…

Detective Bryson interviews James Anderson

…

Before Bryson visited James Anderson, he checked out the residence, the proximity to the park where Bagman’s body was found, a distance of two and a half miles, which to him didn’t constitute ‘near’, and whether there were any CCTV cameras along the way.

He made a note of several and sent to report back to Worthey who was sinking under the weight of several investigations at once.  His chief was not allocating more men to the case yet unless he found compelling evidence that needed more personnel.

They had also obtained James Anderson’s phone records, and there was little or no damning evidence there.  No calls to or from Bergman, and three in the last month to and from Wendy, his wife.  James had no social media presence, was a high-flying lawyer who came to earth with a thud after a breakdown, after the death of their son coincidentally and was now battling an acrimonious divorce.

He was currently not working, except as a pro bono lawyer at a local courthouse.  A check of his finances showed that he had put away funds when he had them, and made wise investments, but had left himself exposed to what might be described as an opportunistic wife who was seeking an extravagant settlement.

In contrast, Bergman’s financial situation could be best described as distressed, and the company basically insolvent, and a meeting with his lawyer would no doubt confirm the rumours Worthey had found that he was about to declare bankruptcy, a state that would cause a whole new collection of people distress and a motive for murder.

But killing him before then would not do them any good, so he doubted it was one of them.

Perhaps when Wendy fleeced her husband, he was going to blackmail her for the funds to keep his businesses afloat.  Stranger things were known to happen.

The residence was old and decrepit and showed that Anderson was not necessarily a man of means.  Bryson knew otherwise, but it might mean he was just careful with his money.

Bryson had called earlier and was expected.  It was clear from that phone call, the first, that Anderson knew of Bergman’s death; he had seen it on the news.  A point to note, he didn’t seem particularly distressed.

Anderson answered the door, and then showed him into the lounge.  Inside the house was better than the outside, though dated and tired.  It was reasonably clean, but that might be because of the visitor.  It didn’t look like Anderson had many visitors.

“I’m going to say from the outset that I have had a preliminary interview with your wife, Wendy,”  Bryson said this to gauge James’s reaction, which was minimal, as though he expected it.

“Was it interesting?”

An odd response to his statement.  “Not very informative.”

“No.  They have been friends for a long time.  I was included once upon a time, but I’m sure you’ve discovered in your preliminary investigation that the death of our son drove a wedge between Wendy and I and drove her into his arms.”

A different kettle of fish, Bryson thought, with this one.  He sought to get ahead of the narrative.

“How did that make you feel?”

“I don’t feel.  Not since Jimmy died.  I don’t blame myself for his death but regret not doing more to prevent it.  She was always in love with him, or the notion of it because Bergman was never a one-girl guy, he always had a string of them available.”

“Yet she married you,”  Bryson said it, and regretted saying it the moment it left his mouth.  And he was trying so hard not to get involved.

“A moment in time I’m sure she’s regretted many times since.  Except that she had more money to play with while with me.  Bergman was hopeless with money.  His business is on the rocks, and his wife is in for a shock if she expects anything in a settlement, other than a mountain of debt.”

A mental note: how does Anderson intimately know the financial status of Bergman?

“Your relationship with Wendy, I take it it’s over?”

“The moment we left the hospital when Jimmy died.  She blamed me for it and there was no other reason.  Nor could she be told, by the police or by the medical staff.  And whenever drugs were mentioned, it was me who drove him to them.”

“You’re living apart then?”

“She has the apartment we shared.  I moved out.  It was easier that way.  We don’t speak all that often, and since the divorce, rarely.  I’ve been on my own for about a year and a half now.”

“She mentioned you are refusing to sign the divorce papers.”

“I’m still waiting for her to clarify her situation with Bergman.  Once I sign the papers, she gets the settlement.  I don’t have a problem with that, but I do have a problem if Bergman is waiting in the wings to take it off her, or worse, she gives it to him to throw down the drain he calls a business.”

“Which brings us to your relationship with Bergman.”

“None.  That pretty much ended when we separated.  She was seeing him behind my back long before that, though, but it wasn’t a surprise.  I used to care, but like a runaway train, standing in front of it isn’t going to stop it.”

Interesting analogy.

“When did you last see him?”

“Last night.  The bastard turned up on my doorstep and virtually told me to sign the divorce papers or else.”

“Or else what?”

“He didn’t say.  I sent him packing and told him not to come back.”

“What time was this?”

“About 8 pm.  He was making such a noise he roused the neighbours.  You can go and ask them.  Old man Bentley saw him get in his car and leave.”

“Wendy says you own a gun?”

Bryson noted the change in Anderson’s demeanour, not overly defensive, but he knew it was coming.

“We do and both of us had training on how to use it, and as far as I’m aware, it’s still in the safe upstairs.  Has been for a long time because there’s been no reason to take it out.  In fact, I haven’t checked to see if it’s still there for years now.  I don’t like guns, and it’s only there in case we needed to defend ourselves.  It’ll still be in the gun safe here.”

“I thought the apartment was your primary residence.”

“No.  We bought that just before Jimmy died.  I’ve never stayed there.  If I had, I would have moved it there.”

