by G. K. Parks
“Cross?”
“No, Klassi. Actually, it might be easier if you came to us, Detective. Everything you should see is in our apartment.”
Thirty-five
“Under different circumstances, you’d be my prime suspect,” Heathcliff said. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the whiteboard. “You mean to tell me, with all of this, you still have no idea who wanted to murder Klassi or how he connects to CryptSpec.”
“Off the record, I wouldn’t have minded taking a shot at him.” Martin flipped to another page. “Klassi never possessed ten million, unless it was physical currency. According to my calculations, Klassi was under water, but he didn’t have any outstanding debts or late payments. His credit history is pristine. However, his spending rate far exceeds his earning potential. Lucien made a note of it. So who was paying the bills?”
“Did Cross have any theories?” Heathcliff asked. I leaned over Martin’s shoulder, but Lucien only made a note of the oddity. He didn’t speculate. Heathcliff watched as we flipped through the pages. “Do I want to know how you came to possess Klassi’s tax records and private account information?”
“Nope.” I reached for my mug and took a sip.
“Is that why Cross was arrested?” the detective asked.
I chuckled. “Let’s work on one crime at a time.”
“How can we? They’re interconnected.” Heathcliff dialed a number. “We’re going to need a court order for Klassi’s bank account, phone records, his utilities, credit cards, the works.” He looked at me. “Anything else?”
“Property records,” Martin said.
Heathcliff nodded. “And property records. Put a rush on this. Wake up a few judges if you have to.” He hung up and uncapped a marker. “May I?” Martin nodded at the board, and Derek took to writing. “The slugs we pulled out of Stuart Gifford, the civil engineer, matched the bullets used on Don Klassi. It’s the same murder weapon. More than likely, we’re looking at the same killer. The witness said he dressed entirely in black. Mask over his face, gloves, the whole kit and kaboodle.”
“It’s the same guy who attacked me,” I said. “How did he get into Klassi’s building? There’s a doorman.”
“We’re wondering the same thing,” Heathcliff said. “I pulled security footage, but every camera in the building went out. We have no footage for thirty minutes before or after Klassi’s murder. The doorman is working with a sketch artist to describe every deliveryman and guest that came to the building, but it wasn’t a small number. I don’t expect he’ll remember them all. This would be easier if we could show him some photos and let him pick someone out of a lineup, but I need to know where to start.”
Derek took a step back, turning to read the psychopath’s profile on the adjacent board. “All right, the answer is in the overlap.” He drew a Venn diagram. “Stuart Gifford and Don Klassi. These are our points of interest. Whoever was in both of their orbits killed them.”
“Good luck. I tried the same thing using Noah and me, and it only led to Cross and Klassi,” I said.
Heathcliff wrote my name and Lucien Cross between Stuart and Don. “You aren’t a central point, but you are a connection. However, I don’t think you killed them.” He spun toward Martin. “You knew Klassi. Did he know Stuart Gifford or have any connection to CryptSpec?”
“I have no idea. We weren’t exactly friends.” Martin keyed in an internet search and read through the controlling names at CryptSpec. “Klassi must have a list of contacts on his phone or computer. Hell, maybe his assistant kept up with that stuff, but if he knew one of them, that should answer your question.”
“Everything’s in evidence. Techs are processing Klassi’s phone and computer and pulling his files. I’m going to speak to his assistant and his business partners first thing in the morning, but I wanted to get a jump on everything tonight. Considering how much intel you’ve gathered, it’s a shame it isn’t what we need,” Heathcliff said.
“Just wanted to rub salt in the wound?” I asked. “Or did you stop by because you’re worried this psycho is going to make another run at me?”
Heathcliff didn’t answer. Instead, he picked through the files, selecting the ones he wanted to take with him. “I’ll read Jablonsky in on the situation and see if he’s made any progress. This guy knows how to get away with murder, but I think you’re wrong.” Derek pointed to the note I made concerning the unsub having law enforcement experience. “At that range, he wouldn’t have killed Klassi using a rifle, and his grouping would have been different.”
