Jones and Peyton were walking outside the precinct, and Peyton said, “I told you she’s a famous swimsuit model. She models for big brands. I’m surprised that you don’t know her.”
Jones stood next to the driver’s door of his truck and looked at Peyton at the other side of the car. “What is actually surprising is a detective who knows a swimsuit model,” Jones replied.
“I read Cosmo,” Peyton replied before opening the car door. “This is a big case, Jones. You will have to address the press during the investigation. And after solving the murder, you might be invited to one of those talk shows. And who knows, there just might be a movie about the murder, and I could play you.”
Jones had the car key at the ignition; he turned to Peyton and said, “I have no interest in the media attention that comes with this case. I just want to get to the root of it and move on to the next case, like I have always done. This is not a TV show, and you have to stop treating it as one.” Not bothering to hide his frustration, Jones started the car and left headed for the crime scene.
* * *
Detective Jones and Detective Peyton arrived at the mansion in which the murdered model had lived. It was a five-minute drive from the gate to the huge mansion. Outside the mansion, Jones found parked a police patrol vehicle, an ambulance, and the forensic van of the Memphis Police Department. Jones parked his truck beside the forensic van at the eastern wing of the compound. There was an obvious surprise in Jones’s expression as he stepped out of his truck and caught a full view of the gigantic house. The building was a three-story mansion that towered above the surrounding vegetation. Jones looked to his right at the garage, and in it was parked a G-Wagon, a Bentley, and a Mini Cooper, all painted a bright purple color. At the center of the compound there was a water fountain that stood at over fifteen feet tall.
Jones turned to Peyton, who stood next to him and said, “You said she was a famous swimsuit model. You never said she was filthy rich.”
Peyton’s eyes were fixed on the mansion. He had never seen a house this big before, and he was in awe of the majestic building. “I had absolutely no idea that she was this wealthy.”
The entrance of the mansion was manned by a police officer. Jones and Peyton introduced themselves, and the officer led them inside the mansion. Jones and Peyton were led through a hallway that led them to a staircase. The hallway was made out of silvery marble, and the banister of the staircase was gilt, as might befit a palace. They walked past different rooms until they arrived at a huge sitting room that was cordoned off with yellow tape.
The officer raised the tape for Jones and Peyton to pass through. Jones walked to the chair where the victim lay, lifeless. The model had been shot three times in the chest by what appeared to Jones to be a 9-millimeter pistol. The victim wore a blue evening dress, and beside the chair was a side table, upon which stood an opened bottle of wine and two glasses.
Jones moved to the huge windows at the eastern side of the sitting room to check for any sign of forced entry, but the windows were closed and didn’t appear to have been opened for months. Peyton looked around the chair, and just beneath it he found three bullet shells, which confirmed Jones’s guess that the victim had been shot with a 9-millimeter pistol.
One of the forensic team was taking a picture of the victim, while another was taking pictures of the trail of blood on the white sofa. Jones and Peyton walked out of the room, while a woman from the forensic team was bagging the bottle of wine and the glasses.
Jones and Peyton traced their way back to the front of the mansion, and Jones wondered how easily one could get lost in the mansion. Outside the mansion, they met the police officer who had led them to the crime scene. Jones inquired from the officer about the first responders to the crime scene. The officer told Jones that he and his partner had been on patrol duty when they received a call around 6 AM about a lady who had suffered gunshot wounds. He and his partner had driven to the scene and discovered the lifeless corpse of the victim. Detective Jones asked the officer if he met anyone inside the building, and the officer told Jones that he met the housekeeper.
Jones thanked the officer and returned to the crime scene with Peyton following closely behind him.
CHAPTER 5
Manhattan, New York
11 AM September 15th
Detective Harry Rogers had expected to meet a collection of people at the residence of Parker Lennie, and he was not disappointed when he arrived. Outside the building, there were vans of different media houses with reporters speaking into their microphones while pointing at the mansion. New York’s favorite billionaire was dead, and the media was tripping all over themselves in an absurd contest of which of them could give the best insight into the unfortunate event. There was a police patrol vehicle and a Crime Scene Investigation unit parked outside the building. Tape had been drawn across the footpath around ten feet from the entrance of the building, and two police officers stood in front of the tape.
Harry walked towards the building and stopped when he got to the officers. He brought out his badge and raised it for the officers to see.
“Detective Harry Rogers,” Harry said to the officers, whose face faces had an expression of surprise at hearing Harry’s name. Harry had become some sort of celebrity detective within the NYPD, and all cops always looked forward to the day they would meet him in person. The officers raised the tape for him to pass.
The mansion stood majestically on a plot of land that as big as a stadium. The building was a gilded age mansion with high walls and tall windows. Harry met a police officer at the entrance of the building, which led him to the crime scene. The interior of the building was covered in white marble, which gave the building a bright appearance. The officer led Harry to the study, where the deceased had been found.
