Endgame: CSI Reilly Steel #7

by Casey Hill

  “I agree that it’s essential to find the person who attacked your daughter Mr Glynn, and the detectives are following up on recent information regarding same. And our remit here in the GFU is to help with that, as well assist in finding countless other criminals. Though I’m sure you are quite proficient in your own occupation, you’ll just have to accept that this isn’t your job. My team and I will do everything in our power to help the detectives track down the person who attacked your daughter, but your showing up at our place of work and shouting at people who are only trying to help you, achieves nothing but bad will.”

  Glynn glared at Reilly for a moment, and she faced it head on, unblinking. Eventually, he straightened his tie before sending her and Jack another glare. “Well I’ve already let it be known to your superiors that I am not satisfied with this,” he said, his voice low and thick with anger, “and if my daughter does not get some peace soon, I will bring the matter to the press.”

  “We are closing in,” Reilly assured him, “we will find him.”

  When Glynn walked away, she turned to leave, but Jack called after her.

  “Are you really closing in?” he asked dubiously.

  Reilly didn't want to lie to her colleague but at the same time she needed to stay optimistic. “Yes,” told him as convincingly as she could, “we are.”

  Afterwards, she went to the lab to find Gary and Lucy at their workstations, both of them looking worn out.

  “Good morning,” Gary greeted. “Or is it? Could be afternoon for all I know. Anyway, good news boss - we’ve been busy. We – got it or, I should say Lucy - got it late last night. That petroleum based trace we were trying to figure out is … paraffin.”

  When Reilly’s apathetic expression didn’t match up to the reaction he’d expected he added, “Well, not only paraffin, that’s just one of the components. There are a couple of others too, but we have to narrow those down yet to truly individuate. I’m still on the strawberry soap stuff – except, I really don’t think that’s what it is - soap, I mean. The chemical makeup is similar, yet different.

  When Reilly looked pointedly at him, he nodded once and turned back to the workstation. “Right,” he said, “You are absolutely right, boss - less chat, more action.”

  But it was good to see they were making some progress at least.

  Mid-morning, she was just about to catch up on some of yesterday’s lab reports, when her cellphone rang.

  Recognising the call as coming from her own home, she swallowed hard.

  “Hey,” Todd said in his American drawl which for some reason felt out of place here in her office. “I was wondering what you wanted to do for dinner later - I though I might cook?” He paused for a moment, then said, “I could pick up some food at the store nearby and maybe some strawberries for dessert.”

  His casual reference to the strawberries they had shared in Florida, and the sudden craving she had for them almost had Reilly agreeing to his plan, but then she remembered something. “I’ll be home late tonight,” she said, adding almost as an afterthought, “I have a doctor’s appointment.”

  Todd was silent for a moment, then he said, “For the baby?”

  “Yes,” Reilly replied, seeing no point in lying to him. She’d almost forgotten about it until an alert on her iPhone calendar reminded her that morning.

  “Okay,” he said, somewhat breathlessly, “change of plan. How about I come along and then we pick something up for dinner afterwards?”

  It was more of a statement than a question and Reilly took in a breath, not ever anticipating her baby’s father attending an ultrasound with her.

  But given the circumstances, how could she say no?

  CHRIS, and Kennedy pulled up outside an impressive glass-fronted building close to University College Dublin.

  “A long time since you frequented somewhere like this…” Chris quipped teasingly to his partner, as they walked into the buzzing reception area of X-Treme Fitness.

  Showing their detective credentials to the receptionist, they were quickly buzzed through to the gym area. The smell of sweat mixed with warm rubber from the treadmills was oppressive as the two stood in the doorway trying to suss out their intended target.

  After a beat, they made their way over to the weights section where several pumped-up youngsters worked hard lifting punishing-looking iron, all the while preening at themselves in the mirrored walls.

  Another similarly beefy guy was sitting on a bench filling out what looked like a time sheet, or more likely Chris realized, a weight log.

