by Karen Rose
It had been a nice few minutes there, talking to her. Intimate, almost. But she’d shifted gears and it was clearly time to work. Clay put the report and the telephone on the table, then slid onto the bench across from her. ‘The phone line runs from the house. Who do you want to call?’
‘JD. I want to know if Rossi’s conscious and if he’s talking. He might give up his source and none of this would be necessary.’
‘I talked to JD right before you woke up. Rossi was still unconscious. He’ll call when Rossi wakes up. Although he didn’t seem too optimistic about Rossi giving up anything. His last words to JD before losing consciousness last night were, “Burn in hell, motherfucker.”’
‘Rossi killed a cop,’ Stevie said flatly, pushing the phone aside. ‘I don’t think he’ll find a jury going easy on him. He’ll talk eventually. I’d like to be around to hear him, though. If he waits too long, I’ll have to come out of hiding. Sooner or later one of them will get lucky.’
Clay’s skin tightened on his bones. ‘Don’t even think that.’
She kept her eyes on the report. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I just keep imagining Rossi shooting up that hotel bed, believing Cordelia was in it.’
He gripped her wrist, waiting until she looked at him before releasing his hold. ‘We have her, Stevie. She’s safe. If you lose it, so will she.’
‘I know.’ She blew out a breath, ran her finger down the typed page. ‘Okay. On November 12, seven years ago, the Gardners’ home was broken into. The thieves got jewelry and a gun collection. No evidence of forced entry. Tracy, their daughter, had forgotten to lock the door when she went to class at the university. She found the mess when she returned home.
‘Silas says Kersey “and partner” canvassed the neighbors but got no leads. Then the next day, Mrs Gardner came home from work to find the back door open and Tracy’s body on the kitchen floor. She’d been stabbed with a butcher knife. One was missing from the drawer.’
She sighed. ‘The autopsy showed she’d been raped, asphyxiated, then stabbed. Silas questioned the neighbors again, then got a lead from some kids playing basketball a block away. They’d seen a “homeless-looking guy” lurking. Silas tracked him down, found the knife and one of the stolen pistols in the man’s backpack. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia.’
‘Did Silas get a confession?’
‘Of sorts. “At first the suspect denied the charges, but once court-ordered medication had taken effect, he was horrified to learn of his actions and confessed,”’ she read.
‘What happened to the man? Can you check the court records?’
Stevie typed in the search. ‘Richard Steel was sentenced to a medium-security prison where he’s forced to take his meds. This case isn’t on Lippman’s list. Neither are Kersey or Rossi.’
‘Why do you think Lippman included some of his operatives but not others?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. Maybe Lippman was lazy and didn’t bother to add everyone he hired. Maybe just the threat of the list was enough to keep his employees in line. Maybe he liked some of the cops better than others. Maybe Rossi knows why.’ She put Silas’s report aside and typed some more. ‘I want to see what Kersey put in his own report.’ A few minutes later she sat back, met Clay’s gaze. ‘Kersey notes that Tracy Gardner had claimed to go to class the day of the burglary, but he touched the hood of her car as he left and it was ice cold.’
‘Interesting thing to have done, touching the daughter’s car. Sounds like he didn’t believe her story from the get-go.’
‘I agree. Maybe because none of her stuff was stolen. There’s no follow-up noted except that Tracy’s body was found the next day and the case was handed off to Homicide.’
Clay’s phone buzzed and he checked the incoming text. ‘Kersey’s most likely not Hyatt’s leak. He retired five years ago. Lives in Scottsdale, Arizona.’
Her brows bunched. ‘How do you know that?’
He held his phone so that she could see the screen. ‘Alec texted me. And don’t ask how he knows. You probably don’t want to know.’
‘Your assistant’s a hacker, too?’
He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say hacker. But he’s damn clever.’
Her lips twitched. ‘This is the kid whose godfather is your best friend from the Marine Corps? Your first PI partner, right? The one who’s a “white hat”, AKA “hacker”?’
That she remembered pleased him more than it probably should have. ‘Alec may have picked up a trick or two from Ethan. But “hacker” is such a harsh word, don’t you think?’ he asked mildly and she grinned, lighting up her face and stealing his breath.
