?”

Joy shifted her weight between both feet. “As I told you before, Detective, Roland was running the largest litigation firm in the city with his sights on expanding across the country. Of course, there were problems. Employees are always complaining they’re overworked and underpaid, clients wanted immediate responses to messages and emails. He could barely keep up. I started taking on a large part of his duties to give him some time to recover, but he was burnt out trying to take care of himself and this firm, and…” Her attention wandered to Mallory then back as though she hadn’t made the slip. “He wasn’t on the best of terms with his family.”

“You were at your desk that day I came to the office. You’re always here, right? You must’ve heard us fighting a couple days before he died.” Mallory tried to keep her voice even despite the reflex to give into the guilt of yelling at her father the last time she’d seen him. “I imagine you overhear a lot of conversations.”

“There’ve been a few instances, yes, but Roland appreciated his privacy.” The flash of annoyance exposed Joy’s opinion of Roland Kotite’s daughter.

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