Daddy's Little Killer

by LS Sygnet

  "Why am I being accosted by three superiors and someone who has no authority over my position at all?"

  "We're not accosting you, Helen," Weber spoke softly. "That interview raised grave concerns. From our vantage point, it sounded like Datello threatened you."

  "That," I waved it aside. "Posturing. His ilk are good at it. Believe me, I'm not concerned at his little demonstration of tit for tat. It irritated him that I reminded him how fully aware I am of his connection to organized crime. You honestly didn't expect me to let him spoon feed his PR diatribe about squeaky clean businesses, did you?"

  "You were a little on the antagonistic side," George said.

  "Perhaps Mr. Datello needed a reminder that he holds no stake in the Darkwater Bay police department."

  "That's it," Darnell fumed. "We're taking this case."

  "Who?" I demanded.

  "OSI. I will not have another high profile murder case botched because of –"

  "Like hell are you taking my case! You have no right to interfere in the jurisdiction of this city, Commander Darnell. I don't care who empowered you. Fight me on this, and I'll have every major network in the country crawling all over Darkwater Bay, camped out on your doorstep, examining every single thing your boss has done since he was elected to office!"

  For the record, I hold no such power. At the same time, I know this game too. A politician puts image before all else. The governor would probably scale Everest naked to avoid even the appearance of impropriety.

  Darnell buckled. "You wouldn't."

  "In a New York minute. Why are you even here, Darnell? We've been working this case for less than two days and making huge strides toward its resolution." Lie. "There's absolutely no justification for interference from an outside agency. And believe me, as a member of the most powerful outside agency in the country, I can promise you that not even the bureau would get away with what you're trying to do."

  "Yet you're not here as a member of the FBI," Darnell's thick arms tested his suit to the limits when he crossed them over his chest. "You're on par with us local guys."

  "I feel I should divulge something that none of you are probably aware of. As of last night, there are two of my colleagues from the FBI here. In Darkwater Bay."

  Hardy sank into a chair. "Oh lord, Helen. Was that really necessary?"

  "They're here should it become necessary."

  "Have I missed something?" Lowe morphed into a sponge on the other side of the table, eagerly absorbing every detail of what was said.

  "The only reason you're here is because I haven't been able to reach Rodney all night, and we've got another problem," Donald said. "It would appear that both Rodney and Helen's offices were burglarized last night."

  "What was taken?" Lowe's smirk vanished.

  "The hard drive from my computer," I said. "I wasn't aware that Captain Martin's office was burgled as well. This isn't the first theft I've suffered. Wednesday morning, my hotel room was robbed and my laptop computer was taken. Forsythe processed the scene and found a number of electronic surveillance devices."

  "My God." George crumpled to the precipice of despair. "Maybe we should just let Chris take this case, Donald. We …"

  "We must soldier on," I said with conviction. "I have already implemented additional security measures that I'm confident will be successful."

  "Even with Danny Datello gunning for you?" Lowe asked. He almost pulled off concern. Almost.

  "Datello told me exactly what I needed to know, gentlemen. He isn't even aware of how thoroughly manipulated he was in that interview."

  "And just what information were you angling for?" Darnell asked. Still, deep interest sparked in his eyes.

  "Granted, I took it farther than it needed to go, because I wanted his focus on the notion that I'm here because of a vendetta the feds have against the Marcos family, which as you probably know or at least figured out, includes dear Danny.

  "His reaction to Gwen's murder told me what I've suspected for a full day now."

  "Which was what precisely, doctor?" Darnell, like Orion, could use a lesson or two in patience.

  "Salvatore Masconi did not kill Gwen Foster. And up until a few minutes ago, Datello believed with all his heart that Masconi was responsible for Brighton Bennett's murder. He now knows that he made a terrible mistake."

  Lowe rubbed his hands together. "You're saying that Datello had Masconi killed after Orion botched the case!"

  "It's very likely, Chief Lowe. When he stammered about how it wasn't possible, it could be inferred that dead men cannot commit more crimes. Don't get too excited. There's no evidence that Masconi is dead, or that Datello did the deed."

