Beneath the Cracks

by LS Sygnet

  "I'm sure you could," I agreed.

  "But no. They give me so little, I am forced to start restaurant on this filthy street where people are so poor they beg for scraps and crawl through garbage for my leftover keftedes. Can they come in and sit and buy? No!"

  "Mr. Kostas how did Demetrius found the dead man tonight?"

  "Bah. I tell him to take trash out and he comes running back talking about dead man in trash dumpster. I say call police before all my customers leave."

  "May I speak with your son about exactly what happened?"

  Kostas nodded and ruffled his son's hair before speaking low and rapid, words I didn't understand but Demetrius obviously did. He nodded curtly. "Papa –"

  "Talk to nice detective lady. Maybe if you make her happy, she bring friends to dinner sometime."

  I led Demetrius to one of the booths in his father's now empty restaurant. We sat, but I didn't speak for a long time.

  "So, don't you like, wanna know what I saw and stuff?"

  "I presume it was a dead man in the dumpster outside your father's restaurant. Isn't that what you told the operator when you called 9-1-1?"

  "Yeah."

  "You look like you could use some fresh air, Demetrius. What say we go for a little walk?"

  He glanced at his father who nodded and made a shooing motion with one hand.

  "Can we go out the way you went with the trash earlier?"

  "I guess," Demetrius shuffled through the kitchen, moving slower with every step. "So I came out with the bags through here," he gestured toward the side door that opened into the alley. "And when I threw it over –"

  "Show me. Would you mind?"

  He huffed a heavy sigh and shoved the screen door open. Steam from the kitchen rolled out in front of us into the chilly October air. "I walked over to the dumpster –"

  "Okay, let's walk over there."

  Demetrius led the way. "Right here, and I flipped up the lid. That's when I saw him in there."

  "Interesting."

  "Not really," he muttered.

  "Oh, but it is, Demetrius. You see, I had to step up to see clearly over the side of this dumpster. Do you think you're taller than I am?"

  "No ma'am." His chin dipped to his chest.

  "So you can see why I'm a little perplexed to hear you say you opened the dumpster and saw the dead man inside."

  "Lady, my pops might be paranoid, but he's not completely wrong either. I can't do anything that would make it harder for him to keep this place open. It might not be as nice as the restaurant we had back home, but it's all he's got now."

  "Demetrius, if you really care about helping your father succeed, you'll tell me what really happened in this alley. I can't help clean up this neighborhood if people won't cooperate so I can arrest the criminals who want this place to remain a slum. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  He nodded. "But if something happens because I narced –"

  "It will happen whether you tell me or not. These men killed a police officer, Demetrius. They killed him because he got too close to what they were really doing down here. You must tell me the truth about what you saw. Otherwise, I can promise you that he'll be back to make sure you can't talk."

  His eyes rounded into twin full moons. "Seriously?"

  "I can protect you, but not if you won't cooperate with me. Tell me what really happened in this alley."

  Demetrius shuffled his feet and glanced back at the kitchen door. "You gotta promise that you won't tell Pops everything I say."

  For the second time in a few short hours, I made an X over my heart.

  "I brought the trash out and sort of went down to the end of the alley for a quick smoke."

  "You're fifteen years old, Demetrius. You're not even old enough to buy cigarettes."

  He plucked a three-quarter inch roach out of his pocket. "You can't tell my pops."

  "So you got loaded," there goes my credible witness, "and then what happened?"

  "I barely took one toke and the back door opens. This steam comes flying out into the alley and I freaked, right? I'm thinking that Pops is gonna catch me red handed."

  "Who came out the door?"

  "Pops just stuck his head out and yelled at me to hurry up, I had more tables to clear." Demetrius scuffed his toe against the cobblestone alley and left a groove in the mud covered stone. "He's looking at the dumpster and I'm thinking he's gonna see I'm not there and turn the other way, or worse, smell the weed."

  "He didn't do that, did he?"