Parker Lennie’s study was a large room. Just like other rooms in the mansion, the study was covered in white marble, and a huge chandelier hung from the ceiling at the center of the room. At the left and right side of the wall were bookshelves that stood almost ten feet high and extended the length of the room. At the far end of the room was a giant twin window that gave a view of the lake at the edge of the property. A huge mahogany desk was placed about five feet from the window, and a big armchair stood behind the desk. On the table there was a bottle of wine and a half-filled glass of wine. Besides the glass, there was a book titled Little People.
Parker Lennie’s lifeless body sat in the chair with his head on the table and his face down. At the back of Parker’s head, there was a wound with clotted blood around it, and the blood ran from the wound down his neck. Harry walked over to a young Caucasian man who was taking pictures of the study’s door and requested a pair of gloves. After some minutes, the young man returned with a pair of gloves, which he handed to Harry.
Harry placed one hand on Parker’s head and gently pulled him up and placed his head on the headrest of the chair. Harry opened Parker’s mouth, and he saw the bullet hole that created an opening at the back of Parker’s head. The police commissioner had mentioned that Parker’s death appeared to be suicide, and from what Harry could see, it appeared as if Parker Lennie shoved a pistol into his mouth and hit the delete button. Harry looked around the table for a suicide note, but Parker had left no note. Harry closed Parker’s eyes before leaving the room.
Outside the building, Harry discovered that more reporters had found their way to Parker’s mansion. The paparazzi had positioned themselves at different corners of the building, taking shots of everything in sight. Harry walked to the police officer, who stood at the entrance. The officer seemed exhausted, and Harry could not determine if the exhaustion was because of the sad event or because he had been standing there for hours.
“Are you the officer who responded to the 911 call?” Harry asked.
“Yes. My partner and I responded to a distress call around 5 AM today.”
“Who did you meet at the mansion when you arrived?” Harry asked
“I met a m
an who identified himself as the chef. He said he found the deceased already dead in his study.”
“And you found the deceased dead in his study?”
“Yes. The deceased had suffered a gunshot injury to the head, and the injury appeared to be self-inflicted.”
“Did you find anything strange in the study when you arrived?”
“No. I found nothing strange in the study when I arrived. And I left the scene untouched.”
Harry thanked the officer and left him at his post, and he returned inside the mansion to search for the leader of the forensic team.
Harry found the leader of the forensic team in the study bagging the items on Parker’s table. The lead forensic officer was an African American woman who agreed with Harry that the injury appeared to be self-inflicted. Harry asked if they had found any sort of suicide note somewhere in the house, and she said they had not found any suicide note. She told him that her team would sweep the house again to ensure that they missed nothing.
Detective Harry Rogers took another long look at Parker before leaving the room.
CHAPTER 6
Memphis, Tennessee
11 AM September 15th
Detective Jones looked around the hallway for a security camera, but he found none. Peyton had been looking outside the building for security cameras. He returned and told Jones that he found one at the entrance. Detective Jones and his partner watched as Justine Gray’s body was packed into a body bag and wheeled outside the building. As soon as the body was in sight, cameras went into action, taking pictures of every step. Jones knew that these pictures would be reproduced on the cover of tabloids tomorrow. The thought that a picture of Justine’s body being carried away in a body bag would be the last image people would remember of her made him sorry for Justine and her family.
* * *
Detective Jones and Detective Peyton sat next to each other at the large dining table in the beside the huge staircase of Justine Gray’s mansion. Justine’s housekeeper sat at the other end of the table. She was clearly shaken by Justine’s gory murder, and had not fully recovered from the shock of seeing her employer in a pool of blood.
“I’m sorry about your employer,” Jones said in a calm voice. “Did you live in this house with her?”
“Yes, I do,” the housekeeper replied in a heavy Latino accent.
“Did you hear anything strange last night?” Jones asked,
“No, I did not. I was in my section of the house.”
“And the section of the house you occupied, is it far from Miss Gray’s section?”
“Yes. This house is huge, and Madam Justine said she didn’t want me around when she has visitors, so I only come to the main house to clean, and then I go back to my section.”
Detective Jones wondered that with the size of the mansion, it would be difficult for anyone to have heard the sound of gunshots, even if her killer did not use a silencer.
“When was the last time you saw Miss Gray?”
“I saw her in the morning after I finished cleaning the house. She also asked me to prepare pancakes for her.”
“And you didn’t see her after that?” Jones asked
“After preparing the pancakes and doing the dishes, I returned to my section, and I didn’t her until…” the housekeeper wiped the tears off her face as she remembered the gory sight of Justine’s dead body lying in a pool of blood on the sofa “…I found her dead this morning.”
Jones gave her a few seconds to gather herself before asking, “Did you see anyone come into the house yesterday?”
The housekeeper nodded that she did not see anyone come into the house.
“Did you notice if anything was missing or out of place in the house?”
“No, everything is normal.”
