Текст книги "Crime after Crime"

Автор книги: Tara W. Kent

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 8 страниц)

Chapter Nine

              Back at the precinct, Kim sat down heavily at her desk.

              “Coffee?” asked Alex, perching opposite her. He handed her a tall paper cup, his signature grin lighting up his face.

              Kim handled the cup like it was an unexploded ordnance. “I don’t drink caffeine.”

              Alex looked stuck. “Jacob?” he said to her partner, who was hovering nearby.

              “I find it aggravates my mild social anxiety. So no, thank you.”

              “Damn, is that coffee?” asked Maria Langley, who was sashaying by. “Thank God. I’m operating on empty today.” She was just about to grab the coffee when she spotted Alex. She started, blushed, and began to grin madly. Kane smiled back while surveying her curves appreciatively.

              “Oh my God, I just have to say I’m a huge fan of Time After Time,” Langley began in a girlish voice Kim had never heard before. “I couldn’t believe that plot twist with your evil twin…”

              “And I can’t believe this plot twist where we have zero progress on our case,” Kim snapped. “Guys, focus. Charlene Stryker clearly has a grudge against our victim. Can she be connected to the poker ring?”

              Officer Phillips walked over. “The producer’s ex-wife confirmed that she spoke with Charlene Stryker around 1 a.m. the night of the murder. Phone records confirm the call to a landline.” He shook his head slowly. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

              “Now we have less than zero,” Kim commented, running her hands through her hair with frustration.

              “Maybe not. The ex-wife told me that Charlene wasn’t the only woman he was seeing. She found pictures of a blonde woman – another blonde, this one with curly hair – on his phone. I asked her to forward them to me.”

              “Virginia?” asked Jacob, puzzled.

              Phillips nodded. “You bet.”

              Alex flinched. “Too soon.” Phillips shrugged apologetically.

              “Bring him in,” Kim ordered. “In the meantime, we’ve got an appointment with the sister. Don’t you have to go put your face on, Kane?”

              Alex batted his eyes flirtatiously. “I always want to look my best for you, Officer G…” He shut up quickly and affected a guise of mock innocence. Kim shot him a thunderous look.

              “Save your repartee for your ex-wife,” she said shortly. “We’ve got a case to solve.”

**

              Mary-Jane Winters had the same curly hair as Virginia, but the angelic blonde hue was mousy brown instead. She barely looked at the officers as she slumped on her sofa in her stylish Chelsea apartment.

              “When was the last time you spoke to Virginia?” Kim asked gently.

              “The day she died. We went for coffee around the corner.” She took no notice of Alex, who wisely hung back. His movie-star handsome features had been toned down into a generic charm under layers of expertly applied make-up. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have liked the transformation, but the idea of going undercover more than made up for it. Now this was real police work!

              “Did you notice anything unusual about your sister?” Jacob asked.

              “Definitely. She called me up that morning, anxious to talk. We’re not that close, so that was weird enough. We had a quick coffee. She seemed really nervous. She told me that she’d been having money trouble. I offered to lend her what she needed, but she said she’d found a way to get some quick cash as long as she was really lucky.”

              “Lucky?” asked Jacob. “She must have been referring to the poker game. Did she say anything about where she was going or why?”

              Mary-Jane shook her curls. “Nothing. She didn’t say a thing about a poker game. I figured she’d be doing some sleazy modeling job. Virginia took shortcuts when she needed to, which was often. She’s always made bad choices, but she’s had terrible luck as well. I didn’t press her. I figured she’d just racked up some credit card debt buying clothes for an audition. She was crazy to become a famous actress. She’d have done anything to get ahead.”

              “Miss Winters, was Virginia a regular poker player? Did play with a certain circle or frequent any places?” said Kim.

              Another shake of the head. “She used to play when she worked in Vegas. I think she was pretty good at the time. But she dropped the habit when she moved to New York, as far as I know. She was probably too busy gambling on bad relationships.”

              “Tell me, Miss Winters, did Virginia ever talk about actress Charlene Stryker or a producer named David Jones?” said Alex, creeping forward. Kim looked at him with wide eyes. Did he want to be recognized? Scratch that – of course he did.

              Mary-Jane wrinkled her nose. “From that terrible soap opera, Time After Time? The only worse actor on that show than Charlene was Alexander Kane. I’ve seen it a couple times. It’s not acting; it’s like a form of televised hysteria.”

              “Well, from what I’ve heard, Mr. Kane won a number of Emmys for his role,” put in Alex peevishly.

              “It was three. Three Emmys,” said Jacob.

              “There you go. I’m pretty sure they don’t give them out for hysteria.”

              “TV trivia aside, did Virginia ever mention their names?” Kim said, trying to restrain herself from knocking both of their heads together.

