Killing Jane: An Erin Prince Thriller

by Stacy Green

  “I’d like to make it clear I’m a member of the NAACP. I won’t stand for this police department railroading another innocent black male for the murders of two white women.” His orator’s voice and sharp eyes begged for a pulpit to use for his own agenda, and he had sauntered into the offices with the explicit instruction he and his client would only speak to Calvin Prince’s daughter.

  In the past few years, Attorney James R. Thomas had made a name for himself, taking on mostly African-American clients and structuring many of their defenses around racial bias. Only two had made it to trial. He walked away with a victory and a hunger for more. Ricky Stout represented more headlines for the attorney, especially with a Prince painted as the villain.

  “You should go in with me.”

  Erin, Beckett, and Clark stood on the other side of the two-way window watching the trio wait impatiently.

  “I mucked up the interview with Rylan Walton, and I didn’t consider race as an issue.”

  Thomas paced in the room, glaring at the window, hands on his narrow hips. “He’s looking for a fight.”

  “He wants to talk to you,” Beckett said. “Ricky came on his own. We have nothing to hold him on. If I go in, I’ll piss off the attorney, and things will go downhill from there.”

  “Go in there with confidence and compassion,” Clark said. “Be his friend, and follow your instincts.”

  “If it goes south, I’ll come in,” Beckett said. “But it won’t.”

  Erin wished she hadn’t chosen to wear a threadbare tank top underneath her sweater. She wasn’t about to show off her damp and doughy body. “All right. Let’s see what Ricky Stout has to say.”

  “It’s about time.” Thomas had shed his overcoat to reveal a silk shirt and sleek trousers. Soft in all the wrong places, his body resembled a pre-pubescent girl’s. “We’re here voluntarily, and the first thing you do is keep us waiting.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Erin took her seat across from Stephanie Key and Ricky Stout. “Thank you for coming in.”

  “My client,” Thomas sat down, tiny bits of white froth at the corners of his mouth, “is a young, black male working to better his life. I won’t have him being treated like a street thug because he’s poor.”

  Ricky Stout groaned.

  While Thomas could only be called homely, Ricky existed at the opposite end of the spectrum. The man was beautiful. His blue fitted shirt accentuated the width of his shoulders and was lovely against his glossy skin. High cheekbones, brooding eyes, and sculpted lips completed the picture. He smiled shyly at Erin.

  She smiled back. “We have absolutely no reason to do that.” She offered her hand. “I’m Investigator Erin Prince.”

  Ricky took her hand in a gentle, firm grip, his warm hand much larger than her own. “Nice to meet you.”

  His politeness changed her tactics. “Ricky, your lawyer said you wanted to tell us something. Do you mind if I ask a few questions first?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Erin, please. Ma’am makes me feel as old as I am.” She winked at him.

  He tried to smile back, but the worry lines dug into his dark skin. “I can’t believe this happened to Bonnie and Ms. Walton.”

  “It’s awful.” Erin matched his quiet tone. “Can you tell me how you knew them?”

  “I met Bonnie at the ALC. We had a reading class together. She struggled with that. I suck at math. We helped each other out.”

  “That’s nice. I suck at math too. So you two spent a lot of time together outside of school?”

  “Why is that relevant?” Thomas piped up.

  Erin raised an eyebrow at him. Surely he wasn’t that stupid.

  “James, it’s fine,” Key said. “I don’t think Investigator Prince is out to get Ricky.”

  “Thank you. Ricky?”

  “Some, I guess. We walked to the Metro together. She took a different train than me. But sometimes we got coffee and worked on homework.”

  “You’re graduating this year as well?” Erin asked.

  “As long as I pass the test.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “I don’t take tests too well.”

  “He’s working really hard,” Key said. “He can do it.”

  “Of course he can,” Erin said. “Hard work always pays off. And good for you. I can’t imagine going back to school as an adult.” Although with Abby in fourth grade, Erin had begun to realize being a parent essentially meant going through school all over again.

