Valley of Spies

by Keith Yocum

  “Yes, I’m Australian. And I’m also a member of the Australian Federal Police.”

  “You’re a cop? That’s interesting.”

  “I’m on leave right now.”

  “So, you and Cunningham are an item, then?”

  “If that means we’re a couple, then yes.”

  “Do you know Louise Nordland?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “She was Dennis’s former boss, and we were in contact on some other issues.”

  “OK,” he sighed. “So, here’s the deal. Cunningham could be in serious trouble. My guess is—and it’s only a guess—the DA is building probable cause to arrest him for involvement in this woman’s death. The DA is trying to piece together what happened with this woman and Cunningham. I checked around, and the dead woman was a working prostitute with a drug problem. And Cunningham tested positive for cocaine and meth. Crazy combo of drugs. But we’re early in this thing.”

  “Do they have a strong case for murder?”

  “No. They got no witnesses that I’ve heard of. There was a knife next to her body. If his prints are all over it, well, that’s a problem. They can’t pull prints from him directly, at this point because he’s not a suspect. But they’ll run prints found on the knife through the national database. Could take a while. Then there’s possible DNA matching. Could be some of the killer’s DNA on the knife. They have Cunningham’s blood from the hospital, so let’s hope his DNA is not on the knife. DNA could be a problem. You never know. But all they got is a dead, drugged out prostitute, and a naked guy crawling on all fours around Las Vegas splattered with blood. I’m sure it’s her blood since he only had some scratches on his knees from crawling. There’s apparently a video of the girl and him checking into the Bellagio.”

  The waitress came to take their order, and Judy ordered a Caesar salad. Ruby ordered cheese ravioli and a Diet Coke.

  “That all you’re going to eat?” he said.

  “I’m not very hungry.”

  “Tell me, did Cunningham have a drug problem? He was pretty lit up when he got to the hospital. Did he go on sprees every now and then? I’m just trying to know what I’m dealing with here.”

  “I’ve known him for several years, and I’ve never seen him touch drugs. If anything, he likes a drink every now and then.”

  “You know we have a lot of guys come to Vegas and sort of let loose, you know? And women too, especially bachelorette parties. They do crazy things. I’m just trying to get some history here on Cunningham. Sometimes there’s another side to a person, you know, that people don’t see until they get into trouble.”

  “Listen, Mr. Ruby—”

  “Call me John.”

  “Listen, John, I’m not a child and I don’t pretend to know every single detail about Dennis’s life, but he’s never done drugs that I know of.”

  “Has he used prostitutes before?”

  Judy felt her forehead crease into deep, horizontal wrinkles as she fought the temptation to punch the attorney who was supposed to save Dennis. Or maybe she wished she could punch Dennis.

  “Not that I know of,” she said.

  “This woman Nordland led me to believe that Cunningham works for the CIA. That true?”

  “He used to be an employee of the agency, but he retired about a year ago. Recently he was contracted by them to investigate a disappearance. Unfortunately, he won’t be able to complete his report as a result of this incident.”

  “Mmm,” Ruby said, polishing off the remainder of the Crown Royal. “This Nordland woman tried to warn me the case was complicated. She said that Cunningham is involved in some kind of intelligence work. She buffaloed the DA here into talking to her. She’s a tough broad.”

  “Yes, she is. She also wanted me to say that you might be under surveillance now that you took the case.”

  “What, from the IRS?”

  “No. Other people.”

  “What kind of surveillance is she talking about?”

  “She didn’t say, but I’m sure your phones will be an obvious place to start.”

  “Seems to me that this is just a case of a high-strung CIA guy gone off the rails. I mean, this stuff happens out here. This is where they come to go crazy.”

  “It’s our firm belief that you’re mistaken, John. This is more complicated, and you should be very careful.” Judy felt buoyed by the spontaneous use of the possessive pronoun our; it was emotionally satisfying to treat Louise and her as a team to save Dennis. If nothing more, it gave her cover to avoid the opposite proposition: that Dennis had gone very darkly off the rails and she was alone fighting for him.

  The food came to the table and they ate in silence.

  “You gamble?” he asked.

  “No. Never. I gambled in the choice of my profession, but that’s about it.”

  “And this Australian Federal Police. What’s that?”

  “Similar to your FBI.”

  “Really? Interesting. So, you’re a real cop?”

  “What did you think I was, a meter maid?”

  He laughed heartily. “Funny.”

  After several seconds of silence, Judy suddenly said, “Do you think he did it?”

  “Cunningham? Did he kill the prostitute?”

  She nodded.

  “I have no idea, to be honest, Judy. None. And I don’t care either way. He needs representation, and I’m going to give him the best help I can muster. That’s how it works. I’m sure it works the same Down Under.”

  Dennis suddenly remembered who the blond woman was.

  “Her name is Louise,” Dennis said to the empty hospital room.

  The policeman outside the room poked his head in.

  “That woman that came in. The little blond woman with the limp. Her name’s Louise.”

  “Don’t talk to me. Your best bet is just to shut up. You got enough problems.”

  “Her name is Louise, but I can’t remember her last name,” Dennis said.

