Trix

by Kate Morris

  “He could’ve made an excuse like a guys-only fishing trip and took off for the weekend by himself. Then he could’ve headed out, found and stalked a woman, killed her, dumped the body and returned home.”

  “If he already travels for his job, then it makes the random dumping of bodies a lot easier,” she said.

  “Are you hungry? I can hit a drive-thru for you,” Jack offered as they drove past restaurants.

  “Not really. This cold is killing my appetite,” she admitted and scanned another file.

  “I grabbed your medicine and vitamin packets in case we’re gone a while. Can’t let you get sicker,” he said with care.

  Lorena offered a pathetic grin. She was sure her nose was red, her eyes bloodshot, her skin pale and sickly, but all she wanted to do was wrap up this case and go back home.

  “I don’t think I could get sicker,” she said and pulled a tissue from her pocket. “I don’t even know how I got sick. I’m never sick.”

  “First time for everything,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t have time for this crap,” Lorena commented. “We’ll make a note to look into Allie and Hailee’s music teachers, dig deeper.”

  “He knew them all, or at least the ones he had time to stalk for a while. Hailee just doesn’t fit his normal victim profile. She’s a good kid, sweet, kind, loved by all.”

  “On the outside, the façade she’d developed.”

  “Come on, she had a boyfriend, Evans,” Jack berated. “It’s not like she was a drug addict prostitute or stripper or homeless.”

  “No, but she lied to her parents. She did lead something of a double life if you think about it.”

  “But how the hell would he know that if he wasn’t involved with her very personally.”

  “Not sure,” she said. “Therapist? Did she go to a therapist regularly?”

  “Let me make a call,” he said and whipped out his phone.

  Lorena waited while Jack talked on his phone. His greeting disturbed her, mostly that he had her number in his phone.

  “Hey, Liz,” he said to his ex-wife, “did Hailee go to therapy? Was she seeing a therapist on a regular basis? Uh-huh, sure. What about her cello tutor? Who was it? What? Spell that.”

  Lorena waited patiently until he finished the call.

  “She only saw a therapist after her mother died,” he said. “Her cello instructor was a man, so that takes some of the guesswork out of it.”

  “Name,” Lorena demanded so that she could start running a check on him.

  “Basil Kovac, immigrant from Serbia. Elizabeth said he’s young, maybe thirty-five. She also said he’s trustworthy and a good guy. That means we definitely look into him.”

  “Someone she trusted, someone she confided in, that’s who we’re looking for. Nothing else makes sense. Then who else knew about her in such a personal way? Who would she have told about her secret boyfriend and everything else? That’s got to be the only reason he took her. Nothing else adds up.”

  “We’ll look at the music teacher and the art dealer. Then we’ll check into Christof Neumann.”

  “Got it. They’re all on the list.”

  They pulled in and found Craig in the lobby waiting for them.

  “He’s in the interrogation room,” he said to Lorena. “Man, you are sick. I wanted you to go in with me, but I think I’ll take Jack.”

  “No, I’ll go, too,” she said.

  “You sure, Evans?” Jack asked with genuine concern.

  “I’ve never been better.”

  They both laughed at her, and Craig led the way to interview their newest suspect.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jack

  “Got a history on the two new people you wanted us to pull,” Craig said to Lorena as they walked down a long corridor in the basement.

  “Which ones? There are so many,” Jack joked.

  “The music teacher and Neumann’s brother. Neither one looks good. The teacher was arrested last year for solicitation, assault of his ex-girlfriend years ago, and stalking.”

  “Sounds like a winner,” Lorena said. “We’ll have to pay him a visit next.”

  “What about the brother?” Jack asked.

  Craig groaned aloud, “Man, he’s no angel, either. He’s got a long rap sheet of arrests and not one conviction.”

  “For what?” Lorena asked and coughed once. Jack handed her the box of cold medicine, to which she shook her head. She probably didn’t want to zonk out in the middle of an interrogation, but she needed to kick her cold before she ended up in the hospital. She looked like shit, which was nearly impossible for Lorena in his opinion.

  Craig continued to read off crimes, “Accused of rape, twice. Both times the women dropped the charges, and the D.A. didn’t prosecute it further.”

  “Probably scared them off or paid them off,” Jack speculated.

  Craig nodded, “That’s what I figured, too.”

  “What about Moreti?” Lorena asked about the man they were going to question.

  “Moreti’s got a record, too. He was charged when he was younger with art fraud. Then, more importantly to our case, he was accused of sex crimes against minors in France, where he is no longer welcome. He tried to say he was set up, that the two fourteen-year-old girls were just posing for his sculptor at Moreti’s flat in Paris and that he didn’t assault them. It didn’t fly with the judge over there, even though the sculptor also testified that the girls were lying. It apparently didn’t matter to the judge. They kicked his ass out of the country. Other than that, the crimes are all listed as counterfeiting art and stuff that we don’t care about and doesn’t pertain to our case.”

  “He talked to her that night at the charity dinner,” Lorena said.

  “Plus,” Jack added, “Harvey Phillips, the other art dealer we talked to, said he knew that Moreti had a home up north where he’d take young women. This guy could be him.”