  "Yet," Lowe grinned at me. "I have the utmost confidence in your ability to expose him for the murderer that we know he is."

  I tried to rein in the infectious enthusiasm Lowe sparked. "Yeah, we hope, chief. In the meantime, whoever did kill Gwen and Brighton is still out there doing God knows what because he's managed to stay a step ahead of everyone for a very long time."

  "Do you have a profile?"

  "It's coming together quickly, commander," I said. "Right now, all I can tell you is that Haverston and I will be aggressively pursuing new information that I uncovered during the night."

  "Is that why you're dressed like you just performed an autopsy?" George broke the code of polite behavior and addressed my unusual attire.

  "I was a little wilted by sunrise. Forgive my appearance. It was the best I could do and make it here soon enough to chat with Datello before he got fed up and left. I promise, Haverston and his team will have my profile the second I'm sure it's as accurate as possible."

  "Anything you can tell us now would be helpful. This story is gonna break in the news sooner rather than later, and we've got to be able to convey some confidence to the press," Weber's somber mood deepened a few degrees.

  "He's a white male, mature, with extensive knowledge of human anatomy. Anything beyond that would be irresponsible speculation until I learn more about his victims."

  Lowe started tracing patterns on the table with one finger. "What do you mean by mature, Helen?"

  "He's not the typical 25-40 year old offender. At the youngest, he's probably pushing fifty."

  "And extensive knowledge of anatomy, are you implying that this could be a doctor?" Lowe pressed.

  "A doctor, a professor of anatomy, or someone who has experimented enough that he learned a great deal. A hunter or butcher for instance."

  "Fascinating."

  "Yes, well be that as it may, I'd rather be out getting the information that I need right now. Are we adjourned, commissioner?"

  "Go," he nodded. "Make sure Haverston or his men pick up this Bennett boy when Datello calls."

  "Yes sir."

  Lowe followed me out of the conference room and resumed the light touch to my low back. "Helen, you've got to know how much I admire what you do. I find this absolutely fascinating. I've been begging for years, trying to get George and Donald to move this department into the 21st century. I'd love to sit down and talk to you about how you've managed to gain such insight into human behavior."

  "Really?"

  "Yes!"

  "Perhaps after the case is resolved."

  "Nonsense. You have to eat, don't you?"

  "Well …" Three olives, a boat load of chocolate and a gallon of cinnamon latte hardly qualified as nutrition.

  "You look exhausted. When you get to the point that you can't go forward without a break, call me on my cell." He pressed a card into my hand. "Day or night, middle of the night, I don't care. I'll whip up whatever you'd like to eat, and we can have a nice, private chat without the dinosaurs interrupting."

  Fatigue made it sound reasonable. Curiosity about Lowe made it tempting. My desire for a kindred spirit regarding bending rules made it an irresistible proposition. I grinned up at him. "You've got yourself a deal, Chief Lowe."

  "Jerry," he murmured. "And I look forward to seeing you soon."


  Chapter 22

  I dashed across the street to LaPierre Tower to liberate my luggage. Fortunately, Michel had left word with his daytime counterpart that Mr. Orion had a guest who was to be allowed access to the penthouse. As it turned out, it wasn't entirely necessary. I met Orion at the elevator. He was going.

  "Don't stick around on account of me."

  "Funny, Doc. I was just about ready to call out the national guard." He stepped back into the elevator. "Well?"

  "Well what?"

  "Are you coming?"

  "Only to get my things."

  "C'mon, Doc. Would it really be so terrible for you to accept a genuine offer of help?"

  "Not from someone I trust implicitly."

  "Oh, and who might that be?"

  "None of your business. I appreciate the help you offered last night, getting my things out of the Montcliff before they too could be infected with bugs, but I no longer require your assistance."

  "I saw Danny Datello leaving central when I got home this morning."

  He hadn't bothered to change his clothes, not that I noticed before he subtly pointed out that he didn't go back to the penthouse last night.

