Lewis Longfellow asked Iceborn, “In your experienced opinion is there any chance a victim could commit suicide in such a way as to make it look like she was killed?”
“Now that is a very interesting question. I can tell you that there are published case reports outlining suicide cases in which the victim staged his or her own death to appear as a murder or an accident. I suppose if Ashley were cunning enough she could have committed suicide and made it look like a murder. She wouldn’t be the first woman to do it. Taking a poison, especially an overdose of pills, is a popular form of suicide with women. It’s a painless death with no fuss, no muss and no blood for someone else to clean up. And if she didn’t intend to die, a pill overdose gives her the highest chance for survival if she’s found and taken to the hospital in time to have her stomach pumped. Why do you ask Lewis?”
“As they say, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’ Now having said that, this Moretti fellow staged the body in the bed and then had a shower, which destroyed evidence. To me that indicates that this was no simple overdose. Furthermore, since there was no suicide note Ashley Kelly may have most likely been murdered by Frank Moretti.”
Woodrow agreed. “You may be right. Even if it was a suicide, Frank Moretti’s actions give us no choice but to investigate if he did in fact murder her.”
36
Thursday, Vancouver Jail
Fortunately for Frank Moretti, his cellmate had ignored him overnight. Still, Frank hadn’t slept much.
When everything is metal and cement, sounds carry. Once one inmate wakes, they all wake.
Frank was wide-awake yet lay on his bunk with his eyes shut. He was trying to pretend he couldn’t smell the odor of fresh morning human waste or hear the global anguish of his cellmates.
He tried to pretend he was back on St Kitts.
I’m donating to the Prime Minister and Commissioner of Police, just like Anthony did.
I’m behind my guard gate, in my fortress, with Naomi beside me for protection.
I’m safe there.
Whatever you’re doing to get me out of here, Luca, speed it up!
37
As Detectives Woodrow and Longfellow returned to their office, Investigative Assistant Ronald Choo was waiting at Woodrow’s desk holding up a file folder. “I’ve hit the jackpot.”
“How’s that?”
“I contacted the Illinois Police, Interpol, the FBI and the police on the island of St Kitts. According to the FBI, there was an attempt on Ashley Kelly’s life a few years ago. Frank Moretti was a prime suspect in her attempted murder.”
“Really. Do tell.” Woodrow waved Longfellow over. “You’ve got to hear this, Lewis.”
“The motive back then was the fact Ashley Kelly had been Frank Moretti’s CFO in a company where a fraud of eight billion dollars was suspected.”
Lewis snorted. “You said billion?”
“Yes. Moretti’s share of the fraud was eight hundred million dollars. Miss Kelly quit before the fraud occurred and would have been a witness against him.”
Lewis sounded excited. “So the young man we’re holding is a billionaire? I wonder how he’s enjoying his cell.”
“Well, at least now we know Moretti had a lot of motive to kill Ashley Kelly.” Woodrow grinned at having found a reason that could help his case.
“Was anyone convicted in that case?”
Ronald Choo glanced at his notes. “Kelly never testified so, no, there was no conviction.”
Woodrow was hoping for more. “Have any other priors on Mister Moretti shown up?”
“Nothing on Interpol. The Chicago PD say his name came up on a bombing incident at a local mall but he was cleared.”
“So, he could have terrorist ties?”
“I can’t seem to get anyone from the island where he lives to return my calls so I looked them up. St Kitts is a very small island. The entire population wouldn’t fill a football stadium.”
“Well keep trying. And great work, Choo.”
“Thanks. You better go see what else Margaret has discovered.”
“This is getting interesting. Let’s go see Margaret, Lewis.”
A minute later, they found Margaret Chan seated at her desk with her nose in her computer.
“What have you found Chan?”
“I telephoned Ashley Kelly’s mother. She was too distraught to talk to me but Ashley’s sister gave me quite a lot.” Margaret scanned her notepad. “Ashley’s had mental problems since she was a teenager. She was on a strict medication regimen of prescription drugs to control her problems. According to the sister, Ashley was totally obsessed with Mister Moretti.”
“Did you get the name of her doctor?”
“Here, it’s all in the file I created.”
“Excellent work Margaret. Say, have you ever heard of the drug Ecstasy?”
“Sure, it’s a popular party drug.”
I guess I’m not popular. “And women take it during sex?”
Chan hesitated then answered. “Not just to have sex. It helps you escape the boredom of the real world.”
“But, it’s most popular to take when you’re having sex. Why?”
Chan blushed. “Uh yah, sex with Ecstasy, it’s kind of like well…it’s kind of like having sex when you’re drunk. You just feel more relaxed… You feel everything’s a little more sensitive. Like a touch or a kiss seems more passionate. I’ve never used it myself you understand, but I’ve heard that it kind of seems like you’re in a sleazy romance novel.”
Woodrow turned to leave.
“Don’t leave yet, boss. I’ve got more. It turns out Ashley was staying at a budget motel near the airport. Apparently, she was next door to a co-worker named Theodore Wetmore. He’s a young lawyer. Supposedly, they were both here to perform a quick audit on a local company called SpaceLaser over in Richmond.”