“How can you be sure?” Martin asked.
“Call it a hunch.” Heathcliff gave us each another look. “You keep your eyes open and your heads down. I won’t waste my breath telling you to stay away from this, but whenever you find something, I better be the first call you make.”
“Yes, sir.” I watched as he took a few of the photos off the board and tucked them into an envelope. “Anything else you want?”
“Answers.” He let himself out, and Martin locked the door behind him.
“Don’s dead.” I dropped into a chair and rubbed my eyes. “That’s why he was so frantic on the phone. The killer must have been standing right there while we spoke. It fits the timeline. I’m guessing the killer came to collect, and Klassi didn’t have the money. So he called me, hoping I could buy him some time. That’s what happened to Noah too.”
“So this is about money.” Martin rubbed his chin. “Ten million to be precise. Don didn’t even spend anywhere near that amount.”
“Did you figure in interest?”
Martin flipped through some pages. Heathcliff didn’t touch any of the financial forms. The detective liked to stay on the right side of things, but with a killer prowling the city, I didn’t have the same hang-up. “The last big investment Don made was six months ago. It was a little over three million. Do you think this psychopath is a loan shark because I didn’t realize they had that much to lend?”
“Not a loan shark, but something similar.”
CryptSpec originally mined currency, which is how the start-up got off the ground. By the time the currency went bust, they had become a lucrative tech firm. But if they never had that initial investment, they wouldn’t have made it. Klassi possessed the same currency CryptSpec mined, but I didn’t see how that connected Klassi to Stuart Gifford or CryptSpec. Don got his coin from Noah. That fact was never in doubt. So how did Noah get it?
“The killer wanted Noah’s coin,” Martin said. “And Don wanted ten million in the cryptocurrency. Don and the unsub were after the same thing.”
“It would appear that way.” I blew out a breath. “Dammit.”
“What?”
“I hate to say it, but I wish Cross was here. We need to know if Stuart Gifford possessed any of the coin. That could be the connection.”
“Do you think Stuart was another of Noah’s victims?” Martin asked.
Noah had at least four scams running based on what I found inside his apartment, so I couldn’t dismiss that theory. Unfortunately, I didn’t have access to Gifford’s records, and with Noah out cold, I couldn’t ask him either. “That could be, but what if we’re looking at this wrong.”
“Meaning?” Martin went to the coffeepot, unsure if he should be having coffee or making a drink since sleeping most of the day had confused his internal clock. Deciding on neither, he peeled a banana and took a bite. He eyed me, silently asking if I wanted anything, and I held out my empty mug which he refilled with soup and put in the microwave.
“I assumed Noah had been caught scamming the unsub, and that’s why the man wanted money from him. But maybe Noah borrowed money and couldn’t pay it back.” Another disconcerting thought came to mind. “Or the killer wanted to get to me and decided to use Klassi to do it, except when Klassi begged me to give him whatever we found, I didn’t offer to meet up and hand over the money immediately. So the unsub ended him. The killer’s going to make another run at me. It’s just a matter of time.”
Martin scrubbe
d a hand over his brow. “We need a vacation. A real one. How about I book a suite at a luxury resort. I’m thinking Monaco. You’ll love it.”
“You’re joking. We can’t go away right now.”
“Why the fuck not? You don’t need to be here. This guy is crazy. Your client is dead. This isn’t about a case. Hell, you don’t have a case. Heathcliff and Jabber are investigating. Your boss has been arrested. You hate your coworkers. So why do you want to stay?”
I didn’t have an answer. “You think leaving is a solution?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Surprised by my response, he took a step back. “Okay,” he repeated.
“But I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out the two obvious flaws in your brilliant plan. First, if Don really owed ten million dollars, don’t you think this bastard must have a lot more stashed somewhere. He can travel just as easily as we can. So how is leaving going to make us safe? Second, what happens if Mark and Derek don’t find him? How long are you prepared to stay on vacation? When we went to Spain, you barely lasted a full day.”