  “We’re looking for Dean Cooper?” he called out to no one in particular, but sure as you like, the youth on the bench looked up, eyeing the detectives suspiciously.

  “That’s me,” he said quietly.

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions, son,” Kennedy said, showing his ID.

  “Sure, no worries. Mind if I just finish filling in my log? Otherwise I’ll forget my numbers and - ”

  “Actually, we do mind,” the big man snapped. “Listen bud, as I’m sure you’re aware, your mate Graham Hackett was murdered at a party last week, a party you attended. I think talking to us should be your only priority at the minute.”

  Despite the detective’s tone, Dean Cooper’s cocky demeanor didn't slip for even a second. “Yeah I was at Hacker’s house, hanging out with some of the others for a while,” he shrugged. “I didn’t kill anyone though, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He remained sitting, drying his hands with a towel and then he picked up a container holding a drink that looked to Chris like muddy water.

  He bristled at the guy’s laid-back attitude. There was a time kids would redden up and be automatically courteous and helpful in the presence of authority. But much like Simon Hackett, this asshole had been brought up with a silver spoon in his mouth and evidently a superiority complex to match.

  “So where were you at between one and five am in the early hours of that morning, Dean?” he asked. “Anyone to vouch for your movements?”

  Cooper shrugged again. “I left the house just after one, I think. Me and a few of the lads got the munchies, so I drove us up to Maccers. Anyway, Hacker’s gaff got boring once he and big bro started going off …”

  “Going off? Explain what you mean by that?” Kennedy asked above the deep base of the uptempo music being played, even though every last one of the meatheads around them seemed to be wearing headphones.

  “Ah. Just the brother was being a bit of a buzzkill and they got into it a bit.”

  “So Simon Hackett started the argument? Any idea what they were arguing about in particular?” Chris pressed.

  Dean seemed to think for a second. “The brother seemed really pissed off with Hacker, but I couldn't tell you over what exactly - some girl maybe? Like I said, it was a downer so a lot of us took off after.”

  “You mentioned you drove some of your friends to McDonalds,” Chris asked. “Were you not drinking like the others?”

  Dean seemed to think the very idea was preposterous. “Ha! No point in busting my balls in here, and then going out for a skinful - I’m very careful with what I put into my body.”

  Chris had to bite his tongue not to bring up the steroids there and then, but decided to continue with this line of enquiry for the moment. “Are you friendly with both Hackett brothers?”

  “Well, I know - knew - Graham well enough. He used to come in here a bit at one stage, but I don’t think he could handle the weights. Dunno much about the brother, except he was supposed to be some big hot-shot hurler back in the day. Seems sound enough but I don’t think he and Hacker were all that close. They certainly weren't that night any way.”

  “And you think the argument might have been about some girl - Holly Glynn maybe?” Chris threw the name out just in case.

  Dean shrugged again as he took a deep slug of his puddle water. “I don’t think so. Actually, it wouldn’t surprise me if she was the one who did it though. Hols wasn’t too happy that they broke up. And sh
e definitely didn’t like all the attention Hacker got from other girls.”

  Chris and Kennedy shared a glance – this contradicted what they had so far been told about Holly and Graham’s relationship. From what their closest friends had said, the break-up had been amicable.

  “So you play on the same club team as Graham and the others,” Kennedy ventured.

  “I used to, but to be honest gah’s not really my cup of tea. I’m more of a lone wolf, and this is more my territory,” Dean replied, indicating around the gym.

  “Planning to spend a lot of time here over the summer holidays so?” Kennedy asked, leading the kid toward his next line of enquiry. “No part time jobs lined up or anything?”

  “Nah, be nice to enjoy a couple of months off before I start college. Been looking forward to the break all year.”

  “OK. So how does a young lad like yourself finance a three-month holiday on top of that nice little Golf parked outside?”

  For the first time since they arrived, Dean shifted a little in his seat. “I’ve been saving … and the old man looks out for me too. Wants me to enjoy myself before the hard work starts in college.”