  Thomas made a sharp sound. “I’m sure there are a lot of things about Ricky’s life you can’t imagine, Investigator Prince.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks, but she kept everything else where it belonged. She kept her attention on Ricky. “And what about Virginia Walton? I’m sure your aunt told you we heard about the disagreement you had with her.”

  “Aww.” Ricky dragged his hands over his face. “I’m a dumbass. I got pissed off and ran my mouth like a fool.”

  “Did she think you threatened her?”

  “No! I called her nasty names. I didn’t mean it. I just took it out on her.”

  “What did you take out on her?”

  “My grade. I didn’t want to take responsibility for it, and she called me on my attitude. But I apologized.”

  “Good for you.” Erin continued to play the friend, although it wasn’t hard with Ricky. “Back to Bonnie for a minute. Her cousin said you asked Bonnie out, and she turned you down.”

  He drew his shoulders in. “Yeah.”

  “Did that upset you?”

  “Prince,” Thomas warned.

  “I’m not asking anything out of context,” Erin snapped. “Ricky is an adult and a smart kid. Why don’t you let him use his common sense?”

  Thomas wanted to come over the table at Erin. Key stewed, and Ricky grinned.

  “At first. I liked her a lot. But she had issues.” His smile faded, sadness in his eyes.

  “Bonnie had a hard life,” Erin said. “Things that happen to us when we’re kids can really mess us up. Some people rebound better than others.”

  Ricky picked at an imaginary thread on his shirt, eyes everywhere but Erin’s. His nerves rolled off him like sound waves.

  “Ricky,” Erin asked softly. “What did you come here to tell me?”

  Ricky didn’t respond right away. Erin waited. He trusted her. He liked her. She sensed that as much as she sensed his tension. But his eyes shined with fear.

  “Ricky, go ahead.” Key placed a hand on his arm. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And they’re going to find your fingerprints. Let’s be honest.”

  “Stephanie!” Thomas rose from his chair. Key clamped her other hand on his wrist. “Sit. I brought you here in case something happened. This is what he came to say. He’s going to explain the situation and be done with this.”

  Erin had to remember to breathe. “How many times were you in Bonnie’s house?”

  “Once.” Ricky studied his nails, sucking in his right cheek to the point it looked painful. “I didn’t want to do it.”

  Erin’s eyes flickered to the camera mounted in the corner, making sure the red light blinked. “What didn’t you want to do?”

  “Did you find the camera and all the other stuff?” Ricky said the words in a fast breath as though he’d decided to get it over with.

  “We did.” Erin said. Conversational. Don’t get excited. Don’t scare him off. “But we haven’t been able to find any videos. Would you happen to know where they are?”

  “Online.”

  Erin laughed, trying to break the tension “Can you narrow it down just a bit, Ricky?”

  “I don’t know the names of the sites.” His face twisted as though he’d taken a bite of a bad apple. “That shit is disgusting. And they’re like one giant machine. Click on one, and you’re in the matrix.”

  “You mean you click on a video, and you go to something different? Like they’re layered on top of each other?”

  Ricky nodded.

  “I know exac
tly what you mean.” Erin made a face to match Ricky’s. “In the past few days, I’ve watched so much offensive porn. And I don’t mean rough sex or fetishes. I mean extremely violent. And you described them perfectly. Layers and layers. We can’t hope to get through them all.”

  “Yeah,” Ricky whispered. “Violent.”

  “Ricky, did Bonnie tell you she made rape porn?”

  A single tear ran down his cheek. “I told her she was better than that. The porn’s one thing, but she didn’t need the money. She did it for kicks. She called it her therapy.”

  The backs of Erin’s eyes watered. “Did you ever watch one of the videos?”

  “Only part of one she showed me.” He looked at his aunt, who nodded and took his hand. “I do need the money. So when Bonnie told me she sold amateur porn online, and she wanted to do it with a black man, I thought about it. I liked her, and maybe doing it would make her like me. She offered me a grand.”

  “For one video?”

