Kissing in Action

by Camilla Chafer

  Delgado and Fletcher were at their desks when I arrived.

  "Good morning!" I chirped.

  "Who you gonna kill today?" asked Delgado.

  "You're at the top of the list!"

  Delgado spun around in his seat, smiling. He wore baggy jeans, a plain, navy t-shirt, and a gray hoodie under his leather jacket. There was a plain cap on the desk, and next to that, his telephoto lens and a thick file. Clearly he'd just gotten off a job. "Seriously, we leave you alone for a few minutes and a corpse turns up."

  I refused to be any less chirpy. "I didn't kill her!"

  "You were asked to do one simple job," Fletcher added. "Delgado, here, just took down a local drug dealing ring. I just filed a report on my mark, a guy with not one, not two, but three wives."

  "Man is he going down in divorce court," said Delgado with a shake of his head.

  "What's your point?" I asked.

  "You get a blackmail case and it turns into murder!" finished Fletcher. "Our marks just stuck with the crimes we originally busted them for."

  "Not my fault." I couldn't help pouting. I really never saw Katya's murder coming. Now, with less than twenty-four hours since her death, which hadn't yet broken in the national media, I was ready to re-double my efforts to find the blackmailer, in the hope that would lead me to the killer.

  Delgado and Fletcher both had wide grins. "Just playing with ya, Lexi," said Delgado. "Could have happened to anyone. Need a hand?"

  "No, I'm going to look into the band’s past to see what I can find. Simple background checks today. All done in the office. Nothing dangerous for me today." As I said it, I shuddered. Yesterday, it hadn't occurred to me, but now it did. I was mere yards away from a murderer. I was on my way to see Katya. I could so easily have bumped into the murderer and wound up as collateral damage. Yet, I didn't bump into him, or her. In fact, from what I could glean, no one saw anyone leaving Katya's suite after Lauren left. How could that have happened? If there was no evidence on Lauren to connect her to the crime — although she was seen leaving the room after loudly threatening Katya — then how did someone else get in and out without being seen? That reminded me: how did Shelley escape from the locked room where I was trapped inside?

  "You've got a look," said Fletcher. "I don't know what it means, but I know one when I see one."

  "How could someone get in and out of a room without being seen?" I asked.

  "What kind of a room? Katya's suite?" he guessed, correctly.

  I nodded. "Lauren was seen leaving, but she denies being the killer."

  "They all say that," interrupted Delgado, waving for me to continue.

  "Let's say she didn't do it. How does someone else get in and out without being seen?"

  "More than one exit," said Fletcher.

  I put my palm on my forehead. Could it really be that simple? "I didn't see one."

  "Doesn't mean it isn't there."

  I picked up my desk phone and dialed Solomon.

  "Good morning, beautiful," he said, and I guessed he was alone.

  "Where are you?" I asked.

  "At home. What's up?"

  "Can you get blueprints for the hotel?"

  "I have them already. Why?"

  "Does Katya's suite show any extra exits aside from the main door leading onto the hallway that connects all the suites?"

  "Not that I recall."

  "I'm playing devil's advocate for Lauren. I think there might be another exit. Assuming Lauren didn't kill Katya, that's why no one saw the murderer enter or exit their suite."

  There was a long silence. I was about to say Solomon's name when he said, "I'll get on it. Anything else?"

  "No. That's it."

  "Dinner later?"

  I turned away slightly, dropping my voice to whisper into the phone. It was unprofessional to arrange a date with the boss, but I had an important question to ask: "Are you cooking?"

  "Yes. Be here at seven."

  "I'll bring wine. Any preference?"

  "Victoria's Secret."

  "I don't think they do... oh!" I smiled. "Okay. Later, John." I hung up, swinging around. Delgado and Fletcher stared at me with their arms crossed and silly smiles on their faces. "Oh, shut up," I said, but I didn't mean it.