  “So it’s not being financed by your little side business then?”

  “Side business? Dunno what you’re talking about.”

  “Strange. Word is you make a nice living providing … supplements to some of your old team mates.” Chris came right out with it.

  “Yeah, I might share stuff with some of my mates now and again, but they're herbal pills, legal,” the younger man said, his face blanching a little.

  Chris raised an eyebrow. “Legal my ass. Tell us another one.” Seriously the muscles on this kid were so buff they looked like they’d been blown up with a bicycle bump.

  “Look Dean, we already know you were supplying PEDs to Graham Hackett. We found the pills, we have correspondence between you both discussing payment, and we have spoken to others about it too. Things aren't looking very good for you, bud. I suggest you start talking.” Kennedy let the gravitas of the situation sink in a little.

  Dean stood up from the bench then, his laid-back demeanor now completely absent. His face was flushed, even though it had been a good fifteen minutes since he’d lifted his last weight.

  “Look, I had nothing to do with the Hacker thing that night, OK? I left with the others and they can vouch for me, check the CCTV at the drive-in at Carrickmines if you like.”

  “What’s to say you didn't drive back to the house after you dropped the others off?”

  “Ask my mother, I went straight home. I’m telling you, I had nothing to do with it. Should I not have a solicitor here or something?” Dean was increasingly nervous and looking around agitated. “Look, the stuff I gave the lads is harmless, just a booster and a few fat burners, it’s hardly like I was flogging heroin or anything.”

  Chris continued writing in his notebook as Dean pleaded his case.

  “Well, this is an informal chat so no need for a solicitor at this point, though I’m sure we’ll be in touch again after verifying some of your claims. Also Dean, you are now going to cease using and supplying supplements of any kind, legal or otherwise. You don’t want that shit messing up your body, to say nothing of your criminal record.”

  “Right. OK.”

  With that, Chris and Kennedy made their way back towards the entrance, both pretty sure that Dean Cooper would have little energy for lifting weights for a while.

  They walked out into the fresh air, glad to be away from the loud music, clanking weights and monotonous drone of the exercise machines.

  “How does anybody enjoy that? It’s like a feckin’ torture chamber,” Kennedy grumbled, glad to be getting back into the car.

  Chris gave him a look. “Don’t knock it till you try it.” Then starting the engine, he sighed. “Well, dealer or not, I think we can knock old Deano off the suspect list.”

  “How so?”

  “Didn’t you watch him filling out that weight log?” Chris looked sideways at his partner. “He’s a ciotog.”

  32

  Later that evening, Reilly grabbed her handbag from the footwell of the passenger seat of her car, and when she turned to get out, Todd was there, holding the door open for her.

  Disgruntled, she stepped out. “I can still open doors,” she growled as he proceeded to shut both doors while she locked the car behind them. “I’m not an invalid.”

  He had picked her up from work, embarrassingly.

  Reilly had been on the phone to Chris, disappointed by the news that Dean Cooper was left-handed, and thus highly unlikely to be their killer.

  The security footage at the McDonald’s drive-in the kid had mentioned also subsequently checked out, putting Cooper some distance from the house during the window of Graham’s attack.

  And so it seemed they were back to square one.

  Or in Chris’s mind, back to Simon Hackett. “I’m going to bring him in for another chat,” he told her. “There’s something he’s not telling us, I’m sure of it.”

  When security had buzzed up to let Reilly know someone was looking for her downstairs, she had rushed away quickly, so nobody in the lab would catch on to whom exactly, the cute American waiting in reception really was.

  Todd had dressed up for the occasion, she noted, in a dark blue button up shirt that complimented his eyes.

  Now, he walked close to Reilly as they made their way into the hospital, and every so often, his hand would brush against hers. She had the feeling he wanted to catch hold of it, so she kept it firmly to her side, the fingers curled up.