“Can I see it?”

“Of course.”

Anderson led the detective upstairs and into the room where the gun safe was.  Bryson looked into rooms as he passed them, and briefly stopped at one.

“Jimmy’s.  Haven’t touched it since he died.  Too many painful memories in there.”

They moved on to the room at the end of the passage, a study, then Anderson opened it.

Everything else was there, except the gun.

Bryson could see the genuine surprise on Anderson’s face.  That was not something that could be faked..

“It’s been in here forever, still in its packaging, and bullets removed from the clip and stored elsewhere in the house.”

The papers that came with it were still in the safe, so Anderson pulled them out and handed them to Bryson.  It would detail what sort of weapon it was.”

“I can assure you I have no idea where it is, or why it’s missing.”

“Who has the combination to this safe.”

“Only Wendy and I.  Hang on.”  Anderson rummaged through the papers and stopped at a passport.  “Her passport is missing.  She’s been here recently.”

“She has keys to the house?”

“She has the keys to everything.  And all the alarm codes as well.  I can ask the security company to give me the access records for the last year if you like and you can see all the comings and goings.  We both had separate codes, and I never told her mine, and she never told me hers.”

“OK.  I’ll get forensics to come and have a look around.  There might be some prints we can get which might be a help, but that’s doubtful given you just opened it.  If you can think of anyone who might also have had access, or might know where it is, other than your ex-wife, call me.”

“Like I said, it’s been here for years, and it’s the first time I’ve used the safe in about six months when we needed the passports to go on a holiday.

“OK.  That will do for now.  Don’t leave the city.  Make sure that data from the security company gets to me.”

“Certainly.”

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2023

…

Detective Bryson interviews James Anderson

…

Before Bryson visited James Anderson, he checked out the residence, the proximity to the park where Bagman’s body was found, a distance of two and a half miles, which to him didn’t constitute ‘near’, and whether there were any CCTV cameras along the way.

He made a note of several and sent to report back to Worthey who was sinking under the weight of several investigations at once.  His chief was not allocating more men to the case yet unless he found compelling evidence that needed more personnel.

They had also obtained James Anderson’s phone records, and there was little or no damning evidence there.  No calls to or from Bergman, and three in the last month to and from Wendy, his wife.  James had no social media presence, was a high-flying lawyer who came to earth with a thud after a breakdown, after the death of their son coincidentally and was now battling an acrimonious divorce.

He was currently not working, except as a pro bono lawyer at a local courthouse.  A check of his finances showed that he had put away funds when he had them, and made wise investments, but had left himself exposed to what might be described as an opportunistic wife who was seeking an extravagant settlement.

In contrast, Bergman’s financial situation could be best described as distressed, and the company basically insolvent, and a meeting with his lawyer would no doubt confirm the rumours Worthey had found that he was about to declare bankruptcy, a state that would cause a whole new collection of people distress and a motive for murder.

But killing him before then would not do them any good, so he doubted it was one of them.

Perhaps when Wendy fleeced her husband, he was going to blackmail her for the funds to keep his businesses afloat.  Stranger things were known to happen.

The residence was old and decrepit and showed that Anderson was not necessarily a man of means.  Bryson knew otherwise, but it might mean he was just careful with his money.

Bryson had called earlier and was expected.  It was clear from that phone call, the first, that Anderson knew of Bergman’s death; he had seen it on the news.  A point to note, he didn’t seem particularly distressed.

Anderson answered the door, and then showed him into the lounge.  Inside the house was better than the outside, though dated and tired.  It was reasonably clean, but that might be because of the visitor.  It didn’t look like Anderson had many visitors.

“I’m going to say from the outset that I have had a preliminary interview with your wife, Wendy,”  Bryson said this to gauge James’s reaction, which was minimal, as though he expected it.

“Was it interesting?”

An odd response to his statement.  “Not very informative.”

“No.  They have been friends for a long time.  I was included once upon a time, but I’m sure you’ve discovered in your preliminary investigation that the death of our son drove a wedge between Wendy and I and drove her into his arms.”

A different kettle of fish, Bryson thought, with this one.  He sought to get ahead of the narrative.

“How did that make you feel?”

“I don’t feel.  Not since Jimmy died.  I don’t blame myself for his death but regret not doing more to prevent it.  She was always in love with him, or the notion of it because Bergman was never a one-girl guy, he always had a string of them available.”

“Yet she married you,”  Bryson said it, and regretted saying it the moment it left his mouth.  And he was trying so hard not to get involved.

“A moment in time I’m sure she’s regretted many times since.  Except that she had more money to play with while with me.  Bergman was hopeless with money.  His business is on the rocks, and his wife is in for a shock if she expects anything in a settlement, other than a mountain of debt.”

A mental note: how does Anderson intimately know the financial status of Bergman?

“Your relationship with Wendy, I take it it’s over?”

“The moment we left the hospital when Jimmy died.  She blamed me for it and there was no other reason.  Nor could she be told, by the police or by the medical staff.  And whenever drugs were mentioned, it was me who drove him to them.”

“You’re living apart then?”

