Private Detective: BENNINGTON P.I.: A thrilling four-novel political murder mystery private detective series...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “I should not have kept that from you sister. I apologize.”

  Ivanka paused again as she stared back at her brother from her parlor seat, knowing his fear of her rage and his potential punishment was working its way through him as she did so.

  “I asked you if you actually saw Katalina, and yet you avoided answering that question. So, you did not see her then?”

  Arman shifted his weight from his left foot to his right as he stood before his sister staring down at the deeply polished floors of Ivanka’s residence.

  “I did not see her, but everything seemed fine.”

  Ivanka’s voice ripped across the space between herself and Arman, the volume increasing with each spoken word.

  “Do you think, perhaps, everything seemed fine, because you were taking money from the congressman? That in that taking, you would want to believe everything was fine? Don’t you think it possible this congressman played upon your pathetic greed, to ensure your cooperation in whatever he might be doing to Katalina?”

  Arman’s response was a barely audible whisper.

  “Perhaps, yes.”

  Again Ivanka’s silence seemed to create an increasingly heavy weight around her brother, pushing down on him, and causing a thin layer of sweat to break out upon his forehead.

  “So why do you come to me now Arman? What troubles you with this congressman so much, that you risk losing yet more money from him? What has made you disclose to me your secret arrangement with this politician?”

  Arman raised his head to look at his sister, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

  “He asked me to do something for him.”

  Without hesitation, Ivanka demanded Arman explain further.

  “What? What did he ask of you Arman?”

  Arman cleared his throat, his eyes still locked with those of his sister.

  “To dispose of a body. A young woman. A prostitute.”

  Ivanka felt herself go cold, sensing the trouble her brother had brought to them both, and her business, could be considerable.

  “But it wasn’t Katalina?”

  Arman shook his head.

  “Of course not! I know your girls are to be protected sister! I would not have kept such a thing from you! I did not recognize her. She was a black girl.”

  Ivanka exhaled slowly, suddenly feeling much older than her years.

  “So did you do it? Did you dispose of the body?”

  Arman closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again.

  “No. I said I would consider it. He offered me more money, ten thousand dollars, but I knew then I had to come to you and let you know. I would not betray your trust with such matters sister.”

  Ivanka’s eyes flashed scorn of her brother’s attempts to reconcile with her.

  “You already betrayed me Arman, the moment you took money from that man without my knowledge. He wasn’t paying you for your service – he was paying you for your silence! And so now you came crawling here to me, knowing full well that if this man has killed a girl already, he might have done so to our Katalina as well. Isn’t that right?”

  Arman stood silent, his shoulders slumped, looking every bit the beaten dog.

  “Answer me Arman! Isn’t that right? That Katalina might already be dead!”

  The Russian enforcer nodded briefly back to his sister.

  “Yes.”

  “So then tell me Arman, what do you intend to do if Katalina was killed by this man? This…congressman?”

  Arman’s eyes narrowed slightly, his voice a seething whisper.

  “As always, whatever you wish for me to do, I will do sister.”

  Ivanka Vetrov was a criminal. She was also a woman, and despite her very tough exterior, a mother figure to those who were in her employ. Though she would never show it, when those who worked for her hurt, so too did Ivanka. When they shared with her their dreams of a life free from selling sex for money, Ivanka urged them to make it happen. And when they were harmed by the hand of another, Ivanka Vetrov avenged them.

  “What if I wish to have you kill this congressman?”

  Arman gave his sister an almost-smile, his voice confirming his quiet confidence that whatever was asked, would be done.

  “Then I kill him.”

  38.

  “You’re pathetic, Joe, you know that? How could you do this to my family? We’ve already made calls, lined up donors, and now I get a call from Mr. Sparks saying the Mendez campaign is no longer interested? That they have concerns with your emotional stability? How could you? Why would you? My father is furious you know. He’s already heard, and he’s just furious! You might lose your congressional seat over this! Did you think of that? Well say something Joe! You stupid little man! How am I supposed to face anyone now? You’re nothing but an embarrassment to this family!”

  Congressman Latner sat in the rear seat of the limo driving him from the Capitol building to his home. His wife Eunice had already been contacted by the Mendez campaign following the congressman’s brief altercation with Congresswoman Mears less than an hour earlier. That meant either the Washington Post reporter, or someone in his own office had informed them of the incident. Who it was at this point didn’t really matter. Eunice knew, as did her family, and now the congressman had to listen as she reminded him what a disappointment to all of them he was.

  I wish she was sitting back here next to me right now. I’d rip her eyes out and shove them down her throat. God, I really would. Just kill the bitch. All of them dead. All of them gone. No more words. No more yelling. They never shut up. They never stop telling me what to do. They never stop messing with me. They all deserve to die.