“What did you learn, if anything, from Wetmore?”
Chan spoke like she had discovered the thing that could break the case. “Yesterday after work he and Kelly went to a bar near Coal Harbor, then spent a few hours at One Orange Street.”
“I can sense that you are leading up to a big finish. Give me what you found.”
Chan tried to slow her speech down. “And that’s where Ted said Ashley told him that she thought Frank Moretti was going to kill her.”
“Bingo. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Woodrow snapped his fingers and was grinning. “Did she happen to tell him why?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Woodrow shook his head as if he wasn’t totally disappointed. “Did he see her buy any drugs?”
“His answer was very lawyer like, in that he says he never actually saw the drugs, but that he did see what may have been a transaction. He also denied buying any for himself.”
“Of course he did. Now does the club have security cameras?”
“Yes, and I’ve sent someone to collect them.”
Woodrow grinned. “Excellent. You’re showing good instincts, eh. Do you know where they went after the club?”
“Ted took a taxi back to the motel and Ashley took a taxi someplace else. She didn’t tell Ted where she was going.”
Woodrow gazed at her, hoping for even more. “Is that everything?”
“Ah, the Shangri-La Hotel is cooperating fully and sent over a tape of the hallway outside Moretti’s suite.”
“What does it show?”
“Ashley Kelly was the only one who entered Moretti’s suite until we did.”
“I guess that means we can rule out a third party being involved.”
“Correct, and I also obtained Frank Moretti’s cell phone records.”
“You’ve been very busy Chan. What did you find?”
“The suspect did not call the police right away, as a normal person would have done. The first call he made was to a law firm in San Francisco.”
“Hmm. What do you make of that?”
Chan hadn’t expected to be asked that question. “Well, add tha
t to the fact that he admits to disturbing the body and then taking a shower to wash away any evidence and it sure appears to me that he was committing conscious criminal actions to thwart an investigation.”
“Very good, Chan. It does, doesn’t it?”
Longfellow finally spoke. “How about the physical evidence from the crime scene? Where are we with that?”
“There was an empty bottle of Cabernet that only had Frank Moretti’s prints on it. There was also a partial bottle of Chardonnay that had both of their prints on it.”
“How about drugs?”
“There was a plastic bag in Ashley Kelly’s purse that had two tabs of both Ecstasy and China White in it. There was also a great deal of trace of the same drugs indicating there may have been additional of both pills in the bag.”
“Any other drugs in the purse?”
“A few prescription pills for depression and anxiety.”
“Any condoms?”
“No.”
“Okay, good work, Chan.”
38
Virginia
Without knocking, Deputy Director Cyrus Saxton grabbed the doorknob and burst into his subordinate’s office.
Regina Lofthouse looked up in surprise.
Cyrus’s jaw was rigid and his fists were clenched.
There were no niceties exchanged. He unloaded on her with anger in his voice. “I just had a call from someone up in Canada with the Vancouver Police Department. Would you care to explain to me why you sent a financial analyst, Ashley Kelly, and one of our contracts lawyers up to Canada?”
Regina shut her eyes. I’ve been caught.
“I thought not.” Cyrus caught his breath and unloaded once again. “And while you’re at it, you need to explain why Ashley Kelly is dead and Frank Moretti is being held in custody as a suspect in her bloody murder?” Spittle had flown from his mouth.
Murder! “What did you say?”
She sagged and the blood drained from her face. Regina Lofthouse felt as if she’d been plunged into a cold, dark, suffocating silence.
Cyrus saw his words were having their intended effect. He thought Regina looked faint. “Are you feeling sick? Do I need to get you help?”
With both hands, Regina grabbed the edge of her desk. “I’m fine.”
After five long seconds of watching Regina, Cyrus’s anger returned. “You heard me, Lofthouse. I can understand why you sent Frank up there but why in blazes did you send two office staff who do not work for you, up to Canada?”
“Ahh…”
Cyrus watched as Regina struggled to compose herself to speak.
Regina looked at her desk. “They were acting as support for Frank Moretti if he needed it.”
“Can you explain why Frank Moretti has killed the female financial analyst?”
He mustn’t know Ashley is my niece.
“I don’t think he would have. It must be a huge mistake.”
What’ll I tell my sister?
Cyrus took a deep breath before he spoke. “Our first priority must be the geopolitical event taking place in Canada with regards to China and America’s security. Frank’s been our canary in the coalmine. He’s stumbled across a huge security risk for us. I’ve already alerted the State Department among others. Now what are you going to do about Frank Moretti?”
“What would you have me do?”
“He’s been compromised and is sitting in a jail cell. We don’t need him talking to the press or anyone else. You may want to arrange to have him immediately extradited back here.”
