Текст книги "Crime after Crime"

Автор книги: Tara W. Kent

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 8 страниц)

Chapter Fourteen

              Alex came zipping in to the precinct the next morning armed with two huge take-out cups – one latte and one English breakfast tea.

              “I’ve seen you drink this,” he said, plopping it down in front of a surprised Kim, who was hunched over her desk. “Milk, no sugar, right?”

              Kim looked at him, mild annoyance crossing her face. “Thanks, Kane,” she mumbled.

              “I prefer mint with one sugar,” Jacob put in from the other side of the desk. “Yet I only see two cups.”

              “Wear a sundress and I’ll consider making it three next time. Which reminds me, Detective, that although that pantsuit is very charming, I really do prefer you in florals.”

              “And I prefer you on the set of bad soap operas where you can’t annoy me,” she returned. “Yet we don’t always get what we want, do we?” She righted and put down her pen. “Phillips,” she called, spotting him across the room. “What do you have on the perps?”

              The officer hustled over. “Bunch of Manhattan bigwigs. Investment bankers, businessmen, politicians. No criminal records. Uniformly swimming in money. Already making plenty of noise about their phone call and their lawyers. Bunch of babies. They actually expected me to make a Starbucks run this morning, as if I was their concierge.”

              As if on cue, an army of sharp-suited men burst through the elevator doors, leather briefcases in hand. “Oh, God,” Kim exhaled. “We’re going to have a hell of a time shaking anything out of them now. Did you manage to get them talking last night?”

              “They refused to speak,” Jacob put in. “We tried to lean on them, but they were too savvy. Wanted their lawyers immediately. Lost cause.”

              Kim took a deep breath. “I wish they’d just tried to kill me last night and been done with it. All right, bring the first one into interview room four and let’s get started.” Alex made a move to follow her. “No, Kane. You’re going behind the glass.”

              “What! Detective, please. I can provide psychological insight. Remember what we talked about last night?”

              “Exactly. You start talking about theories with evil twins, and these lawyers are going to cut you, and me, a new one.”

              “I’ll be quiet as a church mouse. I promise. And I won’t call you Officer Ginger all day and I’ll get my own ride home. Please pretty please please…”

              “OK! OK, all right. Just zip it, Kane, or I swear I’ll have you out on the street scouting infomercial auditions in two seconds flat.”

              The red-faced, portly player was already seated in the interview room with his lawyer.

              “This is an insult,” the lawyer began. “Mr. Grimes was engaged in a perfectly legal game of cards. And you haul him up here in the middle of the night on an unconnected murder charge? Preposterous.”

              “Your client was engaging in a poker ring that has known ties to Virginia Winters,” Kim said, settling down in a chair opposite. “So how is he going to explain that?”

              “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This was Mr. Grimes’ first game with this group. My client cannot be implicated in whatever accusations you may be bringing against his fellow players.”

              Kim sighed. She’d been expecting this run-around. “We already have a subpoena for your client’s phone and email records, counsel, so save your breath. In the meantime, I would like to know why Mr. Grimes decided to attend a poker game in which a single female was invited to play with a group of well-connected men.”

              “It’s not a crime to enjoy the company of a young woman, Detective,” the lawyer shot back. “Even if she happens to be a member of New York’s Finest.”

              Kim leaned over the table. “And what about sticking a blade in the back of said young woman? Is that a crime?”

              The client paled noticeably, though his eyes never left the table. Alex, who was watching him closely from the back of the room, leapt on this reaction.

              “Or watching another man stick in that blade? What about that?”

              Grimes’ eyes shot up from the table and rested tremulously on Alex’s face. He stared at him, unblinking, for several moments, before dropping his eyes again and resuming his formerly inscrutable expression.

              Kim directed a thunderous look in Alex’s direction but quickly picked up his line of questioning. “I’m sure if such a witness corroborated such a thing, then we could find ways to exempt him from prosecution. Not to mention, give him the satisfaction of putting away the real killer.”

              The lawyer shook his head gravely. “While I’m happy to listen to your fairy tales all day, my client has better things to do. Excuse me, Detective, but I think we’ve heard enough for now.”

              The other players were brought into the interview room, with exactly the same net result despite Kim’s best efforts. Defeated, she headed to the observation room, where Jacob and Craig were sitting.

              “Maybe I should have gone into the game in a pantsuit, after all, put them under thumb screws, and just gotten the truth then and there,” Kim said irritably, flopping into a chair. “What a waste. Those sharks are going to spring our perps loose in no time, and we’ll be back to square one. Where are we on the subpoenas, Phillips?”

              “We have approval, and a team is digging through the records as we speak. The perps all insist we’ll find nothing, since the game was set up in person. They have no idea who invited you, or so they say. The common suggestion is that someone must have overhead them setting up the game and decided to play a practical joke.”

