I'll Kill Her for You

by Steve Richer

  “Shit. I have to take this.”

  He stood up with the tablet and headed toward the bedroom as he answered. “Well if it isn’t my big brother.”

  “What the hell have you done now, Lawson?”

  “Full of holiday cheer, I see. Are you guys in the Hamptons already?”

  It was hard to tell the background behind Noel’s face since it filled most of the screen.

  “I’m home. Everybody’s staying home for Christmas. We have you to thank for that.”

  Lawson swallowed what was left in his glass. He needed it. In fact, he needed a lot more. “If you called just to bust my balls, you can kindly fuck off, Noel.”

  “I just got off the phone with mom. Deputy Inspector McDiarmid visited the parents, we know everything.”

  “You don’t know shit.”

  “They almost arrested you for murder, Lawson! Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

  “I’m innocent, I didn’t do anything.”

  “You think that it matters?” his brother barked. “It’s on the first page of the New York Post website. I’ve gotten fifty emails already about you. Mom is popping Xanax like M&Ms.”

  “Listen, Noel. Somebody is trying to frame me, trying to hurt the family.”

  “Bullshit. It’s because of you. Take responsibility for once in your life, Lawson. You’re just a big embarrassment to all of us. Dad tried to have McDiarmid intervene, to sweep this under the rug, but it’s too late. There’s nothing anybody can do now. Apparently even the US Attorney wants a piece of this now. People are gonna make their careers because of you and at the same time you’re gonna ruin our family.”

  “Noel…”

  “I hope you’re happy,” the older sibling said. “I really hope you’re happy. You’ve never been more than a worthless embarrassment. You finally managed to destroy everyone around you. You disgust me. We’re all ashamed of you.”

  Lawson was about to reply when the call ended. He had been the black sheep of the family long enough to get used to this was treatment. But this was worse because his brother was right. He was ruining the family name and this time it wasn’t even his fault.

  He grabbed his empty glass and threw it against the wall as hard as he could, shattering it in a thousand pieces.

  “Everything all right, buddy?” John called from the living room area.

  “Peachy.”

  Lawson joined the others and put the tablet down on the table.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Bailey asked. “If this is related to the case, we need to know.”

  “Just family matters. Apparently, the Winslow clan doesn’t take it too well to have their youngest son implicated in two murders.”

  He explained about McDiarmid unable to help and the US Attorney getting involved which John dismissed because it wasn’t a federal case. It didn’t make Lawson feel any better.

  And why had he broken his glass? Now he was thirsty and couldn’t find a replacement. Then he had an idea and went into the bathroom to get a disposable plastic cup. It wasn’t fancy but it was more sociable than swigging directly from the bottle. He poured himself two good measures of scotch.

  “So what now?” he inquired. “You guys are my crack team, right? What’s the deal now? How do I prove to the world that I’m innocent?”

  John cleared his throat. “As a lawyer – and as I said before, you need a criminal lawyer – we have to go after whatever evidence they have.”

  “They don’t have any goddamn evidence!”

  “They have some, even if it’s circumstantial. We need to attack it, make it inadmissible. Worst case, we create another narrative to explain everything. We have to plant seeds with potential jurors.”

  This made Lawson look up. “Jurors? You’re thinking about the trial already?”

  “We have to, that’s my job as a lawyer. We have to think worst-case scenario, man. So let’s do it, let’s pretend this goes all the way to trial. We have to make sure the jury questions everything about what the prosecution has. The girl, Sue Parnell, being in your apartment? Maybe she’s a stalker. Maybe she’s a gold digger. We have to turn attention away from you, Lawson. We have to put the projector on her.”

  “What we need is to find the truth because I sure as hell haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “That’s my job,” Bailey said.

  “Okay so what’s the theory?”

  “I think this is all business-related. Your family is the largest shareholder in one of the biggest companies on the planet. Somebody found a fresh way to attack it.”

  Lawson groaned. “This isn’t business. People are dead!”

  “Money is one of the leading motives of murder, Lawson. Besides, we have solid ground for this theory. What are the odds that I find out about Corpora Z, about it being probably a way to spy on WWG, and then Addie Burgess is killed? We’re talking about corporate espionage, or sabotage at the very least.”

  “Jesus…”

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, Lawson, but you’re the chink in the armor. You’re the weakest link in your family.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I’m sorry but it’s true. If you go after someone, you need to have leverage. You need somebody vulnerable and, in this case, that’s you. Some people are going after WWG and they’re using you.”

  As Lawson struggled to absorb this, Bailey pulled out her phone and tapped on it for several seconds, clearly searching for something.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Look,” she said, showing her screen to both men. “The company’s stock is already trending down. It lost two percent today.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “By itself, no, sure. But what if I was the person framing you. What if I had made sure the newspapers knew about it. What if I was shorting your stock?”

  “Holy shit,” John whispered, taking Bailey’s phone to look at it. “Somebody could have made millions on this just today.”

  “Exactly. This is financial, this is an attack on the entire Winslow family but so far Lawson is the only one getting bruised.”

