Intimate Relations: A Finn O'Brien Crime Thriller

by Rebecca Forster

  "I guess we did," Bev said. "Can we get to it?"

  Cori smiled, she took out her notebook and opened it. She also took out her phone and put it on the table. When she looked up again she could see there were water droplets on Bev's lashes. She looked very pretty if you discounted the wrinkles starting around the eyes. Bev's expression was one of resignation, perhaps sadness. Cori hoped hers was unreadable. She was looking forward to surprising Beverly O'Brien.

  "I'm glad he's got his head on straight," Bev said. Cori nodded. There might be some hope for Bev yet.

  "I'm glad, too," Cori said, and in the next minute hope was gone.

  "So what do you want?" Bev stretched out her legs and took a sip of her drink. "I told you everything I know about Cami."

  She used the edge of the towel to pat her lashes dry, and then let it fall back to cover her breasts.

  "I want to talk about what happened before the party," Cori said.

  She picked up her phone and tapped the screen, waited, tapped again and handed it to Bev as a video started to play. The other woman watched all the way through. She sat for another thirty seconds before she put the phone on the table, and pushed it toward Cori.

  "Do you want to see again?" Cori asked.

  Bev shook her head.

  "This was recorded on a Ring doorbell in a unit that faces the back of the Cucas’ unit," Cori said. "I admit it isn't the clearest video, but it works for me. So, do you want to tell me what I'm looking at?"

  "I hit her. I pushed her. So what?" Bev shrugged.

  "You're on this video assaulting a girl who was killed. You had to be pulled off her. You don't see a problem?"

  Cori tapped the screen again and the video played. She held it up.

  "You. An Asian man. The victim. I'm out of here as soon as you tell me what you were arguing about and who the dude is?"

  Cori stopped the video at the point where Bev pushed the victim. The action froze on the girl falling. Her face was obscured by the man who lunged for her. Sadly, Cori still had no idea what the girl looked like. She had been wearing the same dress when they found her, so it was definitely the victim in the grainy video.

  "Come on, Bev. Why waste my time and yours?"

  "It's no big deal. I was going into the party, and I heard her laughing," Bev said giving in faster than Cori expected. "I couldn't believe it would be her after the trouble she caused, so I went to check it out. I saw her. I lost it."

  Bev pulled her legs up and put her heels on the chair. Her toe nails were polished white. She tugged at the ends of the towel; agitated and unhappy to be talking about the victim. She was also smart enough to know that she didn't have a choice.

  "Cami had been at a couple of Asylum parties. Some of the women are friendly with each other, but that's not my thing."

  "Are they friendly enough that one of the women would have had an outside relationship with Cami?" Cori asked.

  Bev shrugged. "Could be. The ones that come in together are usually into threesomes, or watching if things goes that far. Sometimes they hang with one man in pairs because that's his thing. It wasn't mine. I was looking for someone who wanted a relationship, but open."

  "Everyone should have a goal," Cori said.

  Bev ignored her.

  "You'd have to ask the other women if they knew she was there or if they brought her. If I had to guess, I'd say Cami found out about this party and showed up on her own," Bev said. Seeing that wasn't enough for Cori, Bev went on. "What I know is this: I saw her taking pictures of the men a while back. I must not have been the only one to report her because I heard she was black balled. When I heard that laugh of hers, I couldn't believe she was going to crash an Asylum party—especially this one. It ticked me off bad."

  Bev leaned forward and tapped the screen on Cori's phone. The video played. She looked at it for a second and then tapped it again, stopping the action before turning it face down on the table.

  "Was she taking pictures of you?" Cori asked. "Is that why you lost it?"

  "Lord, no." Bev snorted a laugh and shook her head. "The men pay a lot of money for anonymity, and she didn't care. She was so brazen. So entitled." Bev rolled her eyes. "I thought I'd taken care of the problem, but that guy picked her up like she's something special. I don't know what happened after that. I went inside, and figured that was that."

  "Then how did she get upstairs?" Cori said. "Nobody saw her go through the front door."

  "How would I know?" Bev said. "I'd never been to that place before."

