Текст книги "Crime after Crime"

Автор книги: Tara W. Kent

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 8 страниц)

Chapter Twelve

              The two detectives sat on opposite sides of the small metal desk, catching up on some long put-off paperwork. They looked in Phillips’ direction from time to time, hoping for indication that he’d received a response, but the officer merely shook his head.

              Alex had gone off in search of lunch for the lot of them, much to Kim’s relief. She was happy for a moment of respite from his antics. Still, she’d been pleasantly surprised that he’d had her back on going undercover.

As one of the few female detectives on the force, she was constantly trying to prove that she could compete with the boys. She suspected that most of her fellow officers saw her as a buxom redhead who was paid to play with a gun, despite her excellent track record. Scratch that, her formerly excellent track record. All the more reason to go undercover and nab the men responsible.

But it was more than just her case record that was eating at her. She had other reasons too, ones she tried not to think about. She and Jacob got on well, most of the time, because they were both workaholics. They were both single-minded and obsessive. Kim only differed in that she worked hard in order to forget certain parts of her past. Jacob had no such compulsion.

“Kim?” came Jacob’s voice, breaking into her thoughts. She looked up at him from her paperwork. “You really want to go undercover?”

“You know me, Jacob. I’ve never shied away from a challenge.”

Jacob sighed and put down his pen. “This isn’t just a challenge; it could be a death trap. It seems reasonable to assume that these players are sadistic, given the nature of the murder.”

“I know you’re concerned about me, Jacob, but I don’t think we have a choice.”

“We can ambush them. It’s not logical to send you in there.”

“If I go in and they make a move against me, we have a much better case.” Jacob sat silent for a moment, his face expressionless. “What, Jacob? You’re giving me the creeps.”

“Your illogical behavior leads me to believe that this is about your sister,” he said finally.

Kim breathed deeply and turned back to her paperwork. “I’m not having this conversation.”

“They couldn’t solve her case. You’ve had the same problem lately. To compensate, you’ve been engaging in riskier and riskier behavior. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“Ever tactful, Jacob,” Kim muttered. She signed a report so forcefully that the ballpoint ripped through the paper. “Damnit!”

“Jacob, tactful? Never,” said Alex, appearing with giant brown paper sacks. “What are we talking about?”

“Jacob was describing a particularly painful scene of yours in Time After Time,” Kim said, grabbing a sack.

“And after I bought lunch and everything!” Alex said, looking hurt.

Jacob looked confused. “I have never watched Time After Time, so it is impossible for me to have an opinion on your acting ability.”

Kim bit into a pastrami sandwich lustfully. “Tell him your thoughts on when Jareth tried to fake his own death by stealing his wife’s identity.”

“Now that was a bit of a stretch,” Alex muttered. “I do the best I can with the drivel those writers come up with.”

“Guys!” shouted Phillips from across the room. “We got a live one!”

Lunch forgotten, the detectives and actor rushed across the room to crowd around Phillips’ computer.

The King of Spades kindly invites Miss Amanda Egan

To a simple match of wits

Tonight at 7:30 p.m.

24-16 th Street, at Avenue C

Follow the sound of the music

              The group stood for a moment in silence.

              “Now’s your big chance, Detective!” said Alex. “Time to practice your Daisy Mae act.”

              “Your bravado is completely inappropriate given your future role in this situation,” said Jacob.

              “And what’s that?”

              “Safely sitting at home with a late night special and a bowl of popcorn,” snapped Kim. “I’m going in. Phillips, get a team to case the area. We’ll reconvene back here for 5 p.m. to brief the crew and wire me up. Jacob will lead the backup team. I’ll handle Captain Woodside.”

**

              “You have to be out of your mind, Detective,” Woodside said, pacing behind his desk. “Just send in a team, arrest the bastards, and get out. It doesn’t need to be more complicated than that. I’m starting to think you have suicidal impulses just like your partner.”

              “With all due respect, he doesn’t want to commit suicide, Captain. It’s more like a sick philosophical affiliation.”

              Woodside shook his head. “Man gives me the creeps. It’s like talking to Deep Blue, not a human being.” He sat down heavily. “At least he had the sense to recommend not to send you in.”

              Kim flinched. Jacob had spoken to the Captain? Sure, they were equals – the detective didn’t need her permission to talk to Woodside. But they were also partners. They never did anything without discussing it with the other first.

              “I understand Detective Newport’s concern. However, if we send in a team, the perps could get wind of it and spook. From the look of the crime scene, they’re professionals. This lead is our one chance to get them. I don’t need long in there, just enough time to set them at ease so the team can move in.”