  For the first time in days, Bailey’s words gave them hope. He wasn’t alone in this. If he wasn’t alone, he could fight back. “What do we do next?”

  “Fred Keeling, he’s the key since he’s the only other shareholder of Corpora Z.”

  “Is he the son of bitch behind this, you think?”

  At that, Bailey shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. He could be the one pulling the strings or he could be in danger. With Addie Burgess having been killed, maybe he’s the next target. Maybe her death was a message for him to keep his mouth shut or whatever.”

  “He could be in danger,” Lawson figured out. “I never liked the guy but shouldn’t we warn him?”

  John shook his head. “Don’t call him. If the cops put two and two together, you’ll only dig your grave even further.”

  “I agree,” Bailey added. “It would also tip your hand about what we know if he’s involved. My suggestion is to let things lie for now.”

  “But Keeling knows something!”

  “Absolutely. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. It will either spook him or convincing to spill the beans. Either way, we’ll get some answers.”

  Lawson nodded, his eyes focused on hers. She had struck him as cold when he’d first met her but now he could tell that she was competent. She was in her element and she’d never been so beautiful. He found that he trusted her.

  Then again, what was the alternative?

  Chapter 22

  Bailey spent the next morning driving along East 92nd Street. It was snowing again which made driving tricky and hindered her visibility. When this method proved to be a waste of time, she parked and walked down the street – on both sides – and looked for surveillance cameras.

  If Lawson was right, and she believed him, the killer had escaped from the apartment after killing Addie Burgess. Getting a picture of him would exonerate her client.

&
nbsp; The task wasn’t easy since modern cameras weren’t necessarily made to look like traditional boxy cameras anymore. This was especially true of high-end devices which would be the norm around here in this neighborhood.

  So Bailey took her time. She braved the cold and the snow and used her phone to record everything she saw. She walked the street from Park Avenue to Third Avenue, making meticulous work of it to make sure she didn’t miss anything.

  The few cameras she did spot were worthless, the angle wrong or belonging to a large corporation which wouldn’t let anyone review the footage without a court order. She wrote this down for later in case it came to that, but she doubted it would be of any use.

  Besides, if this killer was as professional as he appeared to be, his getaway would have been planned so that he wouldn’t have had to walk more than a hundred yards before taking off. In all likelihood, he would have had a car – or a partner – very close by.

  So this was a dead-end.

  She checked in with Lawson while she had lunch. He was still holed up at the Sherry-Netherland, afraid to leave and be hounded by the press again. She made herself reassuring and hoped that the lack of confidence didn’t show in her voice.

  Then it was time to go after the more serious lead.

  She drove down Fifth Avenue, past the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and crossed the park using the 79th Street Traverse. She turned left and headed south on Central Park West, keeping her eyes peeled for the address she had highlighted on her phone.

  Geez, these building were ridiculous. This is where rich people breed, she thought. The architecture dated back to the 1930s. It was at once gorgeous and spooky. She looked at a cluster of buildings with twin towers. Wasn’t John Lennon killed outside one of these?

  Then she found it, the building where Fred Keeling lived. Great, now where do I park?

  She had to go around the block a few times and miraculously found an empty space on a side street. Before leaving the car, she looked under her coat and made sure her Glock 36 was holstered properly at her waist. New York City had strict concealed carry laws but she was properly licensed.

  And with Addie Burgess dead, there was no way she was taking chances anymore.

  She was half expecting to be turned away in the lobby but Keeling allowed her to come upstairs. He answered himself when she knocked.

  “Fred Keeling? My name is Bailey Holloway. I’m a private investigator working for Lawson Winslow. I have a few questions for you.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  He let her into the apartment, probably because he was afraid his neighbors would overhear, she decided. Nevertheless, he didn’t invite her in further. They remained in the foyer. As nice as it was with marble floor, artwork on the walls, and a four-foot high statue of a winged horse, Bailey could sense that she wasn’t welcome.

  “What’s this about? Is it about the woman at the Winslow apartment?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s so awful what happened. So mysterious, too.”

  Bailey nodded as if agreeing with him about the horrible tragedy of it all. “And have you heard about Addie Burgess?”

  “Yes, this morning. My God, the world is turning to crap, isn’t it? And at Christmas? Jesus…”

  “How well did you know Ms. Burgess?”

  He pursed his lips and his eyes widened. He was clearly pretending to wrack his brain and Bailey had to restrain herself from calling shenanigans.

  “I didn’t know her that well. You know how it is, we met at social functions, stuff like that. We just knew each other enough to say hello and exchange pleasantries.”

  “Really? You didn’t know her more than that?”

  “No, not really. That’s New York society for you. You can hang out at the same places but you don’t really know each other.”

  Bailey nodded and made a show of reaching for her notepad even though she knew by heart everything that was in it.

  “And what about Corpora Z?”

  Keeling paused for half a second and blinked. “What’s that?”

  “It doesn’t ring a bell?”

  “No, can’t say that it does. Should it?”

