The Cigarette Killer

by Claudia Hall Christian

  “Uh,” Ava said.

  “R.J drove my mother everywhere in Denver until she died,” Seth said. “R.J. remained in touch with Big Daddy and his extended family and business. He came to New York City on a Red Eye because he had heard through his contacts that my life was in danger.”

  Betraying her feelings, Ava took a quick breath. She didn’t respond.

  “Anyway, we drank a lot of coffee, ate a few burritos, and then went to talk to Claire,” Seth said. “Of course, Bernice is staying with Claire until her apartment is completed.”

  “Who is Bernice?” Ava asked, slipping back into interrogation mode.

  Unintimidated, Seth waited a moment to focus his mind before he continued.

  “Bernice is Big Daddy’s wife,” Seth said. “Her mother, Susan, was best friends with Big Daddy’s mother, Dinah. Dinah had been called ‘Di’ since she was a child. She was married to Bud — uh, his name was Art, Arthur, probably, but I’ve never heard anyone call him that. Everyone called him ‘Bud.’ Anyway, Bernice grew up around the Savoy, and then they eventually lived in the projects built on the Savoy site.”

  “Bethune Towers?” Ava asked.

  “That’s right,” Seth said. “Di and Bud lived there after Bud stopped traveling. It’s also where I went to learn jazz piano. From Bud, that is.”

  “When was that?” Ava asked.

  “Years? 1965 to early 1969,” Seth said. “Bud and Di both died around the end of the year, 1968. I was ten when I met them.”

  “Go on,” Ava said. There was a jostling sound as Ava moved the phone. “Sorry, I was just given a note to ask you who Claire was and why Bernice was staying with her.”

  “Claire is my longtime friend and the manager of my apartment building,” Seth said. “I’ve known her since that time, when I was ten years old. I moved to New York to go to college on a music scholarship when I was ten. I spent the weekends in the city. I met Claire on my first or second trip to New York City. She took me home to her mother. Claire’s mother took pity on me, and they made a place for me to stay. Uh . . . Claire and I met Big Daddy and Bernice at the same time that we met Bud and Di and Susan. R.J. knocked my front teeth out.”

  Seth stopped talking for a moment. Familiar with interrogation, he wanted to give them time to come up with another question.

  “Why is Bernice staying with Claire?” Ava asked.

  “As you know, Big Daddy died last week,” Seth said. “Bernice had to move out of her apartment because the Feds took all, well most, of Big Daddy’s money and possessions. Bernice needed a place to stay and didn’t want to move in with her kids. They live in the suburbs. Bernice has always lived in the city. We — that’s Claire and I — felt like it would be too hard for her to leave the city. Claire’s daughter, Melissa, is finishing her residency and is in the process of setting up her new apartment upstate. She’s here only one or two nights a week. So, she moved into my apartment — Melissa, that is — to give Claire an extra room. Bernice moved in with Claire for whatever it is — a week or two. We’ll have a vacant apartment at the end of the month. The building is something I bought when I was ten. Claire’s lived there all of her life, so it’s hers, too.

  “Why is this a problem of yours?” Ava asked. “You’ve retired as a detective and write music or some such. Just quoting.”

  “I am no longer employed by the Denver Police Department, that’s true,” Seth said. “I still help people who have mysteries to solve. It’s something my partner Mitch Delgado and I started doing when I was still with the Denver PD. Most recently, I worked on a puzzle for the director of the NIC — that’s the director of the National Intelligence Center. I also write music, play music — symphonies and other things. Right now, I’m working helping to convert someone else’s music into a score for a movie. Eventually, there will be five movies, five scores.”

  Ava didn’t respond. He had no idea why they were asking him these things. He shrugged.

  “Why is this a problem of yours?” Ava asked, again.

  “That’s a harder question,” Seth said. “Big Daddy was good to me. Kind. His father taught me how to play jazz piano, so I was around them a lot. But it’s more than that . . . Bud was an amazing performer. He’d spent most of his life playing music on the road. He taught me how to survive working in music. I was just a little kid. Between Claire’s mom, Di, Bud, Susan, even Bernice — they practically raised me. Believed in me. Set me on the road to become who I am today. I haven’t seen either Big Daddy or Bernice for a few years, but we talked on the phone at least every other month. They talked to Maresol more than that.”