              Kim shook her head slowly. “That sounds even more improbable than one of Kane’s plotlines. They’re clearly covering something up, though I don’t have a shred of evidence to prove it. Not that they need to know that.”

              “It’s strange that they all have the same story. Almost as if they’d decided on it in advance,” put in Jacob.

              “A backup plan in case they got caught. These jokers may be slick in business, but they’re hardly criminal masterminds. Someone else has to be behind this – to set up the game, the parameters, and get the story straight in case it all went south.” said Kim.

              Craig and Jacob both looked at her, dumbfounded. “Pardon me, Detective, but you think someone put them up to this?” Phillips said.

              Kim and Alex exchanged looks. “I can’t prove anything yet, but when I was in that room I had a strong feeling that these men were playing somebody else’s game – poker and otherwise.”

              Jacob was staring at Alex intently. “This doesn’t sound like you, Detective. I can only presume something this illogical must have originated from the only person in this room who didn’t graduate from the police academy.”

              Alex pretended to look hurt. “Still mad about the tea, Detective?”

              Kim sat up straight, crossing her legs. “Look, it’s just a hunch, Newport. After all, if those subpoenas turn up nothing, our intuition will be all we have to go on.”

              “Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to stick to the facts,” Jacob muttered.

              Craig looked down at his smartphone. “Well, looks like that’s going to be hard. Scanning the perps’ phone and email records turned up zero. Usual calls to escort services and Chinese take-out joints and emails to secret girlfriends. Good reading, apparently, but nothing that will help us solve our case.”

              “And what about the email to Doctor Sampson? Did you manage to trace the source?” Jacob said hotly.

              Phillips shook his head slowly. “No, Detective. The thing is encrypted like I’ve never seen.”

              “Tell me Officer, do any of our perps work in IT or have a known affiliation for tech?” said Kim.

              “Truthfully, I think most of them had difficulty typing those emails to their lovers, Detective.”

              Kim eyed Jacob meaningfully. “So who sent the email, then?”

              Jacob took a deep breath. Despite his passion for detective work, at that moment he would have rather been anywhere else – most likely fencing or tackling his latest supercomputer project. Not butting heads with two conspiracy theorists. “I hate to say it, but perhaps we have the wrong group.”

              Kim’s green eyes narrowed. “Now who’s dreaming?” The two detectives stared each other down for a moment. The tension in the room was palpable.

              “Anyone feel like a little lunch on me?” said Alex, stepping in with his signature smile. Everyone glared at him. “Don’t look at me. I’m just a three-time Emmy award-winning actor offering to get you some of New York’s best pastrami.”

              “I like mine with mustard,” put in Phillips.

              “Caramelized onions,” said Kim.

              “A side of pickle,” mumbled Jacob.

              “Good!” Alex said, gathering the officers together and patting them roughly on the back. “Glad we can at least agree on our love of smoked meat. Be back in a jiff!”

Chapter Fifteen

              Alex pulled his black Alfa Romeo 4C sports car into his building’s parking lot. Once again, he silently congratulated himself on driving such an awesome car. Once he landed the lead role on New York Vendetta he’d buy another one, but in silver.

              He strolled to the elevator and zipped up to penthouse suite, inserting a special keycard to enter. The doors swished open and he flicked on the lights, revealing an uber-modern, sleek space full of classic posters of his movie icons such as De Niro, Brando, and of course, Bogart. Sighing happily, he walked over to his well-stocked bar and began mixing up his favorite dry martini. He was just pouring the gin into the shaker when a sound froze him in his tracks. It was a dry, repetitive sound, one that Kane knew well from his jaunts to Vegas. It was the sound of cards being shuffled.

              He turned slowly, dreading what he might see. There stood a man of medium height, dressed in perfectly innocuous clothes except for a black mask on his face and a sword tucked into a long cane sheath.

              “I’m guessing you’re not the new doorman,” Alex squeaked.

              “Mr. Kane, I’m sorry to barge in like this. Please excuse my manners. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve helped myself to your mineral water while I was waiting. I was rather thirsty.”

              “Not at all,” Alex said, backing towards his cabinet. “Please, make yourself at home.”

              “I hope you’re also not offended that I took the liberty of removing your 9mm to a safer location – my pocket.”

              Alex stopped. “Right. If you found my mineral water, why wouldn’t you find my gun?”

              “Precisely. Now, Mr. Kane, let’s get down to business. I think we both know that this isn’t a social call. I hate to involve you in my affairs, especially since you only recently became affiliated with New York’s Finest. However, I need to put a little pressure on one Miss Kimberly Daniels. She so unfortunately broke up my little poker ring. Even worse, she took the pot. Now, that just wasn’t supposed to happen. Mr. Kane! I must insist, please don’t reach for your cell phone.”

