Suspicion of Murder

by G. K. Parks

  “Sleep first. Celebrate later.” I went back to the bedroom, assuming he would follow whenever he was done prancing around. “If you shut up and go to sleep, I’ll make it worth your while later on,” I mumbled as I got into bed. He joined me a few minutes later, having changed out of his suit.

  * * *

  Seated at my dining room table, I was going through the Infinity employee manifest and recording my notes in the margins. Martin emerged from my bathroom, showered and dressed. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed my neck.

  “That was a hell of a way to celebrate,” he cooed. Blushing slightly, I giggled. “However, the paperwork needs to go.” He took a seat beside me and attempted to read over my shoulder. I dropped my pen on the table and turned to face him, noting the clock on the wall. “What’s the rest of your day look like?”

  “Damn, it’s already four. I’ve got three hours until I have to be at the club.” I rubbed my eyes and tried to think. It was important to make sure any suspicions I had about the wait-staff or bartenders were written down for later consideration since I was hard-pressed for time. Once again, no one seemed criminal or sinister, except for Ernie’s liquor supplier and Mafioso ties. Neither of which I planned to investigate. Sighing, I noticed Martin assessing me appreciatively, which as usual was uncomfortable. “Stop that.”

  He smiled and looked at the table. “Let’s get out of here and go somewhere nice for lunch, dinner, a senior citizen early bird special. Whatever.” He looked up with his green eyes. “Do you mind driving? Marcal dropped me off.”

  An hour later, we were two of the only people sitting at Giovanni’s. By six, the bar would start to fill up, and at seven, the tables nearby would be occupied. But right now, it was nice having some privacy. Finishing my chicken parmesan, I took a sip of iced tea before answering Martin’s question about my current investigation.

  “There isn’t much to tell. Honestly, he’s paranoid because there is no indication whatsoever of his club being targeted.” I was leaving out the details so Martin wouldn’t know where I was working or who I was working for. “Comes Sunday morning, I’ll be finished, one way or another.” He chewed thoughtfully, but before he could respond, his phone rang. “Duty calls.”

  “Sorry,” he apologized, wiping his mouth and answering. After a couple of moments, I knew it was work. I swirled the straw around my glass, waiting patiently. When he concluded the call, he put his phone away. “Since Kiev’s been secured, I have paperwork and board meetings to contend with. The Board wants an update, and they want the merger documentation ready to go by Monday. And since you’re working Saturday into Sunday, I might as well catch up on things and put in my eight to four workdays this weekend.”

  “Workaholic,” I quipped.

  “Et tu, Bruté?” He handed the waitress his credit card, and I thanked him for dinner. “So when are we doing this again?”

  On the drive back to my place, we tried coming up with some mutual free time. The problem was I didn’t know what was up with Mark and Nick or if I wanted to jump aboard on their joint venture. Martin was out of town next weekend, so we were playing it by ear. The one good thing was we were both okay putting work first. He got it, and so did I.

  “You have everything, right?” I did a quick sweep of my bedroom and bathroom.

  “It would be nice to have a drawer here. Or, I don’t know, some counter space in the bathroom. Even just a toothbrush. You have a drawer at my place.”

  “When you go home, I want you to look in the drawer and see what’s inside. Then we’ll have this conversation again.” It was true; he had given me a drawer at his place. Although, the drawer was more accurately the guest suite on the second floor since I had some issues when it came to certain levels of his compound, namely the top level which unfortunately was where his bedroom was situated. The symbolic drawer was in the dresser in the guestroom, and the only thing inside was one of his shirts which I had claimed as my own. Jones, his bodyguard whom I nicknamed Bruiser, knocked on my door, interrupting our argument. “I’ll give you a call Sunday.”

  “Good, and we can discuss the drawer dilemma in more detail,” he said before kissing me goodbye.

  * * *

  Friday night at Infinity was a veritable replay of Thursday. The crowds were larger, but the work was the same. Ernie schmoozed with some VIPs, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. After the club closed for the night, I went home and got some sleep before Hoskins called.