‘I won’t tell,’ she said, but then her grin faded. ‘We can cross Kersey off the dirty cop list. The active list anyway. No telling if he had any involvement in framing Richard Steel for this murder seven years ago, assuming that’s what Silas and Rossi did. I need to pass this one off to IA and keep looking for anyone Rossi might have partnered with in the past, who could have leaked the safe house information to him yesterday. Cordelia and I are being targeted now.’
But he could see the notion didn’t sit right with her. If IA was somehow tainted, this case might not ever be resolved, assuming this was one of Silas’s frame jobs. At a minimum, with the rate IA was investigating, this case would fall to the end of a very long line. It could be months or even years before justice was done.
‘It’ll only take a few minutes to call Kersey,’ Clay said softly. ‘Maybe you can right a wrong. At least you’ll know. Then we can get back to our search.’
She went still. ‘Everybody else keeps telling me to let it go. To stop investigating. To leave it alone, but I can’t. You get it.’ She hesitated, then added in a reluctant whisper, ‘You get me.’
‘I like to think so.’ He made himself smile lightly even though his heart was pounding in his chest. ‘That’s what I keep trying to tell you.’
‘I’ll look up Kersey’s—’ She halted when he showed her Alec’s next text. ‘You already have the contact info. Of course you do.’ She picked up the phone and dialed, engaging the speaker so that he could hear, too. ‘Hello, can I speak with Detective Kersey?’
‘He’s not taking calls at this time,’ a female voice said firmly.
‘Oh. Are you Mrs Kersey? Can you give him a message?’
‘I am and I can.’
‘This is Detective Mazzetti, Baltimore Homicide. I wanted to ask him about an old—’
‘Wait. He wants to know if you can Skype him. He wants to see who he’s talking to.’
Stevie looked taken aback. ‘Sure. I think. I have to figure out how.’
‘I can show you,’ Clay said and had the pleasure of seeing her smile again, this time ruefully.
‘Of course you can,’ she murmured. ‘Mrs Kersey, we’ll call right back.’
‘He’ll be waiting.’
Chapter Eleven
Wight’s Landing, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 10.30 A.M.
‘You just click the Skype icon here,’ Clay said, reaching over her shoulder to tap her laptop’s track pad. He’d moved, now standing behind her, so close she could feel his warmth.
She hadn’t realized how cold she’d been.
Or how good he smelled. Which shouldn’t matter. But it did. Because as much as she wanted to do the right thing and not hurt him, she wanted so much to lean into him. To press her cheek into the hard strength of his arm.
How long had it been since she’d felt a man’s arms around her? Since she’d simply been held? The answer was like a thunderbolt in her mind. Last night. Clay had held her last night, letting her cry. Demanding nothing in return. Suddenly she wished he would.
If only to balance the scales. Yeah. That was it. It wasn’t because he smelled good or made her want things she had no business wanting. It was because she didn’t like being beholden to anyone and Clay was racking up the IOUs at an alarming rate.
You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, honey. The thing was
, it didn’t.
Oh, God. This is not going to end well.
She chanced her voice, grateful when it came out even. ‘I never took you for a geek.’
‘That’s because I’m not. Computers give me hives.’
He hovered over her, close enough to touch, but far enough away that it couldn’t be accidental. Wily bastard. She had to hand it to him, though. His approach was working.
‘After seeing your setup in the boathouse, I find that hard to believe,’ she said wryly.
‘The security equipment I can handle because it makes sense, but stuff like Facebook and Skype?’ He sounded mildly horrified, making her smile.
‘Not your thing, huh?’
‘No. Alyssa set my computer up and taught me how to use my cell phone. She and Alec are trying to drag me into the twenty-first century,’ he added with a self-deprecating chuckle. ‘Okay. Now you’re connecting. You’ll see Detective Kersey as soon as he answers. He’ll see your face, but nothing below here.’ He tapped her chest, several inches above her breasts. Still, her skin tingled at the brief contact. ‘I’ll get out of the picture.’
He moved, but still stood what would have been far too close mere hours before.
