“I’ll send someone immediately. Meanwhile, do not disturb the scene.”
With the mayhem set in motion, Frank advised the front desk of the situation.
Denver.
Frank sent a text to his driver. Cancel ride to airport this morning and I won’t need your services any longer.
He didn’t want to look at Ashley’s body so he walked into the living room area of his suite. I’m hungry.
He picked up the room service menu and casually sat on the sofa.
Frank read the words but they weren’t registering.
He scanned the menu again.
Black coffee, toast and an omelet sound good.
There was a loud knock on his door.
That was quick.
“Hold on.” Frank stood up as he placed the menu onto his coffee table.
28
Frank didn’t get the chance to open the door to his suite. As he was about to take his first step, the door opened.
It must be the police.
He stood perfectly still and watched.
Two uniformed police officers entered first.
They both had a hand on their holsters.
One of the officers held up the palm of his free hand to motion for Frank to stay where he was.
Frank obliged.
Behind them came two paramedics with their equipment.
It seemed like time had slowed down for him, as he knew any dumb move on his part might mean he’d be shot.
Frank slowly pointed towards the bedroom while keeping his eyes on the holsters of the police officers.
His hearing focused on the paramedics as they started barking to each other as they rushed to find if the body still had a pulse.
He watched as one uniformed officer stepped outside to guard the entrance to his room while the other remained inside with his eyes fixed on Frank.
His hand was hovering over his unbuttoned holster.
Next came two men dressed in civilian clothes.
These two must be detectives.
His hotel room speeded up as it went from boring to chaotic.
The youngest detective was lean and peered into the bedroom.
The oldest one came up to Frank and stood directly in front him.
Although it’s a face some might trust, I can’t.
The detective’s belly hung over his belt.
His voice was low and calm. “I’m Detective Constable Ron Woodrow and my partner is Detective Constable Lewis Longfellow. Are you Frank Moretti?”
Frank glanced once again at the uniformed officer who had the palm of his hand, finger extended, on his weapon in its holster. “Yes.”
“Are you the one who called this in?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have a few routine questions to ask you if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, ask away.”
“Are you armed with a weapon?”
“No.”
“May I see your passport and driver’s license?”
“Sure, I thought you might ask for them. I’ve got them in my pant pocket.”
“Please reach for them slowly.”
Frank withdrew and handed the documents over.
Ron Woodrow opened the passport first. “I would have guessed from your accent that you were an American from the Midwest. This passport says that you’re a citizen of St Kitts.”
“I was born in Chicago, but now I’m a citizen of St Kitts.”
“I’ll bet there’s an interesting story to go along with that.”
“Depends on your definition of interesting.”
I’ve got a wise ass. “Is this your room?”
“Yes it is.”
One of the EMTs drew Woodrow’s attention. He shook his head. “The female’s dead and has been for several hours.”
Detective Constable Ron Woodrow spoke into a radio. “Send in the Coroner, the Crime Analyst and the Investigation Assistants.”
Woodrow turned back to Frank. “Exactly what happened here?”
Frank searched Ron Woodrow’s puffy face for a sign of empathy but found none. “Ashley must have known that I was intending to fly back to St Kitts this morning. I’m not sure of the time, but late last night Ashley came to my room looking for sex. At some point, she said she was taking some pills. Anyway, I fell asleep and I found her the way she is when I woke up.”
Opportunity. “What is the victim’s full name?”
“She’s not a victim and her name is Ashley Kelly.”
Definitely a wise ass. Woodrow glued his eyes to Frank’s face. “When you called it in why did you say that she overdosed? Did you see her take drugs?”
“Like I said, she did. It was several pills, at least two. She took them with some wine.”
“Did you take any of them?”
“She offered, but I declined.”
“Did she tell you what kind of pills they were?”
“No.”
“Was she depressed? ”
Frank glanced over at Detective Constable Longfellow who was furiously writing notes in a small binder.
Frank’s nose was itchy so he rubbed it. “Ashley’s always had her up and down moods. If you must know, she’s always been a bit of a drama queen. But I hadn’t seen her in a while so it’s hard for me to give you a current evaluation of her mental health.”
“Who was she to you?”
“She used to work for me as my CFO at a startup in Chicago. At one point, several years ago, we also lived together.”
Motivation. “Why did you break up?”
Frank hesitated. Shit. Do I tell them it was because I thought she was dead? “It’s a long story. I’m sure you understand.”
The older detective had been eyeing the upholstered furniture. “Shall we sit on your couch to talk, Mister Moretti?”
Frank decided to play along with the Detective for a little while. Hopefully, he’ll quickly see that it was a suicide and let me go. Then I can call Luca and tell him he doesn’t need to come. “Fine.”
Three new plain clothed people walked in and Frank turned to watch them.
Woodrow raised his voice to capture Frank’s attention. “You just told me you think she took some pills or drugs. Did you see her with a prescription bottle?”
