A Hope City Duet

by Kris Michaels

  “You tempted?” He stopped at a stoplight and flicked his blinker to the right heading to Kallie’s.

  “Fuck no. I love what I do, no matter how much it fucks with my sleep schedule. What about you?”

  “Nope. Never had the desire to do anything but this. Hear anything from Bekki?”

  “No, but that isn’t unusual. I’ll hear from her when she needs something for a story she’s working.”

  Brock snorted. “She’s a spoiled brat.”

  “True, but she’s also the baby, so the princess act isn’t surprising.”

  “No shit. All right, look, I gotta go. Thanks for asking your contacts about this, I’ll text you the description.”

  “Roger that. Stay safe.”

  “You too.” He pushed the end button as he drove up to Kallie’s apartment building. She bounded down the steps, and he smiled. The woman had adapted to the Southern District already. The precinct they worked couldn’t sustain suits. They had trouble enough trying to bridge the gap between cops and the people who lived in the poorest regions of the city. The fact she keyed in on it without asking was another mark in her favor. She wore jeans, combat boots, a sweater, and a brown canvas parka that snapped for quick access to her weapon, cuffs and badge. Her long hair was back again, braided and coiled tight against the back of her head. She opened the door and dropped into the car. “Did you order the snow?”

  “Hell no. Cold weather only increases our workload.”

  “Just like the hot weather.” She nodded. “Summer heat brings out tempers and escalates fights into murders, but the winter cold just silently kills.”

  “The cold is a motherfucker, that’s a fact,” he agreed and handed her his phone. “Do me a favor and text Treyson’s vehicle information to the last number I called.”

  She reached into her coat and produced her notebook. “The Bentley or the McLaren?”

  “The Bentley was found this morning in a downtown parking garage Treyson used. Send the details on the McLaren.”

  She tapped at the phone and pushed send. “There were no tracks at the crime scene?”

  “Nothing that helped. The fire department obliterated any tracks at the front of the building when they responded to the fire. The back of the building only had patrol car and coroner’s van tracks.”

  “So, you’re thinking someone took the… 2019 720S McLaren Spider and is trying to what… sell it?”

  “It is a four-hundred-thousand-dollar car. That’s plenty of motive. Chop shops make bank on the parts, or the black market for resale is an option. If that car is in Hope City, Brody will find it.”

  “Brody?”

  “My brother. He is the sergeant for the J-DET team here in Hope City.”

  “You are the only two in the police department, right?”

  “Right. Blay is a fireman. Brianna owns a restaurant, and Bekki is an investigative reporter for the Hope City Journal.”

  “Does your family have a thing for ‘B’ names?” She placed his phone back on the seat next to him.

  “Yeah, well, it’s a family tradition on my Dad’s side. All his brothers’ and sisters’ first names start with C; my cousins, in each branch of the family start with the same letter. We are B. Although it was rumored Dad wanted to name Brianna, Wolfgang.”

  She cocked her head, eyes wide in expectation, so he dropped the old family joke. “Before she was born, my dad used to tease my mom that he was naming the next child Wolfgang.”

  “I think Brianna is a better name.”

  “Yeah, she defo isn’t a Wolfie. However, Brody was next in line after her, and he would have loved to have been a Wolfgang.” He laughed at her expression. “What? Wolfgang is an awesome name.”

  She blinked at him like he had five heads and twenty eyes. “First, never say ‘defo’ again, and no, it really isn’t.”

  “What, you don’t like my ‘hip’ language?”

  An inelegant snort shot from her. “Hip? Hello, Boomer.”

  “Oh, hell no, you did not just make me fifty something and millennial snark my ass.”

  “If it speaks like it’s fifty…” She let the sentence trail off before muttering, “Walks like a duck, quacks like a duck…”

  He glanced at her. Whoa… That teasing smile and those sparkling eyes lassoed a rope around his chest and drew it tight. She was beautiful. He forced his attention from her and tried to breathe again. “Watch it, Detective, or I’ll be dumping all the bullshit leads on you.”

