She finished the outfit with her cross pendant and the bracelet Francois had given her, which she noted now carried a small music-box charm. She had also used the extensive collection of cosmetics he had provided for her, but still she looked pale.
Ignoring her sallow complexion, Raven gathered her purse and left the building. She checked in with Levac and let him know she was okay and was on her way to Ms. Hellsey’s apartment, which was not far from Francois’ building. He was surprised to hear from her, but pleased she was okay. He was busy tracking down a lead on the Whitehall building and promised to give her a call if it panned out.
Sometime later, Raven parallel parked the Shelby in a vacant spot across from the Bishop Building in Chicago. The imposing structure had been built in the 1920s and was originally one of the most prestigious addresses in the city. Residents with available funds had flocked to the tall building with its monolithic structure, art-deco gargoyles and panoramic views of the city. Though time had marched on, the building was still considered a “ritzy address” and housed many of the city’s more affluent middle class.
Raven entered the building, smiling a thank-you to the security guard who held the heavy steel and glass door open for her and making her way quickly to the elevators. The car arrived instantly as if it were waiting for her and the detective stepped inside, her heels clicking on the polished floor.
The elevator arrived on the thirty-fourth floor a few minutes later, saving Raven from a Muzak rendition of an old Bee Gees song. The hallway beyond was decorated in a similar manner to the rest of the hotel, in a 1920s motif that reflected the era of its construction, with a tin ceiling, wainscoting and velveteen wallpaper. Great care had been taken to restore the original paper or match it as closely as possible; it was almost impossible to tell where the old paper ended and the new began.
Raven resisted the urge to touch the wallpaper and instead turned her attention to the apartment, which was in the northwest corner of the building. She knocked on the white-painted door and waited. A handsome, middle-aged woman dressed in a white blouse and black pants opened the door almost immediately. Her graying blonde hair was pulled back into a comb and her face was tastefully highlighted with cosmetics. She looked Raven up and down and asked, “Yes? What is it?”
“Mrs. Hellsey?” Raven asked.
“Ms. Hellsey, yes,” the woman replied. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m Detective Raven Storm of the Chicago Police Department. I know this is a difficult time for you, but I had some follow-up questions about Taylor. Do you have a few minutes?”
The woman’s face hardened, but she allowed Raven to enter. She closed the door behind Raven and escorted her into a small dining room, where a cherry table and chairs sat, decorated with a bowl of fresh fruit.
“Please, have a seat, Detective Storm,” Ms. Hellsey said.
“Thank you,” Raven responded, taking a seat that put her opposite the older woman. “And thank you for seeing me. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Ms. Hellsey nodded, her jaw tightening as she fought the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes. “Thank you, detective. Please, how can I help you?”
“I am investigating your daughter’s death, which I believe is tied into two other murders that have occurred in the last few weeks,” Raven said, opening her purse and retrieving her file. “Do you know what your daughter’s connection with Nathan King was?”
“Nathan was her boyfriend for almost eighteen months,” Ms. Hellsey replied. “I thought they would get married one day; they were perfect for one another. They were hardly out of each other’s sight.”
Raven nodded and continued, “How did that end? You’re not the only one to say you thought they were good together; it seems odd they would split.”
Ms. Hellsey paused before replying, “Taylor became obsessed with finding out who her father was. She focused on that to the exception of everything else, including Nathan. You see, I was never certain, and of course couldn’t tell her what I didn’t know, nor could I tell her what had really happened in the week or so that she was conceived. So I lied and made up a story about who her father was.”
Raven made a note in the file and circled the word 'father?'.
“So she dumped Nathan?”
“No…not exactly,” Ms. Hellsey said with a shake of her head. “More they sort of drifted apart. Nate started spending time with Taylor’s friend Victoria, and the two of them hit it off famously. Taylor held no grudge against Victoria and Nathan; she and Nathan remained very close friends, though she saw them only at work.”
“How do you know they were on good terms if they only saw each other at Club Purgatory?” Raven asked.
“Because I know my daughter, and she continued to talk about them, about what a wonderful couple they were and how glad she was they had found one another,” Ms. Hellsey replied. “She felt like a sort of cupid, I guess, having brought them together.”
