Suspicion of Murder

by G. K. Parks

  “Don’t worry, I don’t think being accused of attempted murder is contagious,” I said in lieu of a greeting. My witty banter was lost on the group who grew even warier.

  Our crack team of investigators got back to business thanks to the cajoling of our fearless, monotone leader. Every single incident report was being rechecked, and the crime scene photos were all re-examined in connection with the reports. Any recorded fact had to be verified by two sources before any of us was willing to accept it as true. The day proceeded at a painfully tedious pace as we slowly recompiled the reports for the first two heists.

  “An hour break for dinner and then we’ll continue with the next two heists,” Cooper announced. Leaning back in the chair, I stared at the mess of paperwork and splayed photos. My eyes were dry and tired, and I wondered when I last blinked. “Let’s finish up the original reports today, and tomorrow, we will have fresh eyes to examine Agent Parker’s shooting.” The way he said it made it seem like I was the one running around with a gun, just for the hell of it.

  Mark and I elected to order delivery and continued to work through dinner. At the OIO, we were used to long hours, and breaking for dinner just meant that much more sleep we’d be missing. Together, we closed the file on the third club robbery and were working through the details of the fourth when our FBI affiliates returned.

  “Webster,” Mark said, “read through our compilations and look for any similarities in the first three heists. Darli, take everything down to the lab and have them go over all the forensic conclusions and lab results the police department developed.” The two agents did as they were instructed, and Cooper took a seat and began working on part of the fourth heist.

  “Jablonsky, did you notice this?” He held up a photo of the cash register from behind the bar. Mark squinted, and Cooper slid it over, along with a magnifying glass. “Do you think it was there before the robbery?”

  “Only one way to know for sure,” Mark said, passing the photo to me. There were scuff marks on the drawer. Maybe the perpetrator couldn’t get it open as easily as we were led to believe. “Want to send a team down to find out?”

  Cooper grinned ever so slightly. “Are you volunteering?” Maybe it was obvious how badly I wanted to leave the room because if it wouldn’t have seemed completely infantile, I would have grabbed Mark’s arm and jumped up and down while begging to go.

  “Sure. Parker and I will be back in the morning. Is that okay, sir?” Mark might have realized he overstepped his boundaries, or he wanted to get the hell out of the conference room just as much as I did.

  “Good night, agents.”

  * * *

  “I could kiss you right now,” I murmured happily as we got into Mark’s car. “One more minute of the monotony and I might have jabbed my own eyes out.”

  “Please don’t. Are you talking about Cooper or the paperwork?”

  “Really, was there any difference?” He chuckled, turning right and heading for the main strip that housed all the clubs.

  For a Tuesday night, the place was almost as crowded as could be expected. There was no line to get in, and the bouncers seemed too bored to pay any attention to us as we entered. Wearing the classic black dress pants, button-up shirt, and black blazer, we were either die-hard fans of the Blues Brothers or federal agents. Mark went in search of the owner while I attempted to work my womanly wiles on the bartender.

  “What can I get you?” he asked.

  “Is that a new cash register?” Jerking my head at the ancient contraption, he turned and followed my gaze.

  “What do you think?” His response was sarcastic and abrasive. Maybe he could be my new best friend.

  “I’m guessing it was here when the robbery occurred.” He narrowed his eyes, realizing he was a little slow on the uptake.

  “Your guys have already been here to question me. They dusted the thing for prints or whatever, and it came out clean.”

  I pulled out my newly acquired badge and showed it to him. “Federal agent,” I smiled sweetly, “mind if I check the scratches on the front?” He audibly exhaled and waited for me to come around the bar. “Do you remember seeing these before the place was cleaned out?”

  “Look, lady,” he wasn’t the patient type either; we must be soul mates, “I told the cops I didn’t remember those before. They ran some tests or whatever it is you guys do with tape and shit, and when the bar was allowed to open again, the cash register was still here.”

