DEATH ON THE NEW MOON (A Troubled Waters Suspense Thriller Book 6)

by Michael Lindley

  His father pulled up in front of Holloway's office building. "I'll probably be thirty minutes or so," Alex said, gathering his bag and the water bottle. "There's a donut shop just around the corner, parking on the side. I'll meet you there."

  "No hurry, kid. Brought along a copy of the morning paper. Need to keep my ass current with all the news of the day."

  "Thanks for driving me in, Pop. I won't be long." Alex got out of the truck and walked up to the imposing ten-story granite and glass building that housed the offices of Holloway's law firm. A security guard sat behind a long counter in the lobby.

  The guard looked up as Alex approached. "Can I help you, sir?"

  "I need to see Phillip Holloway up on ten," Alex said.

  "You got an appointment?"

  "No, but let him know that Detective Alex Frank needs a few minutes." He showed the man his badge. "He'll see me."

  After a lengthy phone conversation with the office upstairs, the guard finally hung up and said, "Sign the register and go on up."

  Another long reception counter greeted him as he walked through the glass doors into the lobby of the law firm. Two women, each dressed in finely tailored dark business suits looked up to greet him. Both immediately seemed to be obviously concerned with his dress, old faded jeans and a t-shirt with a fishing reel logo on the front. He was unshaven and his hair was uncombed.

  "Detective Frank?" the woman on the left asked, uncertain about both his appearance and reason for wanting to see one of the senior partners of the firm.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "I've notified Mr. Holloway you wish to see him. He's with a client but finishing up soon. Please have a seat," she said standing. "Can I get you some coffee or water?"

  He held up his water bottle. "No thanks." As he sat down, he noticed both women continued to eye him suspiciously, then finally looked away and got back to their work when he stared back at them unapologetically.

  Five minutes later, Holloway came through another glass door on the right side of the lobby. He was dressed immaculately, as always, in a finely pressed pair of suit pants, a starched white shirt with heavy gold cuff links and a bright purple silk tie. "Good morning, Alex! It's been too long." His voice was deep and assured, his smile broad and gleaming white, not a hair out of place on his sweeping gray cut.

  "Phillip," Alex said, standing and taking the man's hand. "Sorry to stop in unannounced, but I just need a few minutes."

  "Of course. Let's grab a room down the hall." Holloway led them back through the door and a quick left into a well-appointed conference room with floor to ceiling windows looking out over the skyline of downtown Charleston.

  "How're you feeling, Alex? Heard about the shooting and really sorry to hear about your partner and those other officers."

  "I'll be fine," he answered, trying hard to control his emotions in front of this man who was not only a continuing nuisance with his ongoing romantic come-ons to Hanna, but also with his possible links to the mob family of Asa Dellahousaye who was quite likely responsible for his partner's death.

  Both men sat across from each other at the elegant walnut conference table. "What can I help you with, Alex?"

  "We're investigating the shooting you're referring to," Alex began. "Do you know a man named Asa Dellahousaye?" He watched Holloway's face and reaction to his question and was not surprised to see a calm and casual expression staring back at him.

  "Everyone knows Asa Dellahousaye," Holloway said. "I was just out at his house a couple of nights ago with about a hundred other guests. One of his typical big gatherings at the beach house out on Isle of Palms."

  "And why would you be on the invitation list for a party thrown by a known gangster?"

  Again, Holloway easily kept his composure, the only sign of nervousness when his right hand swept back along the line of his hair. "That's a bit harsh Alex. Mr. Dellahousaye runs a considerable number of legitimate businesses across the country."

  "Cut the bullshit, Phillip!"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Dellahousaye is a mob boss and a killer and don't give me this shit about legitimacy. What the hell were you doing out there?"

  Now Holloway's calm demeanor was beginning to show some cracks. He stood and walked to the wall of windows, then turned. "My relationship with Asa Dellahousaye is, frankly, none of your damn business."

  "Is your firm representing him?" Alex said, remaining seated.

  "I'm not at liberty to discuss who is or isn't a client of this firm."

  Alex stared back at the man, letting the words hang between them. Finally, he asked, "And what were you doing back out there yesterday? Our people didn't mention a party."

  Holloway's eyes squinted in surprise. "You have people following me?"

  "We have people watching Dellahousaye's house. We know you were out there to see him again yesterday. Why did you neglect to tell me about that visit."

  "Like I said, I'm not at liberty to discuss my relationships..."

  "So, he is a client?" Alex cut in.

  "I think we're through here, Detective," Holloway said, moving to the big paneled door to the hallway.

  "Phillip, Asa Dellahousaye is under investigation for hiring the man who killed four Charleston Police officers this week and several other murders we're looking into."

  "I find it hard to believe..."

  "Shut-up, Philip!" Alex said sharply.

  Holloway turned as he pulled open the door. He stood there, unwilling or unable to respond.