“She has the apartment we shared.  I moved out.  It was easier that way.  We don’t speak all that often, and since the divorce, rarely.  I’ve been on my own for about a year and a half now.”

“She mentioned you are refusing to sign the divorce papers.”

“I’m still waiting for her to clarify her situation with Bergman.  Once I sign the papers, she gets the settlement.  I don’t have a problem with that, but I do have a problem if Bergman is waiting in the wings to take it off her, or worse, she gives it to him to throw down the drain he calls a business.”

“Which brings us to your relationship with Bergman.”

“None.  That pretty much ended when we separated.  She was seeing him behind my back long before that, though, but it wasn’t a surprise.  I used to care, but like a runaway train, standing in front of it isn’t going to stop it.”

Interesting analogy.

“When did you last see him?”

“Last night.  The bastard turned up on my doorstep and virtually told me to sign the divorce papers or else.”

“Or else what?”

“He didn’t say.  I sent him packing and told him not to come back.”

“What time was this?”

“About 8 pm.  He was making such a noise he roused the neighbours.  You can go and ask them.  Old man Bentley saw him get in his car and leave.”

“Wendy says you own a gun?”

Bryson noted the change in Anderson’s demeanour, not overly defensive, but he knew it was coming.

“We do and both of us had training on how to use it, and as far as I’m aware, it’s still in the safe upstairs.  Has been for a long time because there’s been no reason to take it out.  In fact, I haven’t checked to see if it’s still there for years now.  I don’t like guns, and it’s only there in case we needed to defend ourselves.  It’ll still be in the gun safe here.”

“I thought the apartment was your primary residence.”

“No.  We bought that just before Jimmy died.  I’ve never stayed there.  If I had, I would have moved it there.”

“Can I see it?”

“Of course.”

Anderson led the detective upstairs and into the room where the gun safe was.  Bryson looked into rooms as he passed them, and briefly stopped at one.

“Jimmy’s.  Haven’t touched it since he died.  Too many painful memories in there.”

They moved on to the room at the end of the passage, a study, then Anderson opened it.

Everything else was there, except the gun.

Bryson could see the genuine surprise on Anderson’s face.  That was not something that could be faked..

“It’s been in here forever, still in its packaging, and bullets removed from the clip and stored elsewhere in the house.”

The papers that came with it were still in the safe, so Anderson pulled them out and handed them to Bryson.  It would detail what sort of weapon it was.”

“I can assure you I have no idea where it is, or why it’s missing.”

“Who has the combination to this safe.”

“Only Wendy and I.  Hang on.”  Anderson rummaged through the papers and stopped at a passport.  “Her passport is missing.  She’s been here recently.”

“She has keys to the house?”

“She has the keys to everything.  And all the alarm codes as well.  I can ask the security company to give me the access records for the last year if you like and you can see all the comings and goings.  We both had separate codes, and I never told her mine, and she never told me hers.”

“OK.  I’ll get forensics to come and have a look around.  There might be some prints we can get which might be a help, but that’s doubtful given you just opened it.  If you can think of anyone who might also have had access, or might know where it is, other than your ex-wife, call me.”

“Like I said, it’s been here for years, and it’s the first time I’ve used the safe in about six months when we needed the passports to go on a holiday.

“OK.  That will do for now.  Don’t leave the city.  Make sure that data from the security company gets to me.”

“Certainly.”

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2023

…

Detective Bryson interviews Wendy Anderson

…

Worthey called Bryson, in the middle of a hamburger, with the owner of the cell phone number in Bergman’s wallet.  A woman, no surprise there, perhaps his latest conquest.  They settled on a time and Worthey texted the address, and said he would meet Bryson at the apartment, after lunch.

Bryson never really felt comfortable when talking to mistresses, perhaps more because of his beliefs than anything else, and it would be good to have Worthey there just in case he made some inappropriate comment.  It wouldn’t be the first time.

In his mind, being married was monogamous and you didn’t play around, certainly not like the overprivileged people he had to deal with.  The trouble was, they were not the only perpetrators, it just seemed more common.

And it was at the top of the list of motives for crime, especially murder.

Between the time between Worthey’s call and arriving at the apartment, the tech team had the phone company supply the text messages off the phone number his PA had supplied, and, it seemed, after a cursory glance at the swath of text messages on Bergman’s phone, there were several women he was involved with in various parts of the country, and overseas, but only one in New York.

Her name:  Wendy Anderson.  And the text messages were salacious, bordering on pornographic.  Except the last few where it seemed the relationship had turned nasty, and several compromising photographs were in play.  It wasn’t blackmail yet, but it was reason enough to get his bank records.  Bergman was not a scrupulous man.

As for phone calls the last between Bergman and Wendy Anderson was at 7:03 pm.  But that was not the last communication, that was a text message at 9:05 pm, after leaving Anderson’s telling her that he was not signing the papers yet until she clarified her situation with Bergman.  Anderson had asked him, and he had said nothing like they agreed.

There was a reply, that she was available if he wanted to see her to discuss the ‘other’ matter but he said he had another appointment at 10pm.  The other matter was, no doubt, the photos.