  Demetrius shook his head. "He just goes back inside, and after the fog kinda clears, I see this guy pull some dude off the ground and toss him. You know, like on top of the trash."

  I sucked in a steadying breath. "Did you see his face?"

  "Not really. He was huge, and all I'm thinking is that I cannot believe Pops thought that hulk was me."

  "What did you do?"

  "I didn't know what to do. I sorta just pressed myself up against the wall and prayed that the dude wouldn't look down the alley, you know? And he probably wouldn't have if Pops hadn't yelled out the door."

  Demetrius paused and pointed to the light hanging from the roof of the building that made the alley blind. "What if he saw me? I mean, like got a good look 'cause of that light?"

  "Did he turn toward you?"

  Nod. "And he kinda pressed his finger over his lips and says in this freaking whisper, shhhhh. So it's like he's whispering it right in my ear, you know? And I totally flipped out. He walks off like nothing weird just happened, all slow and like nobody dared give him shit."

  "You went inside the restaurant and told your dad you saw a dead body in the dumpster."

  "I couldn't just leave that poor guy like that. What if nobody saw him and he started stinking the place up? Pops wouldn't have any customers if that happened."

  "Tell me what you remember about the man, Demetrius. You said he was tall. What else? What was he wearing?"

  He shrugged. "It was dark. Like black clothes. I remember thinking that it stuck out, you know, the black clothes and his white head."

  "So he was Caucasian."

  "Well, yeah, but the guy's head was white. Like bald and not tan."

  "You're certain it wasn't just blond hair?" My heart accelerated. "This is very important, Demetrius. What made you think he was bald?"

  "It was like all shiny and stuff when he went around the corner onto the street."

  I pulled out my cell phone. "I'll talk to your father, Demetrius."

  "About the weed?"

  "About why I need to put you and your entire family into a safe house until I catch the man who did this."

  "Aw, really? Pops is gonna freak if he can't be at the restaurant every day."

  "Believe me, when we catch this guy, every cop in the city will be coming to Kostas to eat. Your dad will make up for a few days in no time at all."

  "Seriously?"

  I nodded and dialed Darnell's number.

  "Chris Darnell."

  "It's Helen. I'm not sure if you've heard the news."

  "Another vic in Downey. Finkelstein just called me."

  I turned my back to Demetrius. "I've got a witness, Chris. I'd like to keep this one alive."

  "Tell me what you need."

  "A safe house guarded with guys from OSI who are aware that they lost one of their own would be my preference."

  "Are we really ready to take that information public? I realize it was in the paper in a generic sort of blurb," Chris said, "but if these guys find out it was Jake who was undercover in the same area our latest victim was found, it's not going to take long before they put the whole thing together, Helen."

  Considering the propensity for gossip in law enforcement in Darkwater Bay, it was a valid concern. "Could they possibly be discreet for once in their lives?"

  "I'll be stern," Darnell said. "Give me the address and I'll send over a unit to pick them up."

  He paused for the briefest moment. "Helen, I just heard about M
aya Winslow tonight."

  Speaking of gossip.

  "Why didn't she say something to us Saturday night at dinner?"

  "She didn't know, Chris. And she didn't want people to find out the way they have either. I'm surprised Johnny didn't tell you about what happened to her before he left town."

  "And I wasn't aware he knew," Chris said.

  So Orion had kept one confidence. One hard earned point in the pro column. "I asked him not to say anything. I wasn't sure he assumed that applied to you too."

  "I'm going to drop by the hospital and see her in the morning after Mass. I hope she doesn't mind. People care about her, Helen. She's done a lot of good in a very short time for this county."

  "Before you hang up, do you have any idea if Johnny wrapped up his other thing tonight?"

  "I wouldn't know, honestly. He's so tight lipped about what he's working on right now, I'm not even sure where he is. I haven't spoken to him since Thursday morning when he left a standing order to assist you and Downey Division with anything you might need on this case."

  "What I'd really like is a search warrant for Tom Denton's lab at Dupree Farm. What are my odds?"

