Crime & Counterpoint

by Daniel, M. S.

  She cleared her throat. “Everyone’s been really nice.”

  “And the orchestra?”

  She nodded. “I’m enjoying playing with them.”

  “Good. You sound great. Just wonderful.”

  Shelley relaxed. “Thank you. But that Steinway would make a three-year-old sound amazing.”

  “Yes. It is something, isn’t it?” He looked to the door which led out to the stage as if he could see the giant black ocean of an instrument. “I had to get it restored. It was just sitting here collecting dust for years. I’m so glad you like it.” He turned his attention to her again. “So tell me, my dear” – he sat down in one of the many rehearsal chairs and appraised her with what seemed like genuine caring. “What are your future plans? I doubt this club is the last stop for you.”

  She blinked, wondering at the personal nature of the question. “Well, I’m not exactly sure.” She stopped short and decided to speak candidly. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been kind of floundering. This is the best job I’ve had in a while.” She looked down at her hands in her lap.

  He turned down the corners of his mouth and frowned, shaking his head. “There’s no shame in that. You just haven’t found your path yet. But you will. I can see it. You’re a very intelligent, level-headed girl.” He grinned. “Plus, you’re Henri’s child, and that man hoa!” He scoffed, smiling. “He is an inspiration. If the son of an immigrant can become a top” – he put his hand above his head – “New York attorney, then you can certainly do anything.” He spread his arms, gesturing grandly.

  She dropped her gaze, smiling softly. “I wish I had your confidence,” she replied.

  “Why? You’ve got your own,” he teased in perfect seriousness. “You just need to let it grow. Stop holding yourself back.”

  At that, she looked up sharply. “I’m not holding myself back.”

  “You are.” He dipped his head. “I can see that you restrain your desires. You duck your head when anyone gives you a genuine compliment.” He pointed at her knowingly. “You’re afraid. Why?”

  She looked at him, waiting, anticipating his answer.

  But he merely shrugged. “I don’t know.” He chuckled, and she relaxed, laughing as well. When their amusement died down, he said, “You’re a beautiful girl with” – he frowned – “too much talent I think.” He pointed to his forehead. “Don’t listen to your head. Tell it to be quiet for a moment so you can hear your heart.” He smiled again. “Then, I think you’ll know what you want.”

  Her ring caught the track lighting and grabbed his attention. “Are you engaged?”

  She grimaced and clenched her left fist, wrapping it in her right hand. “Oh. No. It’s just – it won’t come off.”

  He seemed amused if the creases on his face were any indication. “I see. Well, that happened to my wife once when she gained forty pounds. I used pork grease.”

  She screwed up her face at the thought.

  He laughed over her reaction. “But I’m sure a little soap will work.”

  “I’ve tried everything,” she lamented though the smile remained. “It really doesn’t want to budge.” Demonstrating, she spread her fingers and tried twisting the band, proving to him that it didn’t want to move.

  “Hmm,” he said, frowning. “Maybe that tells you something.” Then, he slapped his knees and got up. “Well, thank you for humoring an old man for a few minutes. You let me know when you’ve discovered what you want. Who knows?” He hiked his shoulders. “I might be able to help you get it.”

  Smiling, he walked to the door but then paused, turning back. “And there was one other reason I came.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small object. “I was hoping you would do me a small favor.”

  22

  The fluorescent flickered irritably over Zach as he slouched behind his desk at NYPD headquarters. Rick and Carter sat in close proximity, combing through digital and physical records trying to find something incriminating on Cervenka. He was their top priority now, a fact which did nothing to satiate Zach’s mood. In fact, his heart wasn’t even in it.

  “Here’s something,” Rick said, reading from a document. “July 7th, 1999. Czech national Rybar Cervenka purchased a block of property in Midtown East for 3 million dollars, sold it two days later for five to a man named Ron Hightower III, head of SOM Investment Group. Heard of them?”

  “Hmm. My Dad’s a partner there now,” Zach offered tonelessly.

  Carter looked at Zach, surprised. “Since when?”

  Zach remained unperturbed, apathetic. Vaguely focused elsewhere.