A quick search on Wendy’s social media by Worthey turned up the fact she also in the middle of a messy divorce, and that her relationship with Bergman had been since school.  It appeared that all three, Wendy’s husband, James, Bergman, and Wendy had all known each other forever, so the question had be bel when did things go south and why?

More digging through the blog entries discovered that Anderson’s only child had died in a car accident, and Wendy had blamed her husband, who had a blazing row with his son just before it happened.

Worthey looked up the details of the accident and found the son had been high on drugs, and no doubt the husband’s argument was about preventing him from driving.  The blog, he noted, not once mentioned the son’s addiction.  The blog also only mentioned Bergman in passing as a family friend, and supportive in her time of grieving.

Another layer to a complex interrogation, Worthey thought, and texted a brief analysis to Bryson so he had a heads up before meeting her.

Worthey met Bryson in the building foyer.

“Nothing is ever straightforward, is it?”

“Not with the rich and infamous, no.  So, we have a couple who suffer the loss of a son, the wife blames the husband, Bergman’s on the scene sensing an opportunity, and she has an affair, you say the texts turned salacious about a month after the accident.  Who initiated it?”

“Bergman.”

“They start an affair, and soon after divorce proceedings begin.  We need to see who started it, so a lawyer’s name.  Make a note.  Ten gets you a dozen this Wendy Anderson tries to implicate her husband in the murder.  Simple enough, they were a happy trio until the son’s death.”

“This Bergman character, we’re not finished digging up shit on him, are we?”

“No.”  Bryson gave him the list he received from the PA.  “Disgruntled businessmen and husbands.  The suspect list gets longer.  Ready?”

She, like the ex-Mrs Bergman, looked to have done well out of an upcoming divorce, living in a very expensive mid-town apartment.

It elicited a shake of the head from Bryson as he and Worthey waited outside the door, standing next to one of the building’s concierges.  He’d never be able to afford such luxury and only served to cement his low opinion of the so-called rich and infamous.

The door opened, not by a maid, but the occupant herself.  There was an element of grief about her that no amount of makeup could hide.  A look, he thought, that could be genuine, but having dealt with a lot of so-called grieving widows, he’d reserve judgement.  He knew most women thought tears were their best friend in situations like this.

A bit cynical, but from his point of view, it was true.

“Mrs Anderson, I presume.”

She nodded.

“Detectives Bryson and Worthey, NYPD.  You spoke to Worthey earlier.”

“Yes.  He said you would be calling to ask some questions about Alex?”

“May we come in?”

She stood to one side and let them pass then after closing the door followed him into a sitting room the walls adorned with not as many expensive paintings as Bergman’s current wife.

She directed him to a chair opposite where she sat.  Worthey hovered.

“We believe given the circumstances and evidence so far that this will most likely become a murder case, so I need to ask you some routine questions.  I will apologise in advance because some of these may be personal given your relationship with the deceased.  You may not be aware that we discovered your phone number on the deceased.”

She had hardly moved or appeared to have registered what he had said, but that might be part of an act.   Bryson’s experience in matters like these interviews, sometimes he got a reaction, and not necessarily what the interviewer wanted to convey.  She seemed grief-stricken, but it seemed odd that a woman having an affair might be unless it was something more serious.

As far as he was concerned, she was high on the list of suspects.

“At this point, we are just ticking the boxes in the process of interviewing those who were acquainted with the deceased, and to ascertain their movements and relationships with the victim.  So, firstly, what is the nature of your relationship with Alex Bergman.”

“We are very good friends and have been since grade school.  That was the extent of it.  He tried to make more of it, but I was a married woman and didn’t think is was appropriate.”

OK, he thought, that’s the first lie.  She blinked first, a slight hesitation before answering, which meant she was picking options as answers.

That was when he noticed her demeanour had changed, from a grieving friend to a steely-eyed, very wary woman.  If he had to guess, she was hoping the phone details would not be discovered.

“OK.  Now, in the last few days up until yesterday, how would you categorise the nature of your relationship with James Bergman?”

“He was strangely distant.  We had me earlier in the day, yesterday, over his impending divorce, and the fact my husband was stalling signing the papers.

“So, you two were considering taking your relationship to the next level?”

“I was a consideration, but I’d been burned badly with my current marriage and wasn’t about to jump into another.”

“You had reservations about Bergman’s character?”

Suddenly her whole manner changed, and she went defensive.  “What are you getting at, Detective?”

“It’s a simple question.  Did you have reservations about Bergman’s character?”

She was quick to notice his expression.  “Not particularly.”

Bryson decided on a change of tack, to keep her off balance.  “When was the last time you saw Bergman?”

“Yesterday.  We had lunch with another friend, Edward Davies, who is a lawyer.  We were talking about my pending divorce.  Alex had said he thought if he went to see my husband, he might be able to persuade him to sign the papers.  They used to be friends.”

“Alex Bergman went to see your husband last night.  Would you have any idea what time that might have been?”

“I last spoke to him about seven, just before he said he was leaving home.  I saw on the news before that he was found dead near Queens Park.  That’s not very far from where my husband is currently staying.”