  “As if I’d allow that.” She flipped through her notebook as she spoke. “Where do we start today?”

  “We're heading across town. Treyson Enterprises has a special meeting of the board of directors at 9:00 this morning. I want to catch them as they come into the meeting, sequester them, and then interview each of them separately.”

  “How did you find that out?” She turned and narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Miriam Treyson’s attorney sent an email last night, or should I say this morning. By the time stamp it was intentionally sent when he didn’t think I’d be awake to get it.”

  “Damn, that bastard has a passive-aggressive streak, doesn’t he?”

  “He does.” He slowed down, driving through a bank of slush on the road.

  “Makes me wonder if that bastard worked for Samuel, too,” Kallie tossed out.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Just suspicious of everyone at this point. I mean, do we know for a fact the person Samuel wanted to bring into the fold was actually a woman?”

  Good point. Damn good point.

  9

  Kallie followed him when they exited the private elevator. “Well, that was a complete and utter waste of time.”

  He agreed. The Board of Directors for Treyson Enterprises were nothing but pompous, positioning, megalomaniacs. The world revolved around them. Of course, none of them knew of anyone who would want to hurt Samuel Treyson. He hadn’t expected anything less.

  “Detectives, my name is Latoya. I’m here to take you to see Mr. Treyson.” The soft silky voice behind them spun each of them on their heel.

  The woman was strikingly beautiful. Glancing at her clothes, he'd hazard a guess that she shopped at the Black Crane or other stores of that ilk. He shoved his hands into his parka. “I’m sorry, I was unaware we had an appointment with Mr. Treyson.” So, Daddy wanted to talk to them. The elder Treyson was on their list, but they were told he was still out of the country.

  “He just arrived from Switzerland. If you would please accommodate us.” The woman’s disdain dripped from her words.

  Obviously, they’d been measured and found lacking. That was okay. He enjoyed being underestimated. He exchanged glances with Kallie and subtly nodded his head. She arched an eyebrow in acknowledgement. They wanted to get a good measure of Sebastian Treyson. Now was the time.

  As they followed the woman down the richly decorated hallway, he centered himself, adjusting to the curveball in their schedule and the pending conversation. The woman waved a hand directing them toward a closed door. Kallie did the classy thing. She stopped and knocked. There is no way he would’ve.

  They heard a muffled command from behind the door. Kallie turned the handle and opened the wooden panel into a luxurious corner office. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcased Hope City’s skyline. The drab cold gray of the winter’s day couldn’t take away from the splendor of the cityscape. This far up, everything looked beautiful. Well, except for the man sitting on the ornate Victorian couch in the corner of the room. That man looked like hell.

  “Mr. Treyson?” Kallie walked across the room and extended her hand to the gentleman who struggled to get off the couch. He finally stood, and Kallie continued, “My name is Detective Redman, this is Detective King, we’ve been assigned to your son’s case.”

  The elderly gentleman sagged back onto the couch. He dropped his head into his shaking hands. “Have you found the bastard who killed my boy?”

  He and Kallie exchanged glances. This wasn�
��t the overbearing son of a bitch he thought they’d meet. When Kallie took a seat across from Sebastian Treyson, he sat down in a chair further away to observe the interaction between his partner and the old man. As Kallie spoke, Mr. Treyson trembled. There were tears in his eyes. He listened and asked specific, direct questions. The pain of losing his son was obvious, and the man's grief didn't register as a pretense.

  “Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your son?” Kallie asked quietly.

  Treyson slowly shook his head back and forth. “My son wasn’t like me. He was a good man. People who did business with him respected him. Not because he ruled with fear, or maliciousness. They respected him because he was a good businessman who is… was ethical and loyal. Everything I’m not, Samuel was. He was the best parts of me. And now he’s gone.” The man stared toward the window and shook his head. He spoke to the skyline, not them. “Would someone come after me? Absolutely. I’m a bastard. Go after the business? Understandable. But this?”

