"Did Paul give you a time?" Finn asked.
"He thought the window was no more than three hours," Cori said.
"I think it wasn't so long. The blood pools weren't congealed. We aren't talking hours," Finn said.
"There's the woman who was with Bev in the back of the room while Enver was doing his thing." Cori breathed deep, and put two fingers to her eyes. She let her head fall back as she rubbed them. Finally, she dropped her hand on the table. "Bev managed to get upstairs without officers Hunter or Douglas seeing her. It's possible the other woman could have done the same. Maybe she wrapped this dress—for want of a better word— stashed it and tossed it on her way out."
"Cori, my head's going to explode," Finn said. "'Tis the Mad Hatter's tea party we're looking at, Alice is dead, and the Caterpillar is hiding in plain sight."
Cori clapped. "Nice, O'Brien. Very literary."
"I have my moments." Finn looked up to check the clock on the wall, but all he saw was Detective Walters, a huge block of a man, crossing their path. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and when he came back he paused to look over Finn's shoulder at the file
"That the chick from The Brewery?" he asked.
"That's her," Cori said.
The man nodded slowly, and then reached between them to shuffle the papers with one chunky finger. He came to the pictures of the crime scene, cocked his head, and considered them.
"Asylum thing, huh?" he said.
"That's correct," Finn said.
"They had some trouble in '06."
"What kind of trouble," Finn asked.
"Sexual assault," Walters said slowly. "Charges were dropped. The accused was on the Board of Supervisors. It could have been ugly."
"We'll check it out. Thanks," Cori said. Walters' head went up and down. He was still looking at the photos.
"Could be a snuff thing," Detective Walters said. "You know, a snuff thing."
With that he ambled out of the break room and headed to the bullpen. Finn raised a brow, and Cori a shoulder.
"Never crossed my mind," Finn said.
"Me neither," Cori said.
"After talking to Ali Keyes I'm not thinking it would be a consideration, but you never know," Finn said. "Not that we have time to think about it now. Bev's gentleman is allowing us fifteen minutes. Two-thirty sharp or we're banished from the lot according to the dragon who guards the man's lair."
Cori closed her computer. Finn picked up the file. He gave the picture of the victim one more look.
"Influencer." He mumbled, shook his head, and held the door for Cori. "She was very good at her job."
"How would you know," Cori said as she breezed past him.
"She influenced someone into a murderous rage," Finn said. "I'd say that's a job well done."
"Or Walters is on to something? Maybe somebody wasn't satisfied getting their rocks off the traditional Asylum way."
"Or we don't have the foggiest, Cori," Finn said. "But when we figure it out I have a feeling it's going to be stranger than even Detective Walters could imagine."
One pit stop, a phone call to Amber, a heads up to the desk officer, and Finn and Cori walked out of East L.A. Division. They got into Finn's car. Cori took shotgun. Finn got behind the wheel. Another day, another dollar. The sun was shining, and the freeways were packed. It was business as usual in Los Angeles, except the city was minus one naughty little angel. Sadly, Finn and Cori were having a devil of a time figuring who took her out.
18
'Tis odd.
It's creepy.
Cori and Finn spoke out of the sides of their mouths, though there was no need to keep their conversation private. The woman leading them through the parking lot would not have known what they were talking about if they screamed it to high heaven. In fact, Mr. Stotler's secretary was paying so little attention she probably didn't even know what they looked like.
It wasn't that she was ungracious. Nor did she appear at odds and ends. She was simply more efficient than a human being had a right to be. Not a wasted gesture nor word; not an ounce of curiosity. The secretary turned them over to Mr. Stotler's assistant. He was a handsome young man who was equally efficient. Thankfully, he had a slight sparkle about him. One day he would be the man with an assistant, but today wasn't the day.