True to form, Bryson thought.  An attempt to lay the blame for Alex Bergman’s death at her ex-husband’s feet.  If he was convicted of a crime, and especially murder, would benefit her greatly.

Mistaking his thoughtful expression for one that craved answers, she continued, “He has a gun, you know, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a fight, James followed him and shot him dead.  He never really liked James, not even in grade school.”

“Are you saying that your husband believed there was something going on between you and Bergman?”

A second’s delay as she reworked the answer in her head, perhaps not quite expressing it the way she should have.

“I cannot speak as to what he was thinking, but his attitude towards me had changed recently, so maybe he thought there was, and his temper got the better of him.”

The hole she was digging for herself was getting deeper.  Now he had a bad temper.  What it did was add to Bryson’s mental notes to ask James Anderson.  The gun, the temper, the wife, and did he know Bergman and Wendy were more seriously involved.  Bergman had indicated it was not serious.

Perhaps it was time to introduce new evidence.

“What was your last communication with Bergman?”  He deliberately didn’t use the word phone.

“About 7pm as I told you earlier.”

“Are you sure?”

Was that panic he saw in her eyes. 

“I think it’s time I called my lawyer.  This interview is over Detective.  Let me know where and when you want to continue this.  Unless you’re going to charge me?”

“This is just a preliminary enquiry.  However, I suggest you seriously consider what you say because if you are not telling us the truth, or of matters that may help in your defence, you might find yourself in a very serios situation.”  He stood.  “I thank you for your cooperation so far.  I’ll send a message with the place and time I will expect to see you to continue this interview.”

Outside Worthey said, “She doesn’t know we have Bergman’s phone records.”

“She’s hoping we haven’t, but I think she does now.  It’s going to be very interesting to see what she comes up with before tomorrow when we get her in.”

At the very least, Bryson thought, she would have to tell them the true extent of her and Bergman’s relationship, the text messages with the veiled threats, and the photographs, which she referred to as the ‘other’; matter.

“Questions still to ask, where was she at the time of the murder, what’s the extent of her knowledge about the gun her husband has, I’m assuming she had access to it as well, and whether it’s legal, something else for you to look at.  I’m going to see the husband, James, just in case she calls him.”

“They’re divorcing, why would she?”

“Desperate people do desperate things, Worthey.  And she was beginning to look desperate.”

“You think she did it?”

“Motive, means and opportunity, circumstantial, but it’s possible.  But in my experience, up close and personal with a gun is not a woman’s style, but she might be the exception.”

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2023

…

Detective Bryson interviews Wendy Anderson

…

Worthey called Bryson, in the middle of a hamburger, with the owner of the cell phone number in Bergman’s wallet.  A woman, no surprise there, perhaps his latest conquest.  They settled on a time and Worthey texted the address, and said he would meet Bryson at the apartment, after lunch.

Bryson never really felt comfortable when talking to mistresses, perhaps more because of his beliefs than anything else, and it would be good to have Worthey there just in case he made some inappropriate comment.  It wouldn’t be the first time.

In his mind, being married was monogamous and you didn’t play around, certainly not like the overprivileged people he had to deal with.  The trouble was, they were not the only perpetrators, it just seemed more common.

And it was at the top of the list of motives for crime, especially murder.

Between the time between Worthey’s call and arriving at the apartment, the tech team had the phone company supply the text messages off the phone number his PA had supplied, and, it seemed, after a cursory glance at the swath of text messages on Bergman’s phone, there were several women he was involved with in various parts of the country, and overseas, but only one in New York.

Her name:  Wendy Anderson.  And the text messages were salacious, bordering on pornographic.  Except the last few where it seemed the relationship had turned nasty, and several compromising photographs were in play.  It wasn’t blackmail yet, but it was reason enough to get his bank records.  Bergman was not a scrupulous man.

As for phone calls the last between Bergman and Wendy Anderson was at 7:03 pm.  But that was not the last communication, that was a text message at 9:05 pm, after leaving Anderson’s telling her that he was not signing the papers yet until she clarified her situation with Bergman.  Anderson had asked him, and he had said nothing like they agreed.

There was a reply, that she was available if he wanted to see her to discuss the ‘other’ matter but he said he had another appointment at 10pm.  The other matter was, no doubt, the photos.

A quick search on Wendy’s social media by Worthey turned up the fact she also in the middle of a messy divorce, and that her relationship with Bergman had been since school.  It appeared that all three, Wendy’s husband, James, Bergman, and Wendy had all known each other forever, so the question had be bel when did things go south and why?

More digging through the blog entries discovered that Anderson’s only child had died in a car accident, and Wendy had blamed her husband, who had a blazing row with his son just before it happened.

Worthey looked up the details of the accident and found the son had been high on drugs, and no doubt the husband’s argument was about preventing him from driving.  The blog, he noted, not once mentioned the son’s addiction.  The blog also only mentioned Bergman in passing as a family friend, and supportive in her time of grieving.

Another layer to a complex interrogation, Worthey thought, and texted a brief analysis to Bryson so he had a heads up before meeting her.