  “Are you still looking out for some paranoid club owner?” he asked as way of greeting.

  “Uh-huh,” I grunted, getting up and checking the time. It was a little after noon, and there was too much to do to actually try to go back to sleep. “Did you hear something?”

  “No. Still digging into third party vendors, hoping to find a lead. What are you planning on doing?”

  “Just keeping my eyes open for anyone suspicious. I doubt it’s going to be a problem, but I plan to hang out at the club until close, wait around a bit, and call it a job well done. You got eyes on any particular locations for tonight?”

  “Hopefully, the fourth heist was the final heist. Whoever it is must realize how much greater the risk will be.”

  “Criminals aren’t usually geniuses,” I commented before disconnecting. I was surprised Hoskins called, but maybe he just wanted to make sure I hadn’t infiltrated the robbers. My reputation was stellar, but when a case went cold, even I couldn’t heat it up.

  Deciding some menial labor might help my brain recognize unseen factors, I did the laundry, changed the sheets and towels, and otherwise cleaned my entire apartment. When this failed to send me into a tailspin of theories and answers, I grabbed my uniform for Infinity and headed to my office. Once there, I re-familiarized myself with the blueprints of the club, the exits, entrances, surveillance equipment, and security measures. There wasn’t much else to do except wait.

  I arrived early for my shift and found Ernie seated at the bar, going over expense reports while eating a churro. As soon as no one else was around, I sat down next to him and reiterated my few helpful suggestions.

  “You’re emptying the safe tonight, right?” I asked.

  “I guess so. You did say it would be a good idea, right?” The way he questioned things made me wonder how he could be in charge of a place like this. Maybe his silent partners weren’t so silent.

  “Really, I don’t think anything is going down tonight, but if you want to be on the safe side, it wouldn’t hurt. You changed the combination and made sure all your security measures are up and running?” He nodded emphatically.

  “What are you going to do?” That was a good question.

  “Plant myself outside and run surveillance until daybreak, unless you have a better idea.” He shook his head. “If something happens, you do realize I’m going to call the police.”

  “Yes, what else would you do?” Ernie was genuinely confused by my comment. At least he didn’t expect me to personally apprehend the guilty parties or make them sleep with the fishes.

  “Not a thing.” Mary and Tina walked in, so I got off the barstool, thanked the boss for Monday off, and followed after the girls.

  We were in the ladies room, changing into our uniforms when I heard Gretchen burst in, speaking vehemently on her cell phone in German. She was upset, and from my limited knowledge of the language, it sounded as though someone was insisting she does as she was told. This piqued my interest, and exiting the stall, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, reapplying my makeup while watching her out of the corner of my eye. The only part of the conversation I understood was her repeatedly saying no and she couldn’t do it.

  With my luck, it was probably Gretchen’s boyfriend who was planning on robbing Infinity. Digging through my purse, I continued the ruse of looking for mascara while I tried to recall if she worked at any of the other clubs. Something was starting to feel off. Nanny by day, robber by night? And what was it she had been huddled in the corner talkin
g to Mindy about? Could the airhead not be as ditzy as she pretended to be?

  Gretchen hung up the phone and noticed me watching her. “Sorry.” I tried to look empathetic. “Is everything okay?”

  “No. Stupid men and their stupid ideas.” She huffed out of the room, and I began to reassess my position on Ernie’s paranoia.

  Six

  Saturday night could only be properly described as a maelstrom. The bouncers and linemen were occupied with keeping a proper count of how many people were entering and exiting in order to ensure the fire codes weren’t violated. Barry, Brian, and Sam were serving drinks so quickly that I had no idea how they managed to get any of the orders right, and the five of us waitressing should have been wearing tennis shoes, instead of stiletto heels with all the running back and forth, not to mention catering to the VIPs upstairs in the lounge. Working undercover was designed to provide an opportunity to scope out anyone suspicious, but at the rate things were going, I’d be lucky to remember which table was getting which tray of drinks.