  “It’s a corporation of which Addie Burgess was one of the primary shareholders.”

  “Look, I work on Wall Street. I study or consider over a hundred companies each day. You can’t expect me to know all of them.”

  “Come on, Mr. Keeling. I’m pretty sure you would remember a company you personally own. Corpora Z only has two shareholders, Addie Burgess and you. So you want to tell me again how you didn’t know her?”

  “This is none of your business, Ms. Holloway.”

  “The police are going to ask you the same questions, you know that, right?”

  “That’s enough now,” he said curtly. “Please leave.”

  Bailey didn’t budge. “What’s the purpose of Corpora Z? Were you and Burgess stealing secrets from WWG? Were you trading on privileged information?”

  “Get out.”

  “Should I call the SEC?”

  “Jesus Christ, lady. It’s Christmas Eve! Can’t you leave me alone? I’m with my family right now.”

  For the first time, Bailey noticed movement in the background. At the end of the hall was a living room and she could hear chatter and detect some movements.

  Today was Christmas Eve? She hadn’t even realized. That’s how much what had happened in New Orleans had screwed her up.

  “Lawson Winslow’s life is on the line,” she pleaded.

  “I have nothing to do with this.”

  “Are you sure about that? Are you one of the people responsible?”

  “No! Get the hell out.”

  He started moving forward, forcing her to back up toward the door.

  “Addie Burgess was shot twice in the chest. Either you’re responsible or somebody is cleaning up. If you’re not doing this to Winslow, what if you’re the next one they come after? Have you thought about that?”

  “Goodbye,” he said, this time actually pushing her toward the exit.

  Bailey knew she wouldn’t get any more information from him and she let herself be escorted out. She hadn’t learned much but at least she had rattled his cage. It was a good start.

  Fred Keeling had never sweated this much before. He locked the door after the woman was gone and walked back through the apartment. He caught sight of his reflection in the antique 18th century Italian mirror hanging in the hallway. His face had the color of a ripe tomato.

  This wasn’t lost on his parents, siblings, and their kids in the living room, everyone talking and drinking. His mother was especially concerned.

  “Frederick, is everything all right?”

  “It’s fine, mother.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t look well.”

  He forced himself to smile, doing exactly what he did when he met clients after he’d lost them millions of dollars in a bad deal. “Everything is great, there’s nothing to worry about. Excuse me for a moment.”

  He walked past the kitchen where his aunt was supervising caterers preparing a turkey, and he headed to his home office. He locked the door behind him.

  Taking a deep breath, he went to the Renoir etching on the wall. It was mounted on a swiveling bracket and he swung it open, revealing a safe built into the wall behind it. He punched in the combination and opened it. Inside, were cash, jewelry, and documents.

  What he retrieved was a cheap phone.

  He dug into his desk drawer for a charger and plugged it in. When there was enough power and signal, he dialed a number he knew by heart. It took several rings before there was an answer.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s me. They know about Corpora Z. What do we do now?”

  Chapter 23

  Christmas Eve already. How could she be so oblivious to everything around her, Bailey wondered as she drove off Central Park West. It made things harder all around. The world was at a standstill, nothing was happening and her investigation was goi
ng nowhere fast.

  And there was something even worse: she didn’t really like that her opinion of Lawson was changing.

  She had hated him on sight because he was nothing but a wealthy playboy who squandered away every single ounce of goodwill he might have had with his aloof attitude. In the beginning, she couldn’t help but think that he was responsible for everything that had happened to him. Boo-hoo, poor little rich boy.

  However, now it was obvious that someone was after him. He was losing control of his life by no fault of his own. Sadder still, he was visibly not equipped to deal with this. Again, she hadn’t had much sympathy at first but as she got acquainted with him she realized it was because of how he had been raised.

  Lawson had never had to work a day in his life. He didn’t know what it was like to wake up at dawn to work because if you didn’t you got fired. If you got fired, you didn’t have money to eat or to put a roof over your head. He’d always had people to do things for him. He didn’t even know how to change a lightbulb.

  How could he possibly be expected to fend for his life when he didn’t know what life really was?

  As her opinion of him transformed, she began to pity him. And then, though it would take an act of God to admit it, she began to like him.

  “Bleh,” she groaned to herself, hating herself for going off her principles.

  And yet she made the call she truly didn’t want to make.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hey, Lawson. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m not in jail. That’s something, right? I guess I’m becoming an optimist.”

  “Listen, I’m having this terrible idea. Have you moved to another hotel yet?”

  “All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go,” he sang. “Except I can’t find a place I want to go to. And honestly I’m dreading walking through the media gauntlet downstairs.”

  Bailey nodded absentmindedly as she reached a traffic light and stopped. “Is there one of your family’s properties you could go to?”

  “Call me crazy but the last thing I want to do is ask permission for anything from my family. They pretty much think I’m a murderer and their precious reputation is more important than everything else. I guess my sister would take me in because she’s the only decent Winslow, but I don’t want to impose on her since, you know, I’m the least decent Winslow.”