Worthey met Bryson in the building foyer.

“Nothing is ever straightforward, is it?”

“Not with the rich and infamous, no.  So, we have a couple who suffer the loss of a son, the wife blames the husband, Bergman’s on the scene sensing an opportunity, and she has an affair, you say the texts turned salacious about a month after the accident.  Who initiated it?”

“Bergman.”

“They start an affair, and soon after divorce proceedings begin.  We need to see who started it, so a lawyer’s name.  Make a note.  Ten gets you a dozen this Wendy Anderson tries to implicate her husband in the murder.  Simple enough, they were a happy trio until the son’s death.”

“This Bergman character, we’re not finished digging up shit on him, are we?”

“No.”  Bryson gave him the list he received from the PA.  “Disgruntled businessmen and husbands.  The suspect list gets longer.  Ready?”

She, like the ex-Mrs Bergman, looked to have done well out of an upcoming divorce, living in a very expensive mid-town apartment.

It elicited a shake of the head from Bryson as he and Worthey waited outside the door, standing next to one of the building’s concierges.  He’d never be able to afford such luxury and only served to cement his low opinion of the so-called rich and infamous.

The door opened, not by a maid, but the occupant herself.  There was an element of grief about her that no amount of makeup could hide.  A look, he thought, that could be genuine, but having dealt with a lot of so-called grieving widows, he’d reserve judgement.  He knew most women thought tears were their best friend in situations like this.

A bit cynical, but from his point of view, it was true.

“Mrs Anderson, I presume.”

She nodded.

“Detectives Bryson and Worthey, NYPD.  You spoke to Worthey earlier.”

“Yes.  He said you would be calling to ask some questions about Alex?”

“May we come in?”

She stood to one side and let them pass then after closing the door followed him into a sitting room the walls adorned with not as many expensive paintings as Bergman’s current wife.

She directed him to a chair opposite where she sat.  Worthey hovered.

“We believe given the circumstances and evidence so far that this will most likely become a murder case, so I need to ask you some routine questions.  I will apologise in advance because some of these may be personal given your relationship with the deceased.  You may not be aware that we discovered your phone number on the deceased.”

She had hardly moved or appeared to have registered what he had said, but that might be part of an act.   Bryson’s experience in matters like these interviews, sometimes he got a reaction, and not necessarily what the interviewer wanted to convey.  She seemed grief-stricken, but it seemed odd that a woman having an affair might be unless it was something more serious.

As far as he was concerned, she was high on the list of suspects.

“At this point, we are just ticking the boxes in the process of interviewing those who were acquainted with the deceased, and to ascertain their movements and relationships with the victim.  So, firstly, what is the nature of your relationship with Alex Bergman.”

“We are very good friends and have been since grade school.  That was the extent of it.  He tried to make more of it, but I was a married woman and didn’t think is was appropriate.”

OK, he thought, that’s the first lie.  She blinked first, a slight hesitation before answering, which meant she was picking options as answers.

That was when he noticed her demeanour had changed, from a grieving friend to a steely-eyed, very wary woman.  If he had to guess, she was hoping the phone details would not be discovered.

“OK.  Now, in the last few days up until yesterday, how would you categorise the nature of your relationship with James Bergman?”

“He was strangely distant.  We had me earlier in the day, yesterday, over his impending divorce, and the fact my husband was stalling signing the papers.

“So, you two were considering taking your relationship to the next level?”

“I was a consideration, but I’d been burned badly with my current marriage and wasn’t about to jump into another.”

“You had reservations about Bergman’s character?”

Suddenly her whole manner changed, and she went defensive.  “What are you getting at, Detective?”

“It’s a simple question.  Did you have reservations about Bergman’s character?”

She was quick to notice his expression.  “Not particularly.”

Bryson decided on a change of tack, to keep her off balance.  “When was the last time you saw Bergman?”

“Yesterday.  We had lunch with another friend, Edward Davies, who is a lawyer.  We were talking about my pending divorce.  Alex had said he thought if he went to see my husband, he might be able to persuade him to sign the papers.  They used to be friends.”

“Alex Bergman went to see your husband last night.  Would you have any idea what time that might have been?”

“I last spoke to him about seven, just before he said he was leaving home.  I saw on the news before that he was found dead near Queens Park.  That’s not very far from where my husband is currently staying.”

True to form, Bryson thought.  An attempt to lay the blame for Alex Bergman’s death at her ex-husband’s feet.  If he was convicted of a crime, and especially murder, would benefit her greatly.

Mistaking his thoughtful expression for one that craved answers, she continued, “He has a gun, you know, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a fight, James followed him and shot him dead.  He never really liked James, not even in grade school.”

“Are you saying that your husband believed there was something going on between you and Bergman?”

A second’s delay as she reworked the answer in her head, perhaps not quite expressing it the way she should have.

“I cannot speak as to what he was thinking, but his attitude towards me had changed recently, so maybe he thought there was, and his temper got the better of him.”

The hole she was digging for herself was getting deeper.  Now he had a bad temper.  What it did was add to Bryson’s mental notes to ask James Anderson.  The gun, the temper, the wife, and did he know Bergman and Wendy were more seriously involved.  Bergman had indicated it was not serious.