  Just then, a brunette outside the glass-enclosed area grabbed Rick’s attention as she stepped into distant view. Olive complexion, long, wavy hair, above average height; there was an attractive aura and sophistication about her. Under a short jacket, a sexy, cocktail dress outlined her curvy but slender body. He let out a low wolf whistle. “Check that out. She looks really familiar, doesn’t she?”

  Carter didn’t even hear, or else he heard and didn’t care to respond. But Zach threw the girl a cursory glance, and his pupils dilated. Shelley.

  This was too much. Shelley blinked, hoping she was imagining this. But there they were. Carter and Zach. The man who gave her the ring and the man who gave her the gun. Working side-by-side.

  Blood pumped into her ears. Her breathing shallowed.

  Just as she was about to make like a gazelle and run, the third man they were with, a handsome Italian she vaguely recognized, came over with an easy smile on his face. “Hi. Detective Valentino,” he said, extending his hand. “But you can call me Rick.” The tendons in his forearm bulged a little as he grasped her palm. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m uh – I’m” – words failed her when she looked again at Carter and Zach. Only the latter stared at her with a concerned scowl while the former had his head bent over a sheaf of papers. But if she went over there, they would both think she’d come to see them. And she couldn’t handle the explanation. Not to Carter. Not to Zach.

  Her gaze darted to Rick, finding in him a kind and neutral third-party. “Could you make sure Detective Ericson gets this, please?” She handed him a SanDisk SD card in a plastic case.

  He frowned kindly and smiled. “Why don’t you give it to him yourself?”

  “I really don’t have time. But thank you.”

  “Nonsense. He’s right over there.” He took her arm and tugged her along. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  She couldn’t answer. Zach’s eyes pierced her from where he sat. “I don’t – I don’t know.”

  Rick frowned, amused. “You don’t know your name? Are you okay, miss?”

  “No, I –”

  She felt moisture break out on her skin. The world tipped just a little. If Rick hadn’t been holding onto her, she would have lost contact with the ground. And passed out.

  “Hey, take a look,” Carter said to Zach. “SOM was absorbed into a family of companies which Cervenka is on the board of. Might be something. What do you think?” Carter looked at Zach and realized he wasn’t even paying attention. He almost questioned him until he followed the man’s gaze and Shelley filled his view. He looked her over with shock not pleasure. “Shelley. What – what are you doing here?”

  Zach kept quiet but shot Carter a double-take.

  Shelley was a nervous doe in a room full of headlights. She opened her mouth and closed it again.

  Carter arraigned her. “Shelley? Answer the question. Are you here to see me?”

  Shelley’s vivid, fever-bright eyes landed on Zach for a skittish moment.

  But Carter caught it and gleaned the charged particles that passed from her to Zach. He gave his best friend a hard scrutiny.

  Rick urged her forward. “She’s got something for you. Go on, sweetheart, give it to him. He won’t bite.”

  She began quaking. A flash of memory hit her. Cold, hungry, scared. Rats scuttling. Thinking she was going to get eaten alive. Locked in the basement durin
g a power outage. Erik and the twins wouldn’t let her out. Daddy came home with James and rescued her. How she wished daddy would just save her now. But no. She had to grow up and face reality.

  She took a steadying breath while all three men stared at her, waiting, wondering if she was ever going to speak, and then stepped up – to Zach. Carter’s eyes filled with speculation; he swung them to her, practically glaring.

  “Mr. Cervenka asked me to give this to you.” She placed the SD card on Zach’s desk. “And he said to be more careful next time.”

  All three men’s brows rose.

  Zach’s eyes narrowed. “Next time?”

  “Wait, what?” Rick asked.

  Carter slapped down the folder and came to standing. “Hold on. What the hell’s going on here? You came here to see Zach? And how would you even know about Cervenka?”

  Shelley’s bravado shrunk. “Carter, he’s a client of daddy’s,” she answered meekly. “You don’t have to get so riled.”

  “Why would he be giving you something for Zach?” Carter bit off. “I didn’t even know you were in contact with either of them.”

