Daddy's Little Killer

by LS Sygnet

  "Paranoid bastards."

  I couldn't hold back the grin another second. "Paranoia doesn't preclude the possibility that people are out to get you, Detective Briscoe. Sometimes paranoia is simply good common sense." It was the first tidbit of Dad's wisdom I shared with anyone.

  Incredulous eyes widened in focus on me.

  "Come on, Briscoe. Surely Orion told you that a couple of private detectives have been watching my every move since I got here. Forsythe's crime techs even found electronic surveillance in my hotel room after someone broke in this morning. They stole my laptop computer for God's sake."

  They shared another glance, this one uneasy. Conall spoke.

  "He told us nothing of the kind, Helen."

  "Tell me who you lost because he dared investigate Danny Datello."

  Briscoe snorted. "It was an assistant district attorney."

  "David Ireland," Conall added. "Nobody ever knew what he uncovered, but considering that he was assassinated and his office was ransacked, everyone concluded that it was damning enough to put Datello in prison for a very long time."

  "Now that's what I needed to know. How long ago did this assassination take place?" I leaned forward.

  "You think this has something to do with the Bennett murder?" Tony shook his head. "That's impossible, Helen. David Ireland was murdered before Brighton Bennett."

  "How long before?"

  They shared another look.

  "The Ireland investigation happened around Christmas, right Tony?"

  "He died a week before. We caught the guy right after New Year's," Briscoe said. "And Brighton Bennett's body was found when, late March, early April?"

  "Somewhere in that time frame. Johnny would know the exact date. They were both his cases."

  "Ireland was mine too," Tony muttered.

  "Wait a minute," I interrupted their rough timeline. "You were with Central Division when Orion was there, Briscoe?"

  "No, he started out at Downey. After the perp was caught on the Ireland case, they promoted Johnny and moved him to central."

  "Tell me more about the ADA's murder."

  Briscoe tugged at the goatee again. "Week before Christmas, and Ireland was leaving his office at the district courthouse. It was late evening, eight-ish. Our assassin shot him in the back of the head in the parking garage that the district court shares with central."

  "Whoa. Wait. The murder happened in the parking garage at Central Division?"

  "Yeah," Briscoe nodded.

  "Then how did Downey end up taking the case?"

  "Chief McNamara assigned it to Downey."

  "Right," Conall said. "I forgot about Harry McNamara. Wow, that seems like about a million years ago."

  "Almost sixteen," Briscoe said. "Anyway, Johnny and I landed the case. We extradited our primary suspect from Jersey City, got him out here and –"

  "Jersey City, as in New Jersey?" I interrupted. This was the link I'd been looking for all along. "Who was this guy? What was the result of the prosecution? Is he in prison right now?"

  "His name was Mitch Southerby, and no, he's not in prison because there was no prosecution."

  "Son of a bitch! How did Datello weasel Southerby out of prosecution? If this is another case of evidence tampering, I'm going to start questioning both of your sanity."

  "Southerby keeled over dead in the interrogation room right after he confessed to killing Ireland," Briscoe's ruddy complexion faded to ashen as he spoke. "Damnedest thing I ever saw in my life."

  "Was he old?"

  "Thirty-seven," Briscoe said. "Our medical examiner said that he died of natural causes, a massive heart attack. Johnny wanted more tests."

  "And what did they show?" I had unconsciously perched on the edge of my chair. "Was it poison? Something else?"

  "We never found out," Briscoe shook his head and sighed. "It's no wonder Johnny burned out so fast. He couldn't accept not getting answers."

  "How did you not find out? Did the medical examiner –"

  "He wouldn't do the tests Johnny requested, said there was no need. He rubber-stamped the cause of death as cardiac failure and was ready to move on. Johnny went to court to force him to do the additional testing and won the motion. But then the body was gone."

  My eyes narrowed. "That shouldn't have mattered. The ME collects fluid and tissue samples –"

  "All gone," Briscoe said. "So the chief in all his wisdom threw Johnny a bone, praised him for closing the case, solving the murder, bumped his grade from three to one and welcomed him to the fold at Central Division."