Frank turned back to the detective. “No, not a bottle, a plastic baggie. I’ve already told you, Ashley did ask me if I wanted to try whatever she was taking.”
“Did you see this drug?”
“I saw her take some pills from a plastic baggie that she took out of her purse. She washed them down with a drink of the chardonnay she’d brought with her.”
“Did you drink some wine as well?”
“I had some red wine earlier with dinner before she came. The bottles are over there.” Frank pointed to a side table.
“Do you take sleeping pills?”
“No. I sleep just fine.”
Detective Constable Woodrow was asking simple recall questions. With each answer, he watched Frank’s eyes. They move to the right.
“Are you on any drugs, Mister Moretti?” The detective watched Frank’s hands.
“No I’m not.”
“Are you willing for us to draw your blood here so we can help verify your statement?”
Frank said nothing for a moment. Anything to clear me as fast as possible. “Sure, why not.”
A female sat beside him. “Hello, I’m Investigative Assistant Margaret Chan. Which arm would you prefer that I draw from?”
Frank held out his right arm.
The tech put a rubber tube around his arm to make his veins pop then swabbed the crook where the upper and lower arm met.
Frank looked at the two detectives who were consulting with each other. He overheard the younger one before they both chuckled. “It looks like he had a fun time with the girl until he didn’t.”
Frank flinched as he felt the needle hit a vein.
Margaret Chan placed a cotton pad against the vein and told him to hold it tight
. Then she wrapped a type of self-holding tape around the pad. “Thank you.”
Frank watched as a new man entered the suite.
Woodrow greeted him and pointed. “The body’s in the bedroom, Iceborn.”
Detective Woodrow turned back to Frank. “Wait. While we’re at it may we take your fingerprints for elimination purposes?”
“Sure why not.”
As soon as Margaret was finished fingerprinting him, Frank faked a grin as Detective Woodrow started asking more questions. “So you admit you were alone with the victim?”
“Yes.”
“You admit you had sex.”
“Yes.”
“Would you say it was aggressive?”
“It would depend on how you define aggressive.”
“Will we find your semen in her vagina?”
“Yes.”
Detective Constable Woodrow noticed that Frank’s eyes were still moving to the right. He’s telling the truth.
“Was anyone else present or enter the room?”
“No.”
“Did you leave the room for any reason?”
“No.”
“Are you absolutely sure about that? Maybe you left the room to get some ice?”
Woodrow watched as Frank’s eyes moved to the left, reflecting activation of the cognitive center. He’s thinking.
“No. I didn’t leave.”
“Your version is that you fell asleep right after having sex and that you woke up to find her dead body next to you.”
“Yes.”
“So you were in a locked room with her and you have no alibi?”
“No I don’t. But I didn’t kill her.”
“Did you move her or disturb the crime scene in any way?”
“She was naked and on top of the sheets so, yes, I did pull the covers so she was under them.”
“So you’re admitting to disturbing the crime scene?”
“Only to give her some dignity.”
“Did you see a suicide note?”
“No, I did not.”
Frank watched as Woodrow looked at his partner for a split second.
“You want us to believe it was a suicide.”
“That is my best guess.”
“Yet there is no suicide note.”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
“Why are you here in Vancouver, Mister Moretti?”
“A little pleasure mixed in with some potential business.”
“Is your business concluded?”
“Yes.”
“Why was Ashley Kelly in Vancouver?”
“I had nothing to do with her being here. From what she told me she was apparently here doing some financial analysis on a Richmond company.”
“Which company?”
“SpaceLaser in Richmond.”
Coroner Gary Iceborn entered the room. “I’m having an officer escort the body to my morgue for chain of custody.”
Woodrow nodded his head as if telling Iceborn to proceed.
Frank and Woodrow watched as the EMTs and Iceborn left with Ashley in a body bag on a gurney.
Then Woodrow turned his attention back to Frank. “You’re being very cooperative Mister Moretti. However, your hotel suite is now a crime scene so you cannot stay here. I’m sure you understand. In addition, I have a few more questions for you. Would you mind accompanying me down to my station for a while?”
Detective Constable Woodrow pocketed Frank’s passport and driver’s license.
Frank grimaced. “I guess I don’t have a choice. Or do I?”
“No, you do not.”
Woodrow noticed one of his techs was holding a camera and motioning to him.
“One more thing, Mister Moretti. We need you to take off your clothes and have one of techs photograph your body for any wounds or abrasions.”
29
Vancouver Police Station
Twenty minutes later, the Detectives placed Frank, without handcuffs, into the back seat of an unmarked black Ford and drove to the Vancouver Police Station.
Frank had closed his eyes and not spoken during the drive. Since they’re taking me to the station, I’d better keep my responses to yes or no. I need to buy time for Luca to get here.
Frank had been taken directly into a small bland room he instinctively knew was for interrogations.
It was several shades of grey. There were no decorations.
Just the obligatory one-way mirror.