  “I need to get my car fixed,” Ricky said defensively. “And it’s not illegal.”

  “Of course not,” Erin said. “But you didn’t do it?”

  “Not after I realized what she wanted me to do. I’ve seen rough sex ones, and I’ve seen the ones that are supposed to be rape but are obviously fake. This stuff was on a whole other level. Violent. Degrading. He made her bleed from both ends, and she did it willingly.” He shook his head trying to get the image to go away, more tears falling. “She wanted me to do that to her, and I couldn’t. Not for any amount of money.”

  “You’re a good guy.” Erin wished she could take Ricky’s pain away. And she said a silent thank you for her decision to call her father. Someone needed to be held accountable. “So we’ll find your fingerprints in the attic?”

  “Just one time. She had the laptop up there. She wanted me to see the set up and watch the video.”

  “I’m sure you’re trying to get his juvenile records unsealed,” Thomas said. “And if you succeed, you’ll match the prints. We’re getting ahead of you.”

  “I tried to help her,” Ricky said, his throat sounding tight with emotion. “She was nice. Smart. And she got off the streets and got clean just like me. But she said she needed to do it. It made her feel.”

  “Made her feel what?” Erin asked.

  “Feel,” Ricky said. “She said doing those videos made her feel.”

  “Clearly, Bonnie had issues no one knew about,” Key said. “Ricky has been struggling with whether or not to come forward. He didn’t want to become involved, and we didn’t know whether what he knew had any merit. But after Virginia’s murder, we knew he had to.”

  My ass. You wanted to keep him quiet and out of it. And from the looks of it, keeping quiet was killing Ricky.

  “Thank you, Ricky,” she said. “You mentioned Bonnie not needing the money from the videos?”

  Ricky wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “She had settlement money from something that happened a long time ago.”

  Erin glanced at the two-way mirror, half expecting Beckett to meet her gaze. “Did she say what?”

  “No, just that she was set up because the settlement obligations hadn’t been met yet. He still owed her another $150,000.”

  “He who?”

  Ricky shrugged. “She didn’t tell me anything else.”

  “Do you have any idea who else was involved in her side business?”

  Thomas glared at her, motioning for Ricky to stay silent. “He told you what he came to say.”

  “Two women are dead.” Erin looked the attorney in the eyes for the first time. “And this man you’re so afraid we’re going to railroad is obviously grieving for his friend. He wants to help. Don’t you want justice for these women? Or does it not matter because they aren’t black?”

  “Of course it matters.”

  “Then stop interrupting me. I’m not asking anything your client shouldn’t answer. Am I, Ricky? Because if you want to invoke counsel you have the right. But you’re not here as a suspect.”

  “I don’t need him.” Ricky rolled his eyes at Thomas. “My aunt wanted him here. But he doesn’t care about me as a person. He’s got his own agenda.”

  “Ricky.” The lawyer adjusted his silk tie. “That’s simply not true.”

  “Then let me answer the questions. I want this to be over with. Just Bonnie and another man, Ms. Prince. And it wasn’t even her side business. He did all that sort of thing. Plus had sex with her.”

  “Did she tell you anything about him? The smallest thing might help us.”

  “She knew him from her time on the streets. He wore a mask in the video.”

  “What color was his ...” Erin’s cheeks burned, “skin?”

  “Brown. Didn’t look like a brother to me though. Maybe an Arab.”

  Key elbowed him. “Middle Easterner is the correct term.”

  “Sorry. But that’s what he looked like. And sounded like. So did the woman behind the camera, although her accent wasn’t as noticeable. Her voice sounded real husky—not like a smoker’s but throaty. Sexy—until I saw the rest of the video. She seemed to be the one giving the orders.” Ricky shivered, sinking lower in his seat. “She got off on Bonnie’s pain. I thought I might get sick listening to it. I couldn’t finish watching.”

  Adrenaline raced through Erin with such force she nearly jumped out of the chair. “Did the man have any tattoos?”