              “Sure,” said Mary-Jane. “She was dying to be on that show. Only reason I watched it. She was always going on and on about how some David guy was going to get her a bit part. It was supposed to be her big break. Knowing Virginia, they were involved and he was married. Just a wild guess.”

              “Not so wild…” muttered Alex.

              “We have to be going, Miss Winters, but thank you for your time,” Kim said hurriedly, wanting to avoid further outbursts. She handed a business card over. “Call me if you think of anything else.”

              Back in the car, Alex was overjoyed. “She didn’t even recognize me!” he chortled from the backseat. “How cool was that? Forget being an actor. I want to become a detective!”

              “You’ll have to become a NYPD police officer first,” piped in Jacob. “You’ll need to pass the Civil Service Exam and a psychological test, among other exams and assessments. Once accepted, you may qualify for a promotion to detective in about two years.”

              Alex waved this aside impatiently as Kim merged into traffic. “I don’t have time for all that corporate bric-a-brac. I’m an actor, after all. I’m trained to take on new roles.”

              “I’d like to see you impersonating shooting a 9mm semi-automatic,” said Kim dryly.

              “That’s not even technically possible…” Jacob started.

              “What am I, an animal? I don’t want to shoot people, I want to solve cases.”

              “Then you’re in good company,” Kim put in. “So David and Virginia were definitely involved. Here we can use your so-called professional expertise, Alex. Is Charlene the jealous type?”

              Alex whistled. “The woman was famous for terrorizing any of my on-screen love interests on Time After Time. There was once this redhead with a particularly delicious physique. Now that I think of it, she reminds me of...”

              “Skip it, Kane,” said Kim, her eyes fixed on the road.

              “Well anyway, Charlene managed to sabotage her salad, and the poor thing had food poisoning for days. She had to drop out of the role. And I didn’t even touch the girl, except onscreen. I can’t imagine what she’d do if we’d been having an actual affair.”

              Kim looked at Jacob knowingly. “We’ve got some serious motive here. Now we just have to connect Charlene to that sinister poker club.”

              Alex leaned back, shrugging. “Good luck with that. Charlene doesn’t gamble, she shops – clothes, jewelry, men. You wouldn’t find her near a poker table unless it happened to be in the middle of Barneys.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

              “I knew you were mad, Alex. But I never thought you’d set the cops on me.” David Jones sat on an uncomfortable metal folding chair in the interview room, handsome face defensive.

              Alex, who was hanging around the back of the room trying to look tough, began to whistle innocently.

              “The NYPD are not accustomed to backing personal vendettas,” said Jacob. Kim shot him an appreciative look. “What was your relation to Virginia Winters, Mr. Jones?”

              The producer squirmed in his chair like a schoolboy caught smoking behind the gym. “Don’t play with me. You all know – I was sleeping with her, OK? I was hoping my lovely ex-wife wasn’t going to spill the beans, but hey, some people are just vindictive, I guess.” Alex, pink with pleasure at seeing his former best friend getting grilled, continued to whistle a jaunty tune.

              “Cut that out, Kane. Look, we know you promised her a part on the show. What happened?” Kim said.

              David hung his head. “Charlene found the photos too. I wasn’t very good at covering my tracks, I guess. We were planning to tell my wife and Alex about our relationship. Charlene threatened to leave me if I didn’t get rid of Virginia and cancel her part. I was such a mess that I forgot to tell her not to show up.”

              “Virginia was having money problems. Did she tell you about that?”

              The producer looked surprised. “No. I mean, she wasn’t exactly rich, but she didn’t seem worried about money. She managed to make ends meet, as far as I knew.”

              “Do you know why she was involved in a poker circle in New York?” said Jacob.

              “No idea. I knew she lived in Vegas at one point. Maybe she never gave up the gambling habit. She never talked to me about it.”

              This is just going nowhere, Kim thought. She wrapped up the interview reluctantly and sent the producer packing, much to Alex’s chagrin. The team reconvened at the case’s whiteboard to review the facts. Kim stood pensively in front of the victim’s smiling photo, her blonde curls framing her face. It was getting late in the day, and they’d made little progress. Kim was not going to let this become another unsolved case. Especially this one.

              “I think we’re done for today, Detective,” said Jacob. “Why don’t we engage in that age-old police activity: drinking fermented liquids while talking shop?”

              “Sounds great!” said Alex, grinning. “I love fermented drinks. Where’s the local cop bar? That will be perfect research for my part!”

              “No,” Kim said firmly. “Babysitting duties end when we punch out. You go and get a spray tan, or whatever actors do in their spare time. I’ve got a bubble bath and a glass of white wine waiting for me.”

              “Can that be a group activity?” put in Alex anxiously. “I’m happy to drink my fermented beverage au natural.”