              Alex’s hand stopped its descent down his pants pocket.

              “That’s really rather rude since we’re having a conversation here. Young people these days, just can’t do without their technology. Now where was I? Oh yes – Miss Daniels. You see, I just can’t let her little victory slide. I’m not a man who likes to be trifled with. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Kane?”

              “You’re wearing a sword and a mask. So I’m going to go with yes.”

              “Indeed. This brings me to a point: you’re going to be coming with me.”

              The feeling drained from Alex’s legs. Go off with a sadistic maniac who stabbed a woman in the back and ripped out her heart? There had to be another option. He looked around frantically as if expecting the detectives to emerge from behind his living room furniture.

              “Mr. Kane, let’s not make this difficult, shall we? I have a sword and your gun. You have a cell phone, which you won’t be able to reach in time, and two shaking pairs of legs. Do the math, sir.”

              “What do you want with me?” Kane asked, teeth gritted. “Why go at me when you want Kim?”

              “I need a little something to lure our lovely detective to me without creating a fuss. You’re quite the high profile character, so I’m sure she won’t just let you rot. Can’t be sure if she’s overly fond of you, but I’m fairly sure the NYPD won’t want to see you turned into minced meat on their account. From what I know of the detective, the force can count on her loyalty.”

              “Minced meat?” Alex croaked.

              “Or pastrami,” the mask chuckled. “Let’s not get into specifics yet.”

              Alex took one hesitant step forward, as if to test whether his legs would actually let him go to this freakish man. “And what are you going to do with Detective Daniels if she comes for me?”

              “When she comes for you,” the man corrected. “Let’s just say, the game’s not nearly over, Mr. Kane. Your Miss Daniels seems to have a real taste for poker. Then let her play! Those cronies don’t know a royal flush from a set of baseball cards compared to me. I think it’s time she competed with someone who’s closer to her level. Of course,” the mask said, lips underneath curving in a ghost of a smile, “she’s going to lose.”

**

              Kim put down her phone and ejected a groan of frustration. “What is up with Kane today? I’ve been trying to call him all morning. Either he finally nabbed his coveted role starring in a denture infomercial or he’s passed out at the Four Seasons with some nineteen-year-old model.”

              “You want to bet on that?” Phillips said.

              “Too soon,” Jacob put in. “Even I know that.”

              Kim tapped her fingernails on the phone’s screen. The case was going nowhere fast. Just then, Captain Woodside poked his head out of his office.

              “Daniels! A word.”

              Jacob and Phillips shot her similar looks of sympathy. She’d been trying to keep their lack of progress out of Woodside’s range of vision. She should have known that the Captain had an uncanny ability to sniff out a faltering case.

              Kim breezed into the Captain’s office and sat opposite him, trying not to look apprehensive. The Captain folded his hands and looked at her out of deeply lidded eyes.

              “Daniels, I’ve read through your reports. I’ve been trying to sit you down for a chat for a while now, but you’ve been rather elusive.”

              If Kim were the type to twirl her hair and bat her eyelashes, she would have done so right then and there. Instead, she sat woodenly, accepting the Captain’s implied criticism. “My apologies, sir. I’ve been juggling the Winters case and my new actor charity project.”

              Woodside sent a dark look her way. “I’ll get to Kane in a moment. But in the meantime, I’m catching a hell of a lot of ca-ca with your latest big bag. Politicians, bankers, CEOs – could you arrest a bigger headache for me? I’ve had those sharks they call lawyers up my behind for the past 24 hours like you wouldn’t believe.”

              “With all respect, sir, I didn’t invite them to a poker game tied to our vic’s disappearance. They did that all on their own.”

              “I’m with you on this one – it doesn’t look good. But we don’t have a shred of evidence to tie those high-rollers to the game that ended Virginia Winters’ life.”

              “I went on what I had, sir,” Kim said, re-crossing her legs uncomfortably. Either she had to invest in a cotton pantsuit, or Woodside’s office was devilishly hot.

              “Well, you’d better have a lot more to go on, pronto. Without new evidence we’re going to have to release these royal pains in the butt. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing – the lot of them act like they’re in goddamn Hilton. If I get one more request for an espresso or the Wall Street Journal, I’m going to blow a gasket.”

              Kim couldn’t resist a smile. She took Woodside’s sense of humor as evidence he wasn’t about to come down too hard on her – this time.

              The Captain sighed and leaned back, his chair creaking in protest. “All right, Detective, I don’t need to tell you what to do. Get some evidence linking these farts to the deadly poker game, and get it fast. Next point of business: Alexander Kane. How are things working out so far? Commissioner Bradley’s hot to know.”