Martin took my mug out of the microwave and put it on the counter. “I can’t sit back and let him hurt you again. What am I supposed to do?”
“Nothing. You’re supposed to do nothing.” I pointed at the boards. “I shouldn’t have let you help. I shouldn’t have given him your number to call with the ransom. This…this isn’t what we do. This is what I do. I keep you away from it for a reason.”
“You’ve never been able to separate this stuff from me. Not really.” He bowed his head and stared at the floor for a moment. When he looked up, his expression showed newfound resolve. “It’s a part of you, and when you’re hurt, it hurts me. So here’s the deal. As long as you’re staying on this, so am I. It’s your choice. All in, remember?”
I scooped my mug off the counter and kissed him. “Let’s see what Heathcliff finds first.” I turned on my heel and headed for the bedroom. “I have to talk to Mark in the morning.” That gave me eight hours to figure everything out. I just didn’t know if that would be enough time.
Thirty-six
The sun wasn’t even up when the first call came in. I rolled over, grabbing the phone and regretting the stretch almost immediately. Something popped that shouldn’t have. Martin wasn’t beside me or hovering at the foot of the bed. While I wondered where he was, I answered the phone.
“Get this,” Heathcliff said, “Don Klassi was also a victim of ransomware. The techs are trying to bypass it without erasing his data. We need to get a look at that code, but we haven’t been able to crack it yet. However, that gives Klassi something in common with Stuart Gifford. Someone at CryptSpec is responsible, so I’m reinterviewing the employees. Cross sent over his files.”
“Cross?”
“Jablonsky kicked him late last night.”
“Oh, boy.”
“We cleared Ian Barber as a suspect in Gifford’s murder, but he hates you. Hell, he hates all of Cross Security. The guy’s a certified genius, and from his evaluation forms, we know he has a bad attitude and a short temper.”
“That combo tends to go together.”
“Yeah, but something’s not right with this guy. You’ve seen his financials. He’s got some money saved, and I found several suspicious calls from his phone prior to Gifford’s murder. They went to unregistered burners. He never explained that, said they were wrong numbers, but wrong numbers don’t last twenty minutes a call. Did I mention Don Klassi had Barber’s number stored on his phone? They had several conversations and exchanged a few vague texts a few weeks ago, around the same time Barber placed the suspicious calls to the unknown numbers.”
“When exactly did this happen?”
“The bulk of it was Thursday, the day before Barber got the boot and Gifford got killed.”
Could Ian Barber have contracted a hit? “Have you asked Barber about his connection to Don Klassi?”
“I will as soon as he’s brought in.”
“Do you think this is still about ransomware?”
“It might be. Klassi was a victim, and given my theory that Barber is behind the ransomware scheme, he’d probably be the man to contact to get it removed.”
“Except he never removed it from Klassi’s computer since it’s still locked,” I pointed out. “
Heathcliff thought for a moment. “Once we examine the programming on Klassi’s computer, we’ll know for sure who’s responsible. Did you know coding is identifiable, almost like handwriting?”
“I’m guessing Ian Barber is about to have a very bad day.” I rolled my neck from side to side. “But installing ransomware doesn’t make you a killer.”
“Are you sure? Two of the ransomware victims are dead.” Someone shouted to him. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Thanks for the update. And Derek, thanks for assigning the patrol car to keep watch last night.”
“Yeah, well, it was the least I could do.”
Carefully, I stretched, feeling the muscles in my back tighten in protest. My rib popped again, ever so slightly, and I pressed my palm against it. Hopefully, it was back in alignment again, but I knew better than to try that a second time. When the pain subsided, I ventured out of the bedroom.
I slept for half the day yesterday and most of the night, and yet, I wouldn’t have minded getting another eight hours of sleep. The doctors said I was suffering from exhaustion and needed my rest. Obviously, they got it right for once.
“Martin?” I called, stepping into the living room. I was surprised not to find him working on the case. Maybe he listened when I told him he should stay away from it, but I doubted it. As a rule, he did what he wanted. And he wanted the man responsible as much as I did, maybe more. However, he’d rather have me safe, hence his newfound obsession with going on vacation.