  “Sir, did you assist the robber in opening the cash drawer?” It was fun to make people sweat. Sometimes, valuable information would surface.

  “Are you fucking with me? You’re fucking with me, right? I wasn’t even working Saturday night. I don’t work Saturdays.”

  “Have you ever jimmied open the register? It’s old. Might get stuck every once in a while.” My questions were leading, but he wasn’t on the stand, testifying.

  “Yeah, maybe once or twice, but I didn’t rob this place.”

  “Show me how you get the register to open.” He twisted a key, and the drawer popped open. He looked for approval or verification. Instead, I slammed the drawer shut and took the key from the corner. “Now show me how you get the drawer open.” He shot a disgusted look my way and reached into one of the alcoves under the bar and pulled out a crowbar. After some prying, the drawer popped open.

  “Happy?” he spat.

  “Thank you for your cooperation, sir.” I handed him the key and met Mark on the other side of the bar. “Get anything from the owner?”

  “He stuck with the same story we read in the reports. He doesn’t know anything about the scratches on the drawer.”

  “The bartender keeps a crowbar handy to pry the register open when it gets pissy. Anyone could have used it to open the drawer at any time, so we still aren’t any place more substantial than we were before.”

  On the way home, Mark stopped at a twenty-four hour discount store where I purchased a stainless steel ten cup coffeemaker which matched the other appliances in Martin’s kitchen. At least tomorrow morning would begin on a brighter note. When we arrived at Martin’s, Mark held up his badge to the agents stationed outside, and we were allowed to enter the house.

  “If the scratches were already on the drawer, why didn’t the police record the discrepancy in the report?” he asked as we sat in his parked car, staring at the rest of the garage and home gym.

  “My guess is our suspect jimmied the drawer open himself, and when he prepared the report, he left the scratch detail out because he didn’t want to make this scene stand out compared to the others.” Grasping at straws was always my way of handling supposition.

  “That or he was afraid the scratches could trace back to him.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, but you aren’t the only one who can throw around insane theories. Shall I give Cooper an update?”

  “Please.” I got out of the car and grabbed my coffeemaker from the backseat. “Are you staying tonight? Because I promise I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Was I that obvious?”

  “The only thing more obvious than you is the nagging feeling that Martin put you up to it.” I gave him a pointed look, knowing he’d cave if I pushed.

  “He called and asked if I could check in on you. He worries.”

  “You know it’s ridiculous.”

  “Yes, and I also know, regardless of what the surveillance tape would have me believe, you came to him wounded and asked for his help. Newsflash, Alexis, Marty isn’t the kind of guy to walk away when a crisis is still going on.”

  “The crisis is over. It was over the moment I walked into the police station and surrendered to Heathcliff.”

  He looked skeptical. “Fine. The agents are outside, and you have a radio upstairs in order to remain in contact. I will be back in the morning to pick you up. Try to figure out how to make coffee between now and then.”

  Fifteen

  The rundown of the Infinity heis
t and subsequent shooting had just concluded, and the four FBI agents were still staring at me. I didn’t enjoy being the center of attention, and with no one saying a word, I wondered if I left something out. Finally, Webster asked the only reasonable question.

  “If you didn’t know about the corruption case, why didn’t you go outside and clear matters up immediately?” He had a point.

  “Obviously, it’s because I was sent here to infiltrate your operation and discover how much you know about the crooked cop in order to report back. The bullet in my side and my stint in the hospital were to make the story more convincing,” I huffed. Darli reached toward his belt, and Mark intervened.

  “Parker, cut the crap. The gentlemen and lady would like an answer. We’d all like an answer.”

  “When an ally, someone else with a badge, gun, and authority, is telling a group of six other officers you just shot someone and should be considered dangerous, I’d like to see how you react to the situation. Keep in mind, until three days ago, I was a civilian. What other choice did I have?”

  “Where’d you go afterward?” Darli questioned.

  “Home. I’m sure you’ve seen my place. I got home, packed up what I could carry, called it in, and took off.”