  Opening up my laptop, I set up four new files, one for each member of B4U. I needed to find out about their pasts, and not just the squeaky clean stories they fed to the media. What I needed were their real histories, the parts of their lives that would reveal the secrets the blackmailer already knew. At the moment, however, I was several steps behind that mystery player. I needed to get ahead. Even more pressing, I needed to find out if the murderer and blackmailer were the same person. Second, I had to pare down my suspect pool.

  Somehow, I didn't think the band would agree to having their personal lives so closely scrutinized in order to find the blackmailer, but I tried to ignore the mild discomfort I felt at poking through their pasts. After all, I was doing it in order to help them. Since no one except Shelley would tell me any secrets, I had to find them out for myself.

  The question was: whom to start with? I decided on Katya. Could her secret have been the reason for her murder? I wondered, as I started with simple searches. To save time, I put in requests for Shelley, Lauren, and Amelia's birth records, as well as their financials, DMV licenses, and details of their former residences. Some of those I could get by legal means; some of them Lucas could access. I never asked how he got them either. While I waited on those, I printed the photos I took the previous day of the blackmail letters and spread them out across my desk.

  On a large pad of paper, I wrote Katya - Russia? Under that, I added: Shelley - ten years ago. I added sex tape to that since Shelley readily admitted what her blackmail secret was. Then I added Amelia and secret, the only clue offered in the letters. Finally, I added Lauren - Michael?

  Calling up an internet browser, I began to type Katya's full name, but auto fill suggested "found dead", "murdered", and "tragic death" as the first three possible options. Clearly, her death had leaked to the press. I clicked the top option and scrolled through the news reports. All the national papers mentioned it as well as most of the gossip blogs. Some ran the story with photos of her covered body being removed from the hotel on a gurney before it was loaded into the coroner's van. It was gratuitous and served no purpose. The press, I noted, already had the basic information of the murder case. They all knew it wasn't a natural death, and the police were treating it as a murder. Their accounts differed as to whether there was a suspect, or someone in custody, or any suspects at all. There were a few shots of a distraught-looking Lauren, and more where she hid her pale face behind dark glasses. Fortunately, to my relief, there was nothing in the press about B4U's raucous afternoon escape.

  I returned to the search page and typed Katya's full name again, adding "Russia" to my search query, before hitting enter. There were hundreds of pages. I opened the first one, an interview where Katya spoke at length about her early years in Russia, and her family's struggles to reach the US and settle here. The other pages I opened had the same or similar stories in varying degrees of detail. Very few of the articles carried any photos of Katya's early life, but that was easy to write off as her family being too poor to own a camera. It puzzled me, however, that there were no candid shots taken later from elementary or high school, or even from a yearbook. Katya often talked about school and her struggles to learn English so I knew she attended school. Surely someone had evidence to disprove her public story? Why hadn't they sold them?

  "Got the birth records," said Lucas, tapping me on the shoulder and making me jump.

  "That was fast. Do I want to know how?"

  "No. Just know that I have my ways. I couldn't get Katya's, but I figured she was born in Russia, so that's no surprise. I'll reach out to my contacts there. I got her immigration papers..."

  "How do you obtain this stuff?"

  "Again, I have my ways. Here're the birth records for the oth
er three. I thought they were all supposed to be teen stars or something."

  "They started that way," I told him. "They're all in their early twenties now."

  "Take a closer look at the dates on their certificates," Lucas said. "DMV licenses are here, but their financials are going to take a while. They've got high-level accounts. That means extra levels of security to overcome. They're probably used to hack attacks. Might be quicker just to ask them."

  "I would if I thought they would give me access, but I'm guessing, no. Will you keep trying?"

  "Sure."

  I shuffled the papers Lucas gave me, taking his advice to look closer at the dates on the birth records. Katya was twenty-three as widely reported. Lauren was twenty-five, but I was pretty sure she claimed to be twenty-three. Shelley was twenty-six. That was no biggie. Plenty of starlets lied about their age. I moved Amelia's to the top of the pile and frowned. Amelia would be thirty next month. Now that was entirely at odds with her claim. Just to be sure, I typed her name into the search engine, and sure enough, the band's Wiki named her as the oldest member of the band at a mere twenty-four. That meant while the rest of the band became famous at seventeen, nineteen and twenty — just young enough to pass for a faked younger age — Amelia was already twenty-three. Was her true age a big enough secret for her to hide it? If that were the case, why was her blackmail message so cryptic?