Some coffee remained in the pot, and I poured it into a mug. It was dark, but it should still count as a clear liquid. I drank a few sips, finding it cold. Maybe Martin went to the office early to make up for all the days he missed.
I settled onto the couch and stared at the whiteboards while I tried to wake up. Ian Barber. That was Heathcliff’s brilliant lead, and admittedly, I found Barber to be unpleasant and shady. But that didn’t make him a killer, even if he knew two homicide victims. Then again, Jablonsky always taught me there was no such thing as coincidence.
My phone rang again, almost at the same instant the intercom chimed. “Seriously?” I read the caller ID as I pushed the button on the wall.
“Miss Parker, Mr. Cross is here to see you,” the doorman said.
“Funny,” I muttered, ignoring my ringing phone. “Send him up.”
I went into the bedroom, tugged on a pair of jeans, and pulled my hair back in a messy ponytail. Grabbing my nine millimeter, I loaded a round into the chamber and returned to the living room. A few seconds later, a key slid into the lock, followed by the doorknob turning. Lucien sauntered inside while Bruiser clocked his every move.
“Is James here?” Cross asked, noting the gun I placed beside me on the counter.
“Why does that matter?” I asked.
Cross surveyed the room, stopping in front of the boards. “I noticed you cleared out your office. Are you planning on returning to work?”
“I have a doctor’s note.”
He turned around, jerking on the hem of his jacket. Based on his appearance, he hadn’t changed since being released from federal custody. He rubbed a hand over his face, contemplating a shave while he assessed me. “Did you have me arrested?” He cocked his head to the side. “Are you afraid I might have come here to get revenge?” His eyes flicked to my gun. “Or do you honestly believe that I’m responsible?” He spun around and pointed to the profile I created. “Describes me to a T, doesn’t it? Too bad it’s wrong.”
“Your business card was found in the abandoned car. We had to be sure.”
“We being you and Jablonsky?” He chuckled. “No, Alex. It wasn’t we. It was him. He held me
out of spite. It was an abuse of power.” He shook his head. “No matter. That’s not why I’m here.” He moved to the next board. “I see you read my notes. Whoever’s responsible has plenty of money to manipulate and pull strings. This is about the cryptocurrency and ten million dollars. Don Klassi wants that amount for a reason, and he expects me to get it for him.”
“Not anymore.”
Cross spun. “What do you mean?”
“Klassi was murdered last night.”
“Shit. Do they know who did it?”
“Who do you think?” I asked sarcastically.
Cross removed a few pages from beneath one of the magnets and flipped through them. “He was collecting as much as he could. His debt was coming due. He thought Noah had that kind of money, and we’d be stupid enough to hand it over to him. He bought time by selling his shares of Martin Tech and several other stocks. The last time we spoke, he begged for what little we found in Noah’s account.”
“Don said the same to me. We spoke last night, probably minutes before he was shot. Any idea who the debt collector might be?”
Cross ignored me, moving past to the island counter where he put the pages down and grabbed a pen from his jacket pocket. He circled dates of transactions from Klassi’s accounts. “He was making payments regularly. These cash withdrawals happened every week. Not a significant enough amount to warrant much attention, but I think that’s what they are. Payments toward his loan.”
“Maybe he was just a big tipper,” I suggested.
Cross snorted. “While you were away,” which was the more pleasant way of saying chained to the floor in a psycho’s bomb shelter, “I bumped into Joshua Standish and another of Klassi’s business associates. Eight months ago, they were phasing him out of their company. He was opposed to sinking more revenue into their current endeavors. He just wanted to maintain the status quo. He didn’t understand that he had to spend money to make money. But a couple months later, things changed. He came up with the money. But when the project grew even larger, he went back to his previous stance. He tried to pull out of the project, but his investment had been spent. He wouldn’t see a dime until the project was completed and turning a profit.”