  “It doesn’t explain how you’ve been receiving texts from him, though,” Craig said.

  “Is there a way that I’d still get a text from a burner phone from Europe?” she asked.

  Craig said, “I’m not sure. Let me get our techs on that.”

  Jack didn’t know too much about that sort of thing, so he’d let Craig look into it for them. Pre-paid, untraceable phones were a pain in the ass for the police. He understood people’s reasons for wanting their privacy, but it also opened the floodgates to drug dealers and people who needed to communicate without the police being able to track them.

  Lorena added before they went in, “He has a house up north. We traced the address. It’s a good location for doing what this freak does with women. He travels. He’s always moving around, flying all over the world. We should run a check and see if there have been similar incidents in places he has lived or worked overseas.”

  Craig stated, “Why don’t you two go in and question him, and I’ll start those stats in the database.”

  Jack nodded. Lorena led the way, opening the door to their art dealer. At first glance, Jack thought he looked like any other ordinary man. Then as he drew nearer, he could tell something wasn’t quite right. The man’s sunglasses, round, small and very dark rested on the table in front of him. His brown and gray hair was long, probably halfway down his back and pulled into a thin ponytail. When he smiled, it looked more greasy than genuine. He was tall, thin, insect-like in stature and build. He didn’t appear to be physically capable of kidnapping women, but Jack knew not to underestimate his strength based on just appearance alone. His clothing was refined, but when Jack looked closer, he saw that the edges of his burgundy brocade jacket were frayed and tattered just slightly. His black satin blouse had the first six buttons undone, exposing the top half of his torso. It was as if he were play acting a specific look of a renaissance man that he saw in a book once. It came off as artifice mixed with a bizarre arrogance. The dude was a squirrel.

  He and Lorena took seats on the other side of the table, and Jack introd
uced them to Moreti.

  “Why on earth have you brought me here, Detective?” he asked Jack in a thick Italian accent.

  Jack was beginning to wonder if the name, accent and everything about the guy was fraudulent.

  “About three weeks ago, you went to a charity event at the home of Elizabeth and Victor Neumann,” Lorena said, her voice hollow and scratchy from her cold. “Do you recall the evening?”

  “I do not recall,” he said, poking his nose in the air. “Your fellow police officers took my phone when they brought me back here.”

  Jack knew they were looking at it. With the heat on this case to get it solved, find Hailee, and shut up the damn media, the judge and the Director were working in tandem to move things along as fast as possible. Nobody wanted a dead girl on the nightly news, at least not any more dead girls than they’d already had. He had no doubt that Victor was also placing a lot of pressure on people, as well. He knew people, had connections that most didn’t, and probably kept the judge on speed dial. It was one of the perks of being the District Attorney.

  “An event Mrs. Neumann held at her home, outside, backyard, patio, big white tents, catered dinner, all for charity,” Lorena said, trying to jog his memory.

  “Perhaps,” he conceded.

  “She has a daughter. Hailee.”

  “I don’t recall,” he said, clearly lying.

  Lorena didn’t mince words, “I have it from a reliable source that you spoke at length with her daughter, Hailee. What did you speak with her about?”

  He squirmed in his chair, nervous, agitated.

  Jack asked, “Did you talk to her about the party?”

  “Yes, I believe I may have spoken with her for a moment. It was not something I felt I should devote to memory. Clearly.”

  “But you now remember speaking with her,” Lorena said. “What about? Take your time.”

  His dark eyes flitted to Lorena with ill-concealed contempt. Then he recovered and said, “Art, I believe. She’s a budding artist. Why so many questions about the Neumann daughter?”

  “She’s missing,” Lorena said honestly and went right on talking as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the room. “So, you spoke with her about her art? I heard from another art dealer who was there that night about Hailee’s art.”

  “Oh? Well, then, perhaps she will get picked up by a local gallery.”

  “He’s an international dealer like you.”

  He thought for a moment before moaning dramatically and rolling his eyes, “You mean Harvey? The man is an officious little toad.”

  “Tell me about your conversation with Hailee in detail,” Lorena prompted.

  “She spoke to me about art,” he answered in an elusive manner and examined his nail beds as if bored of them already.

  “What else? I was told you went off and talked to her for an extended amount of time just by yourselves.”

  This caused him to fidget again. “No, not in the manner of which you speak.”

  “Explain it then,” Lorena said.

  “Do you think I had something to do with this young lady’s disappearance?”

  “Not yet, but I’d like to know more. If you have nothing to hide, then you’ll speak freely with us about her,” Lorena informed him with less patience.

  “Fine. I will tell you what you want to hear,” he said. “I spoke with the Neumann daughter about her art. She wanted to know if I thought she was good enough to get into art school. Between you and me, I don’t know if she is because I deal mostly in sculptures and she is a sketch artist. The conversation did not last long at all, and I have not thought about her since- until you just brought it up. Honestly, I don’t really know the girl. I hope her family finds her, but I couldn’t tell you where she is. Perhaps she ran off to New York City to join an art school.”

  The longer he spoke, the thicker his accent grew.

  “Why do you say New York?”