  "You are correct."

  "He looked like a man on a mission."

  "I'm sure he did."

  "Any signs of Kelly and Varden this morning?"

  "I wouldn't know, Orion. I've been to busy working to notice."

  "You should pay closer attention, Doc. If you did, you might've noticed that yes, they're still watching your every move, as are the gentlemen from the FBI."

  "No surprise there."

  "And why is that not a shocking twist in this drama?"

  "You assume I didn't ask them to stick around."

  "After you told them to leave, wished David the best?"

  "Orion, if I didn't know your type the way I do, I'd say you almost sound jealous."

  The elevator chimed, and Orion slipped his keycard into the slot that granted access to the penthouse foyer.

  "Who says jealousy is an impossible emotion for me to feel?"

  "I do. Men like you don't stick around long enough to get jealous. You go out and have a thing for one night, and come home the next morning ready to move on to the next conquest. God help the good men and women at the Department of Health if you ever settle down. The rate of sexually transmitted diseases will probably drop by 75 percent."

  "Ouch." Not really, judging by the unabashed grin. He swung the door to his apartment open.

  I wasted no time. One bag tucked under my arm, I started lugging the heaviest out into the foyer.

  "Helen."

  "What?"

  "Don't do this. I don't mind if you stay here, and I swear on my father's soul, I'll be a perfect gentlemen. I'd feel a lot better if I knew you had a safe place to decompress."

  "I see my demonstration in self defense fell on deaf ears. Or nerves as the case may be."

  "All right. All right. I concede defeat. You're a big girl who can take care of herself. I'm not sure how adept you are at sleeping with one eye open, but if you say so –"

  "Funny, Orion."

  "It's not like they didn't come after you in your sleep once already."

  "I seem to recall that it was you who dragged me out of bed, not the bad guys. Or maybe you're the bad guy after all."

  "And my memory has another recollection. You didn't snap out of the fog with jujitsu, Doc. You were helpless."

  I dropped the bulging suitcase in the doorway. "What do you really hope to gain by all of this? I'm not going to fall into your arms or kiss your feet or any other part of your anatomy, Orion. I know what you are. If I hadn't suspected it the night we met, it has become crystal clear to me since then. Give it up. You're fighting an unwinnable battle. I'm not interested."

  "Neither am I. Happy now?"

  "Seriously?"

  "Yes."

  "All right. I'll stay, but only until I can find something truly safe."

  He threw his hands in the air. "Finally! I was starting to wonder if you had an ounce of common sense in your head."

  "Have you got a guest room in this mausoleum?"

  "Several." He grinned and effortlessly lifted my large bag and carried it into the penthouse. "This way, m'lady."

  I followed, feeling the urge to throw breadcrumbs as we weaved around what had to be the entire top floor of LaPierre Tower. "This security gig must be pretty lucrative, huh Orion?"

  "Pretty. I do all right. Why? Are you impressed yet?"

  He strode into a room with floor to ceiling glass on the west wall, blinds open. "Even in the fog, she's a stunning view of the bay, yes?"

  "Too bad we're not up higher and on the ocean side."

  Johnny's shoulders slumped. "Sorry, Doc. This is, you should know, generally considered the best view from the city proper."

  "I believe you." I drifted to the windows and peered out. "It's spectacular." He harrumphed behind me.

  "I should get the rest of your bags. Feel free to settle in as much or as little as you like, Doc. You've got your own bath off the –"

  "I'll find it. Thanks Orion."

  When he left the room, I dug through my carry-on bag for the phone charger and had it plugged in for a quick charge before dashing into the bathroom. The less opportunity to chit chat, the better. I toed out of the sneakers Maya provided and checked for blisters. There were plenty of red marks for wearing shoes without proper stockings, and my hose were shredded. I tossed them aside and listened for noises in the bedroom.

  Silence.