  "This was which chief? Weber? McNamara?"

  Crevan snorted. "By the time all the court battles were concluded, it was newly appointed Chief Lowe."

  "What happened to McNamara?"

  "That one was legit," Tony said. "McNamara was close to sixty in a high stress job."

  "Let me guess. He died of a massive heart attack too?"

  "Well, it wasn't all that strange," Tony frowned. "I guess old Riley Storm might've missed his calling. He was awfully good at finding heart attacks."

  "How long has Dr. Storm been out of the picture?"

  Conall blinked rapidly. "I thought you knew."

  "I'm here asking questions because of the things I don't know, Detective Conall. How long has Riley Storm been out of the medical examiner's office? Please don't tell me that he's someone still working for Dr. Winslow."

  "No ma'am, he surely is not," Briscoe said. "In fact, Dr. Winslow was hired to replace Riley."

  "Six months? Six months? This was the guy who did the autopsy on Brighton Bennett, the one who hobbled the forensic aspect of the best evidence there was in the murder investigation, wasn't he?"

  Briscoe nodded. "I think you got the picture now, Helen."

  "I have only a few more questions, gentlemen. First, where are Danny Datello's offices located? Which division?"

  "Central," Tony said.

  "And the officers in charge of the detective units outside Central Division, what are they like?"

  "All you gotta do to answer that question is look at our solve rates," Tony said. "I don't know the other lieutenants all that well, so I can't speak to that. What I can tell you is that Shelly Finkelstein, our lieutenant, is above reproach."

  The disconnect was at central. Datello's headquarters were in central's jurisdiction. It didn't tell me who exerted control over Hardy and Weber, possibly even Jerry Lowe, but it pointed in one specific direction.

  "Then again, since you ain't got hard evidence provin' that we don't work for Datello, I expect my word don't mean squat," Briscoe continued.

  "Calm down, Tony," I said. "I asked the question because I had to be sure I could trust you."

  "And are you sure, Dr. Eriksson?"

  I met his angry gaze. "As sure as I've ever been of anything."

  "And what about Johnny?" Crevan asked.

  "I'm still working that one out."

  "Actually, I wouldn't have it any other way," Orion's voice chimed in from the doorway.

  "How long have you been listening?"

  "Since Tony lost his cool," Orion grinned at his old friend. The mentorship was a little clearer now. "If you guys don't mind, I'd like to have a word with Doc in private now."

  I thanked the detectives before they shuffled out of Orion's office and waited patiently for him to return. I didn't have to wait long. Orion poured a sloppy glass of scotch and slumped onto the sofa.

  "So."

  "Indeed," I said. "You've got quite the history with the police department, Orion. I wasn't aware you were so susceptible to bribery."

  "Don't even start that bullshit with me, Doc. I'm not the same guy Tony remembers."

  "Really?"

  "I don't bait as easily as I did when I was a new detective."

  "Yet you haven't learned patience. At all."

  He stretched his legs out and crossed the still bare feet at the ankles. Sprawled as he was, the shirt gaped open to reveal rock hard abs, an impressive
six-pack for a man over forty.

  "I can be as patient as the circumstances require, Doc, but your suspicion of me is really unwarranted in this situation. Surely you've figured out that I became the scapegoat for evidence tampering because I wouldn't play ball like the other detectives at central."

  "Question is, who asked you to join the game?"

  "There was never a direct invitation beyond being brought into the fold of Darkwater Bay's most elite squad. Central Division was once what every detective in the city aspired to join. Then again, that was during the McNamara years."

  "Hmm. I wondered about that. You owe me some answers, Orion."

  "Call me Johnny and I'll give you the world."

  "That reminds me of Satan tempting Christ. All this can be yours, if you bow down and serve me."

  "Thought you weren't religious."

  "I'm not. I am, however, literate."

  Orion chuckled and drained his glass. "You want a drink?"

  "I'm good, thanks."

