Murder By Misdirection

by Debra Snow

  No answer.

  Pro pulled out her cell and dialed the number.

  “Front desk,” came the big man’s voice.

  “Hello, sir, it’s Detective Thompson. I didn’t get your name.”

  “It’s Luther. Luther Ardoin.”

  He stated his last name with a French pronunciation, and Pro found her knees grew weak.

  “Ah well,” Pro said, surprised she was short of breath. “Did Mister Mystique leave at some point?”

  “No, detective. We saw him last night about 7:00. I suppose he could have gone out, but usually he lets us know.”

  Chu held his hand out and Pro handed him the phone. He took it and spoke into it. “Do you have the ability to open his door with a spare key?”

  “Is that necessary, detective?” Luther replied. “We try to respect our residents’ privacy.”

  “I understand completely. However, if you could open his apartment just to make sure he’s all right.”

  “That sounds reasonable. I’ll be right up.”

  Chu handed the phone back to Pro.

  Pro watched her partner carefully. “Are you going to claim exigent circumstances?”

  Chu sighed. “I will in my report. I’m sorry, Pro, I just have a bad feeling.”

  “I understand. But we are allowed warrantless entrance in, quote, emergency situations requiring swift action to prevent imminent danger to life or serious damage to property, end quote.”

  “No one can say you don’t know the rules.”

  “Well, if he’s just asleep, we’ll have egg on our face.”

  “On the other hand, the LT can’t be madder at us than he is right now,” Chu fretted.

  Pro gave her partner a knowing grin. “I’ll try to remember you said that when I end up walking a beat for the next five years.”

  The elevator door opened and the tall, bare-headed Luther strode over.

  Pro had to look down as she found her mind racing again with unbidden thoughts. What was happening to her? She hadn’t had desires like this in at least a year.

  “Detectives,” Luther said. Chu nodded and Pro just muttered, keeping her eyes on the floor.

  Luther stepped up to the door, pressed the buzzer, and then pounded on it with loud raps. “Mister Mystique. It’s Luther. We are concerned about you.”

  He pounded on the door a second time, and Pro couldn’t help taking a look at his muscular rear end. She shook her head, surprised with herself that such a brief encounter had activated such feelings in her.

  “Mister Mystique, I am coming in!” Luther hollered, and pulled a large ring of keys, and with a practiced hand inserted one and unlocked the door.

  “Mister Mystique?” Luther called out again. Only a dark room, and silence greeted them. “That’s not good.”

  Chu nodded. “Mr. Ardoin, I think we have probable cause to go in.”

  “I agree, detective,” Luther assented and stepped back from the door.

  All business now, Chu and Pro pulled out their service weapons and pushed past Luther. They moved into the room, Chu going low and Pro high as they had practiced again and again. They both led with their weapons, eyes scanning left and right quickly. The room was fairly dark, as the curtains were all closed, but also stuffy, as if the air wasn’t circulating.

  Chu hit a light switch and the room blazed with illumination. The two detectives moved like a unit to the next doorway, and then past it.

  Shouts of “Clear” came as the pair moved quickly room to room, finally ending up in the bedroom.

  On the bed lay a man, heavyset with brown hair and a thin beard and mustache. There were ligature marks around his neck and a short yellow rope lay on his chest.

  “Mike Mystique, I guess?” Chu said, holstering his weapon.

  “That would be my thought. How long ago?” Pro gasped, coming down from the tension of entering the room with a drawn weapon.

  “Not long,” Chu said as he pressed his fingers to the carotid artery on the dead man’s neck. “He’s still warm and there is no rigor.”

  “There’s a wallet on the bedside table,” Pro pointed out. “Maybe it has his ID.”

  “I’ll call it in,” Chu said as Pro pulled out latex gloves and put them on.

  Chu spoke quickly to the dispatcher and used the necessary codes to let them know they needed Forensics and the Medical Examiner at their address.