The young man took them through a building where long halls sprouted like well-placed limbs off a mighty tree. Office pods were full to bursting with agitated people. Desks were piled with paperwork. Phones rang off their proverbial hooks. Computer screens pulsed. The group met their mark in another reception area. A woman teetering on the edge of forty whisked them to a spot outside a hangar-like building. The fortyish woman was of no consequence since she had neither name nor moniker. She waited with them, asking after their health as she scanned the lot looking for the next hand-off.
It was there, in front of the barn doors, that Cori and Finn were given over to Mr. Stotler's most important associate. She was a tall, willowy woman who looked like Beverly O'Brien's clone at first glance. Her hair was short and white blonde. She was slim of hip, broad of shoulder, and possessed of perfect posture. At second glance, this was no Bev. This woman knew the score. No hopes lurked behind her eyes, only raw ambition. She would take what she wanted even if it wasn't offered. She would learn what she could from whoever was on the rung of the ladder above her, and have no compunction about pushing them off if they slowed their climb. Finn appreciated that. He hated to play guessing games with women. That's when Gretchen crossed his mind and he smiled. He should call her and thank her for the fireworks and the rainbow.
"Gray Webster, Mr. Stotler's right hand." She introduced herself without outstretching her own hand.
"Detective Anderson and O'Brien. We have a two-thirty with Mr. Stotler," Finn said.
She checked a very large wrist watch. Her wrist was narrow and the watch hung from it, face down. She twirled it right side up.
"It's two twenty-two. I'm going to walk you through the sound stage. Don't touch anything. I'm sure you don't have to be told, but we often get visitors who want a souvenir of their visit. Please stay close to me. The set is closed today. Mr. Stotler is conferring with some of the craftsman. As you can imagine, a set like ours is incredibly sophisticated. Lots of moving parts. Any difficulties can set us back days, and that is unacceptable. Even hours can skew the production budget."
Cori and Finn walked on the heels of the Right Hand, keeping their feet on the white arrows, staying within the parallel yellow lines that defined the one path through the sound stage.
They checked out everything. They would have a fine discussion at Mick's about this place. The intricacy of the lighting, the camera's, the power cords, the touch screens that ran the production, were as intriguing as the set itself. Jeremiah Stotler's front door made sense now. This was The Baby Jungle set. The vines, trees, mountains with outcroppings, lakes, streams and waterfalls looked real. This was where the jungle children played.
Cori pointed out the dolls peppered throughout. Finn thought of Enver's 'companions', but these dolls were cherubic and childlike. Instead of being created to quench a man's desire, these were constructed to delight children. They frolicked in their fancy world; far away from the ugly one where young women had their faces bashed in.
"And stop. Please stand here."
The Right Hand pulled up short and Cori almost ran into her. A look communicated her disappointment at Cori's clumsiness. A thin smile spoke to her magnanimity in overlooking it. Gray Webster seemed miffed that the detectives weren't more impressed with their surroundings.
"Where will we be meeting Mr. Stotler?" Finn asked.
"He'll come here as soon as he's finished," Gray said.
"But where will we be having our talk," Finn said.
"I'm afraid with his schedule—"
"We will be as brief as possible —after we sit down," Finn said.
The Right Hand's surprise turned to annoyance. The annoyance instantly became s
omething akin to uncertainty when Finn continued.
"This is an official investigation into a murder, miss. If we cannot find a bit of privacy here, Mr. Stotler will have to reschedule his day so we can speak at the station."
Gray Webster's taut stomach rippled under her tight sweater. It was the only sign that she was amused.
"I thought that only happened in the movies," she said. "Taking someone to the station."
"'Tis known that fiction is informed by fact," Finn said.
With that, the Right Hand did what was best for the left. She escorted them to a small, glass-enclosed room. Inside was recording equipment, but there were also four chairs.
"Wait here," Gray said.
She returned as the hands of the clock struck two-thirty. Her entrance was as impressive the second time as it had been the first. The man that came with her had, Finn was sure, been exactly like her at one time. His posture said he was still an animal on the prowl and ready to take on any challenge to his territory. Yet, having been the king of the jungle for so long, there was also a gracefulness to his manner. He did offer his hand.