Perhaps it was time to introduce new evidence.

“What was your last communication with Bergman?”  He deliberately didn’t use the word phone.

“About 7pm as I told you earlier.”

“Are you sure?”

Was that panic he saw in her eyes. 

“I think it’s time I called my lawyer.  This interview is over Detective.  Let me know where and when you want to continue this.  Unless you’re going to charge me?”

“This is just a preliminary enquiry.  However, I suggest you seriously consider what you say because if you are not telling us the truth, or of matters that may help in your defence, you might find yourself in a very serios situation.”  He stood.  “I thank you for your cooperation so far.  I’ll send a message with the place and time I will expect to see you to continue this interview.”

Outside Worthey said, “She doesn’t know we have Bergman’s phone records.”

“She’s hoping we haven’t, but I think she does now.  It’s going to be very interesting to see what she comes up with before tomorrow when we get her in.”

At the very least, Bryson thought, she would have to tell them the true extent of her and Bergman’s relationship, the text messages with the veiled threats, and the photographs, which she referred to as the ‘other’; matter.

“Questions still to ask, where was she at the time of the murder, what’s the extent of her knowledge about the gun her husband has, I’m assuming she had access to it as well, and whether it’s legal, something else for you to look at.  I’m going to see the husband, James, just in case she calls him.”

“They’re divorcing, why would she?”

“Desperate people do desperate things, Worthey.  And she was beginning to look desperate.”

“You think she did it?”

“Motive, means and opportunity, circumstantial, but it’s possible.  But in my experience, up close and personal with a gun is not a woman’s style, but she might be the exception.”

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2023

…

Bryson goes to Bergman’s workplace

…

The address for Avondale Traders Inc, the Bergman company was in 47^th Street, Brooklyn, near the old docks, certainly not far from the water.  A quick check on the internet showed that the company was in Imports and Exports though it didn’t specifically say what, or where from or where to.

And when he saw the block, it looked reasonably new and perhaps not the most expensive piece of real estate there.  Bergman’s office was on the third floor, a trip up in the elevator and along a narrow passageway.

The door had a ‘Please Enter’ sign on it, so Bryson did just that.  Inside was a desk, but no one sitting at it.  The office was open plan with several desks and a partitioned area at the end where he suspected Bergman sat.  There was another area, smaller, next to it, with a woman standing in front of the desk, delivering papers.

When the door closed, she turned to see who it was.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, finished putting the papers on the desk, then came back.

“What can I do for you?”

“Detective Bryson, New York Police Department.  I’m here about James Bergman.”

“He’s not in at the moment, in fact, I think he’s away for a few days.  I can check, if you like?”

“I’m not here to see him.  I regret to inform you that he was found deceased this morning, and I am investigating what could be a suspicious death.”

He let that sink in, and noted that it didn’t seem to affect her as it possibly should have.  It was not every day you were told your boss died in suspicious circumstances.

“To be honest,” she said, “I’m not surprised.”

Her response and lack of emotion surprised him.  “How so?”

“The people he dealt with, well, some of them.  Very interesting for want of a better word, people coming and going.  I didn’t ask, and he didn’t enlighten me which was just fine.  If you’ve seen his wife, she would be happy he’s gone.”

“I have.  Is there a reason for the bad feelings?”

“I’m not one to spread rumours, but he had affairs.  Wanted me to arrange his liaison and I refused.  I don’t approve of cheating.  Probably one of the husbands done him in.  They sometimes turned up here looking for him.”

Interesting point, he noted.

“If you’ve got names, it would be helpful.  Is there anyone else who would want to hurt him?”

“A dozen or so business rivals.  Fellow importers he stripped of their suppliers, and/or their customers.  Other than the jilted husbands.  Ruthless, and without scruples.”

She sat down at the desk and started her computer, found a document, and then printed it.  When it finished printing, she gave it to Bryson.

It had at least thirty names on it.  “After the first few turned up at the door spitting blood, I took down their names just in case.”

“Out of curiosity, if he’s so bad, why are you still here?”

“Great pay, great hours, I don’t live far away, and he’s rarely here,”

“Anyone else work here?”

“His business partner, James Anderson.  He’s not here, he’s currently in Manila negotiating a new supplier contract, won’t be back until the end of the week.  I should tell him about the boss.  I’m sure you’ll want to speak to him.”

“If you give me his number, I can talk to him first.”

“OK.  I’m not quite sure how I was going to do it.  Better from you anyway.”  She gave him a post it note with the name and cell number on it.

“What exactly do you import or export here?”

“Anything and everything.  From anywhere except China.  He didn’t like doing business with the Chinese.”

Bryson had been making notes through the interview and checked his list of items to ask.  The cell phone.

“Is Bergman’s cell phone here?”

“Why would it.  He takes it with him.  In fact, I know he has two.  I can check.” 

Bryson nodded and watched her go to his office and search.  Neither were there.  But having two was interesting.  Why?

When she came back, the next item, “Do you know where he was going yesterday?”