  By now, Pro was gloved up, and she picked up the wallet and gave a short cry.

  “What is it?” Chu asked. “Is that his ID?”

  “No,” Pro gasped and stared down at the leather billfold in her hands. “This is my father’s wallet.”

  14. Multiplying Bottles

  Hours passed, and the two detectives supervised the operation. Luther and his security guard partner, Jorge, were a very helpful asset when the other teams arrived and headed up to 12-C to view the former Mike Mystique. They were able to get them up the elevator with as little noise and fuss as a team of police entering a building could produce.

  The room had quickly become a cavalcade of scientists and officers, who began to examine every piece of Mister Mystique’s belongings and life.

  An officer arrived from the cyber division and asked to see the footage of the video surveillance in the lobby. Jorge escorted him to where the recording machines were kept so he could duplicate the footage from the previous night and this morning.

  Pro and Chu moved to the hall as the investigators did their work. Pro had replaced the wallet where she had found it and watched a CSI technician photograph it and place it into an evidence bag before she left the room.

  Though upset, Pro put on a strong face for her partner. “I guess I was wrong. My father is a murderer.”

  “You can’t be sure of that, Pro.”

  “Then how did his wallet get here, Tom? We know that locks don’t stop him. He just walked right in and strangled Mystique.”

  “Pro, you’re not thinking like a detective. You’re better than this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There was no struggle at the crime scene. You saw the room. Now if Max just snuck in and started strangling Mike, wouldn’t he have put up a fight?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Mike let him in. I mean, everyone knows Max in the magic biz. Maybe they were just sitting around talking and Max got the jump on him.”

  “Okay, let’s say I buy that premise. Mystique’s a big guy, got to be close to two hundred seventy-five. Your father is tall but lithe. How does he pick up Mystique and stick him on the bed?”

  Pro considered this. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “I think Mystique was strangled in the bed. Notice how his shoes were off? Now, Max might have a lot of friends in the business, but why would he and Mike be talking in the bedroom?”

  “Damn it,” Pro said. “I didn’t notice any of the details. Geez, I know better than that.”

  “It’s like I said, Pro, you’re too emotionally involved. You are a great homicide detective and a great partner—”

  “Really?” Pro brightened.

  “But not on this case,” Chu chided. “The LT gave us until Tuesday, but I’m going in first thing tomorrow and asking for this case to be reassigned. Your instincts are not working because of your personal involvement.”

  Pro’s mouth became a hard line. “I’ve never asked to be reassigned from any case, Tom.”

  “I know. I admire your dogged determination and the fact that you don’t give up, believe me I do,” Chu put his hand on her shoulder and gazed into her blue eyes. “But there is a reason detectives don’t work on cases that are this close to home. As human beings, we just can’t do it. Not even you.”

  “You’re right,” Pro said and clamped her teeth down to push back the tears that wanted to fall. “I’ll do what you think is best, Tom.”

  “Okay. I think you should take tomorrow off. Unwind, relax, do something else. And then we can start Tuesday with a new case that’s just simple, like a plain old jealo
us lover or something.”

  This got a grin from Pro. “Thanks for covering for me, partner.”

  Chu shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

  Pro took the elevator down, her mind reeling. She felt like a total failure. She’d let her father play with her emotions, and because of it, three people were dead, and she should’ve stopped him after the first one.

  What she wanted to do was ask that handsome guard out, get drunk, and show him a night they’d both never forget. But she knew that plan wasn’t a good one, either. She just wanted a distraction from what she was feeling.

  The doors opened to the lobby, and Pro noted that night had fallen. She saw Luther at the front desk as Jorge was explaining the situation to a distraught tenant who was wearing only a housedress and slippers.

  “Really, Mrs. Henley, you are perfectly safe.”

  The white-haired woman went on with an annoying whine. “A man is killed in this building and you say I’m safe. How did he get in? I want to know—”

  With the noise going on, Pro went to the desk, and Luther looked up. He smiled his endearing smile. “I made sure your guy got copies of all the tapes, detective.”