  I opened the door and crept to one of the suitcases, unzipped and started sorting through the mess Orion's man made when hastily packing my belongings. Suits were wrinkled beyond repair. Every pair of hose seemed magnetically attracted to the point of any heel in the bag. Blouses were wadded into balls and shoved into corners of the bag.

  Face in the palms, insert loud groan.

  "I've got a service here in the building if Paul made a huge mess."

  "He did, and I really don't have time to sort through all of this trying to find something that might be in half way decent condition to wear."

  Orion tossed a garment bag on the bed. "Try in there. I'll call Ansel at the desk and have him send someone up for the rest of this stuff."

  "So it can come back with bugs sewn into the hems? No thank you. I'll buy an iron while I'm out."

  I unzipped the garment bag and found two changes of clothes undamaged. A light yellow pastel pantsuit, spring wool, and another in deep vibrant green.

  "Mmm," Orion moaned. "Wear the green."

  "The green."

  "Uh huh."

  "I'm not particularly partial to either one. The colors rather bleed the authority right out of the badge, don't you think?"

  He chuckled. "They are your clothes, Doc."

  "Yeah. My freakin' clothes. Your man ruined half of my – stuff."

  "Unmentionable stuff?" I could hear the bastard's amused grin half way across the room.

  "Stockings are delicate. It can't be tossed into luggage with heels."

  "That, I think I can help you with."

  "Closet cross dresser, are we? I doubt we wear the same size."

  "There's a shop in the lobby. What am I buying?"

  "Size AB if they're Hanes."

  "I think we can manage that. Are those tall?"

  "No."

  "Doc, you're pretty tall."

  "I'm also not very wide. They're nylon. They stretch, if not one way, the other. Get me three pair if they've got them."

  "Don't these things come in different colors?"

  "Nude will suffice."

  "Mmm, yeah, I should've known that. Be back in a jiff."

  I was afraid he meant it, and hurried into the suit before he could return. Sure I'd have to half undress to put on the hose, but it was better than having him loiter around waiting for me to change. This way, I could call out from the bathroom, have him leave the stockings and end the inquisition early.


  Defiantly, I pulled the yellow suit off a hanger and went to the bathroom. I was half dressed when a knock sounded at the door. "Doc?"

  "Just leave them on the bed."

  "All right."

  Door opened a crack. Coast clear. Minutes later, I struggled into the strappy three inch heels and clomped down the long hallway of his penthouse.

  Orion was sitting at a table I hadn't taken the time to notice the night before, or the fact that the living area of the penthouse was akin to a giant loft, with different areas bleeding into the next. The table was closest to his kitchen, separated from the rest of the room by a large island.

  "Coffee?" His eyebrows spiked downward. "You can't take even a simple suggestion, Doc." Shrug. "Worked out this time. You look authoritative enough in the yellow. I think it's still that federal attitude clinging to you."

  The aroma of dark roast wafted into my nostrils. I sank into a chair, not yet ready to succumb to the pleas of my body for sleep. "Thanks. Black." He poured, while I pondered. "Is there an Apple Store around here?"

  "Down the block. You need something?"

  "To replace my laptop. It occurred to me, after what I went through last night, that I should rectify that loss as soon as possible."

  Johnny picked at a croissant. My stomach growled. He pushed a plate with one for me in my direction. "If you're hungry," he said. "May I ask exactly what you went through last night?"

  I explained the search for a computer and privacy.

  "You could've had both here."

  "Not with the software I required."

  "Ah, a cop thing."

  "Yes, a cop thing. If I replace the laptop, I can download and install the software without any fuss and save myself a ton of hassle in the future."

  "Central is right across the street, Doc. I'm sure they had what you needed."

  "Perhaps. I'm not comfortable with my investigation happening right under their noses. It seems more prudent to eliminate that location whenever possible. I hope you won't mind if Charlie and I powwow up here from time to time. You know, at least until I find a permanent solution to my housing situation."

  "It's gonna be tough finding a place that could match the security here."

  "Tough, but not impossible. I've got some downtime this morning. In addition to the laptop, iron and ironing board, I thought I might look for a realtor."