  Alex continued. "Tell me about Dellahousaye's interest in the proposed gambling bill coming up for a vote in the State House. Our sources tell us he's more than interested in expanding his current gambling enterprises."

  "I don't know what you're talking about, Frank," Holloway said, his indignation clear as he struggled to regain his practiced composure.

  Alex pulled a photo from his bag on the table and slid it across the table. "Have you seen this man before?"

  Holloway walked back to the table and looked down at a photo taken across a busy plaza of the killer known as Caine. He picked it up to take a closer look. Shaking his head, he placed it back down.

  "The man's name is Caine. He's a hired killer for the Dellahousaye family and God knows who else around the world," Alex said, taking the photo back."

  "I really need to get back to my client, Detective."

  "I don't have to tell you, Phillip, these are very serious men. More people are going to get hurt or killed if we don't put a stop to whatever Dellahousaye and this madman Caine are ginning up. I don't think you want to be a part of that."

  Holloway seemed totally calm again and said, "Alex, I don't know where you're getting all this, but you are way off base and I can assure you, this firm would have nothing to do with any of what you're describing."

  Alex stood, shaking his head slowly and staring back at the lawyer. "You’d better hope to hell not!"

  As Alex walked down the sidewalk to meet his father at the donut shop, he was thinking about his quick discussion with the lawyer, Phillip Holloway. The man was clearly linked to the mobster, Asa Dellahousaye, though it was not clear in what capacity. The guest list the night of the party that Holloway attended was extensive and included celebrities, politicians... even a U. S. Senator. The man's circle of connections was extensive. Holloway was likely representing Dellahousaye on some sort of legal issue, but what? Is there any connection to this gambling bill and the people who are ending up as worm food?

  His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he looked at the screen. It was his captain down at the station. "Captain?"

  "Alex, where are you?"

  "Just back in Charleston..."

  "I need you to come down to the station."

  "What's up?"

  "Just get your ass down here, now!" The connection went dead.

  Skipper Frank dropped Alex at the precinct and told his son he was headed off to find some lunch. They agreed to
meet up later.

  As Alex walked into the large office room of the police station, he was getting some strange and cautious looks. He said "hello" to a couple of people who didn't respond and kept heading back to Captain Guinness's office. He could see the man at his desk, on the phone, through the glass partition. Guinness waved him in, still on the phone, and motioned for him to take a seat across the desk. He hung up the phone and looked up at Alex, a strained look on his face. He stood and walked over to close his office door then came back and sat on the corner of the desk, reaching for a clear evidence bag that held a small flip cell phone.

  "You care to tell me what the hell this is?" Guinness asked, holding the bag between them.

  Alex hesitated, peering into the bag. It looked like a cheap "burner" phone you could pay cash for with pre-loaded minutes. "Looks like a burner, why?"

  "Internal Affairs found this in your desk."

  Alex felt a chill run down his spine. He tried to think why he would have kept this evidence bag in his desk. "Okay?"

  "It's yours then?"

  "No, don't recall ever seeing it."

  Guinness stood and walked around to sit behind his desk, placing the bag in front of him. "We got a serious problem here, Alex."

  "And what's that?'

  "Seems there's a call on this phone placed to a number about fifteen minutes before you and Lonnie went in on the bust to take down Caine."

  "And why is that my problem?" Alex asked.

  "There were several calls to that number on this phone, up until you got shot and none since you’ve been away from the precinct."

  Alex's thoughts were racing now, trying to sort through what Guinness was implying. "And who do you think was on the other end of those calls?"

  "IA seems to think it was Caine."

  "What!"

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Hanna and Calley Barbour sat in the reception area for the office of Judge Louise Kraft. They had met just a few minutes earlier down in the lobby of the courthouse. On the way up the elevator, Hanna had advised Calley on what to expect in the private meeting with the judge. The woman had their request for the abortion permission waiver and would certainly have some questions. Hanna insisted that Calley answer all questions directly and honestly, though she would not be under oath as this was not an official hearing.

  Hanna watched as Calley sat silently across from her engrossed in something on her cell phone. As she studied the girl's face, she couldn't help thinking back to the days leading up to her own decision to have an abortion those many years ago. She recalled being terribly upset and having not slept for several nights before going in for the scheduled procedure. Calley seemed understandably nervous and fidgety, she thought.

  Hanna leaned in and whispered, "Calley, please put the phone away."

  The girl did as instructed. "What?" she asked, perturbed.

  "We've been through the complete series of events leading up to your pregnancy. Is there anything we haven't discussed? I don't want any surprises in there."

  Calley shook her head no, seemingly distracted by another person coming into the judge's offices.

  "Calley, please focus here. We've given the judge your full account of what happened. She will certainly want to have you walk back through all that again."

  "I know," the girl said. "Will we get her permission today?"

  "I don't know."

  "I don't want to have this baby, Hanna!" Calley said, starting to tear up.

  The assistant at the desk across the small reception area took a call and then stood. "The judge will see you now."