  “Jesus,” the policeman said, returning to his chair outside.

  Dennis was not nearly as tired as before. He felt rested, alert, though still confused.

  “Am I in trouble or something?” he asked.

  “I’m not talking to you,” the policeman said from outside.

  “I think I’m feeling better.”

  Chapter 15

  In a single wild swing of her left arm, Judy knocked her business phone off the bedside table as the alarm sounded. Cursing, she fell out of bed trying to find the phone. She grabbed the charging cord and slowly retrieved it. After turning off the alarm, she put the phone back on the table and flopped back in bed.

  Judy started to sit up but fell back into bed.

  God, I’m tired, she thought. Half-way around the world to end up in one of the strangest cities on the planet. Dennis, what were you doing here? What is wrong with you?

  The burner rang. It was on the dresser on the other side of the room charging, so she jumped out of bed and grabbed it. She saw the incoming number.

  “Hello, Louise.”

  “Got a problem,” Louise said.

  Judy did not appreciate Louise’s grunting, abrupt manner of speech. The tiny blond seemed to enjoy leaving out pronouns and other useful parts of speech. Or maybe she was just economizing her communications. Either way, it was irritating.

  “What’s that?” Judy sighed, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. She glanced in the mirror and quickly turned her eyes away: the sight of the jet-lagged, depressed woman was not pretty.

  “Dennis’s hotel here in Rosslyn. The Hyatt won’t let me have access to his personal belongings.”

  Judy was still foggy from waking up.

  “What about his belongings?” she said.

  “After he went missing, they packed
up his belongings into his suitcase and stored them with the concierge. I can usually bluff civilians by showing my agency ID. Most get rubber legs when I do that, but those jerks from Hyatt won’t buckle. I’d get someone to break in there, but it would be a real mess if they were caught.”

  Judy yawned. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “They’ll only release it to a family member.”

  “I’m not a family member, Louise. We’re not married. You know that.”

  “Yes, but he’s got a daughter. I had them call her in California. Beth’s her name. She can give them permission to release his stuff to you. She doesn’t know me from a hole in the wall and won’t do anything I ask her to do. Call his daughter. Here’s the number.”

  “Damnit, Louise. I just woke up. Hang on.” She walked across the room to get the complimentary hotel pad and pen. “Go ahead.” Judy wrote it down.

  “After you get her to send in the release, get a flight first thing to D.C. I need you to get his suitcase to see if he has anything I could use.”

  “I just got here, Louise!” Judy said. “I haven’t been able to see Dennis yet.”

  “Work through Ruby. Call the daughter.” Louise hung up.

  “Bitch,” Judy said under her breath as she hung up.

  She sighed and sat down on the corner of the bed, her shoulders hunched. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Her hair was plastered to one side of her head, her eyes were the color of a bright-red hibiscus blossom, and her left cheek showed the slashing dent caused by a twisted bed sheet.

  The burner rang again.

  “God,” she said looking at the number.

  “Hey, this is Ruby.”

  “Hello, John,” she said.

  “I have some bad news. They’re moving him to the Clark County Detention Center. He’s going to be arraigned on murder one later today. I gather they have DNA, probably on the knife, that makes him a suspect and not a victim. And he said some ill-advised things to the doctor and investigators that interviewed him. It sounds bad, but this case has a long way to go.”

  “What ill-advised things?”

  “He apparently said he was sorry about hurting the woman. He kept apologizing. I wish I could have been there when the cops talked to him at the hospital. Unfortunately, they can use utterances like that in building a case.”

  “Oh Lord,” Judy said, sighing. “Will he be granted bail?”

  “Not likely.”

  “Can I see him at the arraignment?”

  “Sure. But I want to warn you that some people don’t like to see their loved ones in handcuffs. But you’re a cop and you know the drill.”

  “I don’t quite know it from this side of the fence,” she said. “Give me the address and time. I’ll be there.”

  It was one of the worst decisions she made in her life.

  The clerk called Dennis’s case, and he was led into the courtroom in handcuffs. That was bad enough, but his bright orange jumpsuit with the letters CCDC on front and back, and his strange, disheveled appearance shocked her. She tried to catch his attention, but he did not look her way. The judge, a frumpy older woman, asked him whether he was Dennis Cunningham, whether he understood the charges. Dennis said he did. She asked whether he had an attorney, and he said he did. Ruby whispered several times to Dennis.

  Dennis was asked to make a plea, and he said, “not guilty” in a small, insignificant voice. The judge declared Dennis was going to be denied bail due to the seriousness of the crime.

  And then it was over. Dennis never looked for Judy. She almost cried.

  Outside in the withering Nevada summer sun, Ruby said, “I’m not sure you should have come. I thought you knew these things are not pretty.”

  “He didn’t even look for me. I was waiting for him to see me, but he never looked. Jesus, what happened to him here? That’s not the Dennis I know.” A tear slid from underneath the right lens of her sunglasses. She let it sit there, collecting makeup and eyeliner.

  Ruby put his massive arm around her and gently hugged her.

