Denouement

by E. H. Reinhard

I walked back toward the crime scene. Lowen approached from a neighboring house. He took a few quick steps to catch up to me.

  “Did anyone see anything?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I checked every house on the block. No one saw anything.”

  Chapter 8

  Ray walked back into the main room of the condo. In his right hand was a gold Rolex, and in his left was a thick gold chain and bracelet. Ray stared down at the watch. He tossed the jewelry on the black granite kitchen island next to Dupold. “This fake piece-of-shit watch is what gave you away. It’s the reason why your fed partner is dead. It’s the reason why you soon will join him.”

  Dupold said nothing. He sat stoically, duct taped to a barstool. His face was bloody and bruised from the beating Ray had given him.

  “So let me get this right. The feds want me to think you’re capable of handing over a million dollars, yet they send you to a meeting with a knock-off watch and gold-plated jewelry.” Ray smiled and shook his head. “But we criminals are stupid and aren’t supposed to notice things like that, are we?” Ray dropped the watch into his pocket. “I’m keeping the watch as a souvenir, a little something to laugh about from time to time.”

  “Enjoy your laughs now. I have a feeling you won’t be laughing for long,” Dupold said.

  “And why is that?”

  “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

  Ray stood before Dupold and yanked his head back by his short brown hair. “You have no money here, no valuables, and no information that I need. It looks like there’s only one thing left to do.” Ray reached into his jacket for the gold-plated Desert Eagle. “Put down another piece-of-shit fed. What do you think? Are you about ready to check out, pig?”

  “You’re not going to shoot me in here. Every neighbor on three floors will hear the shot.”

  “Well, then it looks like I’ll kill every neighbor on three floors on my way out.” Ray placed the barrel of the gun to Dupold’s forehead.

  “Wait, I have money.”

  Ray cocked his head to the side in question. “But I thought you said you didn’t.”

  “It’s in the wall in the master bathroom.”

  “How much money?”

  “Twelve thousand.”

  “And it’s in the wall?” Ray asked sarcastically.

  “I just remodeled the bathroom. I had to do some drywall work. I stashed it between the studs.”

  The sound of a ringing phone filled the room. Ray’s eyes darted left and right, looking for the origin of the noise, and spotted the phone next to the kitchen sink, plugged into the wall. He walked over and picked it up, catching the name on the screen, Faust. He returned to Dupold.

  “Faust? Your buddy Brumfeld said that this Faust guy is your boss, right?” Ray asked.

  “If I don’t answer, he’ll think something is wrong,” Dupold said. “He’ll come looking for me. Especially if he knows about Brumfeld. This will be the first place he’ll start. You won’t get the money.”

  Ray pressed the gun against Dupold’s forehead and held the phone in his left hand. “You play it cool. Act normal. Any bullshit, and it’s nighty night.”

  Ray clicked Talk, put the phone on speaker, and set it on the kitchen island. He held the barrel of the gun on Dupold.

  “Hello,” Dupold said.

  “Dupold,” a man said.

  “Yeah.”

  “First thing’s first, the meeting is blown,” the man said.

  “Off? Completely?” Dupold asked.

  “Yes, it’s off. The other warrants have been served. Aside from that, shit, I don’t even know how to say this. Um, Brumfeld is dead. We’re not sure what happened here.”

  Dupold let out a breath and looked at Ray. “Dead?”

  “Yeah, on the surface, it looks like a home invasion that went south. I know you guys had your differences, but I just wanted you to know.”

  Dupold sat quietly.

  “We can get into that more later.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Dupold said. He shook his head.

  “Hey, I have Lieutenant Kane from the TPD here with me. He wants to ask you a few questions about Azarov. Is that okay?”

  Ray cracked his neck to the side.

  Dupold looked up at him.

  Ray nodded his head.

  “Okay,” Dupold said.

  “Hello, Agent Dupold. Carl Kane, TPD. I just have a few quick questions on your meeting with Azarov.”

  The sound of Kane’s voice coming through the phone’s speaker made Ray’s blood boil—worse was the fact that Kane knew he was alive.