“Do you know where Miss Gray kept her phone?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Do you know if Miss Gray had any stalkers?” Jones asked.
The housekeeper looked confused at the question, and Jones had to rephrase. “Do you know if anyone was secretly following or spying on Miss Justine?”
The housekeeper nodded that she didn’t.
“Did Miss Justine ever talked to you about anything? Or do you know anyone who would want to hurt Miss Justine?” Jones asked, hoping the housekeeper might some information that could point him in any direction.
“No, she doesn’t say much to me. She only called me whenever she needed me.”
“How long have you been working for her?”
“I have been working for her for 6 months.”
“Do you know anything about her relatives or close friends?”
“No, I don’t know anything about her relatives, and I don’t know about her friends. Visitors rarely come to the house,” the housekeeper replied.
“Was there anyone who usually came around the house?” Detective Jones asked.
“When I first started working here, there was this man that used to come around, the basketballer. I think he was her boyfriend, but he stopped coming after some time. I think they broke up.”
“When was the last time you saw him around?”
“I can’t remember, but I think it was about three months ago. I saw him when I came to clean the house. I think he spent the night, and he and Miss Justine was having an argument. I was not sure because Miss Justine asked me to return to my section of the house.”
Detective Jones brought out a notepad and jotted down some things. As he was writing on the notepad, Peyton, who had sat quietly all through the interview, said, “There were two wine glasses on the table; it appears that Miss Gray had some company last night. Are you sure you can’t remember anyone coming into the house, or you didn’t hear her talking to anyone?”
The housekeeper shook her head sadly and replied, “This is a very big house. I didn’t see anyone, and I can’t hear any sound from my section of the house.”
“Do you know the control room for the security cameras?” Jones asked.
The housekeeper had a look of surprise on her face. She had absolutely no idea what Jones was talking about, nor did she know of the existence of any security cameras. “I have no idea about the security cameras,” she replied.
Detective Jones thanked the housekeeper and gave her his card to call him in case she remembered anything or saw something strange. He advised that she resist the urge to say anything to the press until the investigation has been concluded.
As Jones was walking out of the mansion, he stopped a forensic officer he met on his way out and asked the officer if Justine’s phone had been found, and the officer told him the phone was missing.
Outside the mansion, reporters were still clustered behind the police barricade, which was set up to keep the press away from the mansion. As Jones and Peyton raised the yellow crime scene tape to get to where Jones’ truck was parked, some reporters began yelling questions at them. Detective Jones stopped and turned to face a reporter who was trying to force his way past the police officer restraining him.
“Is Justine Gray’s murder a home invasion or a targeted attack?” the reporter asked.
“No comment,” Jones responded before turning and walking to his truck.
CHAPTER 7
Manhattan, New York
12 PM September 15th
Detective Harry Rogers watched as the cops tried to disperse the crowd of reporters, who seemed to have increased in number. Parker Lennie’s body was being carried out of the mansion in a body bag, and there was a swarm of reporters trying to get a picture. Harry thought that Parker had been a man who commanded attention and kept the media spellbound during his lifetime, and even in death he still retained his grip over the media. Harry knew that the media’s fascination, or perhaps obsession with Parker Lennie would likely increase now that he was dead. Parker’s captivating story as a young self-made billionaire, philanthropist and carefree, larger-than-life personality would be the plot of movies, TV shows and books. Parker Lennie’s death had robbed A
merica of one of its brightest minds, but Harry knew that for Parker, death was surely not the end, and for that reason, he was proud to have met him during the course of his extraordinary life.
Harry brought out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He was about to light one, but decided against it. Harry had been trying to quit smoking for close to a year now. His twin sister had advised him to enter a self-help class for people trying to quit smoking. Harry had dismissed his sister’s advice, he told her he had enough self-discipline to quit whenever he chose to. But for months now he had been finding it hard to reduce his daily consumption. Harry looked at the pack of cigarettes in his hand; he thought that perhaps Parker’s death was the sign he needed to stop smoking. He walked to the front of the building and crossed the police barricade. Harry walked to the dustbin at the side of the road and threw the cigarettes into the bin.
* * *
Parker Lennie’s body was already on its way to the coroner’s office, where an autopsy would be carried out. The general assumption was that Parker had taken his life, and that was the story the media was reporting. Throughout the week, the television and tabloids would be filled with different theories of why Parker took his life. Close friends and associates of Parker would grant interviews where they would reveal what the media would term “never before disclosed facts” about Parker.
Detective Harry Rogers stood at the bottom of the stairway that led to the mansion’s entrance. Parker’s chef stood next to him, still wearing his uniform. His face was filled with sorrow. The chef was an African American man in his early 40s, and the day’s events had made him looked older than his age.
“What time did you arrived at the mansion today?” Harry asked.
“I arrived at 6 AM.”
“Who did you meet when you arrived?”
“I met the butler, who let me in.”
Double or Nothing (Sword and Lead Book 5) Page 2