  “Judy, I’ll do the best we can for him, I promise you that. He’s allowed phone calls in the Clark County Detention Center, but he says he doesn’t know who to call. He may be putting on a good act, but to me, he’s not sure what happened to him or what he’s doing here.”

  He released her from his reassuring hug.

  “Let’s take a walk. There’s a coffee shop right around the corner. Come along.”

  Judy wiped the tear away and followed, her head bowed. She was utterly and completely shocked by Dennis’s appearance and demeanor. The multiple feelings of fear, anger, exhaustion, and shock came through in a firestorm and left her a whimpering, shell of a person following a large, broad-shouldered man on the hot Nevada pavement.

  They sat down at a table, and Judy squinted out the coffee shop window into an orangish glare. It reminded her vaguely of the outback.

  Ruby brought over two cups of coffee and sat down.

  “Should I give him your number and ask him to call you the next chance he gets?” Ruby said.

  “I don’t know. From the look of him, I’m not even sure he’ll recognize me.”

  “We don’t know that,” he said, taking a sip. “I obviously don’t know Dennis, but it looks like he had some kind of breakdown. Has he done this before?”

  “Done what?”

  “Showed symptoms of a psychological break?”

  “Not that I know of, though perhaps I’m missing something about his life. He was depressed after his wife died. I know he was in therapy for a while. He had a tough family life growing up.”

  “It’s been a couple of days since he was brought into the hospital, and he’s only made a little progress. The judge asked for a psych eval. Guess we’ll find out if he’s got some psychological issues that might explain his behavior.”

  Judy took a sip of coffee and continued to look outside, avoiding Ruby.

  “I just wish the attending would have kept the investigators away from him,” Ruby said.

  “What did he say to them?”

  “Something like, ‘I’m sorry about the girl.’”

  “The girl? You mean the prostitute?”

  “That’s what they’re taking from it, the prostitute.”

  “God,” she said, shaking her head.

  “He did say something else to me though,” Ruby said.

  “Huh?”

  “He said, ‘something happened to me.’”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah. To be honest, he looked like a lost child. Completely harmless and lost. But he was intense when he said, ‘something happened to me.’ Then he went back to that blank look. Sorry. I mean that’s all that I have.”

  “Did you tell him I was out there in the courtroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He didn’t say anything.”

  She shook her head.

  “Listen, we don’t know anything about the forensic evidence. The knife, the blood on him. The DNA. Don’t give up hope, Judy. You’re a cop. Get tough.”

  “I probably need that pep talk right now,” she said. “I feel so depressed. I mean, to think I just flew halfway around the world to see Dennis in handcuffs. What a shock. I’m just—I don’t know what to say.”

  Ruby’s phone rang. “I have to get this. It will only take a second.”

  He chatted to what sounded like his secretary or paralegal for a few minutes, then hung up.

  “Sorry about that. I’m afraid I have to get going.”

  “Of course.”

  “Dennis will be allowed visitation rights,” he said standing. “Do you want to see him?”

  “I suppose so,” she said, fidgeting with her coffee cup.

  Ruby sat down and gently gra
bbed Judy forearm.

  “Can I suggest something?” he said.

  “Please do.”

  “Why don’t you wait just a bit longer to see him? I don’t think he’s got his shit together right now.”

  “But I want to see him.”

  “I understand, but you don’t want to see him like this. Just give him a day or two.”

  “Maybe he’ll feel better when he sees me.”

  Ruby looked down at his empty coffee cup.

  “I lied to you,” he said.

  She grimaced. “Lied to me about what?”

  “I did tell him that you were in the courtroom. I said, ‘Judy is out there.’ Then he said, ‘Who’s Judy?’”

  The phone call to Dennis’s daughter was a disaster. Judy tried to steel herself to the interchange, but Beth was disconsolate. She cried. Then Judy cried.

  Finally, Beth agreed to send a release to the Hyatt in Rosslyn to allow Judy to recover his belongings. Judy told Beth that she was flying to Washington within the hour and begged her not to go to Las Vegas to see Dennis since he was not “in a good place.” Beth, who was pregnant, continued to cry until Judy hung up.

  Judy texted Louise detailing her travel plans. She texted Ruby to say she was leaving town for a day or two but would insist on seeing Dennis when she returned.

  good idea to leave dodge, Ruby texted back. will keep u posted

  Judy did not know what “dodge” meant, but it didn’t matter. She was now running from Dennis or the man who pretended to be Dennis.

  At the airport, waiting for her flight, Judy got a text from Louise:

  did u tell ruby to be careful?

  yes. he was skeptical of being watched, she answered.

  he’s a lawyer, what do u expect. have interesting stuff to share; call me when you land. go right to hotel and get his suitcase

  Judy wrote back: decided to stay at same hyatt; will take his suitcase to my room

  excellent, Louise responded.

  Dennis shared a cell with a small, wiry black man named Chili.

  Chili didn’t talk much, except to ask Dennis periodically if he had any cigarettes. Smoking was not allowed in the cells, and Dennis repeatedly told him that he didn’t smoke. But that didn’t deter Chili from asking every thirty minutes or so whether he had any cigarettes.