  “Yeah,” Dupold said.

  “What kind of shape was he in?” Kane asked.

  “I don’t follow,” Dupold said.

  “I mean, I put a ton of bullets in this guy. I shot him in the face. Shot him point blank with a fifty cal.”

  “He’s walking and talking. He’s an ugly piece of shit, though.”

  Ray lunged forward and grabbed Dupold by the front of his shirt. He placed the barrel of the gun under Dupold’s chin.

  Dupold looked up at Ray. “The side of his face is pink. He’s got a shaved head littered with scars. Crooked nose. He looks like he’s been through the wringer.”

  “He didn’t seemed limited at all physically, though?” Kane asked.

  Ray twisted Dupold’s shirt more tightly in his fist.

  “No,” the agent said.

  “And your meeting tonight was supposed to be local?”

  Ray shook his head.

  “As far as I know, it was supposed to be. If you’re going after him, I’d say he’s still in the area. Here. In downtown Tampa.”

  Ray pushed Dupold back. He rocked on the barstool.

  “That’s where your first meeting was?” Kane asked.

  “Yes.”

  The phone clicked.

  “Okay, Dupold. I’m going to head back to HQ in a bit. I need you to come in so we can see where we’re at.”

  “I’m kind of tied up at the moment,” Dupold said.

  Ray peered at him, smirked, and shook his head. He pulled his finger across his throat.

  “What time can you meet me?”

  “Five oh five,” Dupold said.

  The call immediately clicked off.

  Ray looked over at the phone and held down the End button. “Well, wasn’t that cute?” Ray asked. “A gun to your face, and you want to play little games.”

  Dupold said nothing.

  “What warrants was he talking about?” Ray asked.

  Dupold smirked. “Let’s just say your little counterfeiting ring is done. So are your friends involved in it, and so are you.”

  Ray rubbed his nose and sniffed. He dropped his head in line with the agent’s. His eyes were just inches away from Dupold’s. “Does it look like I’m done to you?” Ray asked.

  Dupold didn’t respond.

  “Tell me more,” Ray said. “What warrants was he talking about, and for who exactly?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. That’s the least of your worries, though. Faust will come after you personally for killing Brumfeld.”

  Ray smiled and shrugged. “Can you see how scared I am right now? Sorry, but cops and feds don’t scare me in the least.”

  “You’ve never dealt with Faust,” Dupold said.

  “Whatever,” Ray said. “But speaking of your boss, what’s with the time you gave him? Five oh five?”

  “Yeah, it’s a time,” Dupold said.

  Ray shook his head. He stared at the agent. “No one says, ‘I’ll be somewhere at five oh five.’ Was that some kind of a signal?”

  Dupold raised his eyebrows. “No, it’s just a time.”

  Ray sat quiet for a moment. He took a step back from the agent and holstered his firearm. “I think it was a signal, and I think you’re bullshitting about the money.” Ray walked behind Dupold.

  “I’m serious. It’s there.”

  “I think I have a pretty good instinct for these sorts of thi
ngs. I think the time was a signal. Plus, your little bullshit on the phone is leaving a bad taste in my mouth,” Ray said.

  “I’m serious,” Dupold said. “The money is in there. Just go look.”

  “Nah. You know, you were right about something, though.”

  “About what?”

  “I’m not going to shoot you in here. Not really because of the noise, but more because I always wanted to try something.” Ray reached down and grabbed Dupold’s chin with one hand and the back of his head with the other.

  Dupold jerked his head back and forth, trying to break Ray’s hold. He screamed for help.

  Ray flexed his muscles to stop Dupold’s fighting. Ray placed his mouth by the agent’s ear. “Before I do this, you’re going to give me one more piece of information. Where does your boss, Faust, live?”

  Dupold didn’t respond.

  Ray moved his right hand and pressed his thumb into Dupold’s eye. “Give me the address, or I’m going to dig it out.”

  Dupold remained quiet.