"Jeremiah Stotler," he said as he shook those of the detectives.
Finn and Cori gave their names even though Gray had probably filled him in. In fact, she probably memorized their badge numbers despite the fact that the detectives flashed them briefly her way. The important man took a seat. Gray stood in the corner. It was Finn who gave the introduction, and Cori the overview of the inquiry.
"Mr. Stotler, we're going to be asking some personal questions," Finn said when he took over.
Cori's eyes flitted to the Right Hand who looked back at her. The important man smiled. That said it all. He could count on the Right Hand. Whatever she heard, whatever sins he confessed, would never go beyond this room. She was that loyal. Her loyalty was grounded in the firm knowledge that her boss would destroy her professionally should she disappoint him. Cori's eyes went back to the star of the show.
Jeremiah Stotler was not a classically handsome man, but he did well with what he had. Bev had him beat by an inch or two in height. He was slim, but Cori didn't think it was from exercise. She had a feeling that the man was a very disciplined eater. Age? Between fifty-five and sixty-five. Who knew? His hair was thick and sprinkled with grey. It was neither too short nor too long, too straight nor too wavy. His face was clean-shaven and on the gaunt side. When he smiled, Stotler looked like everyone's favorite uncle. He was the guy you would go to with your worst problems, the man who would make it all okay with mom and dad.
His hands were narrow, his nails manicured. The clothes he wore hung so well it was a sure bet they were bespoke. And then there was Jeremiah's voice. Melodious and clear with the slightest undercurrent of a dictatorial tone.
"I'm sure you've been told that my schedule is tight. If you don't mind, I'll fill in some of your blanks right now. If I miss anything, and we still have time, I'll answer your questions." There was that smile again, but barely a breath was taken before he said, "And if you need follow-up, you can contact Gray. She will put you in touch with my lawyers. McMann, Tate and Tate. You'll be speaking to the general partner, Tom McMann."
Gray gave a slight bow as if honored to be Stotler's pack mule.
"Since that seems agreeable, let's begin. I know a young woman was killed at an Asylum event at The Brewery. Yes, I am a gold seal member of Asylum. I pay $75,000 a year for my membership. That includes all open parties. This was not an open party. I found out about the incident because the Asylum administrators are very thorough. Gold seal members were all notified by Ali Keyes, the owner of Asylum, if anything untoward happens."
Stotler turned his head as if to look over his shoulder. He never completed a full swivel. Gray stepped forward to hand each of them a piece of paper.
"This is Ali's direct number and the address of his private offices. I assume you will be discreet with this information. "
Cori opened her mouth to tell him the man in question had been contacted, but Jeremiah Stotler's full attention seemed to have rendered her mute. Finn had the fleeting thought that the man must be a Svengali to have such an effect on the two women in the room. He never raised his voice, nor did it take on a harsh tone. Still, there was nothing more heady than power. He would not stop for anything or anyone, not even for a homeless man being beaten to death as Finn had. He was not a man who would ever be put upon by a crowd of haters. Poor Beverly. How she must have despised that Finn's one moment of heroism had made him a pariah. What she wanted was the hero, the conqueror, the guy in charge. Finn concluded that Jeremiah Stotler was like the lines painted on the floor of his studio. His life was about his destination, and he never veered from his path. All the riches go to the man with the blinders.
"The evening of the incident was a private affair." Jeremiah said. "As I understand it, the purpose was pleasure while awaiting the unveiling of some new tech. It was held so close to the vest that even Gray could not find out what the product was or who issued the invitation. Beverly was there at my behest. I personally asked Ali to include her."
"Why?" Cori asked, sliding the question into his narrative.
"Because she and I are very close, and I trust her. Because I am a gold seal member. Because she is a beautiful woman who is comfortable with men of means. Because she was smart enough to know what information I needed. I wanted her to find out what was going on."