  As I began contemplating that, my cell phone rang.

  "Hi, Solomon," I said, smiling, wondering if he had any other requests for later.

  "The story broke nationwide," he said.

  "I saw online. What do you need me to do?"

  "Nothing. Stay put. Press are arriving and it's going to be a circus here at the hotel soon. That’s going to make our investigation harder. For now, I need you to stay out of the way so that all the focus remains on the murder and away from the blackmail."

  "Got it."

  "Where are you with the case?"

  "Just running background checks. I think I discovered Amelia's secret. She's seven years older than she claims to be."

  "Would you pay to keep that quiet?" Solomon asked.

  "If I were a teen idol, maybe. Did you get the hotel plans?"

  "Working on it, but I think you're right about extra exits. I went to the hotel and checked Amelia and Shelley's suite against the blueprints I have, and there's some kind of hidden access. I just can't work out how to get into it."

  "Secret tunnels are so cool!"

  Solomon made an unimpressed noise. "Where are you with the letters?"

  "Since Joe wouldn't let us remove them from the hotel, I took photos. I'm reviewing them again while I run background checks. I'd like to continue interviewing the band."

  "Could be a problem. They were supposed to start shooting their new music video today, but it's been called off for now, due to Katya's death. They have the time, but I insisted they remain in the hotel, and I've told you to stay out. Plus, their PR is here, briefing them on how to talk to the media in the days ahead. They're already talking about interviews and a real life story movie, made for TV," he finished wearily.

  "I guess that's celebrity."

  "Let me see what I can arrange with regards to access."

  "Is Joe still mad at me?"

  "He's too distracted to stay mad," Solomon told me. "Since yesterday, he's moved onto bigger issues, but he does want an update later on where we are with the blackmail letters. If they get out, on top of the murder, this nightmare will be never-ending for them all and our jobs will be a lot harder."

  "I'm on it," I assured him. I spread the newly printed blackmail letters across my desk. After hanging up, and making my second coffee of the day, I got comfortable and assessed the letters from start to finish, arming myself with a big notepad to scrawl down my thoughts.

  I started from the top. Katya got the first letter, with the second, third, and fourth, addressed to each of the other band members. The same cycle was repeated through letters five to eight. In total, each band member got two individual letters demanding a transfer deposit to the phantom account. Then, the pattern changed; letters nine to ten were addressed to the whole band with the same extortion demands.

  The letters were all typed so it would have been impossible to get handwriting samples to match. The paper was thin and appeared to be a standard printer paper, although I had to recall that from memory since all I had now were the photos.

  I wrote on my pad, access to computer and printer.

  Next, I looked closely at the content of the letters. They were brief and straight to the point. Each started by personally addressing the recipient, with a terse note about the secret the blackmailer knew, and then directions for depositing the ransom money. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't signed off with a name, which just told me that some blackmailers were undeniably rude.

  Underneath my first note, I added, find out who owns bank account. It was an offshore account, according to Solomon, and I figured just about anyone could set one up so unless a personal appearance was necessary, that didn't rule out anyone so far. I added, How was the account created? and then, How is it managed?

  I picked up my desk phone and dialed Lucas's extension. My biggest and best shot at a lead was to find out who owned the account. I could only hope the bank wasn't so mired in secrecy that Lucas couldn't get past their systems.

  "Talk to me," he said on answering.

  "Okay, since you insist, could you find out who set up the blackmailer’s bank account?" I read out the numbers while he made a note.

  "Solomon mentioned that. It's going to take more time than usual."

  "I'm glad you're on it," I told him, which was a lot nicer than "Get started!" and hung up.