  “I’m…uh…sure you did,” Pro said, suddenly tongue-tied after her lusty thoughts in the elevator. “I just wanted to…uh…thank you for all you did. You were a great help.”

  “My dad was a beat cop. I have a lot of appreciation for cops.”

  “Really?” Pro said, and found her hand went up to primp her hair. “My dad was, too—I mean, my stepdad. But he’s the one who raised me.”

  “Seems like we got a lot in common, detective.”

  Pro stood in wonder. Honestly, the man had a voice like Barry White and Luther Vandross rolled into one.

  Pro reached into her bag and extracted her card. “If…uh… anything comes up—” she blushed at the accidental double-entendre. “I mean, if you hear anything, please call me.”

  He nodded. “I’ll do that, detective.”

  “And…umm…if you’re not married or anything—” she fumbled. “You’re not married, are you?”

  The smile grew broader and sexier. “No, I’m not, detective.”

  “Oh good…I mean…as long as you’re…I mean,” Pro stopped herself and took a deep breath. “If you’d like to do something sometime or want to talk about anything other than work, that would be nice, too.”

  “That sounds real good, detective.” He held out his hand and Pro gave it a quick shake, but he held onto it for a moment. “I’m very glad I met you, Detective Thompson.”

  He released her hand, and Pro smiled and headed past Mrs. Hanley who was still complaining to Jorgé.

  The crisp spring air only bolstered the strange combination of emotions that were shooting through her nervous system, as she headed for the subway to take the train up to her mother’s apartment.

  ∞∞∞

  Fifteen minutes later, she phoned her mother as she returned to the sidewalk from the underground ride.

  “Yes, dear?” came her mother’s voice.

  “First of all, is anyone there? I mean, besides you.”

  “No, and if Max was here, I’d be telling him to turn himself in. Where are you?”

  “Heading up to your place. Can I come up and sleep in my old bed?”

  “Of course, honey, anytime you want.”

  “Good! I’ll bring wine, lots of wine.”

  “I imagine you’ll have a story for me. I could make some dinner.”

  “I could use that, Momma. See you soon.”

  Pro walked into the nearby liquor store and looked at the wine. She got two, and then decided three bottles would be the best choice. She sensed it was a good thing she had the next day off, because she planned to be completely hungover tomorrow. Maybe if she drank enough, she could forget about her father and all the crap he’d brought into her life, at least for one night.

  As she walked out with her purse and attaché under one arm, and the three bottles in a bag in the other, her cop senses bothered her.

  She was being followed.

  She had sensed it subliminally once she left the subway, but now she was sure of it. A person moving just out of view but matching her movements as she headed for her mother’s place. And she was carrying too many things to make accessing her weapon easy.

  “Pro,” a voice hissed.

  She turned, and in the shadows of a nearby doorway saw a tall, thin figure.

  “Max?” she yelped.

  “Sh! It’s okay, I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “Max, you gotta surrender,” she said, fumbling with all the things she carried as she attempted to get to her service weapon. “You killed Mike Mystique!”

  “I did not! I visited him this morning. He was fine.”

  “Well, now he’s dead, and your wallet was on the nightstand.”

  “What? That’s impossible. Did you get the box from Sam?”

  “Sam Lovell gave me a box with your stuff, but your wallet wasn’t in there! Have you been following me all day?”

  “Pumpkin, calm down!”

  “Don’t you call me that!” Pro shrieked and fell to her knees. In a quick move, she let everything she carried fall to the ground and yanked out her service weapon to raise it in a two-handed grip. “You are under arrest!”

  She stood and faced an empty doorway. She looked to her left and right, but no one was moving. Her phone beeped. She holstered her weapon and pulled out her phone. To her surprise, there was a text message from an unrecognized number which read:

  Sorry, had to run.

  The answers are in the

  coded emails.