  Rick glanced from Zach to Carter to Shelley. What in the world was happening?

  Shelley shook her head and started stuttering. “It’s – I – I don’t understand. Why is this such a big deal?”

  While Carter arraigned the poor doll, Rick stepped over to Zach and whispered, “Did you get her pregnant?”

  Zach backhanded his arm. “She’s Henri Mitchel’s daughter,” he explained, keeping his seat, feeling pins and needles spread over his body. The knife wound across his stomach picked then to cause him discomfort.

  Rick grinned. “No kidding.” He went back to Shelley, saving her from Carter. “Hey, I know your brother. James. Real nice guy…”

  Burning with frustration, Carter switched to questioning Zach. He lowered his voice and reclaimed the chair, drawing it up close. “Were you going to mention any of this?”

  “Mention what?” Zach returned, glancing briefly at Shelley as Rick flirted shamelessly.

  “You. Her” – he nodded to Shelley – “Cervenka. Are you in contact with him?”

  Shelley smiled at Rick shyly as he complimented her in a salacious way. Zach’s left fist tingled. Keeping his eyes on her, he said to Carter, “You’re making it sound like I’m purposely withholding information. Why shouldn’t I know her? We all used to know each other.”

  “That’s–” Carter wagged his head. “You’ve been out of the loop!”

  Zach levelled his blue gaze at the SD card and picked it up. Weighing it.

  Bristling, Carter said, “Well, go ahead. Stick it in. Let’s see what the Czech wants.”

  Zach did and soon enough, dark footage taken from behind the club began to play. A date and time stamp ran in the bottom corner. On the video, a grainy image of Zach crept up into view, shrouded in darkness. Steak knife in hand.

  “What’s this?” Carter asked, watching intently.

  Vašek’s gun couldn’t be seen. It looked like Zach just started assaulting the man. Vašek fell to the ground, knife in chest. Djurdjanovic walked into the footage, seemingly minding his own business. Zach shot him. He fell, dead.

  Carter looked at Zach in disbelief. “Is this at the Purple Gazelle? You said they attacked you. Tried to kill you.”

  “It’s not what it looks like.”

  Just then, Shelley walked into the corner of the frame. The video came to an end with a clear although dark capture of both Zach and Shelley.

  Carter brought his nose closer to the screen. Epiphany struck him. “Shelley?!”

  Hearing her name, Shelley looked over worriedly though Rick’s voice pulled her attention back to him. “Now I remember,” he said. “Ramone’s Steakhouse. The pianist. Am I right? Zach! Help me out here.”

  Zach’s eyes widened at the same instant that Shelley’s did.

  Carter looked at Zach and said under his breath, “That incident with the governor’s nephew at Ramone’s? Did it involve her?”

  Zach didn’t answer, but undeniable guilt shone in answer.

  Rick, not hearing Carter’s beef, grinned at a now-pale Shelley. “The boys and I were wondering what happened to you. So then, are you playing at The Purple Gazelle?”

  Meekly, gaze floundering from Carter to Zach to Rick, she answered, “Um, yes. I am.”

  “Well, that’s quite a step up. I’m gonna have to cough up some real dough to flirt with you now.” Rick winked pleasantly.

  Seething under the skin, Carter stood and took Shelley’s hand, pulling her away. “Let’s go.”

  Carter held on firmly to Shelley’s hand, forcing her along with him to the building’s exit.

  Shelley protested. “Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

  “No, I want it all straightened out right now.”

  “Please, Carter, just stop!” Her voice echoed through the nearly-empty environs. She yanked hard enough, succeeding in pulling free of him. Her eyes filled with tears.

  Carter stopped abruptly and spun towards her, angry. “I’m the one who got you that job at Turner & Clark!” he railed. “You quit to work at some stupid steakhouse?! What else are you keeping from me?”

  “We weren’t dating, I didn’t owe you any explanations. And besides, I didn’t quit, I was fired, Carter,” she retorted.

  “So you were going to wait another ten months to tell me you stopped working there?”

  Shelley bit her lip to keep from crying.