  “You should have followed procedure and turned yourself in,” he continued. “We’d have this SOB by now if you had followed orders.”

  “Or your office would have been forced to turn me over to the police and I could have been killed in custody. We can stay here pondering a dozen what ifs, but it’s not going to change what happened. I reacted the most reasonable way possible given the circumstances and knowledge I possessed at the time.” The FBI agents fell silent.

  “While you were on the run, did you manage to collect any hard evidence?” Cooper decided it was best to get back to the matter at hand.

  “No, sir. The bullet was all I had. I spoke briefly with the staff from Infinity. Gretchen was the only person who admitted to seeing a police cruiser outside. You should bring her in for questioning. Also, when I sought out Mr. Papadakis, I was made aware of his condition. Do you have any leads on the culprit behind his attack?”

  “Papadakis isn’t talking,” Sullivan responded, glancing down at her notes. “He’s at his apartment with a protection detail on him.”

  “I can take a crack at him.” Maybe Ernie would open up to me. There was a look exchanged around the table, and then Cooper nodded.

  “Get to it, Parker. Sullivan, go with her.” Tossing a brief glance at Mark, I got up from the table and headed for the exit with Sullivan at my heels.

  * * *

  “Agents Sullivan and Parker to see Mr. Papadakis,” Sullivan told one of the two men stationed outside the door. We both pulled our credentials, and the man examined them closely before allowing us inside Ernie’s apartment.

  “Ernie,” I called as the door shut, “it’s Alexis.” He emerged from a room down the hallway, wearing a silk robe in the style of Hugh Hefner. His face was badly bruised, and he was limping. The way he held his side indicated a few broken ribs to top it off.

  “Nice to see you again, please make yourselves at home.” I introduced Agent Sullivan, who pretended to find something in the kitchen of particular interest.

  “What happened?” I asked as I sat across from him in the living room. “Who did this to you?”

  He waved his hand in the air and smiled warmly with his disfigured face. “I’m fine. Can’t keep a good man down, right?”

  “Mr. Papadakis, please,” I lowered my voice and checked to see what Sullivan was doing. She was out of earshot, contemplating the view from the kitchen window. “After I was shot at the club, I came to see you, but the doorman was spooked. When he called up to your place, they heard your cries for help and sent for an ambulance. You did deposit the money like I told you, right?”

  “Yes, of course.” He looked serious. “Alexis, my financiers didn’t do this. I was visited in the hospital by the person you said not to name, and he said a dirty cop was responsible and not to speak to the police, especially about his involvement.”

  “Did you see who did this? When did it happen?” I was exasperated by Ernie’s willingness to listen to Vito. Then again, I wasn’t sure acting against Vito’s wishes was sound advice either.

  “I’m not sure. I was asleep; the sun wasn’t up yet because my room was still pitch black.” He paled and swallowed. Reaching for his hand, I tried to be comforting, hoping it would encourage him to continue. “It all happened so fast. I didn’t know why they were there, but it was a warning to remain uninvolved.”

  “They? Uninvolved? How would you be involved?” I shook my head, trying to make sense of the details.

  “There were at least two of them. I heard talking when they left, but I didn’t see anything.” He was still ashen. “The one in charge said not to admit to knowing you or having hired you. My involvement with you was what I was supposed to keep quiet.”

  “Did you?”

  “Not really. When I was in the hospital, some federal agents asked if I knew your whereabouts, but I said no. I told them I just hired you a few days earlier for security, but I didn’t think you would shoot Sam. However, I told him what happened,” Ernie said, referencing Vito again. “He came to pay me a visit. After I told him, he said no one else could ensure my protection, and since he has eyes and ears around this city, he’d make sure it was fixed.”

  “But you had to keep your mouth shut.” He nodded uncomfortably. Sullivan had grown bored in the kitchen and came back into the living room. She looked to see if our meeting was over. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Papadakis.”

  We were almost to the door when Ernie called, “Alexis, I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

  “It’s just part of the job.”