              Kim pursed her lips. “He seems to be having lots of fun playing detective. He’s highly annoying, sir, but he’s contributed in his own way. Reading all those hare-brained scripts has made him a creative thinker, at least. Not that I’m condoning him being here.”

              Woodside rocked back in his chair, smiling faintly. “Of course not, Detective. Well, I’m glad it’s working out. Give him as much access as you can. The more he learns, the quicker he’ll be gone. That said, I know he’s signed a release, and for God’s sake keep a close eye on him. This department needs good publicity, not another disaster. We’re suffering enough with this Winters case.”

              Kim restrained an eye roll. “Yes sir,” she said heavily. “I’ve got this one.”

Chapter Sixteen

Kim left Woodside’s office feeling depressed. Once again, she was failing to solve an important case. That said, how did Woodside think she was supposed to do her job while acting as Kane’s human shield? She checked her watch. Lunchtime. No one would miss her if she ducked out for an hour. She wasn’t going to be able to crack this case with a head full of steam anyway.

              She sent Craig and Jacob quick texts saying she’d be back shortly and ducked out the elevator. Once in her car, she piloted over to Chelsea for her favorite de-stressing activity (other than a glass of Riesling and a vanilla bubble bath).

              The High Line was New York’s new park. Built on an old railway line, the narrow path wound around old brick buildings covered in fading advertisements and rainbow-colored street art. Views of the Hudson and New York’s skyline definitely added to the appeal. But for Kim it was definitely all about the luxury of just grabbing a decent cup of decaf from a street side vendor and strolling along without aim. Her life was so structured. Free time, no matter how brief, was essential to her sanity.

              Cup in hand, she shed her blazer and let the summer sun kiss her pale, freckled shoulders. Bliss. Even the endless couples strolling hand in hand didn’t bother her today. Usually the sight of happy twosomes made her a little sad – after all, it had been over two years since her last serious relationship. He’d been a military man. Strong, courageous, passionate about his work. Just like her, which was exactly why they didn’t work out.

Yet when she tried to date someone laid back, they always got clingy. “Why do you have to go to work now?” they’d whine. “Can’t you stay home for one night like a normal person?” They didn’t get how much her job meant to her. There was no winning when it came to love.

Kim tossed her paper cup and pushed those thoughts aside. She admired a new glass and steel building that curved slightly over the path. “Nancy would have loved this place,” she thought, as she always did. Her sister had wanted to be an architect. She’d loved photographing New York’s old stone skyscrapers, tooling around the city on her silver bicycle. She’d always worn a black beret, her long red hair contrasting with her pale face. She’d been taken from her own bedroom twelve years earlier, when Kim was eighteen and Nancy sixteen. Kim had been sleeping in the opposite twin bed. Never heard a thing.

Kim came to the end of the path and stopped, looking over the Hudson River. Painful feelings sat heavily on her heart. The water glittered in the summer sun, but it did little to lighten her mood. Involuntarily, she checked her smartphone. She’d missed two texts.

She opened the first, and started as a King of Spades card filled her screen. She stared at it, comprehension slowly filtering in. It was him. The true killer. Slowly, she opened the other text.

Oh little fool, don’t you know you can never win?

The game hasn’t ended by far.

I happened upon a bit player.

What happens to him depends on your next move.

Wait for my instructions tonight.

Please don’t bring company.

It would just break Mr. Kane’s heart.

Yours truly,

The King of Spades

              Kim stared at her phone, her hand trembling. Then she stuffed the device in her pocket and started purposefully back towards her car. The psychopath had Kane! That’s why he wasn’t answering her calls. She blindly shoved past the crowds, drawing hostile stares as she did so. Kim didn’t see them. Her mind was racing. How had the killer gotten at Kane? And why? Alex wasn’t a pretty young woman or a card player.

              Even more baffling – why would the killer make a move now, when his oligarchs were the subject of investigation? Instead of lying low, he’d deliberately announced his presence. Very bold. The hallmark of a true mastermind. The kind of killer who could rope in a crew of high-powered men, brutally murder a young girl in cold blood, and neatly wipe up all the evidence.

              Kim pulled out her phone again and started to dial Jacob. No wait – involving anyone else in the kidnapping might enrage the killer. After all, he was a genius with technology. He could be tracing her calls that very moment. She put the phone away. She’d have to do this on her own.

As she drove back to the precinct, Woodside’s words rung in her ears: …for God’s sake, keep a close eye on him. This department needs good publicity, not another disaster. She’d sworn to protect Alex, and look what had happened. She owed it to Woodside, the NYPD, hell, even to Kane, to get him back and quickly.