  “I didn’t open the door for you because I thought you couldn’t do it, I opened the door for you because I realized all the other things you do, and I thought I might take it upon myself to relieve one of those burdens,” Todd explained as they walked, shooting her one of his dazzling grins.

  Reilly would hardly call opening a car door a “burden” but she accepted his explanation, anyway. There was no point in arguing with him and if she did, he would probably just blame her opposition on the pregnancy.

  It was something the people around her had started doing more and more. Any time something upset her, or she was unhappy with the performance of one of her team members, she knew they secretly chalked it down to her hormones. It seemed she wasn’t allowed to have genuine concerns about anything these days; everything that affected her was because of the baby.

  The smell of the hospital assaulted Reilly’s senses right away. Antiseptic and cleaning supplies, mixed with the smell of infection, decay and hopelessness.

  She and Todd made their way up to the antenatal department, and approached the desk. “I have an appointment with Dr. Moore at six,” she said, glancing back at Todd, who was looking through some of the informational booklets a little too enthusiastically.

  “Sure,” the receptionist said, after hitting a few buttons, “Go ahead and take a seat, and she’ll come out for you when she’s ready.”

  Reilly found her seat, and Todd sat next to her – quite close – still holding a pamphlet he’d started thumbing through. It was ironic that he wanted to read about pregnancies and babies when it was everything she could do to try to forget about it.

  “Reilly Steel?” A young nurse called out a couple of minutes later, so she stood and went through the door, Todd trailing beside her.

  From the look on the nurse’s face as she led them through to her obstetrician’s office, she seemed quite taken with Reilly’s handsome companion.

  “Just come inside, and we’ll get you comfortable on the bed. Dr. Moore should be in shortly.”

  As the nurse left, Reilly climbed up on the recliner and sat back against the comfortable pillows. Instead of sitting in one of the chairs against the wall, Todd stood next to her, one of his hands braced on the back of the bed, as if she was about to give birth there and then.

  She caught him staring at her stomach again, and sighed, figuring if there was any place for it, it was here. As if o
n cue, the baby kicked. “Give me your hand.”

  Todd held it out automatically, though he seemed a bit confused. She took his tanned hand by the wrist and gently guided it to her stomach, laying his palm flat against it. Soon after, the baby kicked again and Todd’s hand twitched like he was going to pull it away, but then stayed.

  His gaze met Reilly’s. “Oh,” he said simply, his face filled of awe as he stared at her.

  “I don’t mean to disturb anything …” Dr. Moore said, a smile etched across the obstetrician’s graceful features as she slipped into the room.

  Reilly blushed despite herself, and Todd removed his hand like it had been on a hot burner, as if they were teenagers caught out by an adult.

  If Dr. Moore was confused by Todd’s appearance at this appointment, she said and showed no sign of it. Instead, she pulled the ultrasound machine closer to the bed and snapped on her gloves as it powered on. Reilly duly pulled her shirt up and Dr. Moore smeared some petroleum jelly over her, before grabbing the machine and bringing the wand to her stomach.

  Reilly winced as the wand moved over her tender skin – she was becoming quite swollen, and pressure applied to her stomach at any point by anything was uncomfortable.

  Todd’s face lit up as he looked at the image forming on the ultrasound. He found Reilly’s hand again and held it tight, and though it felt odd, she held on too, taken by the wonder of seeing their baby moving about on the screen.

  It was only a collection of white pixels, she thought, but still, she couldn’t shake the excitement welling up in her chest as the baby moved.

  “Everything’s looking good,” Dr. Moore said, smiling at the two of them. “Did we want to know the gender?”

  Reilly looked uncertainly at Todd. She was incredibly torn about finding out the baby’s gender. The realist in her felt it would probably be good to know so she could perhaps personalize the situation somewhat, and make it all more real, but at the same time, what did that matter? “No, I don’t think so,” she said.

  Todd’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at the screen. “Yeah, let’s wait,” he agreed, as if they’d already discussed such a thing a million times.