              Woodside passed a hand over his face in exasperation. “You have a point, Detective. You always have a point and are never shy about sharing it to boot.”

              Kim ignored this. “Think of the publicity if we bag the killers,” she said, aiming for Woodside’s weak spot. “This is a high-profile case – struggling actress brutally murdered by poker ring. The papers are not going to let this one go until it’s solved. The sooner and cleaner we can tie this up, the better for the department.”

              Woodside shot her a bleary eyed look of defeat. “You’re a sharp one, Detective Daniels. Maybe too sharp. All right, you have my permission. But for God’s sake, don’t try to be a hero out there. Get in, get out, and bring me back the psychopaths who did this.”

Chapter Thirteen

              “Do you want to start a betting pool as to whether Officer G … I mean Detective Daniels shows up?” said Alex, hanging about Officer Phillips’ desk, as he had all afternoon. He hadn’t wanted to miss a minute of the excitement.

              “Even I know that’s an insensitive comment,” said Jacob.

              “Aren’t you supposed to be eating popcorn or something?” said Craig. He was still hunched over his computer, furiously trying to trace the source of the email.

              “And what? Watch a tired romantic comedy when I could be on the front lines catching a killer? This is essential training for my future role. I’m a man committed to my craft, Officer. A little danger can’t dissuade me.”

              “With your lack of training and considerable disregard for personal safety, it probably should,” Jacob said matter-of-factly. “You’ll probably be shot.”

              “Or stabbed,” Craig said absentmindedly. “I can’t trace this email for the life of me. This man is a real professional. I’d feel admiration for him if he wasn’t knifing innocent women in the back.”

              Alex took a deep swig of his coffee and checked his watch. The briefing was set to start in five minutes. Just then, the elevator chimed, and the doors swung open. Out stepped a tall woman in a short sundress and strappy high-heeled sandals. She strode purposefully through the room towards them.

              “Well, hello,” said Alex, ears pricked. “Who is this lovely creature?”

              The woman stopped in front of them, her hands on her hips, a look of exasperation on her face. “All right, don’t get worked up. I’m going undercover, after all. I can’t exactly wear a pantsuit.”

              The men simply stared at her, dumbfounded. Kim’s long red hair had been let loose from its usual bun, and coupled with the flowered sundress and minimal make-up, she looked much younger.

              “Outside says innocent country girl. Actions and voice say bossy dominatrix. I’m confused and aroused,” whispered Alex.

              “Snap out of it, Kane. We’ve got a briefing to attend. Come on.”

              The officers gathered in the conference room were just as bewildered by Kim’s get-up. As it turned out, she could command a room even in a sundress. The recon team briefed the room on the location, and Kim gave detailed instructions for how to approach once she’d given the signal.

              “Just remember,” she said, teetering in her heels. “Don’t make the arrest until you’re sure you can make a clean entry. We don’t want any of these dirt bags getting away. OK, let’s go.”

              Alex was hot on Kim’s (very high) heels. “You are not riding with me, pal,” she called over her shoulder.

              “Detective Daniels,” he said pleadingly. “Take pity on a man. I’m not going to learn a thing twiddling my thumbs back at the precinct.”

              The detective exhaled loudly. “Fine, Kane. As long as you signed a release, I don’t give a damn. Get Detective Newport to lend you a bulletproof vest.”

              “Yessss!” Alex pumped his fist. “Hey wait, one more question.”

              “Kane, I’m a little busy going undercover and all the jazz. What is it?” She stopped abruptly and glared at him.

              “Yeah, uh, so what are you doing later? You know, after the undercover stuff. I know a great little Italian place not too far from here. You’re welcome to wear that sundress, it doesn’t bother me…”

              Kim gave him a withering look and marched off towards the elevator. “Is that a yes?” Alex called after her. Jacob smacked him the chest with the bulletproof vest. The actor grunted. “Was that necessary, Newport?”

              “I would like you to know that I absolutely don’t approve of civilians tagging along on police business. That said, put this on and hurry up.”

**

Kim parked outside of a non-descript brick building that fronted right onto the sidewalk. A wooden cross floated in a round window over the central door. No lights were on. Wrought iron fire escapes crawled up the front to the tiny upper windows. She took a deep breath and climbed out of the car.

The first thing she noticed was a warm voice floating on top of a mellow saxophone line.

Why not use your mentality – step up, wake up to reality?