  “Oh my god,” Mary panted as we practically collided at the bar, “this place has never been this busy. You’d think it was New Year’s Eve with the crowd here tonight.”

  “At least the tips are nice,” I retorted as Barry put the final drink on my tray, and I headed for the steps.

  All the separate VIP areas were completely full, and I studied the group situated closest to the office as I put the drinks on the table. This would be the perfect vantage point to enter the office and clean out the safe. Returning with a tray full of empty glasses, I wondered if the burglaries could have happened during business hours but had remained undetected until the next day.

  “Watch it,” a tall, pudgy guy yelled as he began to ascend the steps.

  “Sorry, sir.” I continued downward, reminding myself to pay more attention. Spotting Mindy scribbling orders at a nearby couch, I came up beside her. “Do me a favor and cover my tables for a few minutes. I need a bathroom break.” Not waiting for her protest, I dumped the tray on the bar and went toward the ladies room to call Hoskins.

  “You got something?” he asked excitedly. I was backed into the far corner of the club, hoping not to be overheard.

  “Probably not, but things have been a little strange. From the four other incident reports, do you think it’s possible the safes were emptied while the clubs were still in operation?”

  Hoskins blew out an audible breath that filled the awkward silence. “Stop grasping at straws,” he barked. “If you have something solid, then call, and if not, stop playing detective.” The phone slammed in my ear. For future reference, I would call his cell to avoid the dramatic hang up.

  Shutting my eyes, I went back to slinging drinks until the crowd died down. It was around two a.m., and everyone remaining had thankfully mellowed. Brian was cleaning up the storeroom and reorganizing while Sam and Barry continued to fill orders at a much more reasonable pace. Gretchen was sitting on a barstool, taking a break, when I returned with an empty tray and no requests for refills.

  “Remind me never to work another Saturday again.” I smiled at Sam. He snickered and put a drink in front of a guy who was chatting up some woman. “Lucky,” I turned to Gretchen, hoping to get a bit more out of her, “if I took a seat, there’d be no way I could get back up.”

  “Ja,” she replied, “you’ll get used to it. We all get used to it.” It didn’t seem like she was talking about work, but before I could ask anything else, Mindy appeared behind me.

  “Alexis, those guys on the couch are looking for you.” She jerked her chin at the back wall. “They probably need refills.” Sighing, I picked up my order pad and pen and headed across the room.

  “Don’t think you can just sit around and cool your heels when you’re dressed so smokin’ hot,” Det. Thompson mocked as I realized who was sitting at the table. Thompson, Heathcliff, and O’Connell were enjoying themselves, and there was little I could do about it since I was technically undercover.

  “Gentlemen, what can I get you?” My voice was a snarl which caused some grins to be exchanged.

  “A round of beers. Heathcliff’s buying.” O’Connell smiled evilly.

  “Don’t you think you might be more comfortable at the bar?”

  “Nah, the couches are pretty nice,” O’Connell replied.

  Turning on my heel, I went to the bar and retrieved three long necks. As I placed the beers on the ottoman, I spoke to O’Connell and Heathcliff since Thompson was currently on my shit list. “The VIP table upstairs next to the manager’s office got me thinking. Maybe the safes were emptied during business hours. I gave Hoskins a call, but the son of a bitch flew off the handle and hung up. Are you guys sticking around to keep an eye on things?”

  “Do you think something’s going down tonight?” Derek Heathcliff automatically moved his hand to his concealed weapon out of sheer habit.

  I glanced around before replying, “I have no idea. I don’t think so, but Gretchen,” I jerked my head in her direction and saw Nick shift his gaze to the bar, “came in acting strange, but I’m probably just on edge.”

  “We might stick around and loiter for a little while,” Nick replied. “Are you gonna comp us for the beers?”

  “On the house,” I responded before retreating to the bar.