  He shrugged, “She mentioned she might want to go there for school.”

  “Did she tell you that she was already accepted to another college elsewhere?”

  He shook his head.

  “Did she speak to you about her father?”

  “Victor Neumann? The lawyer? No, I don’t recall her discussing her family or their business with me. It was strictly about art.”

  “What about her boyfriend? Did she mention him?”

  He seemed surprised to hear this, “Boyfriend? No, she did not tell me she had a boyfriend.

  “Did she take you to her room that night to show you her art?”

  “No, the basement. She keeps it in the back of the…how do you say…where the wash is done?”

  “The utility room? A laundry room?”

  “Si, yes,” he replied.

  “Just the two of you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I see no harm in this. I want to help if she has a passion for art.”

  “What about your home up north?” Lorena asked, tactically changing direction on him.

  His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “I know you have a home north of here,” she confessed, drawing him out.

  “Yes, I own a home on a lake. I own other homes, as well. A flat in New York, an apartment in Venice. It is important for my job.”

  “You live in big cities, but out here you live in isolation?”

  He cleared his voice and said, “I wanted privacy away from the busy city. It is my place of…sanctuary.”

  “Do you ever take women there?” Jack asked.

  “On occasion. I have been known to throw a party or two.”

  “What about Hailee? Was she ever there?”

  His heavy, unkempt brow furrowed, “No, never. I only just met her at her mother’s party. I don’t know of this young woman.”

  Jack had a bad feeling Moreti was telling the truth, so he changed their questioning, “Ever go to college in Florida?”

  “University? No, not for university. I’ve been to the… so how you call them the Keys. A friend of mine has a yacht there. Lovely place, full of artists and little shops. Hemingway found inspiration there I read.”

  “Great,” Lorena said without enthusiasm, “Where did you go following the party?”

  “I flew out the next morning to London. I have a small gallery outside the city. There was an event I didn’t want to miss, buyers from Portugal coming in.”

  “How long were you there?”

  He smiled again, exposing yellowing teeth. He was probably a smoker. Many Europeans still were. “Approximately for one week. Then I went with friends to ski in Sweden. Then on to Spain and then Netherlands. That’s when I received a call from my assistant that your investigators needed my help on a case here. I took the first flight I could.”

  “No, we arranged for you to take a flight. We had a difficult time getting in touch with you, actually.”

  He smirked, “I travel quite extensively, Ms. Evans.”

  “I realize that. Did you return to the states and then travel back to Europe in the last three weeks?”

  “No, I had an itinerary to adhere to. I have very important clients, you see. They don’t like being kept waiting. I acquire new sculptures nearly every week, so it is important that I stay in touch with my buyers. I can’t go dawdling about on holiday all the time.”

  “But you like keeping the lake house up north for exactly that,” Lorena pointed out.

  “Yes, for relaxing when I can.”

  “And taking women, young women there?”

  “Not young enough to be illegal in this country, Detective,” he said with superiority. “I know the law here.”

  “I’m sure you do. Is there anything you wouldn’t want us to see at your lake house?”

  “Why would you need to go there?” he asked, definitely more nervous.

  “Because we’re working with a judge right now to get a search warrant.”

  He cleared his throat and said, “I think I need to speak with a lawyer.”

  “That’s
fine. It’s up to you if you don’t wish to speak with us anymore. It just drags this out longer for you. I’ll have to bring you back in again if I need to talk to you.”

  “No. I do not want to talk any longer.”

  Lorena rose, as did Jack, but she asked, “What about Trix? Why not just go with what the media came up with, the Tooth Fairy?”

  “Fairies and tricks? What sort of questions are these?” he asked confusedly. “Are you trying to trick me, Detective? I don’t wish to speak with you further. I’m not going to waive my rights. I may not be an American who was born here, but I have a work visa and properties here. I have rights.”

  He went into a rant in Italian, which Jack couldn’t understand even a word of. To his surprise, Lorena came back on him in equally fluent Italian without missing a beat. The man looked shocked.

  Then she spoke in English again, “Now, if you don’t want to speak with me anymore, that’s fine, but you don’t need to insult us. We’re trying to find a missing girl. Your cooperation would’ve been appreciated.”

  His jaw dropped, matching Jack’s own expression. They excused their suspect, who, in Jack’s opinion wasn’t much of one.

  “Hey, guys,” Craig said, entering the room quickly, “we’ve got another body. He left us another one in that park. We need to get going. Plus, I tracked down Neumann’s brother. He’s in Vancouver right now on work.”

  “That puts him in the area,” Jack said.

  “We’ll be right there,” Lorena said as she packed away her notes into her backpack.

  “You speak Italian?” Jack asked as he collected his own things.

  “What?” she asked distractedly. “Oh, yeah, a little.”

  “Any other languages?” he asked jokingly. “You know, in case we need to interview any other suspects from foreign countries.”

  “Um…French, some Russian, and Latin. Latin’s not my favorite though,” Lorena answered but not in a supercilious tone and sniffed hard. Then she coughed.

  “Good Lord, Evans,” he said. “Want me to take you home?”

  “No way,” she answered and slung her pack over her shoulder. “Ready?”