But each time I do just the thought of you

Makes me stop just before I begin

'Cause I've got you under my skin

              Kim shivered. Something felt wrong. What was she doing? She should have just let the team take care of things. She tried to tamp down her fears. It’s normal to be nervous, she thought. But I know what I’m doing.

              She sashayed towards the front door, which was slightly ajar, trying to behave like an ordinary 20-something. She wondered if anyone was watching, and the thought made her shiver.

              She carefully opened the door. It led into a small and shadowy lobby. A small door off to the side was similarly ajar. Sinatra’s smooth voice filtered through. Kim took a deep breath, wishing she had her trusty 9mm. All she was kitted out with was a tiny microphone in her ear. It would record the future conversation, plus transmit her code words to the team.

              The second door led to a narrow flight of wooden stairs that descended into a dark space. What was it with killers and windowless basements? It was really getting all a bit clichéd. Kim carefully navigated her teetering heels down the stairs and through a long, dimly lit hallway. Eventually the hall opened into a mid-sized room with a low ceiling. In it, six men were seated around a circular table. Each was completely ordinary looking – balding and paunchy with heavy jowls and tired-looking eyes. A stack of poker chips sat in front of each. One chair was empty.

              “Oh hi,” Kim said. “Is this the poker tournament? I’m so sorry I’m late. I totally got lost trying to find 16th street. Kind of out of the way, right?” The men greeted this chipper speech with painful silence. “Uh, OK, well, I guess this is my seat.”

              Kim sat in the empty place and surveyed her company. Each man was almost perfectly still, as if carved from stone. Their eyes stared straight ahead. She would have thought they were dead except for the rise and fall of their breathing. They were expressionless, though the tension in their faces betrayed that they were purposefully concealing their emotions. Kim felt deeply unnerved and had to fight to control herself.

              “Uh, yeah, so who wants to go first?” she asked brightly.

              Two of the faceless men to Kim’s left carefully placed a stack of chips into the center of the table, as if on cue. Another shuffled the deck and dealt out five cards to each player.

              “Oh gee, I’m first? OK, here goes!”

Kim bid conservatively, flashing an idiotic smile at the group. Her efforts were met with further silence. Each player either folded or bid higher, and those left placed their cards on the table. Kim lost out, as she expected, and the portly, flushed man across from her took the pot.

              They continued like this for a few more rounds. The windowless room was dark and unnerving, but Kim tried her hardest to stay focused. She deliberately folded or bid low on each round, losing out every time. It wasn’t hard – these guys were exceptional players, true masters of the game.

They didn’t seem pleased about their easy victory, quite the opposite. In fact, the group grew noticeably more nervous, despite their best efforts to tamp down emotion. Kim was confused. She was pulling out all the stops on her innocent lamb act. Instead, she was just putting them on edge. She needed a new strategy and quickly.

              It was time to take it up a notch. The truth was that Kim was no newbie to poker. Her dad was an avid player, and he’d schooled her on the ins-and-outs of the game whenever she hadn’t been neck-deep in homework. She was the queen of strategy, and she wasted no time in letting her fellow players know. She took every opportunity to either screw or trump them. To her disbelief, the men began to relax in their seats, wiping sweat from their faces and slumping down. They still played a strong game, but they did so with a lot more ease.

What is going on here? thought Kim. They don’t seem like men ready to commit a murder. They’re just as wound up as I am.

              The game continued without incident, Kim continuing to outplay the nameless men again and again. This proceeded for about another hour until she was declared the winner, without pomp or ceremony. The red-faced man simply got up and handed her the pot. Kim was confused. Why weren’t they trying to kill her? Did they suspect her? Or was winning the ticket to freedom, a freedom a less experienced player like Virginia had been denied? There wasn’t time to think it over. The game was up, in all respects. Time to bring in the big guns.

              “Oh wow, I sure wish my best friend Jacob was here to see this,” she tittered, saying the magic word. “He’s an ace at the poker table.”

              Seconds later, the door burst open, and armed men scattered into the dimly lit room. Just as expected, they moved in before the players could even react, cuffing them and reading them their rights with expert efficiency. As before, the chips scattered across the floor, but this time no blood was shed.

Kim tried to gain some satisfaction from the fact that perhaps she’d prevented another young woman from taking her place. But watching the faces of the nameless men as they filed out, weary but resigned, as if they’d met an end they were long expecting, it was hard to feel fulfilled.

              Alex was the only one who looked pleased as punch. He was busy trying to make himself useful, otherwise known as getting in the way.