  He leaned forward. “Mr. Treyson, could it be somebody was trying to get to you by killing your son?”

  Kallie gave him a quick glance and a slight nod. They were on the same page.

  Watery, aged blue eyes swung his direction. "Oh… God. You don't think… is there reason to believe that?"

  "We are examining all possibilities, sir."

  "I have enemies. There are people who would love to see me fall to my knees." He leaned forward and dropped his head in his hands. "You'll be investigating two murders if I find who did this before you do."

  "Threats of that nature aren't taken lightly, sir." Treyson had power and the ability to make the threat a reality.

  “He’ll never know how I felt about him.” Treyson’s murmured words reached him.

  He could only imagine what the guy was feeling. During his tours in the Marine Corps, he'd seen people like Sebastian Treyson. The ones who developed a clear zone around them, and could block emotions. It was a preservation tactic forged from necessity, so he understood the guy in front of him. He’d seen people’s regret for not telling those who were closest what they meant to them. He’d witnessed the scenario played out numerous times, both overseas and here working homicide.

  The man lifted his head and stared directly at him. "Find who did this before I do, Detective, or that threat will become a reality."

  "Sir, we'll need a list of who you believe would have a grudge or a reason to retaliate against you." Kallie took over the conversation, directing it away from the volatile ground they currently trod.

  "I will have Latoya send that over to you. Give her your card on the way out." It was a dismissal. The man leaned back and closed his eyes. They both stood and started to the door.

  "You know... I'm a bastard. Hell, I fucked his wife just because I could, and now... How do you take it back? I did it on purpose. I treated him like shit, used my money to make him crawl, all because he was everything I couldn't be. I was envious, and now he's gone." Tears rolled down the man's face. "How do I make amends?" The question was tossed to the universe, and not at them.

  He wasn't sure why, but he responded, "Honor his memory, sir. Something good should come from this." It would be a start. Not that the relationship could be repaired, but perhaps the man in front of them could put himself back together as a better man.

  Kallie followed him as they left and was the one to pass Latoya their contact information. They were silent until they got into the car. "Where to next?"

  "We head back across town. Treyson had some receipts in his wallet."

  "Yeah, I saw that." Kallie flipped open her notebook and thumbed through the pages. "Coffee shop and a dry cleaner."

  "The coffee shop was where we got the lead to find Ava."

  "Which led to the others. So, let's hit up the dry cleaners. The receipts were to be ready for pick up the morning after he was killed."

  "And again, I ask myself why a billionaire would drop off his dirty laundry?" He drove a McLaren and was made of money. Why would he lower himself to mundane chores? Of course, nothing about Samuel Treyson was as expected. The man went for coffee with his girlfriend, took vacations with all his lovers, and by all accounts was everyone's best friend. This was probably just one more idiosyncrasy to add to the list of things that didn't make sense.

  "He didn't trust anyone with his clothes?" Kallie chuckled, "Or he liked doing something for himself? Hell, maybe he was a control freak."

  "Didn't get that from any of the interviews."

  "No, you're right. The picture I'm getting of Treyson was he liked order but was willing to let others lead. Ava arranged multiples. Chloe protected him from the world by turning off the internet and keeping their relationship about peace and quiet, and Garrett took the lead in their relationship. Treyson had built himself a well-rounded life."

  "But it wasn't perfect because he wanted to bring someone else in." For some reason that fact stuck in his mind.

  "True. So, we keep digging." Kallie pointed to the side of the street. "Coffee shop with a drive through. I don't know about you, but I'm dying over here."

  "There is a better shop about a mile up. Can you survive?" He'd been going to The Perk for years. They knew his order.

  "Don't mess with my caffeine levels, Detective, or you'll see a very ugly side of me." Kallie thumbed through her notebook as she talked. "Do you know when the ME's report is going to come in? We should have leap-frogged the other cases down at the morgue, right?"