  "Have you got anything that links his murder to the farm or the other murders?"

  "Not yet, but we're working on it."

  "Call me when you think you've got one," he said. "Even if it's tenuous, I can probably get you a walk through warrant at minimum. I might be able to swing that based on his murder and status as a protected witness. In fact, I could probably call Judge Hathaway right now and argue that since he was killed before he could make a statement regarding Jake's death, there could be exigent circumstances."

  "I doubt anyone is in eminent danger, Chris."

  "No, but if they're willing to kill a research scientist to make sure he won't talk, who knows what kind of evidence they might be destroying."

  "Get the safe house set up first and call me back if you decide to seek the warrant. We'll keep working this end trying to get a stronger link between these murders. I'll call you if we find anything that would be more compelling to this judge you mentioned. In the meantime, we'll sit tight with the Kostas family until your men get here."

  Demetrius was right about his father's reaction to going into protective custody with OSI.

  "I move thousands of miles and hear nothing but empty promise from Mrs. Kostas that Demetrius grow up safer here. This is not dangerous place like New York."

  "Mr. Kostas, I promise you, things will be better in this neighborhood when we arrest the people responsible for these crimes," I said. "I know this is inconvenient, but we must protect you now."

  "And who protects my restaurant? Who makes bank payment when I have no money because of this safe house? What –"

  The thunderous sound of full throttle Harleys drowned out the rest of whatever Kostas said. Dozens of bikes sped past the restaurant, drivers and passengers hooting and screaming obscenities over the roaring engines.

  "Go home, you fuckin' Guido!" one at the tail end of the crew yelled.

  Kostas lost his temper and shook his fist at the bikers. "We are Greek, you filthy bastards!"

  "Mr. Kostas, please don't antagonize them."

  "They antagonize me."

  Crevan shook his head and guided the father and son back inside the restaurant to wait for Darnell's troops.

  Chapter 31

  My cell rang after CSD took custody of the crime scene and the Kostas family was put into the care of OSI. We were about to make our way to Downey Division via Third Avenue to pick up my car.

  "Eriksson."

  "You must be getting really close to these guys, Helen."

  "Evidently they think so. Do I dare ask how this latest development found its way through the hallowed halls of MSUH?"

  Maya chuckled, followed by a gut wrenching moan. "Oh, don't make me laugh. I think I've overdone a bit today. And for the record, Billy called to see if it was acceptable to send his partner in body retrieval to the latest murder scene."

  "Dump site," I corrected. "We don't know where they were murdered yet. Why can't Billy do it?"

  "He's been working overtime processing gastric contents."

  My stomach twisted at the mere thought. "And?"

  "I want to know if you can join him at my bedside for some preliminary results."

  "Why can't he call me?"

  "Apparently, he thinks that I must bless the pages before the words can be uttered. Billy's been doing this job since before God was a child, Helen, but I think Riley Storm sucked any self-confidence out of just about everyone he ever hired, including Billy. Much as I'd love to think this is an elaborate excuse Billy's devised so he can come eyeball me in person and make sure I'm not leaning to the heavy side, I doubt that's the case."

  "Then I guess we'll head over to MSUH after Crevan and Tony drop me off at my car."

  "Do I want to know where your car is, or are the rumors true?"

  "Those rotten fiends."

  "He's on his way over in twenty, so if you can get here, it'll save me a little energy not to have to go through the results twice."

  "Screw my car. We'll be right over."

  Briscoe's bushy eyebrows danced. "And what pray tell is the next dire emergency?"

  "Billy Withers has the preliminary toxicology on Denton. He's headed over to MSUH, and ..." Sound died in my throat.

  "Yeah, we heard," Briscoe remarked without the characteristic commentary. "From the desk sergeant."

  "She's tired, and would appreciate it if we could be there with Billy so she only has to go over the results once."

  Conall took the driver's seat this time, which did not bode well for a timely arrival in my experience. He surprised me when he flipped on the lights and sirens and took off screaming through the streets toward MSUH.