It took Regina a moment to process her thoughts. “Forget extradition. Since the U.S. has the death penalty, Canada won’t send him back to us. In addition, you’re forgetting that he’s not an American citizen. Besides, if I ever want to use Frank Moretti again, I need him to maintain his reputation as a deplorable, murderous person only interested in making money, someone the CIA could never trust… So I’ll see how much trouble he’s really in. A few months rotting in jail before I intervene and he should feel very obligated towards helping us next time we need him.”
“Fine. Whatever. He’s your problem. You’re good at dealing with fluid situations. Let him stew in whatever predicament he’s in. The bigger issue before us is our relationship with Canada.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cyrus turned to leave. “While you’re at it, get the analyst’s body returned. Get that young lawyer out of Canada and get the press on both sides of the border to bury the SpaceLaser sale story.”
39
As soon as Cyrus left, Regina Lofthouse locked her office door from the inside.
With her mind racing, she collapsed into her chair. Jesus, how did Ashley die?
How did Frank kill her?
She’s dead because I let her go to Canada.
Regina felt her lungs screaming for oxygen.
I must find fresh air.
Regina tried to stand, but just sat back down.
She placed her fingertips on her neck. She could feel her heart was beating too quickly.
I need to hide what I’ve done.
She felt a layer of sweat covering her body.
I hate Frank. It’s his fault she’s dead.
She willed her eyes to cement her lids shut.
What have you done Frank?
She gritted her teeth.
How can I continue to work with him when he’s the reason my niece is dead?
Her head was aching.
I need to face my sister. What do I tell her? I enabled all this.
Regina sat up straight. She knew what she had to do.
I need to choose my family over my job. Screw Frank Moretti and his money.
Regina’s telephone rang.
It was a Vancouver area code. Shit, it must be Frank.
She hesitated.
Her phone continued to ring.
She took a deep breath. Be Calm.
Regina finally picked up the phone. “Hello.”
“Regina?”
It’s a female voice.
“This is Naomi Dolphin.”
Shit! What in hell does she want?
“How can I help you?”
“I think you owe me an explanation.”
“About what?”
“About why you asked Frank to send me back to Virginia to meet with Boris.”
Regina continued to try controlling her breathing. “Oh, I see.”
“I’m sure you see very well. I contacted Boris from the airport before I was supposed to leave Vancouver. Boris had no idea why you would have asked Frank to have me sent back east to talk to him… Unless of course you were working with your niece Ashley Kelly to get me out of the way.”
Regina said nothing.
Naomi continued. “Out of the way so Ashley could confront Frank and frame him for her death… Regina are you still there?”
Oh my God! Regina swallowed hard. “Yes, I’m here. And how dare you accuse me of anything.”
Naomi let Regina stew in silence.
Lofthouse lost it and let out a sob. “I had no idea that my niece was going to die in his company.”
“We both know that Frank didn’t kill her.”
What do you mean? “Where are you Naomi?”
“Why do you ask? I’m still in Vancouver.”
Oh, my God!
40
Friday, Vancouver Crown Counsel Office
Frank Moretti had spent his full day expecting to be punched or stabbed at any moment. His second night in the Vancouver Jail was restless.
The only good news came from talking to his cellmate. It turned out his cellmate wasn’t as repulsive as he’d first thought.
As long as he doesn’t get too close to me.
His name was Don something and had been inside before on multiple occasions.
It turned out that Don was a walking canvas for tattoo artists. He told Frank that the tat on his neck was a tribal Maori design. “Women love it. It would probably help you to get laid more often if you
got yourself one.”
“No thanks. I’m good.”
Don was taking pity on the newbie and tried to educate Frank. “Listen man. Without tats, you’re naked and exposed. Your white skin is yelling at everyone that you’re not one of them. You’re lucky we’re not in the general population yet. Some of those guys feel obliged to just kill anyone they meet from remand or protective custody. And being naked the way you are is begging for attention.”
“What are you in for, Don?”
“As you can probably tell from all my tats, I love art. I’m inside once again for pursuing my inner artistic self.”
“Can you be a little more precise?”
“I was spray painting graffiti on a hotel wall. I mean they call this place beautiful British Columbia. All I was trying to do was make that ugly wall beautiful. He, he.”
Frank figured the guy belonged in a mental institution, not a jail cell.
“Ever been down south to the land of the Cajun Queens in New Orleans, Frank?”
“No why?”
“The warden in the prison down there teaches painting and the inmates do all kinds of decorative wall paintings on the city’s buildings.”
“Ah.”
“Say, what are you in for?”
Frank lowered his voice. “They think I murdered someone.”
“Oh… Well, if you get convicted, you’d better join a gang.”
“Why would I do that?”
“For protection. A good looking young man like yourself will make someone a fine bitch.”
That made Frank ask, “How long does someone typically get held in here?”
“I’m guessing anywhere from a few weeks to a few months.”
Jesus! I’ll go crazy by then.
Speed it up Luca.
41
Wayne Murphy’s operatives had secured a copy of One Orange Street’s security tape. It clearly showed Ashley standing in a hallway beside a dark skinned man wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. What appeared to be a cash-for-drugs exchange had been captured.
Is This Goodbye?: A Frank Moretti Thriller Page 12