  “And Maresol is?” Ava asked.

  “My friend,” Seth said, quickly. “She works as my housekeeper in Denver.”

  “I guess the question is: ‘Why are you so close to this situation?’” Ava asked.

  “What situation?” Seth asked.

  There was a lot of conversation in the background for a moment.

  “Why are you close to her? You live in Denver and all of this is happening half a continent away.”

  “Why am I close to Bernice? Because I am,” Seth said. “There’s no explaining the human heart. My friend, her husband, has died. My friend’s widow needed help with his complicated estate. I knew some of the players on the Federal and local level. I am known, at least by reputation, by most of the criminal element, so I was able to ease the transition there. I was able to find a resolution that satisfied most of the people involved, although someone grabbed me last night — no, yesterday.”

  “‘Grabbed you’?” Ava asked.

  “I was held captive for a while after I dropped you at the airport,” Seth said.

  “By whom?” Ava asked.

  “No idea,” Seth said.

  Ava was silent so long that the only way he knew she was still there was the echo of a male voice in the hallway.

  “Let’s go back to waking up with R.J.,” Ava said.

  “Okay, I woke up with R.J.,” Seth said. “We went to see Claire. Bernice is staying with Claire until her apartment is done. We were talking about who might have held me captive and all of that.”

  “How long were you held captive?” Ava asked.

  “I’m actually not sure,” Seth said. “I woke up there about one or two in the afternoon, and I was there until that evening sometime.”

  “How did you get out?” Ava asked.

  “When I was able to get out of the restraints, I turned off the surveillance camera,” Seth said. “I figured that would bring someone, but no one came. I went to the toilet and looked around a little.”

  “Where was this?” Ava asked.

  “I was held in the interview rooms under the Worth Street Station,” Seth said. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to collect me. I figured that they would be back, so I waited. I haven’t had much sleep since Big Daddy died — just too much to do — so I fell asleep. I woke up and got home. It’s not that far from my apartment building in Hell’s Kitchen.”

  Seth let the conversation lag. He had a rising anger that his precious Ava was being used to interrogate him. From what he knew of Ava, she must be furious.

  “So you were held hostage yesterday,” Ava said, picking up the thread. “Woke up with R.J., your old driver. Does R.J. have a name?”

  “James,” Seth said. “That’s the ‘J.’”

  “I see,” Ava said. “And the ‘R’?”

  “Bernice called him ‘Robert’ this morning. His wife calls him ‘Reggie.’ He told me once that his name was ‘Reginald,’” Seth said.

  “Bernice is mistaken about his name?” Ava asked.

  “No,” Seth said. “R.J.’s father’s name was ‘Reginald.’ He was well known to be cruel and violent. It’s likely that Big Daddy changed R.J.’s name to ‘Robert’ so he wasn’t reminded of R.J.’s father. Big Daddy had a habit of doing that. Anyway, R.J.’s gone by ‘R.J.’ all of his life. It’s on his driver’s license. His tax forms.”

  “Got it,” Ava said.
“Now, you sent me a text about an envelope?”

  “I received an envelope from Bernice,” Seth said. “She found the envelope when her mother died and then again when she was moving last week. It was put together by Big Daddy’s mother, Dinah. Dinah collected a bunch of information about a man who had been beaten to death in 1955 outside the Savoy. This man’s sister was also beaten to death. Mitch and I consulted on that case when the NYPD opened a cold-case division. That had to be a dozen or so years ago. There was no mention of the sister in the NYPD file. Bernice said her name was Delilah. She was a dance-hall girl who worked under the name ‘Raven.’”

  “We have no record of Delilah or ‘Raven,’” Ava said.

  “They probably didn’t think she was important enough,” Seth said. “Dance hall girl. Black.”

  “Black?” Ava sounded surprised.