Even the two metal chairs and table were made of grey metal.
He sat down.
The chair’s hard.
The entire room’s hard.
He closed his eyes.
This room is supposed to make me feel exposed and isolated. Screw them.
I do have mixed feelings about Ashley.
She must have committed suicide to get me in trouble because I didn’t want her. Stupid bitch.
Damn this chair is uncomfortable.
Why did she take the pills?
Was it to exact revenge on me?
Frank’s warning system went off. Shit... What if they don’t think it’s a suicide?
If I can survive several FBI interrogations, this should be a piece of cake.
He opened his eyes while wishing Luca were already with him. Hurry up Luca.
30
On the other side of the glass stood the members of the Vancouver Police Department Major Crime Homicide Unit that were investigating the possible homicide. Detective Constables Ron Woodrow and Lewis Longfellow were reviewing the facts with Walford Campbell, their Sergeant.
Sergeant Campbell said, “What do we have here, Woodrow?”
“A young woman found dead in a room at the Shangri La. Confirmed sexual encounter. Drugs were involved.”
“Who’s the suspect?”
“A Francis Moretti. He’s a white male from the island of St Kitts. Claims he woke up to find an ex girlfriend dead in his bed. He says she must’ve committed suicide.”
“Of course he does. Was there a suicide note?”
“No.”
“Then the odds are it was a murder, eh.”
“Furthermore the suspect staged the crime scene.”
“How?”
“He admits he touched and then covered her body. It was also obvious that he showered before he called us.”
“If the suspect washed away any incriminating evidence, that makes for two counts of evidence tampering then, eh.”
“Seems that way sir.”
“What do we know about the female victim?”
“Her name is Ashley Kelly and she’s from Chicago. She’s currently living in Virginia. Frank Moretti told me that she was here on a special assignment for the CIA. She was apparently here doing an audit of SpaceLaser in Richmond.”
“Is there any chance he’s innocent, Woodrow?”
“Of course not. He’s acting too calm and smooth. I also picked up on some body language that suggests he may have lied to me when I first talked to him in his hotel suite.”
“What was that?”
“When I asked Moretti if the woman seemed depressed, he rubbed his nose. As you know, a chemical reaction can cause people's faces to itch when they lie.”
“It may also suggest he has dry skin.” Campbell looked at Longfellow. “What’s your impression?”
“Moretti’s been very forthcoming… He either thinks we’re a bunch of back wood lumberjacks with tin badges or he’s a good actor.”
Campbell’s tone turned hard. “Call the CIA and get to the bottom of why she was here.”
“Yes sir.”
Campbell looked back at Woodrow. “What was the relationship between the suspect and victim?”
“He claims they used to live together.”
“This just keeps getting better and better. Was Moretti’s DNA on her?”
“Probably. He admits to having sex with her. Her body has gone to Iceborn.”
“Have you listened to the 9-1-1 call?”
“No,
but I’ve already asked for it, sir.”
“How has he reacted to your questioning?”
“Like an iceberg. He’s shown no emotions even though he woke up to find a dead lover decomposing next to him. He’s displaying no nerves or panic. He’s been way too calm for someone who’s not guilty.”
“Did the suspect or victim have any defensive wounds?”
“No fresh ones. Moretti does however have a healed gunshot wound on his thigh.”
“He’s seen action before. Has he asked for a lawyer yet?”
“No he hasn’t.”
“Good. Keep him talking. Once a suspect starts, it’s hard for them to stop. Once they start telling the truth, it’s harder to continue lying… Let him stew, while you look into both of them.”
“Yes, Sergeant Campbell.”
31
Luca Testini had flown to Vancouver directly from San Francisco. After getting through customs, his first stop was at the law offices of Wayne Murphy in downtown Vancouver.
Since the client Testini represented wasn’t concerned with billing hours, Wayne Murphy had cleared his calendar.
Testini commented on how plush Murphy’s offices were. “Wealthy clients expect to feel comfortable while they’re here.”
Wayne led Luca into his private meeting room. “Now, please tell me the situation and the problems we need to overcome.”
Luca went over the phone call he’d had received from Frank. “Now let me explain the hurdles. First off, the FBI investigated Frank for Ashley Kelly’s murder a few years ago.”
“That’s who was found dead in his bed?”
“That’s correct. Frank wasn’t however charged with a crime.”
Wayne raised his eyebrows.
Luca continued to tell the story. “Frank has a bad reputation by association. He worked with Anthony and Vincent Rizzo and their syndicate out of Chicago. That’s where I met Frank. He gave up his U.S. citizenship to shelter an eight hundred million dollar payday. He’s currently a citizen of St Kitts.”
Wayne was liking what he was hearing. “You explained on the phone, he’s not concerned with attorney fees, am I correct?”
Luca looked up. “Frank Moretti is my client and I will not let him be overcharged. I trust you understand.”
Is This Goodbye?: A Frank Moretti Thriller Page 10