  Twenty minutes later, Ernie descended the staircase with his duffel bag and nodded to me on his way out of the club. I kept a watchful eye on everyone who left afterward, but no one was tailing him. When the three detectives finished their beers and Thompson returned from snooping upstairs, they left the club, planning to sit outside in the car in case something were to happen. It was nice someone had my back, even if I was just a paranoid lunatic. It was more than what Det. Carl Hoskins was doing.

  After the frenzied rush of last call, the club quieted as the music stopped. The remaining stragglers slowly trickled out. Once the bar was closed, I changed out of my waitress get-up and into my street clothes and sensible shoes. The cleanup didn’t take nearly as long as I imagined, and by five, everyone had left except Sam. He was busy making sure all the bottles were properly organized and capped while I vacuumed and scrubbed the ottomans.

  “Are you almost ready?” he called.

  I had delayed leaving since I wasn’t about to let any of Ernie’s workers remain inside the club unattended. After all, any one of them could be a master safecracker. “Getting there. If you’re ready to go, you don’t have to wait for me.”

  “Not a problem. It’s late, and I thought I’d walk you to your car. In this neighborhood, you never know.” Sam was making surveillance an even greater challenge.

  “That’s sweet, but I can take care of myself.”

  He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so I finished tidying up the barstools and went to grab my purse from the storeroom which also served as the employee coat closet. There was a text message from an hour ago; my detective posse had been called away. Just as the thought formed in my mind that I wouldn’t need them tonight, I heard the clang of the double doors opening and closing.

  “Sam?” Maybe he was locking up. I put my jacket on and slipped my handgun into my pocket. “Sam?” I tried again. Before I could exit the storeroom, I heard two male voices, but they weren’t close enough to decipher. Then I heard one of the worst things imaginable.

  “Police. On the ground, now.” The voice was authoritarian, and I wondered what was going on. Was Sam in on the heist, and the police intervened in the nick of time? My first instinct was to surrender in order to avoid getting caught in a raid, but before I even cleared the bar, I heard a single gunshot. Automatically, I took cover against the doorjamb of the storeroom.

  No other voices surfaced. There was no radio chatter. The only sound was a single set of heavy footsteps walking through the club. The mirror behind the bar provided only a slight reflection, and I saw a man with a badge hanging from his neck circling around, a gun still in his hand. It wasn’t an inside job. It was someone impersonating a po
lice officer all along. Fuck.

  I tried to study his reflection, but he continued moving through the club and out of range of the mirror. The reflection provided little help anyway since it was only the assailant from the chest down. Slowly, I leaned around the doorjamb, checking to see where he went. The rules of the game had drastically changed, and I fumbled for my phone as I placed the 911 call. Before the operator connected, the heavy footsteps came down the main staircase, and in my haste, I knocked over a vodka bottle that shattered on the floor. Great. Just fucking great.

  “Police. Come out with your hands up,” an intentionally unrecognizable voice bellowed.

  The operator connected, and I gave her the address and reported a shooting still in progress. Come on, O’Connell, please don’t be too far away. The storeroom had one advantage which was the second staircase leading up, but that would be my last resort. I needed to try to buy time until the actual cops arrived.

  “Do you mind giving me your badge number, first?” I asked, glancing around and assessing my options. There were liquor bottles galore but not much else. There was no response, and I wondered if he was going to come around and surprise me using my intended escape route. Checking the clip in my gun, I risked a peek out of the storeroom, and he fired. The bullet ripped through the doorjamb, splintering the frame as wood shards and debris pummeled into my side and back. Ducking my head and turning my body away from the door, I reached around and fired blindly in his direction. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Picking up a bottle from the stockroom, I threw it somewhere in his general direction and fired again. It was meant as a warning. “Do you want me to light this place up? Because I’m sure there’s enough alcohol to make quite a boom. Then again, that might draw a little too much attention, don’t you agree?” There were sirens in the distance, and I could make out hurried footsteps going toward the double doors. Now was my chance.