  When we arrived, Billy Withers was punching the button to call the elevator and bouncing on his heels.

  "Too much caffeine, son? Or do you really gotta pee?" Briscoe stepped past him when the doors slid open.

  Billy clutched a manila file folder to his chest. His fingers left indentations from the death grip. "Maya needs to see these results. I assume that's why you're here."

  "She called us a few minutes ago and said she wanted us to come. I'm warning all three of you; go easy on her. This has been a horrible week, and she's already pushed herself too hard today."

  My warning bounced off Billy like rubber arrows off steel armor. Briscoe and Conall stared at the floor.

  I was appalled when we walked into Maya's room. She was propped up in the bed with a vast number of pillows supporting her. In the few hours since I'd seen her last, cheeks had become sunken, circles deepened and spread out from beneath eyes which had lost all luster.

  "We should do this tomorrow," I said. "Maya, you need your rest."

  "Nonsense. The nurse will be back in a few minutes with some fentanyl and I'll be good as new." The smile did little to mask her pain and fatigue. "Now let me see this toxicology report, Billy."

  Finally, something had sucked the bounce out of his tail. Solemnly, he handed the file over to her. "Maybe Helen's right, Maya. You look like you need sleep more than we need your interpretation –"

  "Are you telling me that you don't need me anymore, Billy?"

  The rational part of my brain understood Maya's poor attempt at humor, but given the current circumstances, it fell flat. "Of course we need you. This is why you should be resting."

  "It's cyanide," weary eyes scanned the page, a grim determination shrouding her all of a sudden as she ignored my advice. "Hydrogen cyanide to be specific."

  "Did you see the rest? It can't be right, can it, Maya?"

  Her anemic lips slanted southward. "It is right, but it can't be."

  "What is it and why can't it be right?" Briscoe's patience was beginning to fray, and on his best good day he had very little tolerance for scientific jargon.

  I hoped he'd rein it in for Maya's sake.

  "It's a d
istinctive finding, Tony. Naturally occurring cyanide is comprised of glucosides, in this case, lotaustralin and linamarin. They're broken down by an enzyme called linamarase. Let me clarify. This specific naturally occurring cyanide contains the aforementioned cyanogenic glucosides."

  "Think sugars," I said. Briscoe's neck was half red already. "Poisonous sugars, and the thing that digests those sugars and releases the poison is an enzyme."

  "All right." The crimson abated to below his collar. "And you know Denton was poisoned with this natural cyanide how exactly, and does it mean this was some sorta freak accident?"

  "There was nothing accidental about it, I'm positive." She flipped more pages. "Billy identified enough undigested cassava root to do the job pretty quick."

  "Cuh-whatsits?"

  "Cassava root. And that's precisely the part that makes no sense." Maya focused on Billy. "Theorize for me how this is possible."

  "People have always said that anything would grow in Darkwater Bay's soil."

  "Bullshit," Maya's voice might've been weak, but the passion of her profession bolstered it. "Cassava is a tropical or subtropical plant. It's too damned cold, not to mention too wet for it to thrive here. Cassava's toxicity increases under drought conditions, Billy. Someone would've had to import this. Which would be extremely difficult – cassava root doesn't exactly stay fresh for long unless it's already processed. What you found was fresh."

  "Or ..."

  Keep going, Billy. Or what? I waited expectantly.

  "Well?" Maya prompted impatiently. "I haven't got all night, Billy."

  "I guess it could be nurtured under the right circumstances in a greenhouse. Artificial lighting, temperature, lack of abundant water."

  "You're sayin' that this cyanide plant was grown on a farm?"

  "Possibly, Tony. I'm more curious about what cassava is," Crevan said. "I've never heard of it before."

  A tiny twinkle glimmered in Maya's eyes. "Sure you have. I'd bet your partner here five hundred bucks that both of you have willingly eaten a product that comes from cassava roots, probably eaten it many times."

  "The hell we have! If you weren't –" Briscoe clamped his mouth shut.

  "If I weren't dying?"