  Even though I pored over the letters, just like I had the previous day, I had no success in narrowing down my enormous list of suspects. What I needed was a way to knock people off the list. Unfortunately, without talking to Joe or the band, I had no easy way of learning the answers I needed.

  My eyes were getting tired, which was no good for my skin regimen, and I was getting frustrated. Shuffling the photos of the letters into a pile, I dropped them into a manila envelope, and had to admit defeat.

  Besides, wasn't there a murder to solve?

  Despite all my attempts, I couldn't shake the mental image of Katya lying there, dead. It didn't matter how many dead bodies I'd seen, each one was shocking.

  The question remained: was the blackmailer I searched for responsible? Did Katya confront someone about the incessant demands and threats to reveal her secret? Did she threaten to expose them? I wouldn't have put it past her to get nasty and retaliate, I thought as I rocked back in my chair and stretched my legs, my mind racing ahead. It was conceivable that Katya might have even discovered who the blackmailer was. She might have had a vicious mouth, but she seemed pretty smart. As soon as I thought of her confronting the blackmailer, I discounted it. She hadn't gone looking for the creep, but died in her own hotel suite. Someone went there. Someone came to see her... or she must have summoned someone. Someone who knew how to get in and out of her suite without being seen.

  That puzzled me. B4U had only been in the suite a few days before Solomon and I arrived for our meeting. That could have given someone connected to them enough time to discover any secret entrances into their rooms. However, it seemed more likely that a hotel employee, or someone else who regularly serviced the rooms would have had that knowledge. That didn't mean it was an employee. An employee could easily have unwittingly passed on any access secrets to the murderer.

  How did the killer know Katya would be alone? The killer must have approached her after Lauren stormed out. Did that mean someone was watching the pair? They had returned from an unscheduled trip to the mall, argued, and Lauren unexpectedly retreated to Shelley and Amelia's room. Their movements couldn't have been precisely foreseen or predicted.

  The more I thought about it, the more implausible it seemed that the killer was an unknown assailant. Alth
ough no forensic evidence was found on Lauren, as far as I could see with my own eyes, all clues still pointed to her. She was the obvious person. She had motive and access. She shouted to Katya as she left and Katya didn't shout back. My only problem with it was: it was just too easy. That, and Lauren didn't even attempt to conceal her lack of alibi.

  I didn't want to pin it on Lauren, but I couldn't help placing her at the top of list as my number one suspect.

  More confused than ever, I deposited all my photos and files into my desk drawer, locked up and left. After grabbing my overnight bag from home, I was halfway to Solomon's house when Lily called me. "Why didn't you tell me Katya was dead! We've spoken twice since it happened! Ohmygosh! This is huuuuge! Who did it?"

  "No idea," I told her truthfully.

  "Was it a member of the band?" Lily asked, and I paused a fraction too long. "Oh, wow! Really? Which one? Who did it? Why didn't you tell me any of this? I had to find out from TMZ!"

  "I was going to tell you yesterday when I came by the bar."

  "I need to know everything now!"

  "I'm on my way to Solomon's..."

  "Meet you there," Lily squealed and the line clicked dead.

  She was waiting for me on Solomon's doorstep by the time I turned onto his street, and searched for a parking space. Lily's turquoise blue Mini occupied the prime spot right outside his house, meaning I had to drive all the way to the end of the block before I found one. Grabbing my bag from the passenger seat, I walked back and let us both inside.

  I told Lily everything while she cooed, gasped, and speculated on who the most likely murderer might be: Lauren, Shelley, Amelia, or, her wild card, Joe Carter.

  I poured us both a glass of water after Lily refused wine and we perched on the bar stools at the island in Solomon's large, elegant kitchen. "Maybe I should tail them?" Lily suggested. "Pick one. Any one. Make it Amelia, she's my favorite."

  I wondered if she would still be Lily's favorite if she knew Amelia's lies about her age. "No need. The paparazzi tail them wherever they go, and according to Solomon, Montgomery will be crawling with them soon."