Jeremiah turned his eyes on Finn. The detective saw nothing special in them.
"Beverly told me as soon as she returned to my place, that her ex had managed to find his way into our orbit. I am assuming this does not create any problems for you or your superiors."
"It does not, sir," Finn responded.
"Very good." Jeremiah looked at his watch. Gray did the same. He continued on. "As for the lady in question. I knew who she was."
"You knew her as Cami," Finn said. His statement appeared to annoy the man.
"No, I knew exactly who she was. Roxana Masha Novika. I did not share this information with anyone, including Beverly. I pledged not to compromise any member in good standing when I joined Asylum. I did not breach that promise until Cami crossed the line. Then I found out who she was."
"So much for anonymity," Cori muttered.
"I'm fortunate to have many resources at my disposal. I can find the information I need about almost anything. A mask and an alias are flimsy defense."
"You can find out anything, except information about what was being revealed at the party," Finn said.
"Except that."
The failure was both disappointing and illuminating. Stotler inclined his head as if humbled. It was an act.
"Roxana was easy," he said. "The girl was a media whore. Her alias was ridiculous. Once I identified her, I understood how dangerous she could be. Those of us who are gold members expect anonymity as do the women who attend. Unless they agree to further interaction outside of the parties. Beverly is in full consent of our relationship, by the way."
Stotler did Finn the courtesy of actually looking his way.
"But to the matter at hand, in all the years I have been with them, that trust has never been broken until she showed up. That young woman abused Asylum members, and I was not the first."
Gray stepped forward and passed another sheet of paper over to Finn and Cori.
"These are the men she compromised. Ali did not know for a long while because these men were fearful for their futures, and retreated quietly. Society, for all its promiscuity, is actually rather puritanical. Once the media gets hold of something salacious, they work up the villagers until the only thing left is to build the scaffold. Those men paid a great deal of money to keep Roxana silent. I do not believe I am breaching a trust since these men are no longer Asylum members. It would be more embarrassing for them should you have to hunt for them," Stotler said. "When Roxana set her sights on me, I refused to be blackmail. She threatened retaliation. I am in no position to have my sexual life paraded before our st
ockholders. I would have plenty of money should I lose my work, but no amount of money could compensate me for the loss of my position. I have a sincere passion for what I do. I am very good at it. I create fantasy worlds for children. That I prefer a little fantasy in my private life should not enter into the equation, but it would if she followed through on her threats."
"What do you know of her interaction with Ms. O'Brien that night?" Cori asked.
"Beverly told me she confronted Roxana. She also told me she had nothing to do with murdering that woman. I believe her. If she was lying, I would have seen some evidence. When she returned home, she was angry at the situation. She was upset that she could not bring me the information I wanted because the incident curtailed whatever business was to be conducted. Beverly was also upset that you were called upon to investigate. No, Beverly did not have the demeanor of someone who murdered another human being."
"And what steps were you taking to stop Cami from outing you?" Finn asked.
"All legal, all irrelevant." Jeremiah Stotler got out of his chair, smiled and started for the door as he said: "Thank you so much for coming by."
Finn was up before the Right Hand could react.
"Mr. Stotler," Finn said. The man paused, clearly annoyed to be spoken to without permission. "With all due respect, we will call you should we have additional questions. You may call your attorney at your discretion. Thank you for your time now."
His eyes flicked to Gray who stood only steps away. Her cheeks were pale with fury.
"Thank you, Ms. Webster. We'll be seeing ourselves out."
Cori and Finn walked out the way they came in. They did not cross the carefully drawn lines; but the Right Hand and Jeremiah Stotler understood they wouldn't hesitate to do so if it were called for.
19
"Fifteen minutes on the dot, O'Brien. That's when he got out of his chair. He didn't even look at the clock. And that woman. You wouldn't need air-conditioning on a hot summer night with that one. "
Intimate Relations: A Finn O'Brien Crime Thriller Page 16