  He poured another and stared at the prism created by the light hitting the crystal and amber liquid. "I loved Gwen," he said. "Sisterly sort of way, before you start throwing out accusations. You really handled Briscoe," he shook his head and laughed. "Tony's not used to strong women who understand men."

  "And you think I'm a strong woman who understands men?"

  "Oh yeah. You don't like us much, but you know exactly which buttons to push, don't you Doc?"

  "I'll let you in on a little secret. I understand people. Psychology. That's my thing, remember?"

  "And you already admitted that you love a good head game."

  "Tell me who you think hired the PI's to follow me."

  "Why do you think Masconi was the wrong guy in my murder investigation?"

  "I can't tell you that. It's an open case. You know the rules, Orion."

  "And you know that I'm not obligated to share anything with you."

  "So much for your character references tonight. Your friends think you're a real stand up guy, that you'd do anything in your power to protect people."

  "I did protect you. More than once. My guy at the hotel called while you were at central. The second sweep turned up three more devices. Before you accuse me of having Paul plant them, you should know that the only person who entered your room since he started guarding the door was housekeeping."

  "So now the maid did it."

  "She had access."

  "Did Haverston send someone to talk to her?"

  Orion shrugged. "I don't have the right to ask that question, do I Doc? I presume he did, however, based on the fact that Paul said the place was crawling with police who quickly looked very frustrated."

  "Either she's in the wind or she doesn't really work for the hotel."

  "Good guess," he said.

  "It would be very helpful if you would tell me who you think is so interested in my investigation."

  "You don't really have to ask that question." Orion sipped instead of guzzling.

  "Datello."

  "Bingo. Question is, why would he be interested in you before you even showed up in Darkwater Bay?"

  "I'm sure he has his reasons." Reasons about which I would not elaborate under any circumstances. It was enough to know that the Darkwater Bay connection had nothing to do with Hardy's offer of work and everything to do with Rick's murder.

  "His uncle is a big time organized crime figure back in your territory, isn't he?"

  "Sullivan Marcos. You could say that his name conjures certain stereotypes. I had nothing to do with organized crime investigations at the FBI, Orion."

  "I wouldn't go that far. There was a link, Doc, a very significant link I learned today."

  "My ex-husband?"

  Orion nodded.

  I sighed. Conversation over. My little secret wasn't going to stay buried for long.

  "Is that why you left the FBI?"

  "I wasn't fired, Orion."

  "No, I'm sure you weren't, given the urgency that your friend David showed when he tried to lure you back home where you belong earlier."

  "I don't belong there. I haven't belonged for a very long time."

  "Did you know who I was Monday night?" Orion avoided my gaze by staring at the floor. "Were you playing a game with me?"

  "No more than you were me," I said. "And I could ask you the same question, Orion. What were you really doing in Washington? Did someone send you to find me and encourage me to come to Darkwater Bay?"

  "I know you don't believe in a thing called coincidence, so I won't insult you by trying to play it off as chance. I was in D.C. for a specific reason. It led me to you, a woman I believed was Diana Farber. I couldn't figure out what Kelly and Varden were doing, I just knew that I needed to stop them from harassing an innocent bystander."

  "Ah. You were following the PI's. That makes more sense than any scenario I could imagine. Why were you on their trail?"

  "It's a case I'm not at liberty to discuss."

  "Right," the word drawled from my lips. "Because somehow, what you were investigating at the time links back to me for some reason, and we can't possibly explain what that link is, could we? God forbid I have a little insight into why someone wanted to abduct me from my hotel. Twice."

  "Doc, I honestly have no idea how you fit into any of this. Like I said, I'm not even sure I know who hired those two boneheads. You'd think that someone with Datello's resources could find men more capable, wouldn't you?"

  "The thought occurred to me."

  "But who else could it be?"

  "I suppose the answer to that might lie in whatever case you were investigating that led them to … Kelly and Varden, was it?"

  He nodded. "I can't say."

  "Can't is different than won't, Orion." I watched his lips form a thin, tight line, his posture stiffen. "Maybe you could say if the phone call you got Monday night that put the skids on our mutual mistake was related to Kelly and Varden."