              Despite Kim’s protestations, she found herself at the precinct’s favorite Irish pub, a run-down place with a cantankerous matronly barkeep. It was sticky, dimly lit, and the service was terrible, but for many a cop it was a second home.

              Kim maneuvered onto a wooden stool and promptly ordered a draft beer. Jacob, who wasn’t much of a drinker, ordered soda water with lime. He fidgeted nervously on his stool. He considered an occasional appearance at this cop haunt a sacred duty that was as much part of his job description as filing reports. Still, he didn’t much like it. Kim understood his anxiety and gamely accompanied him on these suicide missions, even when she would have preferred a hot bath and a good book – which was always.

              Better to get it over with. Kim took a long sip of her beer and steeled herself for the next half hour. Officer Phillips and Alex were jockeying for the stool to her left. The officer eventually conceded the prized seat, though he looked pretty disappointed. He made to go join his buddies across the room but Alex stopped him.

              “Say, you look really familiar. Have we met before?”

              Phillips looked puzzled. “Don’t think so.”

              Alex snapped his fingers, and a look of delight spread over his striking features. “That’s it! I saw you at Dr. Sampson’s office a few weeks ago. We passed on the stairs.”

              Kim’s ears pricked. “Who’s Dr. Sampson?”

              “My psychiatrist. Prickly chap.”

              “You’re seeing a shrink, Phillips?”

              The officer reddened. “Uh, no, not exactly.”

              Alex laughed. “He was there to engage in Sampson’s other specialty…” The laughter died in his face, and a look of mortification replaced it.

              “What’s that?” Kim said sharply.

              “Well, I’m not exactly at liberty…”

              “Out with it!”

              “Er, he runs some betting circles. Sports betting and such. He’s a bit of an amateur, but business has been booming, or so I hear, eh Phillips?”

              The cop looked like he wished he could sink into the floor. “It was just a one-time thing. I thought I had a sure bet on the Knicks.”

              Kim waved this off, her eyes boring into Alex. “You mean you know someone who runs a betting ring and you never told me? We’re chasing a case where the vic is involved in poker, and you didn’t even think to mention your little secret? I don’t know what’s worse, the ex-wife thing or this.”

              Alex shrugged, grimacing exaggeratedly. “Er, well, it’s not poker, not that I’m aware of, anyway.”

              “It seems interesting to me that you’re supposed to be covering for this Sampson,” put in Jacob. “Why the secrecy?”

              Alex studied his beer. “He likes to keep that side of his business off the books,” he said reluctantly. “I don’t need to spell it out for you.”

              “Well, someone’s going to have to, starting first thing tomorrow morning when we pay Sampson a visit. You still like this detective stuff, Kane?” said Kim.

              Alex stared morosely into his drink. “Honestly, the bubble bath was a much better idea.”

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven

              If Sampson was angry about Alex’s last appearance, he definitely wasn’t pleased to see him accompanied by three cops.

              “Blast it, Kane!” he bellowed. “I do you a favor and now you’re hauling the whole goddamned NYPD to my doorstep. Well, what is it? I’ve got about eight million complainers to see today with barely a moment to unscramble my brain in between.”

              “We’re a little more interested in your other business, Mr. Sampson,” said Kim coolly.

              Allen Sampson froze and then smoothly folded himself into his desk chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

              Kim rolled her eyes. “And I’m Lara Croft, Tomb Raider. Mr. Movie Star here spilled the beans that you work as a bookie on the side.”

              Allen crossed his legs, blinking rapidly. “A perfectly harmless little pastime. Officer Phillips himself has been to see me,” he said, nodding at the cringing cop in the corner.

              “Cool it, Sampson. We’re not here to send the IRS after you, as long as you play nice. You know a woman named Virginia Winters?”

              The psychiatrist started. “She was a patient of mine.”

              Jacob pounced on this. “Was?”

              “Sure, she only came in for one session. She hasn’t been in contact since.”

              “That’s because she’s dead,” Jacob said evenly.

              Sampson stared at him, bug-eyed. “She’s dead? How can that be possible?”

              “It’s very simple, doctor. Someone put a knife in her back,” Jacob said straightforwardly.

              The psychiatrist continued to look at him in shock. Kim intervened.

              “Why did Miss Winters come to see you?”

              Allen drew himself back up into professional mode. “Listen, detectives, you’ll need a court order to get her full details. But I can tell you that a certain actress, a Charlene Stryker, was blackmailing her, and she needed a lot of money quickly. She was extremely distressed. I told her that she needed legal counsel, not a psychiatrist.”

              Kim and Jacob looked at each other knowingly. Alex made a sound of disgust. “That woman! What did she have on poor Virginia?”