  Good luck, pumpkin

  She cursed quietly to herself as she began to pick up her dropped items. At least none of the bottles had broken, and she was grateful for that. But he had waited until she was weighed down to reveal himself so she would have to look away to get her weapon, and that was when he did his vanishing act.

  “I’m gonna catch you, Max,” she yelled to the night sky. “And then you are gonna see some police brutality!”

  ∞∞∞

  Pro picked at the plate of Pasta Primavera her mother had made. The first bottle of wine was more than half-empty, and the glass in front of Elisha was as full as when it had been poured.

  Pro’s glass was empty.

  “You should eat, honey,” Elisha worried.

  The room was still amass with flowers, but during the day, Elisha had trimmed back the flora and had organized it so at least they had a table to eat at.

  “I can’t believe he followed me,” Pro muttered. She took the bottle and refilled her glass. She looked at her hands, which had finally stopped shaking. Struggling to get her weapon had rushed so much adrenaline through her system that it had taken time to calm down. “Where does he get off following me? Then texting me with a blocked-off number so I have no way to trace his phone?”

  “He probably planned on that, honey. And as far as following you, I think he wants to help you find the real killer.”

  “Doesn’t matter. As of tomorrow, Tom is taking us off the case. He’s asking the LT to reassign us.”

  “That’s a pity.”

  “It’s a necessity. I can see that now,” Pro said and gulped down a large mouthful of the wine. “I thought I could help because I knew some of the victims, and I thought I knew about magic. Turns out, it’s better if the detective’s father isn’t the number-one suspect in multiple murders.”

  “Your father didn’t kill anyone!” Elisha exclaimed.

  “His wallet was on the night stand!” Pro responded. “Okay, I had his credit cards and phone, but not the wallet. How do you explain that?”

  “Well, obviously I can’t, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “And escaping. He broke out of jail, and he planned to do it. That’s even worse!” Pro polished off her glass and refilled it as Elisha took a tentative sip from her own.

  “But what about what your father texted you, abo
ut going through those coded emails?”

  “It is not my case anymore,” Pro said. “That way if he gets his ass shot, I won’t feel like Oedipus.”

  “I believe Oedipus married his mother.”

  “Ew. Okay, I won’t feel like…whoever the Greek lady was who killed her father.”

  “I don’t think I know that one…”

  “The point is, it’s not my fault if he gets his ass shot,” Pro said and emptied her wine glass in one long swallow.

  “Honey, you should slow down. And I think you should eat a little something,” Elisha fretted.

  Pro looked at the empty bottle. “And I think it is time I opened another bottle.”

  She rose to her feet a little unsteadily and pulled out the second bottle from the bag. Elisha sighed, but Pro didn’t turn around. Instead she bowed her head and her shoulders began to heave.

  “Honey, are you crying?”

  “No,” Pro blubbered, unmoving. “Could I please have a tissue?”

  Elisha got up and grabbed a foil box of tissues and held them out for her daughter. Pro grabbed a handful and crushed the paper to her mouth to stifle another shuddering sob.

  Elisha pulled her daughter close. “There, there now.”

  Pro raised her head, tears on her face. “Why’d he have to come now, of all times?”

  “What do you mean, my sweet girl?”

  “I finally really felt like a detective. The last couple of months with Tom, we’ve been closing cases and making a name for ourselves. He didn’t look at me like I was the rookie he was stuck with anymore.”

  “I believe Tom thinks very highly of you.”

  “And now this case, one friggin’ disaster after another. And my father is in the middle of it all. And you slept with him.”

  “All right, that is enough,” Elisha exploded, and stood up suddenly, which caused Pro to fall back in surprise.

  Elisha stepped over to the table and grabbed her glass of wine. “If you wanna sit there and complain about your lot and my choice to spend a very nice evening with my ex-husband, I gotta tell you to put a sock in it.”

  “Momma?” Pro said.

  “You haven’t thought for one minute how hard this has been for me. You think I like the fact that your father is pulling this shit?”