Raven smiled and flipped to another page in her file, perusing the notes she had made. “That’s good to hear, Ms. Hellsey. It also helps rule out another suspect. Can you tell me what Taylor did for a living? I understand she recently came into money?”
Hellsey paused again and pursed her lips. “As far as I know, she was still working as a dancer at that awful Club Purgatory. Taylor came to me a one evening and said she had been tipped big. Not long after that, she called me to see this apartment and told me she’d paid the rent for six months. I asked how we could afford a place like this and she said she was doing very well at the club and not to worry. I guess…I guess I took it at face value. We’ve never had a windfall and I didn’t ask too many questions. I didn’t want to know where the money came from.”
Ms. Hellsey paused again and leaned forward, her hand reaching for Raven’s. “Tell me, detective…did she do something to get the money? Something awful? Did someone kill her for what she did?” Her eyes brimmed with tears.
“I don’t know, Ms. Hellsey,” Raven replied. “It’s a possibility. We found money in your daughter’s purse and she seemed to be hiding from someone. She was registered at the Elysium under an assumed name. Do you know why she would do that? Had she mentioned being afraid of anyone?”
“She didn’t mention anyone but Nathan,” Ms. Hellsey replied. “She said he had vanished and she thought something had happened to him. She never did stop loving him, even after he was with Vicki.”
“When was this?” Raven asked.
Hellsey pursed her lips again and looked at the ceiling in thought. “Last Saturday or Sunday, maybe.”
“What happened after that, Ms. Hellsey?”
“Not much, really,” Ms. Hellsey replied. “Things were pretty normal until two days ago when she called and said she was leaving town for a few days. She said there was plenty of money in our account and that she would be home soon. When I pressed the issue, she said she was just taking a vacation and not to worry.”
“And so you didn’t?” Raven asked.
The tears did flow then, and Ms. Hellsey shook her head, not bothering to wipe them away. “No! I didn’t want to worry. I didn’t want to think…detective, it’s been difficult raising my daughter all alone. When it seemed she was doing better for herself than I ever could have done for her, I let it go. I didn’t want to know as long as she was happy and we were safe. I should have asked more questions, taken care of her!”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Hellsey,” Raven repeated. “But this isn’t your fault. Whatever motive her killer had, it wasn’t you. If you’d been aware of all your daughter’s comings and goings, you might have been on the hit list as well.”
Ms. Hellsey shook her head and said, “No…no. I should have known…I should have realized there was something more going on. Maybe if I had made her tell me where the money was coming from, maybe we could have given it back!”
Raven cocked her head and studied the older woman opposite. “You feel Taylor was murdered over the money she came into?”<
br />
Ms. Hellsey nodded and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “It’s the only thing that makes sense."
Raven consulted her notes again. “You said she became obsessed with finding her father. Do you have any reason to believe that her father would have harmed her?”
Ms. Hellsey looked surprised and replied, “Her father? Detective, I don’t know who her father is, and I won’t discuss the matter with you. If you really want to know, I am sure you can find it in the police files.”
Not wanting to press the issue, Raven continued on a different track. “As you wish, Ms. Hellsey. But you said before that you lied. Did you give your daughter a name?”
“I did,” Ms. Hellsey replied. “I told Taylor her father was Drake Anderson.”
Now it was Raven’s turn to be surprised. “Why would you tell her that?”
Ms. Hellsey shrugged and leaned back into her chair, crushing and rustling the napkin in her hand. “I wanted to tell her that it was someone special, someone she could look up to. You must understand, detective, I love my daughter, she is—was—all I had. I couldn’t tell her the truth. Anderson had just been in the paper as one of the city’s most enterprising men, so I said it was him!”
“Did she believe you?” Raven asked, making another note in the file.
“Yes, I think so. I know she had an appointment to see him a few months ago, to discuss what I had told her.”
“Was this perhaps around the time Taylor came into her generous customer?” Raven continued.
Ms. Hellsey paled and leaned forward, her hand trembling. “It was…detective, you don’t think Mr. Anderson had anything to do with this, do you? With Taylor’s death?”