  “Suit yourself.” Ray twisted his thumb into the agent’s eye socket.

  The sound of Dupold’s screams were silenced by Ray’s other hand over his mouth. Ray jabbed, twisted, and scooped with his thumb. The agent thrashed back and forth in pain.

  “Address!” Ray shouted. He scooped with his thumb, freeing the eyeball from Dupold’s head. He pulled his thumb from inside the now-empty orbital socket and his hand from Dupold’s mouth.

  The agent moaned in pain but didn’t give up an address. Ray stuck his finger back in the hole and pulled Dupold’s head to the side.

  Dupold screamed the address.

  “Thanks,” Ray said.

  Dupold moaned in pain. “Just kill me,” he said, his words barely above a whisper.

  Ray smirked. “Ask and you shall receive.”

  From behind, Ray grabbed Dupold’s chin with his left hand. He placed his right arm around Dupold’s face and grabbed him at the back of the head. Ray ripped his hands in opposite directions. The sound that filled his ears was like popping bubble wrap, but it wasn’t bubble wrap—it was Dupold’s neck snapping. Ray pulled Dupold’s head harder in the same direction and then back the other way violently. Ray continued twisting back and forth. He put his back into it, lifting as he twisted from side to side. After a few more snaps and pops, the agent’s head became loose, severed from his spine. Ray let go, and Dupold’s head collapsed to his chest.

  “One less pig,” Ray said.

  Ray walked from the front of the condo and headed for the stairwell.

  Chapter 9

  Hank and I watched Ed wheel the body of the agent from the front of the house. I’d spent the last twenty minutes talking with Becky Brumfeld, the agent’s wife. The time was mostly spent consoling and reassuring her that we would bring to justice whoever had killed her husband. I walked to Ed, who was opening the back doors of the coroner’s van. Hank followed.

  “Hey, Kane,” Ed said. “I should have an autopsy report for you by tonight. Not that you need it. You saw the guy. One in the computer, one in the ticker.”

  I immediately remembered Ed reciting the exact same phrase at the scene of the freezer murders at Tamboro’s. The thought percolating in my head, that Ray was behind the murder, inched toward certainty.

  “Okay, Ed. Give me a call when it’s ready,” I said.

  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, a call from either the station, the captain or Callie. I slid the phone out, looked at the screen, and clicked Talk. “Yeah, Cap.” I walked toward the end of the driveway.

  “What are we dealing with there?” he asked.

  “DB was an FBI agent that was working on the thing with Azarov.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Faust was here.”

  “What did he say?” Bostok asked.

  “He gave me everything they’ve been working on. I’ll fill you in on that later, but without this guy, Faust’s meeting he was trying to get done is blown. He gave us the green light to go after Azarov.”

  “Does this homicide come back to what Faust was working on?”

  “We’re not sure right now. Physical evidence says it was a home invasion. My gut says it was Ray.”

  “What makes you think it was Azarov?”

  “The guy was shot point blank in the head and then the heart. It’s exactly how Ray killed the employees at Tamboro’s. There’s a few other coincidences that are raising my suspicion as well. Hopefully, Rick can get something that can confirm it or rule it out. The murder weapon is here.”

  “The feds are letting us have the scene?” Bostok asked.

  “Faust said we should continue doing what we were doing. He said he was going to call into his headquarters, but I think he took off before he did.”

  “Took off?”

  “We were talking with one of his other agents. I was trying to get a little more information on Azarov. Well, after Faust clicked off from speaker phone, the agent must have said something to him because he slammed the phone down and headed out immediately.”

  “Hmm. Okay. Well, assume it’s our scene then.”

  “Until I hear otherwise,” I said.

  “Okay. I’ll put the word out around the station, again, to be on the lookout for Azarov. Do you have any starting point for finding him?”

  “Maybe. Faust said he had the phone records for a couple of Ray’s associates that he was going to send over. It’s something. What’s going on with Iler?”

  “He spoke with his attorney, Lawrence. He and the DA were working on something. I should probably get a hold of them and let them know we don’t have to tuck him away anymore. How long do you still have out there?”