  "And..." Cori twirled a finger, urging her to pick it up.

  "And the party was going the way those things go. The men were getting antsy because whatever was supposed to happen wasn't happening. It was late. I went to the bathroom. I came out. Another girl was waiting to go in, but that's when the crazy guy goes off. We're hanging back, and this girl says 'I hope Cami's okay'. She thought she saw her upstairs when she was looking for another bathroom. She told me not to say anything because we weren't supposed to be up there.”

  "And you didn't think to stay put considering there were cops all over the place?" Cori said.

  "The uniforms were busy," Bev said. "I thought I'd see for myself what Ms. Cami was up to. If I'd known you were up there, I wouldn't have gone."

  "Who was the woman in the back?"

  "They call her The Madam." Cori gave Bev a look, but it wasn't enough to get her to change her tune. "I'm telling you what they call her. Try talking to Asylum. Maybe they give out the girls' real names. I don't know what the protocol is for the women."

  "And the Asian guy who had helped Cami after you pushed her around?"

  "He's not Asylum." Bev dismissed the question as if it were an insult. "You can spot a player a mile away, and he isn't even close."

  "And you're sure you don't know him?" Cori pressed.

  "I'm sure." Bev lifted her chin and her eyes narrowed. She was annoyed until she was enlightened. Her head went up and down slowly. "Oh, you think I'm trying to protect him. You don't think he owns this place, do you? Not likely. I do have some standards."

  "So who does hold the deed to this place?" Cori asked.

  "I figured you already knew since you're a hot shot investigator." Bev unfurled her legs. "It's Jeremiah Stotler."

  "Why does that name ring a bell?"

  "He is only the biggest name in PG films. The man makes billions. Did you see that front door?"

  "Yes," Cori said, still not getting it.

  "Didn't you ever take your kid to see The Baby Jungle movies? That front door is masterpiece; it's an homage to those movies."

  "I hated those movies, and so did Amber," Cori said.

  "But you bought a ticket like a billion other people," Bev said. "So I guess you could say you're paying my rent."

  "Was Cami trying to move in on you?" Cori asked.

  "Hardly a move on me. I saw one of the other girls try to make a move on her, and Cami made her cry. And if she put the moves on Jeremiah, he would have turned her down. He may make movies for kids, but he doesn't screw them. I don't know how old she really was, but Cami was a brat."

  Bev took a minute. She drummed her fingers on the table.

  "Look, she was a blackmailer. Her greatest joy in life was ruining people. I heard she tried to shake down a televangelist. I don't know if it's true, but rumor has it he paid her big bucks not to out him about Asylum."

  "So Stotler is Asylum?"

  "He is. That's where we met," Bev said. "We were already seeing each other when Cami set her sights on him. He took her threats seriously, so I did too. All those mommies and daddies would be upset if they found out how he was spending his free time. Not to mention the fact that this info would come on the heels of the scandal with that little girl who starred in Girl Fun Two. She was turning tricks on the side. Granted she was eighteen..."

  "I thought she was twelve," Cori said.

  "So did the guys she was doing." Bev rolled her eyes and smirked. "But that's not the point. Th
e point is, Jeremiah is the final word in wholesome family films. All that politically correct outrage could bring him down like that."

  Bev snapped her fingers, pushed aside her drink, and dropped her feet to the hot concrete. She worked her towel like a puppet pulling its own strings as she leaned forward.

  "I'm exactly where I want to be, Cori. I wasn't going to let that stupid girl ruin it all just so she could get off."

  "And the man who tried to intervene?"

  "I told you, I don't know who he is and I don't care. He just kept whimpering like a girl and fretting. It was disgusting. What kind of man acts like that?"

  "You got me," Cori said. "I wouldn't know how to whimper if you paid me."

  "Are we done?" Tired of the interrogation, Bev sat up straight in her chair. She cocked an eyebrow at Cori.

  "One more thing. I'd like to talk to the man of the house," Cori said.

  "He's at work."

  "Then I guess that's where I'll have to see him." Cori stood up and draped her jacket over her arm. Bev got up too, suddenly serious and surprisingly sweet.