  “Are you listening to me Joe! My father wants you out of the family! Do you understand what that means? Oh, who am I kidding? The only thing you understand is the next whore you want to give it to! You’re like some rutting pig, you know that? A sad joke is what you’ve become to us Joe. You’re not a man. You never have been. And without me, without my family, you’re NOTHING! We’ll take that congressional seat away from you. Don’t think father won’t do it. He will Joe! Are you listening?”

  The congressman opened his mouth as wide as he could and unleashed a silent scream, the hand not holding his cell phone clenching and unclenching tightly as tears began to form at the corners of his eyes.

  It was probably that bitch congresswoman who told them. She hates me. They all hate me. And that’s why they will die. I’ll get her too. I’ll get all of them.

  “Goodbye Eunice.”

  Congressman Latner lowered the rear window of the limo and threw his phone out, then began to giggle as the tears continued to stream down the sides of his face.

  He was just a few minutes from his home. This morning the congressman was increasingly concerned with disposing of the bodies. He hadn’t heard back from the Russian after offering to pay him to do so, which had left the congressman fearing he would have to try and do it himself.

  Now, he no longer cared. Following his wife’s scathing rebuke of his manhood over losing the opportunity to join the Mendez campaign, Joseph Latner believed his true purpose in life had finally revealed itself to him.

  Just kill them all.

  39.

  Colin O’Shea felt his cell phone crunch underneath him as his backside hit the cold, hard cement floor of the congressman’s garage. Making his way back onto his feet, he removed the phone from his back pocket to find the plastic housing split apart, rendering the phone inoperable.

  He slowly moved back toward the freezer and again opened the lid, peering down at the body. A pang of guilt ran through him as he noted the relief he felt at discovering the body wasn’t Kat’s. It was a young black women Colin had not seen before. Both her eyes and mouth were frozen open, the expression on her face a horrific mix of fear and pain. In order to make her fit in the freezer, the woman’s head had been jammed against her right shoulder and both legs pulled up tightly behind her.

  Colin closed the lid and took a deep br
eath, forcing himself to remain as calm as possible, though his hands would not stop trembling. He had to get inside the house, check to see if Kat was there, and call 911 so the authorities could arrest the murdering sick bastard of a congressman.

  The door that attached the garage to the house was only ten paces away from where Colin stood, but he only made it half the distance before hearing the unmistakable sound of a vehicle pulling in front of the house. Colin ran to one of the garage side windows and peered outside, making out the large outline of a limousine as it pulled away from the curb and then disappeared down the street.

  The next sound he heard was that of the front door being unlocked.

  Congressman Latner had returned home.

  Colin again ran toward the interior door and opened it partially to allow himself a view into what appeared to be a laundry room. It, like the garage, was almost completely dark. Continuing to open the door slowly, Colin stepped through to the inside of the congressman’s home and paused, trying to sense where the congressman was located.

  The house was silent.

  Another closed door was located around a corner a few steps from where Colin stood. The young congressional staffer placed his right hand on the door handle and turned it a fraction and then paused, again listening for any sounds from the other side. When only silence greeted him, he turned the handle further and opened the door a few inches, his eyes straining to see into the next room.

  The congressman’s kitchen was spotless, the stainless steel appliances appearing to have never been used, the light brown, Italian marble tile floors gleaming. The only sound was that of a small, art deco wall clock that hung from one of the kitchen walls. Colin spotted a knife set that sat next to the deep, double stainless steel sinks.

  He stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind him, grateful that the tile floors allowed him to walk without making a sound. Colin grabbed the largest of the knives, and proceeded to move slowly into the home’s main living area. The room, like the rest of the house, was dark. The congressman had not turned on any lights when he arrived home.

  Where is he?

  As Colin asked himself that question, he searched for a landline phone, but found none. Suddenly, the sound of music playing from somewhere down the hallway opposite where Colin stood, broke apart the surrounding silence. Colin recognized it instantly as Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. The music was joined by the congressman’s voice shouting to someone else in the house.

  “I despise you! I despise all of you! My entire life you’ve been killing me little by little and bit by bit! Ripping me apart, putting me down, keeping me down, my mother, my wife, that bitch Mears, and you too! I thought I could trust you! I thought you understood me, but you’re no better than any of them! They don’t deserve me! You don’t deserve me! So that’s it. NO MORE! I’ve had it! You hear me! I’ve had it with all of you!”

  Kat!

  Colin ran across the living room and down the hallway, his right hand gripping the knife just taken from the kitchen. Light from a partially open door at the very end of the hallway indicated the congressman’s location, the sound of the Moonlight Sonata growing louder.

  Katalina was secured tightly to a large bed, her nude body unmoving. Colin hesitated for a brief second, his senses battling with the relief of seeing Kat, while also warning him that the congressman had to be in the room as well.