  “African-American,” Seth said before remembering that Hamnet Seurat had light skin.

  “And the envelope?” Ava asked, quickly in an attempt to avoid indicating that they were looking into The Cigarette Killer.

  Six

  “It looks like stuff that Dinah put together,” Seth said. “Newspaper clippings, a list of the people who were at the Savoy that night, a cocktail napkin with some lip prints on it, crushed pack of cigarettes found next to Delilah’s body — you know, stuff that you’d like to have.”

  “Why would I like to have it?” Ava asked.

  “Because you’re the queen of forensics?” Seth asked.

  When she didn’t respond, he wondered if maybe she was actually in trouble and not working a case.

  “What’s in this envelope?” Ava asked again.

  “I don’t know any more than what I’ve said,” Seth said. “I’ve been working with the orchestra since I left you a message. We are under a lot of pressure to finish this one.”

  “I guess I just asked you that,” Ava said. “Can you send it to me? Maybe Claire can add that Kodak from the party? She said she’d share the picture with me.”

  Ava was telling him to take pictures of everything in the envelope.

  “I’ll FedEx it to the CBI,” Seth said. “It’ll have to be tomorrow.”

  “That works,” Ava said.

  “One more thing,” Seth said.

  “Yes?” Ava asked.

  “Bernice said that the man who was beaten to death was the father of The Cigarette Killer,” Seth said. “The woman, Delilah, would have been his aunt. We don’t know if Delmer and Delilah went by Seurat’ — you know, like the Cigarette Killer.”

  “Oh?” Ava sounded genuinely surprised. “Why would you think his father had a different name?”

  “It’s probably nothing,” Seth said.

  “Nothing?” Ava asked.

  “It’s just that R.J. had never heard the name ‘Seurat,’” Seth said.

  “Would he have?” Ava asked.

  “Yes,” Seth said. “Definitely.”

  “Besides the unsuccessful consultation to the NYPD, what does this murder mean to you?” Ava asked.

  “Well, it’s likely Seurat’s first killing — the first man and woman killed at the same time,” Seth said. “That would mean that whatever triggered him either has something to do with Delmer and Delilah, or happened around that time, possibly at the Savoy, in Harlem, or maybe just something in New York. Bernice remembers it as being 1955. Nothing in the envelope indicates when it happened.”

  When Ava didn’t respond, he said, “Well, I guess the newspaper clippings would have the date, but I didn’t look at them closely.” When Ava still didn’t respond, he asked, “What else would it mean?”

  “Can you hold?” Ava asked.

  The line went completely silent, as if she’d put it on mute. Seth looked around the orchestra. The musicians were returning from the short break. He wanted to get through this piece one more time before they went home. Everyone had worked so hard and they were very close to finishing this piece.

  “Seth?” Ava asked.

  It had been so long that Seth had forgotten that he was talking to her.

  “Ava?” he asked trying to smooth over his surprise.

  She chuckled.

  “Forgot about the phone?” Ava asked.

  Her natural fondness for him came through. He smiled.

  “I’ve just received authorization to tell you what’s going on,” Ava said.

  “Okay,” Seth said, evenly.

  “My team and I have been asked to review the forensics on the Cigarette Killer murders,” Ava said. Seth was about to ask why when she continued speaking. “As you know, I followed the case for a school project and reviewed the original forensics as my graduation project for the FBI. My team and I were selected due to the depth of our knowledge of the case. However, because I am your wife, I have been ordered not to communicate with you during our investigation. I’ve also been asked to tell you to stay in New York City until we’ve completed the forensic review.”

  “That’s easy,” Seth said. “I’ve got at least another month’s worth of work here.”

  “We’ll be working on this project for the rest of the year,” Ava said. “We are to have no contact for the next month while we redo all of the forensics for the cases in Denver. Other cities have also launched their own review. Their teams have been sequestered as well. Our sister lab at the FBI is redoing the forensics from every city where the Cigarette Killer, uh, Seurat, has been convicted of murder. A determination will be made later as to what will happen when the review is completed.”