  "Cori, don't screw me if you get in to talk to Jeremiah. Okay? Say you heard about Cami from someone else. I mean, he's the one that filled me in on her. I don't know if he meant me to keep it to myself or not."

  "The police don't volunteer information," Cori said. "But you made a good call telling me what you know. After all, you're the only one that we can prove laid hands on a dead woman."

  "You've got to be kidding," Bev threw her head back and laughed. "Did you see how I looked when I walked into that room? I looked like a star, not a hair out of place."

  "You did," Cori said. "But then again you're a pretty good actress."

  "Wow, a compliment," Bev said.

  "Yeah. You should have got an academy award for acting like a wife."

  Cori saw herself out.

  17

  "She's got a name."

  Finn snapped his fingers against the paper in his hand. It had been two days since he and Cori had a chance to catch up. Cori moved out of Finn's apartment, and Thomas helped her put her house back together. Finn had been in court and also managed a final interview with the Fernandez family who seemed to be missing a son. Finn suspected the young man of a drive-by killing under the colors of The Locos. Strangely, no one knew where he was now. Cori made a detour to Wilshire Division. She filled in Detective Porter who had taken two of her cases when she and Finn were lent out. Finn testified at a parole hearing of a serial rapist who he put away well before his own troubles. Had he been relieved of his duties, he still would have attended this man's parole hearing. Finn intended to see the man die in prison. But right now, The Brewery problem was top of mind and the news was good.

  "We've got a name and picture."

  He got up from his desk to stand behind Cori's chair. He spread the paperwork in front of her, the victim's picture front and center.

  "Pretty."

  Cori picked up the photo. The girl's face did justice to the body Cori had seen in the morgue. She was petite. Her hair was long and dark. Her face was delicate and there was a Slavic tilt to her eyes. Her cheekbones were razor sharp and her lips full. Sadly, for all her physical beauty, she wasn't a beautiful girl. There was an underlying cruelty in her that was evident to Cori. She shuffled through other pictures in the file.

  "She was hanging with an impressive crowd. This is the Met Gala. " Cori pointed to a copy of an article from the New York Times. "How old is she?"

  "Nineteen," Finn answered. "Her name is Roxana Masha Novika."

  "That's a mouthful."

  Cori looked up intending to have a full conversation with Finn. What she saw were two other detectives far too interested in their business.

  "Let's get some coffee." Cori took her laptop while Finn took the file. Both preferred the break room to the bullpen.

  There was a Naugahyde sofa in the room. One arm was silver where a rip had been fixed with electrical tape. There were three mismatched chairs, a round table, and a stool. Today there was nothing to eat, but the coffee was fresh. Finn got two mugs while Cori pulled Roxana's information up on the screen.

  "Homeland Security came through. She had a global entry and with an asterisk to keep an eye on her," Finn said. "She holds dual Citizenship. Russian no less. From the looks of her passport she started traveling before she was out of diapers. What have you got?"

  "If the mayor wasn't getting flack from the Asylum people, he would get a call from the State Department. Her father's a big name in Russia. An oligarch, if you please. Oil guy," Cori said. "Her name should have been Evita."

  "She's dead too," Finn said. He put two mugs of coffee on the table and pulled out a chair.

  "She's no Evita anyway. She wasn't riding daddy's coattails." Cori took up her coffee and had a sip. She looked stone faced at her screen. "When I was nineteen I was knocked up, and wondering if I would be struck dead if I wore white at my shotgun wedding. This one's been profiled in W, Vanity Fair, Wired and a zillion more places. She gets her suntan in Italy, skis in the Alps, and the little miss is a top tier influencer."

  "A what?"

  "Like a movie star without the movie," Cori said. "Her job is to look beautiful, and make other people think that they will be beautiful and rich if they do as she does. She sets the standards, she sells the dream."

  "And who pays her to do this?"

  "I'll show you." Cori pulled up Instagram and found Roxana's page. Finn raised a brow at the pictures of the girl in her bed, in the bath, standing atop a skyscraper, posing with a bottle of pills. She smoked. She had a drink. Always there was a product or two somewhere about.