  Carter groaned on an exhale. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because you’d react like this! Like my father, like my brothers,” she said with vehemence. “My boss wanted me to do certain things, and I refused. I didn’t want a sexual harassment suit, and what do you think would’ve happened with a family full of lawyers?”

  Relenting, he took her hands. “You can’t keep running, Shelley.”

  For that, she pushed him away. Refusing to look at him, she kept her eyes focused straight ahead.

  Carter sighed and tugged at her arm. “Come on,” he said, knowing she would follow. “Let’s go get some coffee or something.” But she resisted. He looked at her peevishly.

  “No, thank you. I’m tired, and I’m going home.”

  “Where’s home, Shelley?” he spat. “That apartment you share with Ashleigh” – he stabbed his finger towards the doors – “is not your home! It’s the hole you escaped to!” She bristled angrily, meaning to leave but he grabbed her back.

  Surprising him, she softened and gave him a hug. “I love you, but I have to figure out my life on my own.” And this time when she tried to twist off the ring, it easily gave. She handed it to him. “Thank you for letting me borrow this. It’s absolutely perfect. Like you.”

  He gripped her by the shoulders. “I haven’t changed my mind.” Without permission, he dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her methodically.

  She kissed him back as much to say she was sorry as to test the waters of her heart. But other than the pleasant warmth and tenderness of his lips, she felt nothing. And when he broke away, she could tell his experience was no less profound. However, the look in his eyes told her he wasn’t giving up.

  He cleared his throat and said, “What’re you gonna do now? You can’t go back to the club.”

  “I just signed my seasonal contract yesterday. All the musicians did.” She glanced away. “If you really want to help me then do what you do best. I’ll be okay.”

  He touched her face. “If you need me, call.”

  “I will.” She offered him a fuller smile and then departed from him.

  Carter watched her go, something in his core altering. His mind churned with unwelcome thoughts, mainly the profundity of that one kiss.

  Not earth-shattering. Not even slightly arousing.

  But he remembered steamier nights – after she got her heart broken – when he got to be the guy repairing the damage. Those times kept him holding onto her.


  She still needed him. And soon enough she would realize it.

  However, she was right. He had a job to do. Turning away with macabre determination, he headed back up to interrogate Zach. He was sure there was more to be uncovered.

  Part III

  Poupée de Satin

  (Satin Doll)

  “By and large, jazz has always been like the kind of man you wouldn’t want your daughter to associate with.”

  – Duke Ellington

  23

  Two Weeks Later…

  1250 N. Plandome Road sat majestically in a timeless, hilltop hamlet overlooking Manhasset Bay on one side and Leeds Pond Preserve on the other. On this day after Thanksgiving, the sky had painted itself a flawless shade of cold blue and hung brazenly, only a small portion eclipsed by the sprawling, custom stone, two-story Colonial mansion. Sparkling, archtop windows, white stucco columns, and red brick chimneys peered out happily upon the sparkling waters. And from the stout, untouchable roof hung an American flag which waved happily in the cool November sea breeze over the wide front porch.

  The three-acre estate boasted elegant grounds and gardens in any season. Sculpted evergreen bushes bordered the southern perimeter near a waterfront gazebo. A handful of matured, albeit autumn-barren, saplings dotted a fenced-off apple orchard. And lofty dark green pencil trees formed a military-straight line, guarding the huge expanse of lawn and long asphalt drive.

  By the time the sun reached its apex, several luxury cars had filled the generous driveway, bringing guests to the illustrious manor for the wedding rehearsal festivities.

  “Daddy, are the turkeys ready?”

  Henri Mitchel smiled at his stressed, bustling daughter. “Relax, sweetheart. It will be ready when it’s ready. You can’t rush these things.”

  Hair swept up into a thick, chestnut ponytail, Shelley tossed her father an exasperated look as her hands readied four apple pies. She moved about the bright, state-of-the-art kitchen, intimately acquainted with every detail: the Pearl Neff cabinets, designer lighting, high-contrast coffered ceilings, built-in Sub-Zero refrigerator and Wolf Range appliances, two separate islands, and chocolate marble floors.