              “Apparently Miss Winters worked as an escort when she lived in Las Vegas. She didn’t want it getting out. She said it would hurt her chance to become a serious actress. This Charlene person said she had some kind of evidence. Anyway, I thought the problem would work itself out.” He paused then, oddly, and clamped his mouth shut.

              Jacob immediately asked, “And why did you think that, Dr. Sampson?”

              The psychiatrist twisted his hands together anxiously. “Well, I offered her a bit of a unique solution.”

              “Which was?”

              He sighed deeply. “I received a request from an anonymous source. Said he knew I was in the bookie business and that he was starting up a new poker ring for bored rich types. They wanted an amusing young woman to play with them. The pot would be ten thousand dollars with no pressure for the lady to contribute. Sounded a bit odd, especially since the contact wouldn’t reveal who he was. I assumed he was part of a group of skirt-chasing oligarchs who wanted their privacy. I knew Miss. Winters was desperate so I passed along her contact information. Probably not the most scrupulous thing to do, but it seemed like a great piece of serendipity at the time.”

Alex, who was used to his guru’s unethical ways, chuckled darkly. Kim, Jacob, and Phillips, on the other hand, were struggling to conceal their horror.

              “Sir, did I hear you correctly – you referred your patient, who came to you for emotional support, to an unknown gambling ring?” said Jacob.

Allen Sampson swiveled impatiently in his chair. “Yes, you’re not deaf, Detective. Look, am I going to get in trouble for this?”

“Dr. Sampson, Virginia Winters is now dead thanks to your unique method,” said Kim severely. “Whether or not you land in hot water depends on the extent of your cooperation with this investigation.”

Sampson looked put out. “Listen, I really can’t be faulted for taking a creative approach. She was a sweet thing, and I wanted to give her something more meaningful than some psycho-babble. How was I supposed to know it would all go bad?”

“I don’t think the American Board of Psychiatry is going to look favorably on your creative problem solving,” put in Jacob.

              “It’d be an easy thing, too. The board has been trying to take away his license for years,” said Alex.

              “Hang it, they can have my bloody license. All I want is to retire and put my feet up somewhere hot, not listen to a bunch of bloody whiners day in and day out.”

              “He’s charming,” Kim said to Alex. “Your ex-wife, and now this character? You really know how to pick them.”

Alex shrugged apologetically. “Even Humphrey Boghart had his faults, Officer.”

              “Most notably his persistent smoking and drinking that led to his early death…” started Jacob.

              “Focus, gentlemen!” Kim butted in. “We’ll need the contact, Sampson, and all of your correspondence. We have to get on this guy’s trail before it goes cold. You been in touch with him recently?”

              Allen shook his head. “Not for a couple of weeks, since I first referred Miss. Winters.”

              Kim sighed heavily. “At least it’s something. A lead is a lead. We’re going to close this case even if it kills me.”

**

              The cops gathered by Officer Phillip’s desk as he scrolled through the encrypted emails.

              “These messages are sealed up tighter than the Pentagon,” he said. “Impossible to trace, at least right now. We’ve got a real professional here.”

              Alex hung back, sipping stale coffee from a paper cup pensively. Kim shot him a questioning look.

              “Finally grasping the gravity of the situation, Bogart?”

              He looked at her dead on. “Were you serious when you said you’d close this case even if it killed you?”

              Kim frowned. “I was speaking rhetorically. But yes, I’m serious about finding the killer, if that’s what you’re asking.”

              Alex breathed in deeply. “Well, I hate to be the one to say it – but why don’t you do a Virginia Winters?”

              The cops tore themselves away from the computer monitor to stare at him.

              “Come again?”

              Alex put down his cup and crossed his arms. “Contact the guy and tell him that you’re a young lady who’s interested in playing for a big pot. Say that Sampson referred you. If they invite you, take backup and arrest the lot of them.”

              Jacob shook his head. “Too dangerous. What if they get to Kim before we can make a move?”

              Alex shrugged. “Kim wants to close this case. I’m giving her options. It’s up to her whether she wants to take the risk. I don’t know your opinion, fellows, but from what I’ve seen, the woman can handle herself just fine.”

              Kim looked at Alex with new appreciation. “I hate to say it, but he’s right. What’re we going to do? Email the perp asking if we can arrest him, pretty please?”

              Jacob and Phillips exchanged looks. “I don’t like the sound of this,” said Jacob. “There has to be another option.”

              Kin shook her head impatiently. “Every minute we spend debating this, the trail grows colder. I say we send the email. Who knows whether he’ll even respond – bastard may have closed the account after he scored Winters.”

              With a heavy sigh, Phillips turned back to the computer. “Just tell me what to write, Detective. And good luck explaining this to Captain Woodside.”