  "She was taking drugs on social media?" Finn pointed to the latest picture.

  "No. Look at the caption. Daily Dose. She's pitching a weight loss drug. Companies pay to have these kids tout their products. Then they get on YouTube, Instagram, Facebook all the social media sites and other people follow them. The more followers you have, the more money you get. It's huge business. This one could buy and sell us ten times over even without daddy's money."

  "For doing nothing?"

  "Pretty much. But Roxana was more than a pretty face hawking fashion if we can believe Bev." Cori scrolled down. "She's calling out some big names here. She's insinuating all sorts of things about the executives or their companies. Fraud, cheating. She does it so sweetly. I can see why Bev didn't like her. I can see why Stotler would be afraid of her."

  "I would be," Finn said. "Even a lie is taken as God's truth on these sites."

  "Lapinski has been picking up slander and liable cases because of this, but suing can make it worse. Bad press can't be buried anymore." Cori sat back and took a deep breath. "It's a brave, new, ugly world, my friend."

  "But if she was making so much money advertising for companies, why bother with blackmail?"

  "Because she could. Because it's an experience. Because she's a mean girl and high school is now the whole world." Cori crossed her arms. "It's hard enough being young, but kids have been brainwashed. They think that everything online is real. They're ashamed if they don't have what those people have. They look for guidance online, they look for relationships. They think this chick is showing them real life. Meanwhile, normal kids are losing their minds because they aren't rich or famous and influence no one."

  "And the ones doing the influencing are bored, or so afraid to lose it all that they take risks?" Finn said. "Are you thinking this one went too far?"

  "I would say so," Cori answered. "Or maybe she was branching out. Trying to position herself as a social justice warrior. That would be a good little scam. If they don't pay she gets kudos and more followers for calling these men out; if they do pay she's richer and gets perverse kicks out of their fear."

  "It probably never crossed her mind that adults can play dirty too," Finn said. "Now we need to find out which adult decided to take her out of the game."

  "Cross Bev off the list," Cori said. "I'm serious. No wor
ries there."

  "I know. The video is damning, but it was a school yard rumble. She couldn't have wielded a weapon with that much force and not have a speck of blood on her."

  Finn shuffled the papers. He handed Cori a copy of a crime scene photo. It showed the plastic, numbered tents that marked where the techs found blood spatter.

  "On the window. The blood is seen at five and six feet. On the right it would have sprayed the same height, but there was a person standing on that side. The person with the weapon would have had blood on their torso, hands, and on their face unless they were covered in some manner. The spatter is here." He pointed to the right. "—and here." He pointed to the left. "But not here". This time he pointed to the space parallel to the victim's head where the perp would have stood blocking the curtain.

  "Is there anything in that file on the blood analysis?" Cori asked.

  "Only that it was all the victim's. Either she was sleeping and someone came quietly upon her, or it was someone she knew and she wasn't fearful." Finn said. "If she was as arrogant as Beverly says, the girl might have ignored a person she thought was of no consequence."

  "Wasn't that just a mistake and a half," Cori said, as she lounged in her chair. "Let's not forget the dress from the dumpster. I know they'll find her blood on it. I can feel it in my bones."

  Finn motioned to Cori's cup as he got up. She handed it to him, and he put both in the sink and rinsed them out.

  "What can that garment tell us?" he asked.

  "Nada, at this point," Cori said. "It was big enough to fit an average size man or woman. It was a unisex design. It could have been a dress, might be a man's tunic. No buttons, no zipper, no labels. Nothing to tell us where it came from. Nice design on the fabric, though. Kind of like a Pollock painting."

  "I suppose one of the women could have worn it to the party and changed into her costume," Finn said.

  "Possible, but doubtful. I've got two corroborating witnesses that say no one left the Asylum party, so none of them tossed this in the trash. There were a few coats for cover up, but everyone swears they came dressed as they were to party. Now, that doesn't mean one of them wasn't there earlier, did the deed, and tossed the tunic. Time of death isn't an exact science," Cori said.