He knows exactly what he’s doing. But she couldn’t make herself mind. She wasn’t even sure she could focus on the call, but when the picture connected she was stunned into attention.
Kersey sat in a wheelchair with a head support. He was emaciated, his facial bones jutting from his skin. But his eyes were crystal clear and sharp. His wife stood at his elbow, adjusting a microphone close to his mouth.
‘Detective Kersey,’ Stevie said. ‘I’m Detective Stevie Mazzetti. Thank you for your time.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said, his voice raspy. ‘You’ve had some excitement, Detective.’
‘We heard about Tony Rossi,’ Mrs Kersey said. ‘We keep up with Danny’s old squad. Word travels fast. We’re sorry about the police officer who was killed, but glad you’re all right.’
Her husband nodded after she was finished and Stevie realized his wife had become accustomed to helping him communicate. ‘Thank you. Did you expect me to call?’
‘No,’ Kersey whispered into the mike. ‘But I’m not surprised. I was Rossi’s partner.’
‘I know. I wanted to talk to you about a case. Tracy Gardner. Do you remember her?’
Kersey’s eyes closed slowly. ‘Yes.’
‘The day you and Rossi responded to her 911 about the break-in at her family’s house, did you believe her story? She’d said she’d been at a college class, that she’d arrived home to find the burglary. But you touched her car and said it was ice cold. Why did you do that?’
‘I didn’t believe her. She couldn’t meet my eyes.’ Kersey went still, but held up his index finger. ‘I sometimes lose my breath. It’s ALS, dammit. Gehrig’s, you know.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Stevie murmured. She didn’t know much about Lou Gehrig’s disease, except that it was a deterioration of the nerves and was always fatal. Now she could see how mercilessly it ravaged a person’s body. Behind her, Clay squeezed her shoulder.
‘Me, too,’ Kersey whispered. ‘Tracy Gardner said she went to class, came home, and called 911 right away. Two uniforms showed up before we got there. Rossi and I got there an hour later.’ He stopped again, his breathing labored.
‘Should I call back later?’ Stevie asked, worried that he’d pass out.
‘No. Need to do this today. Need to make it right.’
His wife touched his face. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Danny.’
Kersey smiled weakly. ‘But I can still make it right. I use the Skype to see my grandkids. I drink in the sight of them. Lifts my spirits.’
‘I’m glad,’ Stevie said simply, wondering if his mind had wandered.
‘I talk to my friends from the force on the phone. I don’t want them to see me like this. But you . . . I wanted to see your face. Needed to see if it was true.’
‘What was true, sir?’ Stevie asked.
‘That you’ve been investigating your old partner’s cases because you feel guilty. Because you looked the other way or were sloppy.’
Stevie stiffened, felt Clay tense behind her. She’d heard the cops’ whispers and rumors, tried not to let them hurt. But they did. ‘Is it true?’ she asked.
‘I don’t think so. I know you can work next to someone and not know they’re dirty. And when I said I needed to make it right, you understood.’
‘I saw the victims,’ she said. ‘And their families. They didn’t get justice. And innocent men and women are sitting in prison. I can’t let that continue without trying to make it right.’
‘I still see that girl’s face. Tracy Gardner. And her mother’s face. She found her, you know.’
‘I know. Who do you think killed her?’
‘The boyfriend. I’ll get to him in a minute. Tracy’s car was cold, so I knew she hadn’t driven it, but she could have caught a ride. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want her to know I didn’t believe her. I went to Tracy’s college the next morning. Talked to her professor. She wasn’t in class the day before or that day either. He said she skipped class often, but a lot of the kids did.’
‘So she lied to you. You think she was home during the burglary?’
‘I thought she might have been. I knew she wasn’t where she’d said she was. But I never got a chance to pursue it because she was killed later that day. Now, about the boyfriend. Edward Ginsberg, went by Eddie.’
‘Berg with an “e” or a “u”?’ Stevie asked.
‘“E”,’ Kersey said with a frown. ‘It’s in the report.’
It was Stevie’s turn to frown. ‘No, it’s not. Your report is very short, less than a page.’
Kersey’s eyes flashed. ‘Sonofabitch.’ Then he started gasping for breath.