  "Yeah. The medical examiner's policy is they bag and tag and then bring them in, but schedule the autopsies for the following day, so they should be doing it now. We'll get the preliminary info by tonight. The pathology and toxicology reports won't be back for weeks even with the pressure that is coming down on this case."

  "What is the standard here?"

  "The backlog is ridiculous, so for normal situations, you're looking at a month for the final pathologist reports."

  "Wow, there are going to be some seriously pissed off detectives and families when Treyson jumps to the front of the line."

  "Exactly. Why is his murder any more important than someone else’s family member? This is actually the first time I've seen a case bumped to the front of the line, but then again, I work in The Desert. Our victims aren't affluent nor are they usually high profile."

  Kallie turned in her seat. "They matter, though."

  "They damn sure do."

  "Why is it called The Desert?"

  "When the gangland wars started back in the late eighties, the detectives started calling the streets deserted. Nobody walked the streets. The place was a deadly ghost town. A desert. It stuck. Hell, Channel Five did an exposé on the area about a year ago. The gentrification of the dock area is pushing a lot of new money right up against The Desert's boundaries. There have been issues."

  He pulled into the coffee shop drive-through and ordered them both an extra-large caffeine injection. Kallie handed him a fiver. "Nah, you keep that. You fed me last night. This is the least I could do."

  "Detective King, are you trying to get on my good side?"

  "Would it get me invited for dinner again?"

  "There is a very real possibility that could happen."

  "Then my answer is hell, yes." He laughed and took a long draw off his coffee. "What is the address of the dry cleaner’s?"

  "Um… hold on. 5725 East Halstead Avenue. That's near Richland, right?" She glanced at him as she took a sip of her coffee.

  "Yep. Been studying our fair city?"

  Kallie snorted and deadpanned, "That's me, a student at heart."

  "Nothing wrong with wanting to know where the hell you're at. I grew up here, and I still need a fucking GPS sometimes."

  "I'd wager you don't for your precinct."

  "That would be correct." There wasn't a nook or cranny in The Desert he didn't know about.

  "Who owned the warehouse that was torched the night Samuel died?"

  "As far as I could tell, some kind of
small holding company. Smartsmith, LLC. I have the tech team running down who is behind the organization, but right now, there are no ties to Treyson."

  "Do you always get tech support?" She flipped to the first open page in her notebook. "What is the name of the company, again?"

  "It is in my notebook, after the list of apps on the phone, about seven or eight pages in. I don't usually get tech support. I'm thrilled to have it with this one, though."

  She grabbed his notebook and opened it. His phone vibrated in his coat pocket. He palmed it and activated the speaker. "King."

  "I need an update." Lt. Davidson's voice whipped over the connection.

  "We've interviewed all the people he was in a relationship with, the man's wife and his father, plus the board of directors. We're on our way to check one of his last stops before we head over to see if Dr. Carpenter has finished preliminaries."

  "Anyone looking good for this?"

  "Not a damn one."

  "Sir, this is Redman. Sebastian Treyson is sending over a compilation of people who he believes may have it in for him."

  "Fuck me, this couldn't be a simple open and shut case, could it? All right. What do you need from me?"

  "We'll need another team to run down those leads when they come in." He glanced at Kallie who nodded in agreement. "I asked Brody to put feelers out for the McLaren and once we are done talking to Dr. Carpenter, we're heading back to work through the phone dump tech should be bringing over."

  "It's here. Tech delivered it about a half hour ago. Pops called up to let me know he was done logging it in."

  "Roger that." He hung up the phone and turned onto Halstead.

  "You requested the info from the phone in paper form?"

  "Yes, yes I did." He glanced at her and winked.

  "Okay, Boomer, may I ask why you didn't just have them send it to you electronically?"

  "No, not a Boomer, I'm definitely a Millennial, but one with experience. Electronic evidence can be deleted."

  Kallie turned to him, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. "You think someone would tamper with evidence?"