  After we left the building, I filled in Sullivan on the few helpful facts Ernie had given us concerning his assailants, but I left out the part about Vito. I would have to mull over this tidbit before deciding if it should be divulged to the FBI, and what the consequences might be for Ernie and me. Sullivan was content to believe he was simply frightened that his attackers would be back if he didn’t follow their instructions, and that’s why he hadn’t spoken up sooner.

  At least my conversation with Ernie had disproved the theory of a sole unsub working alone. One other person was involved, maybe more. We were almost back to the office when Sullivan’s phone rang, and after answering, she handed it to me.

  “Parker,” Heathcliff sounded more business-like than usual, “an attempt was made on the agent posing as you at your apartment. O’Connell is on his way to investigate. Everyone’s okay, but Jablonsky decided it’d be best to turn it over to 911 dispatch and hope the guilty party might surface in response to the call. If you can get here, it’ll appear we were questioning you about the incident and not blow your decoy’s cover.”

  “On my way.” Sullivan u-turned illegally, and we headed for my apartment building. It was never a dull moment.

  Pulling up in front of my building, Heathcliff met us in the lobby and escorted me up the steps. Sullivan continued on her way to the actual debrief with my clone and the federal protection detail. Heathcliff remained silent until we were inside my apartment.

  “The detail in the lobby caught sight of a suspicious looking man and radioed ahead. The agents on the sixth floor stopped him, and he disappeared down the stairs. Dark jacket, bandana obscuring his face, and a cap, so needless to say, no positive ID can be made.”

  “Maybe Bandana wasn’t here for me.”

  “Right, and you believe in the Easter Bunny too.” Shrugging, I did a sweep of my apartment. Dishes were in the sink, and there was a blanket balled up on my sofa.

  “Now what? I wait around and see who else shows up?”

  “Not much else for you to do.” He took a seat at my dining room table, and I joined him. “At least you’re home.” I laughed bitterly.

  Ten minutes later, O’Connell knocked on the door. The call had g
one out over the wire, and he was attempting to react normally. From past experience, when calls went out concerning me, he’d show up. The three of us sat at the table. When I couldn’t take the silence any longer, I washed the dishes my clone left, folded the blanket, and did my best to resist the urge to go into my room to see what had or hadn’t been touched. Giving in, I entered my bedroom and found my bed made and everything else as I had left it. At least she was sleeping on my couch and not being overly intrusive.

  There was a knock on the door, and O’Connell answered it. Heathcliff put his hand on the butt of his gun, and he signaled for me to remain out of sight. Detective Hoskins was standing at the front door, wearing a dark jacket and looking confused.

  “Guess I’m a little late to the party,” he said casually. O’Connell met my glance, and I emerged from my room.

  “Hoskins?” I asked. Was he the dirty cop? His jacket fit, and he walked right into our trap.

  “Parker,” he smiled, “I’m glad you’re doing better. We never got a chance to discuss the Infinity shooting. I was just on my way to meet with a CI when the call came over the radio, and I wanted to make sure the bastard didn’t come back.”

  Heathcliff and O’Connell were doing a decent job appearing nonchalant. There was no need to tip Hoskins off that this was meant to be a sting, and I took a breath and reminded myself of all the details only the shooter would be aware of so as not to divulge anything relevant. We needed proof he was the shooter before he could be arrested.

  “You didn’t have to come here. The guys outside just overreacted. No big deal.” Turning my back to Hoskins was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had two armed detectives for support. “Obviously, you’ve all had the same idea. Coffee anyone?” There was a round of no’s, and I decided it best to get this over with.

  “The call you made two Saturdays ago,” Hoskins sat next to Heathcliff at my table, “I should have responded more appropriately. I apologize.” Cocking an eyebrow up, I waited for him to continue. The overwhelming urge to confront him as the son of a bitch who shot me and nearly killed Harrigan needed to be quelled. “Any idea who the shooter is?”