              “We nabbed ‘em!” he said gleefully. “Like foxes smoked out of a henhouse.”

              “I hope you’re not planning on using that as dialogue,” replied Kim. “Because I would never say that.”

              “Would you say that?” asked Alex to Jacob, who’d appeared to his left.

              “By nature, I don’t use similes,” he replied dryly. “I find them ineffective means of expressing the truth.”

              “What a pair of party poopers.” Alex frowned. “You’re both acting as if you didn’t just close a big case. Shouldn’t we be popping champagne right about now?”

              “This isn’t a movie set, Kane. We don’t drink on duty. And even if we did, we wouldn’t be caught dead slugging sparkling wine.”

              They followed the crew outside to where the players were loaded into patrol cars. One by one, they set off silently into the unnerving darkness. The detectives and Kane got into her unmarked car and trundled off. Kim fiddled with the radio, settling on a soft rock station.

              “Anything but Sinatra right now,” she mumbled, tugging on her too-short sundress.

              “Can I say that you make a badass undercover cop?” Alex put in from the backseat. “Totally digging the Daisy Mae look. And damn, from the sound of it, you kicked ass at that poker game.”

              “I must say, Detective Daniels, I had no idea you were such a card shark, pardon my slang,” said Jacob.

              “My dad was an ace at the card table – poker, bridge, you name it. Thankfully he won a lot more than he lost, or we would have been in trouble. My sister and I spent a lot of time when we were young watching him and his buddies hunched around the poker table. Glad it finally paid off.”

              Kim pulled into the precinct. Jacob unbuckled his seat belt. “Detective, you’ve had a tough night. Why don’t you head home? I’ll make sure the perps are locked up tight, and we’ll start the interviews tomorrow.”

              It was true. There was nothing more she wanted at that moment than a hot shower and a warm bed. The perps weren’t going anywhere. What was the rush?

              “Thanks, I owe you, Newport.” Kim shot a weary look at Alex. “You want a ride home, Bogart, or is your limo waiting?”

              “Don’t mind if I do, Daisy. East 64th street, please and thanks.”

              Kim rolled her eyes while navigating back into traffic. “Upper East Side. Of course.”

              Alex smiled enigmatically. “So how about that drink?”

              “I thought it was dinner. You know what, I prefer eating alone anyway. Less interview-style questions about my childhood and more shoveling food into my mouth.”

              “Then let’s skip dinner and go right to dessert,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

              “Thanks, but I think I have a date with the rest of the Riesling in my fridge.”

              Alex slumped back, defeated. “All right, well, if you won’t try my panna cotta, you might as well tell me why you’re not enthused about your big win tonight.”

              Kim shot him a disgusted look. “Lovely, Kane.” She stopped at a red light and hurriedly tried to fix her loose hair into a bun. “Look, I know we have the right guys. It’s just that my gut is telling me something is off. When I was losing, the perps were sweating it big time. Even weirder, they were trying to hide it. Then, when I started to win, they relaxed. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was playing by another set of rules that I wasn’t supposed to know. They were obviously trying to attract young, inexperienced female poker players. Why freak out if I lost – after all, that’d be the expected conclusion, right?”

              Alex looked thoughtful. “It reminds me an episode of Time After Time when Jareth tries to trick his wife into making love to Gareth. He films the whole thing, being sure to zoom in on their one distinguishing mark – a mole behind the left ear. He can then accuse her of infidelity and divorce her. Gareth, of course, doesn’t want the wife to submit to his advances because she’s the one thing that keeps Jareth under control. So he’s torn between seducing her like Jareth wants and trying to repel her.”

              Kim gave him a long look. “Are you really comparing our case to a show that features ghosts, mythical dwarves, and evil twins?”

              “Look, Ginger, I’m well aware that Time After Time isn’t Shakespeare. But think about it, Gareth is torn because he’s acting on behalf of someone else, not under his own agency. I live at number 301, by the way.”

              Kim was silent for a moment as she turned right off Lexington Avenue onto 64th street and stopped in front of Alex’s building – a towering brick high rise on a leafy street. The doorman waited respectfully outside.

              “Wait, Alex.” Kim sat deep in thought. “I hate to admit it, but something sounds right about what you’re saying. The players didn’t behave like killers. They acted like frightened schoolboys who were going through the motions.”

              “…which means that the real killer is still out there,” finished Alex.

              They exchanged a long look. “I hope you’re wrong,” Kim said quietly.

              “Me too,” he said. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we?”