  "Peripherally, but not really."

  "Was it related to Gwen Foster?"

  "Gwen never hired me."

  "Yes, you already told me that. Did someone else hire you on her behalf?"

  "Look," Orion rose abruptly and slammed his glass onto the end table by the sofa. "You're gonna need a secure place to stay tonight until you can make other arrangements. I had Paul get your bags packed. He's on his way over here with them now. You can argue all you like, Doc, but for tonight, this is the safest place you could possibly be. Nobody's gonna spy on you here."

  "Nobody but you."

  He held his hands up in supplication. "I've got a thing tonight. I won't be back for hours, if not until morning. If anybody has the opportunity to spy here, it's you. Knock yourself out. I let Michel at the desk know you'd be here, in case you need to go out. He'll let you back in."

  "So many irons in so many fires. Don't forget to take protection," I sneered. Orion would find my luggage exactly where his employee left it. I had no intention of spending the night in his lair. Nor did I believe that Orion wouldn't be watching exactly what I was doing all night.

  Chapter 18

  My frustration level built to the breaking point and boiled over when I marched into an empty squad room at central and found the lock on my door had been jimmied open. The computer's hard drive was gone, torn out rather clumsily. Naturally, my search had been aborted in the process.

  In the ill advised attempt to slow the progress of my investigation, Kelly and Varden had made a rookie mistake, one that told me more than Orion's suspicions had.

  Whoever hired them had unfettered access to the police department. In lieu of the rickety elevator, I jogged down three flights of stairs to the information desk. An civilian employee I'd never met was on duty. Simms. I gazed at his weary face.

  "Mr. Simms, my name is Helen Eriksson."

  "Yeah, I heard."

  "I'm curious where Detective Myre is. I was here earlier and he was in the squad room and now he's gone."

  "Myre went home
at eleven."

  "And who covers homicide after that?"

  "They're on call, Dr. Eriksson. Didn't the chief give you any orientation today?"

  Which chief? I smiled sheepishly. "We've got this big case, and in all the excitement …"

  "Lowe pulled a Lowe," Simms shook his head and rifled around beneath the dilapidated countertop. "Let's see what I got in here. Ah, heck, it'd be easier if I just told you how it works around here. The detectives ordinarily are in the squad room, or active duty, from seven to four-thirty Monday through Friday. If something happens during off hours, they're on call, and dispatch pages them."

  "Like Tuesday night at the Foster home."

  "Exactly."

  "Were you on duty last night, Simms?"

  "Every night from eleven to seven, Wednesday through Sunday."

  I glanced at my Rolex. Eleven twenty-seven.

  Simms whistled. "That's a nice piece, Dr. Eriksson."

  "Call me Helen," I mustered a friendly smile. "So if the detectives are typically here until four-thirty every day, why was Myre upstairs at nine when I went to my office?"

  "Couldn't say," he shrugged. "It's not normal, that's for sure, and I'd bet my puny paycheck that the missus was having a fit that he wasn't home yet."

  "Detective Myre is married?" Given his rumpled, generally unkempt appearance, I struggled to imagine the kind of woman who would marry him. The thought of his teeth was enough to make me shudder. He had the dentition of early stage meth-mouth and smelled like he existed on a diet of tuna and red onion with a dash of garlic thrown in for social purposes.

  "Oh yeah. If you spend much time around the guy, you'll notice that the woman has him on a very short, tight leash."

  "I'm not sure I know what that means."

  "She calls him. Constantly. I picked up a day shift for Molly a couple of months ago, and I swear to God every time I saw him that day, he had the phone to his ear, promising Susan this that and the other. I don't know how the guy gets anything done."

  "And you mentioned this to Molly?"

  "She said that's Myre's typical day. He doesn't do a darn thing but talk on that phone and run errands for Rogers and Daltry."

  Interesting. Rogers and Daltry seemed to exert a fair amount of control in the homicide unit. "Tell me, Mr. Simms. How many detectives work out of the homicide unit?"