  Seth let out a slow whistle.

  “Uh, huh,” she said.

  “What is going on?” he asked.

  “The Cigarette Killer has filed an appeal. On Friday,” Ava said, emphasizing the word “Friday.”

  Seth scowled. Seurat had filed his appeal the day after Big Daddy had died.

  “The defendant has requested a new trial,” Ava said. “He says that you pressured him into confessing.”

  “But the bodies!” Seth said. “He led us to three bodies! I mean, he was supposed to give us three more, but he got cold feet. Still, he gave us all of the details of what he did to them! He made videotapes of murdering people. We found them exactly where he said they would be! His DNA! His DNA was all over the bodies! We have everything on tape!”

  “His lawyer says that you fabricated all of the evidence,” Ava said. “His client was so afraid of you and Detective Delgado that he agreed to whatever you said. He’s filed to throw out all of the original forensic findings.”

  “He never even filed an appeal!” Seth said. “He’s been so damned proud of everything he did, especially since it took us so long to find him. He bragged about everything he did! There are two or three books out on the crimes because he couldn’t stop talking about how great of a murderer he was!”

  “That may have been the case,” Ava said. “He is now saying that he is innocent of these heinous crimes. He says he’s only in prison due to corrupt law enforcement — meaning you and Detective Delgado. He’s also filed for compensation for his false conviction.”

  “Don’t you need a new trial first?” Seth asked.

  “He’s confident that he’ll be found innocent,” Ava said.

  Seth didn’t respond. He felt a wave of fear. Had he missed something? Had Mitch had done something nefarious behind Seth’s back? The Cigarette Killer had killed women and men, one of each, usually at the same time, all over the state of Colorado and at least three other states. There were twelve people that he’d claimed to have killed but couldn’t “remember” where he’d buried them. These bodies were still out there in the world.

  Seth shook his head to clear it.

  He could never be one hundred percent sure, but he simply couldn’t conceive that Hamnet Seurat was not the Cigarette Killer.

  “His lawyer is from the Innocence Project?” Seth asked.

  “Freelance,” Ava said. “Believed to be the son-in-law of the Cigarette Killer’s wife.”

  “He’s m
arried?” Seth was so surprised that he jumped off from his conductor’s stool.

  “It’s recent,” Ava said.

  Seth was struck with a thought. It hit him so hard that it knocked the wind out of him.

  This was simply another way for the Cigarette Killer to manipulate and exert control over another man and woman — Seth and Ava — and ruin their lives. He must have made a sound, because Ava seemed to realize what was going on.

  “What is it?” Ava asked. “Seth?”

  “It’s nothing,” Seth said. “I’m okay.”

  “If he’s able to overturn this conviction, that means that every case you’ve ever worked on will be up for review,” Ava said. “Every case. Nationally and Internationally. Some lawyers are already sniffing around.”

  “That’s why the Feds are involved,” Seth said.

  “Exactly,” Ava said.

  Seth fell silent, and Ava didn’t say anything.

  “When will I speak to you again?” Seth asked.

  “Because I am your wife, we had to receive special approval from the defendant and his lawyer for me to work on this case,” Ava said. “In that agreement, I am not to speak to you in this first month.”

  “A month,” Seth said.

  The idea was inconceivable. Seth blinked.

  “His wife has family in New York City,” Ava said.

  “Oh?” Seth asked.

  She was telling him that the Cigarette Killer’s new wife was a member of a New York City crime family.

  “I see,” Seth said.

  “Watch your back, O’Malley,” Ava said. “I’ll be in touch if we have any questions. In the meantime, stay in New York. Work on the symphonies. Don’t talk to anyone about this, particularly not any of the people you saw last weekend.”

  He nodded. She was telling him that his phone conversations were being monitored.

  “Got it,” Seth said. “I’ll get this envelope to you.”

  “Please do,” Ava said. She took a breath. “I . . .”

  She sounded so young and alone that Seth’s heart ached for her.

  “I was requested by name,” Ava said. “The request included an image of me from my time in the courtroom.”