  It was that moment of hesitation that cost Colin O’Shea dearly.

  Congressman Latner, far more familiar with the sound of his own home than Colin, instantly recognized the noise of approaching footsteps from outside his room, and moved quickly to defend himself. The congressman was in fact, already holding a wooden, Louisville slugger baseball bat he intended to bash Kat’s skull in with. The bat had been a gift to him in 2008 from the Washington Nationals professional baseball organization as a gesture of appreciation for the congressman’s public support of their new stadium.

  Colin sensed more than actually saw the motion of the bat as it flew toward his head. He was able to bring up his right forearm before the bat slammed into him, the sound of wood hitting flesh and bone mixing with the sounds of Beethoven.

  Colin’s hand released the knife, the ulna bone of his forearm fractured by the bat’s impact. Despite the searing pain in his arm, Colin managed to swing his left hand around in an effort to return the congressman’s attack with one of his own. The punch flew wide, merely glancing against Congressman Latner’s right cheek.

  The thousands of hours of boxing training took over, leading Colin to attempt an unthinking punch with his right hand. While his fist found its target, mashing into the bridge of the congressman’s nose, it came at great cost, the pain of Colin’s fractured right forearm exploding inside of his body, causing his vision to go dark as he sensed himself falling toward the floor.

  Don’t pass out Colin. You pass out both you and Kat are dead.

  Unfortunately, Colin’s body refused the directive, as consciousness slipped away from him, pulling him inside the all too comforting embrace of darkness.

  40.

  Frank Bennington’s right foot mashed down onto the accelerator of his car as he weaved the vehicle in and around the always congested traffic of Washington D.C. He had attempted three times to reach the congressman by phone, but the asshole wasn’t picking up. Then he tried Colin’s cell, with no luck as well.

  Stupid kid.

  Travelling well over the street’s speed limit, Bennington reminded himself he was driving on an expired license, the result of a DUI almost two years ago.

  Please God, no cops today. Let me get to the congressman’s place and sort all of this out.

  Traffic came to a standstill as Bennington waited behind a row of vehicles at another red light. He turned to look down at his cell phone as it began ringing.

  The call was from Tracy.

  Maybe he’s heard from Colin.

  “Yeah Tracy, what is it?”

  Tracy paused on the other end for several seconds before speaking.

  “I wanted to tell you at the office Frank, but word got out, so figured I should tell you now.”

  Bennington scowled as he tried to make his mind force the light back to green.

  “Tell me what Tracy?”

  “I’m taking a position with the Mendez campaign. I’m going to be working with the governor.”

  Bennington closed his eyes, his decades of political backstabbing experience instantly informing him of what was happening.

  “You told them how the interview went, didn’t you? Told them the congressman would be a problem for their campaign.”

  “I did Frank. They contacted my family back in Ohio a few weeks ago, told them they liked my work. Then let me know they had a place for me in their campaign.”

  Frank Bennington was shaking his head. It wasn’t Tracy the Mendez people wanted, it was his family’s political influence in Ohio. With that, they could more easily afford to cut off the congressman. They didn’t need him.

  “You know they’re just using you, right Tracy?”

  Tracy’s tone indicated he knew that – and didn’t care. A part of Bennington admired him for that. If a D.C. newcomer truly wanted to rise in the ranks of the political hierarchy, loyalty didn’t mean shit. If an opportunity presented itself, you better damn well take it.

  “I know Frank, but it’s a national campaign. It could be the White House.”

  “Does the congressman’s wife already know? Her family?”

  Bennington shook his left hand as he asked Tracy the question, trying to work out a growing tightness forming in his arm.

  “I’m pretty sure Sparks called her personally to let them know. Sorry if it causes more trouble in the office, Frank. I can’t control that part of it.”

  Frank Bennington felt several drops of sweat forming along the sides of his face as the light finally turned green once again.

  “Hey, Tracy, go fuck yourself. Oh, and good luck.”

  Bennin
gton tossed his phone down onto the empty passenger seat of his car as he continued to speed into and out of traffic. He was just a few miles from the congressman’s home.

  If Joe got a call from his wife and she ripped into him, he’s gonna be even more unhinged than he was before. God what a mess. I need a drink.

  Another red light halted Bennington’s progress, causing him to unleash a litany of profanities at the unmoving cars around him as the tension in his left arm intensified.

  41.

  Congressman Joseph Latner pushed himself back up onto his feet, his right forearm wiping the blood that trickled from his nose where Colin O’Shea had punched him. He looked down at Colin’s unmoving body and grinned madly, nodding his head rapidly while pointing at the bound body of Kat and then pointing back to where Colin lay on the floor of his bedroom.