  Hanna let Calley walk ahead into the office of Judge Louise Kraft. She was seated behind her desk, pulling some papers together in front of her. She did not have her judge's robe on and was dressed in a white short-sleeved blouse with a small gold brooch pinned on the collar. She was an imposing woman, sitting tall in the leather chair behind her broad maple desk. Her light gray hair was pulled back from her face and gathered at the back, her features sharp and angular. Hanna had worked with her before and knew her to be straightforward, stern, but fair.

  "Good morning, ladies, please sit down."

  Hanna and Calley took the two chairs across the desk from the judge.

  "Hanna, how have you been?"

  "Fine, thank you, Your Honor."

  "Miss Barbour."

  "Yes, Judge..." Calley said, her voice quiet and uncertain.

  Judge Kraft continued. "Miss Barbour, I've read through your case and I must say this is a very difficult and delicate matter. The law is very clear on the requirements to justify a waiver of parental permission for minors in cases like this, but often, the circumstances of the pregnancy and person's personal home life can create numerous questions and issues."

  Calley just nodded and Hanna reached for her hand to help calm her.

  "Let's start with the pregnancy." The judge paused and stared at Calley for a moment before proceeding. "It seems you had intercourse with a man or a boy at a party and you claim not to know the identity of this person. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Calley answered, almost in a whisper.

  "Please speak up," the judge demanded.

  "Yes, Your Honor!"

  "You are not under oath here, young lady, but I want to remind you it is a severe matter for you to be untruthful in a proceeding like this."

  "I'm sorry, Judge Kraft," Calley began. "I shouldn't have been drinking that night..."

  "And I understand you were under the influence of marijuana as well."

  "Yes ma'am."

  Hanna stepped in. "Judge Kraft, there were of course, no toxicology tests taken that night. Our office, however, has interviewed two other friends of Calley who attended the party. They both confirmed the alcohol and drug consumption."

  "Yes, I see that in your brief, Hanna. And neither of these girls could identify the boy in question, correct?"

  "That's right."

  The judge was looking down at some notes on the papers in front of her. She looked up and said, "Calley, you know that being drunk and stoned is no excuse for the waiver you're seeking today."

  Hanna watched as the judge's stare burned into her client's eyes.

  "Yes, Judge Kraft."

  "Let's talk about your family for a moment," Kraft said. "I understand your father is senior pastor at a church here in town."

  Calley nodded.

  "You obviously don't feel your parents will be supportive of your decision to have this abortion."

  Calley started shaking her head, looking down at her lap.

  "Calley?" the judge asked.

  Hanna squeezed the girl's hand tighter and they looked at each other. Hanna gave her a reassuring nod.

  "My father would throw me out of the house, if not kill me first, Judge."

  "Has he been physically abusive or hurt you in the past?"

  Calley sat forward and quickly answered, "No, no never."

  "Then tell me why you're so concerned about your parent's reaction to all this, beyond the obvious religious beliefs I'm sure they hold strongly."

  Calley sat up and spoke forcefully, surprising Hanna. "My father preaches about the evils of alcohol and drugs and pre-marital sex every Sunday. Many people in the church have been shunned or thrown out in the past."

  "I see."

  "Judge, this would be a terrible embarrassment for my mother and father."

  "Yes, I realize that," Kraft said.

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door and the judge's assistant peaked in. "Judge Kraft, there's a young woman here who insists she needs to join this discussion."

  "And who is that?" Kraft asked.

  "She won't say, ma'am."

  "Tell her this is a closed meeting..."

  The door pushed open and a woman rushed past the assistant at the door. Hanna immediately recognized Calley's sister from the pictures she had seen on-line. She was clearly older t
han Calley but of similar size and even through the short spiky hair dyed pure white and multiple piercings and tattoos, there was a remarkable resemblance.

  "Carolyn!" Calley said in surprise. "I told you not to come."

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Captain Guinness led Alex down a long dark hallway and opened the door to a small interrogation room. He switched on the lights and pulled out a chair for Alex to take a seat. Standing across from him, Guinness slid a file folder across the table.

  "Seems we have another vocal critic of the proposed gambling bill, not among the living any longer," Guinness said.

  Alex opened the file. The top photo was of a large black man in a dark suit hanging from the rafters of an office. Alex leaned in to take a closer look but didn't recognize the man.

  "His name is Reverend Jeremiah Townsend," Guinness said. "He's the pastor of the big church and telemarketing ministry over on the south side. His staff found him this morning in his office about an hour after he came in."

  "A suicide?" Alex asked.

  "Appears so, but the forensics team is taking a close look."

  "I've seen him on television," Alex said.

  "The man held a big press conference yesterday to publicly condemn the gambling bill," Guinness said, sitting across from Alex. "A day later and he's hanging from the rafters in his office. Doesn't add up."

  Alex looked through a few more pictures in the file, thinking about the likelihood of Caine being involved with this.