  “Here.” Ricky’s long fingers traced his collarbone. “Fancy lettering in a different language.”

  Sanskrit.

  “Yari Fucking Malek.” Erin burst into the room, slamming the door into the wall. “That dirty sonofabitch. Ten to one the DNA test says he’s the father of Bonnie’s baby.”

  Beckett dropped his phone into his breast pocket. “I just got off the phone with the manager at Sid’s. Malek left work the night before last and told the manager he’d see him in the morning. But he hasn’t come back into work, and he’s not answering his phone.”

  “How much you want to bet he plucked Bonnie off the street when she was strung out and desperate for a fix? He feeds her habit. They get close. He figures out she’s been abused and sees his opportunity. I wouldn’t be surprised if he passed her around.”

  “What about the woman behind the camera?” Clark asked. “You have any idea who that might be?”

  “His hostess,” Beckett said. “Remember her?”

  The beautiful, raven-haired woman who greeted Erin and Beckett at Sid’s the day after Bonnie’s murder had left Erin’s radar as soon as they walked out of the club. But she remembered the young woman’s voice. Ricky described it perfectly. “Shit. She’s in on this with him. You think she could be Jane?”

  “I’ve got no idea.” Beckett held up a list of names Erin recognized as the employees from the strip club. “Aleta Gilani. Nothing came up on her initial background check, and she cooperated when we questioned the employees.”

  “Do we have a home address?” Erin asked.

  “No, but she might have been living with Malek. Or using a different name or staying with a relative.” Beckett leaned against the wall. “But what’s the motive for murder? Filming the porn isn’t illegal unless they used underage girls.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it,” Erin said. “If Bonnie talks, she opens up the door for their entire operation to be discovered. It could be a lot bigger than we realize. And don’t forget about Simon. He could have found out about Bonnie’s extracurriculars and orchestrated the entire thing. We need to question Malek and Aleta.” Erin turned to Clark. “Can we get a warrant for Malek’s house?”

  “Not a chance,” Clark said. “We don’t have proof he’s on video. We can’t corroborate Ricky’s story.”

  “Beckett and I both saw the tattoo,” Erin said. “It’s not enough probable cause?”

  “With nothing to link him to the professor. No way.” Clark crossed his arms. “You need something more. Go back to Sid’s, and see if you can get any of the girls to tell you
anything. Bonnie’s probably not the only one he did this to.”

  “What about Malek? He could be planning to skip town if he hasn’t already.”

  “I’ll send a uniform to check his house. You guys see if you can get something more to back Ricky up, and then we’ll bring him in.”

  Erin dug her keys out of her pocket. “I’ll drive.”

  * * *

  Apparently, men liked to watch strippers over their lunch break. A pulsating bass blared as three blonde women in pink thongs danced for an appreciative group of suited-up men.

  With the exception of his slicked-back hair, the manager resembled a watered-down version of Malek. He maintained he still hadn’t heard from him. He didn’t see why they needed to question the girls.

  “Because one of their colleagues was murdered.” Beckett’s surly tone carried over the music. “We have more questions.”

  The manager led them to the dressing rooms, where several dancers milled about in various stages of undress and makeup. None seemed particularly happy to see the cops, and no one had any information.

  “Where’s Aleta Gilani?” Erin asked. “The hostess with the black hair and green eyes?”

  The manager’s square face went carefully blank. “Vacation.”

  “Until when?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Nice vacation,” Erin said. “Could I get her home address? We have a couple of things we need to clear up with her.”

  His cold, dark gaze bore into Erin, a muscle in his cheek flexing. “Ask Yari.”

  Erin smiled. “Thank you so much for your help.” She handed him her card.

  He threw it in the trash behind the bar.

  She and Beckett reconvened in the sub shop next door—a good dose of salt and carbs to help clear her head. “We need to bring Malek in. That guy’s going to call him.”

  “You think he’s lying about not knowing where he’s at?” Beckett took a large bite out of his flatbread sandwich.

  “Do we have a reason to think he’s not?”