His wife stepped in. ‘Tone it down or I’ll end the call and you can write her an email. I’m serious.’ She glanced at the webcam. ‘I’m sorry, Detective Mazzetti. His health comes first.’
‘Of course,’ Stevie said.
‘I’m calm,’ Kersey rasped. ‘Dammit, woman. Don’t treat me like a child.’ He took a few moments to catch his breath. ‘My report was longer than a page. At some point it must have been altered if that’s all you found. I don’t need to be a detective to figure out who did it.’
‘Rossi,’ Stevie said. ‘I found discrepancies in some of Silas’s reports, too. I’m glad I kept my notebooks. Tell me about Eddie Ginsberg.’
‘Tracy’s father suspected Eddie, but Tracy defended him. Eddie’s family had money, she said. Eddie had no reason to steal. Truth was that Eddie was a rich punk with too much time on his hands. Rossi and I went to his house after we left the school. He was playing video games, even though he should have been in class. I told him that Tracy’s father suspected him. He said Tracy could “handle her daddy”. I didn’t confirm or deny and Eddie got pissed. Then he laughed it off, saying it didn’t matter what the bitch said, that he had three guys who’d swear he was with them, hanging out watching TV. We got the names, then Rossi and I went to lunch.’ Kersey looked pained. ‘I wish I hadn’t gone to lunch.’
‘What happened?’
‘We went to her house after lunch to confront her. Knocked on the door. Nobody was home. Went back to the precinct to start calling pawn shops, trying to track the stolen goods.’ Another pause while Kersey caught his breath. ‘We went back to the Gardner house at about four o’clock, thinking to catch the mother. The mother was there. So was the ME.’
‘Tracy was dead by then,’ Stevie said. ‘Raped, asphyxiated, then stabbed. Crime of rage?’
‘I thought so. My first thought was, “Eddie did this. I goaded him and he killed her.” But Silas found the homeless guy and I was relieved. I hadn’t pushed Eddie to murder.’ His face crumpled, his thin shoulders sagging. ‘Now . . . God.’
‘If Eddie killed Tracy, then it’s on him,’ Stevie said. ‘Not you.’
&nb
sp; ‘We all say that because it makes us feel better. But thanks for trying.’ He looked away for a second, regaining his composure. ‘Then Homicide showed up. Silas Dandridge.’
‘Did you tell Silas about Edward Ginsberg and the fact Tracy lied about class?’
‘Yes. And that I thought that Eddie was guilty of the crime. But Silas found the homeless guy, Richard Steel, with the murder weapon. He had a slam –’ a gasp for breath. ‘– dunk.’
‘Did you think Richard Steel was guilty of Tracy Gardner’s murder?’ Stevie asked.
‘He had the bloody knife and Silas said that Eddie had an alibi, but it worried me. However, Silas was Homicide’s hotshot. Which I’m sure you know since you were his partner for so long.’
‘The Finder,’ Stevie remembered grimly. ‘We used to call him that because he had a knack for finding what would become key pieces of evidence. Now we know how he managed it. It’s easy to find the eggs if you’re the Easter bunny. Did you ever suspect Rossi?’
‘Not at first. At the end, yes. Nothing tangible.’ He stopped to breathe again.
‘He’s getting tired,’ Mrs Kersey said. ‘You have to hurry up.’
‘We think Rossi may have been working with someone,’ Stevie said. ‘Do you have any idea of who that might have been?’
‘He was friendly with Scott Culp. I didn’t trust Culp, either.’
Holy hell, Stevie thought, blinking in stunned surprise. Scott Culp? That name was very familiar. ‘Why didn’t you trust Scott Culp?’
‘They hung out together on their off days, were more than friends. I thought they were gay, which was Rossi’s biz, so I left it be. But there was always something about Culp. Smug bastard. Wore snazzy shoes. Italian suits. Liked to play the ponies. Rossi did, too. A few times I saw Rossi flash wads of cash, size of my fist. Said he’d won it at the track. Hell.’ Kersey closed his eyes, clearly fatigued. ‘You’ll see that Tracy Gardner and Richard Steel get justice.’