He watched her pull up his diary on the computer.  “Nothing.  I’m sure there was an entry there, but he must have erased it, or it was cancelled.  It may have been a meeting with his lawyer over the divorce settlement.  It was getting very acrimonious.  She might have killed him, she came here and threatened him several times.”

Not a surprising action for a woman being cheated on, Bryson thought.

“Does the name Phillip Megarry mean anything to you?”

A change in expression.  “That’s the name he once asked me to book his hotel rooms.  I suspect it’s the name he uses when he meets other woman.  I don’t think he’s used it lately, but then, he doesn’t tell me everything he does these days.  I suppose this means I’m out of a job now.”

“That would be up to his beneficiaries, if he made a will. The lawyer handling his divorce, you know who it is?”

Another post it note and a name and number, and, “The only person who would kill him for his money is his wife.  Other than that, like I said, some angry husband.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2023

…

Bryson goes to Bergman’s workplace

…

The address for Avondale Traders Inc, the Bergman company was in 47^th Street, Brooklyn, near the old docks, certainly not far from the water.  A quick check on the internet showed that the company was in Imports and Exports though it didn’t specifically say what, or where from or where to.

And when he saw the block, it looked reasonably new and perhaps not the most expensive piece of real estate there.  Bergman’s office was on the third floor, a trip up in the elevator and along a narrow passageway.

The door had a ‘Please Enter’ sign on it, so Bryson did just that.  Inside was a desk, but no one sitting at it.  The office was open plan with several desks and a partitioned area at the end where he suspected Bergman sat.  There was another area, smaller, next to it, with a woman standing in front of the desk, delivering papers.

When the door closed, she turned to see who it was.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, finished putting the papers on the desk, then came back.

“What can I do for you?”

“Detective Bryson, New York Police Department.  I’m here about James Bergman.”

“He’s not in at the moment, in fact, I think he’s away for a few days.  I can check, if you like?”

“I’m not here to see him.  I regret to inform you that he was found deceased this morning, and I am investigating what could be a suspicious death.”

He let that sink in, and noted that it didn’t seem to affect her as it possibly should have.  It was not every day you were told your boss died in suspicious circumstances.

“To be honest,” she said, “I’m not surprised.”

Her response and lack of emotion surprised him.  “How so?”

“The people he dealt with, well, some of them.  Very interesting for want of a better word, people coming and going.  I didn’t ask, and he didn’t enlighten me which was just fine.  If you’ve seen his wife, she would be happy he’s gone.”

“I have.  Is there a reason for the bad feelings?”

“I’m not one to spread rumours, but he had affairs.  Wanted me to arrange his liaison and I refused.  I don’t approve of cheating.  Probably one of the husbands done him in.  They sometimes turned up here looking for him.”

Interesting point, he noted.

“If you’ve got names, it would be helpful.  Is there anyone else who would want to hurt him?”

“A dozen or so business rivals.  Fellow importers he stripped of their suppliers, and/or their customers.  Other than the jilted husbands.  Ruthless, and without scruples.”

She sat down at the desk and started her computer, found a document, and then printed it.  When it finished printing, she gave it to Bryson.

It had at least thirty names on it.  “After the first few turned up at the door spitting blood, I took down their names just in case.”

“Out of curiosity, if he’s so bad, why are you still here?”

“Great pay, great hours, I don’t live far away, and he’s rarely here,”

“Anyone else work here?”

“His business partner, James Anderson.  He’s not here, he’s currently in Manila negotiating a new supplier contract, won’t be back until the end of the week.  I should tell him about the boss.  I’m sure you’ll want to speak to him.”

“If you give me his number, I can talk to him first.”

“OK.  I’m not quite sure how I was going to do it.  Better from you anyway.”  She gave him a post it note with the name and cell number on it.

“What exactly do you import or export here?”

“Anything and everything.  From anywhere except China.  He didn’t like doing business with the Chinese.”

Bryson had been making notes through the interview and checked his list of items to ask.  The cell phone.

“Is Bergman’s cell phone here?”

“Why would it.  He takes it with him.  In fact, I know he has two.  I can check.” 

Bryson nodded and watched her go to his office and search.  Neither were there.  But having two was interesting.  Why?

When she came back, the next item, “Do you know where he was going yesterday?”

He watched her pull up his diary on the computer.  “Nothing.  I’m sure there was an entry there, but he must have erased it, or it was cancelled.  It may have been a meeting with his lawyer over the divorce settlement.  It was getting very acrimonious.  She might have killed him, she came here and threatened him several times.”

Not a surprising action for a woman being cheated on, Bryson thought.

“Does the name Phillip Megarry mean anything to you?”

A change in expression.  “That’s the name he once asked me to book his hotel rooms.  I suspect it’s the name he uses when he meets other woman.  I don’t think he’s used it lately, but then, he doesn’t tell me everything he does these days.  I suppose this means I’m out of a job now.”

“That would be up to his beneficiaries, if he made a will. The lawyer handling his divorce, you know who it is?”

Another post it note and a name and number, and, “The only person who would kill him for his money is his wife.  Other than that, like I said, some angry husband.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2023