  “I think we’re almost done. I’m sure Rick will be sticking around for a bit longer. Hopefully, we can get some prints or something from inside the house that points us in a direction. No one in the neighborhood saw anything.”

  “Is Ed out there?”

  “Yeah, he just loaded the body.”

  I glanced back up from the driveway toward the house. Hank was jogging toward me.

  He slowed up. “It’s Faust.” Hank handed me his cell phone.

  “Hold on a sec, Cap,” I said. I put Hank’s phone to my ear. “Yeah, Faust, it’s Kane.”

  “My other agent, that we just spoke with, is dead at the High Point condos downtown. Get your guys out here. Unit 2199.”

  “Shit, okay.” I clicked End and handed Hank his phone back.

  I brought my phone back to my ear. “Faust just called and said he has another dead agent.”

  “What? Where?” Bostok asked.

  “The High Point condos downtown. Send out some people. I’m heading over there.”

  “Okay. I’ll get people sent.”

  I clicked off.

  “Faust has another dead agent?” Hank asked.

  “Yeah, tell everyone we’re heading out. Let Ed and Rick know we have another one over there. I’ll get the car and get you at the curb.”

  Hank jogged inside the house. I pulled up our unmarked Charger, scooped up Hank, and headed out.

  The High Point condos were just a few blocks over from the police station.

  “Ed said he would drop the body back at the ME’s office and head out,” Hank said. “Rick said he would call Pax to meet us over there.”

  I nodded but said nothing.

  The drive took us ten minutes. When we neared the front of the high rise, three of our patrol cruisers were parked in the no-parking section at the front of the building. I pulled in behind them and killed the motor. We left the car, and entered the building. The lobby spread out before us. Light-blue and white marble covered the floor. To our right was a giant copper-plated cylindrical room with small windows though I couldn’t make out what was inside. To our left was a light- and dark-blue mosaic wall with a large television sunk into the center. Four modern-style chairs and small tables faced the screen.

  “There,” Hank said. He pointed past
the television area to what looked like a hotel front desk tucked in at the back of the room.

  We walked over. A young woman with short blond hair greeted us. She looked nervous.

  “Are you looking for the other officers?” she asked.

  “Yes. Unit 2199, I believe,” I said.

  “Go right around the corner here and take the first set of elevators up to the twenty-first floor. The condo will be down the hall to your left.”

  “Appreciate it,” I said.

  Hank and I rounded the corner and found the bank of elevators. I thumbed the button to take us up.

  “This is some place, huh,” Hank said.

  I rubbed my fingers together, gesturing that living there must be expensive. The elevator doors opened and took us inside. Hank hit the button for the twenty-first floor.

  “So Faust has two agents murdered inside of a few hours. What do you think we’re dealing with here?” Hank asked.

  “I think someone, possibly Azarov, found out they were feds and killed them.”

  Hank didn’t respond.

  Soft jazz music played in our ears for another thirty seconds until the elevator bucked and the doors opened. We stepped out. I looked left and spotted Officer Rickson standing outside a door down the hall. Hank and I walked over.

  He gave us a nod. “Lieutenant, Sergeant.”

  “Hey, Rickson,” I said.

  “It’s just the FBI agent inside. Well, him and the body of another agent, I guess. The other officers are talking with staff and residents.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Hank and I entered into a short hallway. Dark wooden floors ran down the hall and spread into an open concept room. The kitchen ran down the right-hand side. In the center was an island with a granite top. A dead man was taped to the barstool next to it. His right eye had been pulled from his head. I spotted it at the ground beside the stool. The man’s head rested on his chest, and an odd bulge protruded from the side of his neck. We walked farther in. To our left in the big room was a television on the wall, a couch, and a lounge chair. All the furniture was leather and modern in design. Faust sat on the couch, staring at us but talking on the phone. Behind him was a wall of windows looking out over downtown. To our right, past the kitchen and around the corner, was a hall that I assumed led to the bedroom or bedrooms.