“Inquiries are continuing, Ms. Hellsey,” Raven replied. “Just one more question, if I may. Was your daughter in good health?”
“Generally she was,” Ms. Hellsey replied. “She seemed to have caught a stomach bug a few days ago and was taking medication for nausea. Why?”
“Was there anyone else who knew she was ill?” Raven queried.
“Her friends, her doctor, maybe a few others. Detective, what does this have to do with anything?”
“Ms. Hellsey, I think it’s likely your daughter was poisoned by someone who knew she was ill,” Raven answered. “That means it’s probably a friend or acquaintance, someone who knew her well enough to know she was sick. Did anyone give her any medication or anything like that?”
“Not that I know of,” Ms. Hellsey said. “Her doctor told her to take an over-the-counter medication and to come back if she wasn’t feeling better soon.”
Raven nodded and asked, “Do you know where she got the medication she took?”
Ms. Hellsey shook her head and looked helpless. “I have no idea, detective. Taylor came home with it the same day she saw her doctor.”
Raven frowned and circled another note in the file. “Thank you, Ms. Hellsey. Is there anything else you can think of that may help in this investigation?”
“No, Detective Storm,” Ms. Hellsey replied. “But if I do, I know where to find you.”
Raven packed her file and slid her purse over her shoulder. “Before I go, would it be possible to take a look in Taylor’s room?”
“Of course, detective,” Ms. Hellsey replied, standing and leading the way.
III
Taylor’s room was as well decorated as the rest of the spacious apartment. A queen-sized bed covered with a tasteful pink and purple comforter, and plush throw pillows dominated the room, flanked by light wood nightstands. A large dresser was placed under the window and a museum-quality mural of Chicago looking down on Old Town covered the opposite wall. Next to this was the door to a spacious walk-in closet full of designer clothing and shoes, many with the store tags still attached.
Raven rifled through the clothing, confirming by the tags that most had been purchased within the last six weeks. She was curious, however, to find that many of the attached receipts were signed for by Nathan King. Shoes, dresses, lingerie and a white fox coat had all been purchased by King within the week or so before he was killed.
Why was King buying Taylor clothing? Raven asked herself. That doesn’t jive with his relationship with Vicki or what Taylor’s mother said.
Raven made a note of the items and continued her search. Under the bed she found two neat bricks of aluminum, identical to the ones she and Levac had seized from Nathan King’s home. Using her phone, Raven took pictures of the two bricks nestled in their hiding place and then pulled them out using a pair of nitrile gloves. It was possible, however unlikely, she might find fingerprints on the foil.
Not wanting to disturb any evidence, Raven slipped both bricks into large evidence bags and then returned to the living area, where Ms. Hellsey was still waiting.
“Ms. Hellsey?” Raven asked, holding the evidence bags where the older woman could see them. “Do you know where these parcels came from?”
The older woman glanced at the packages and shook her head. “No, I haven’t any idea. What are they?”
“I believe they’re bricks of money,” Raven replied. “I’ve seized them for review by our crime lab, as they appear to be identical to ones found in the home of one of our victims. Can you tell me why Nathan King was buying gifts for your daughter as recently as a month ago?”
Ms. Hellsey glanced again at the bricks before meeting Raven’s eyes. “They were friends, as I said. I wasn’t aware of any gifts, but that isn’t unusual. Do you think all of this is tied together somehow?”
“I’m not certain yet, Ms. Hellsey. Again, thank you for your assistance in this investigation. If there is anything I can do, or you need someone to talk to, please contact me.” Raven used one hand to hold the evidence bags and slipped a card from her pocket with her free one. “Both my work and cell numbers are on my card,” she said, placing it on the table. “You can reach me at any time.”
“Thank you, detective. Please keep me in the loop if you catch my daughter’s killer.”
“I will, Ms. Hellsey,” Raven said in a soft voice. “I promise.”
IV
Afternoon brought with it another chill that felt more like winter than early fall; the cold snap was continuing and getting worse with every passing day. Raven turned her jacket collar up against the wind and stood next to her car, green eyes searching the sky and buildings around her. Ever since she’d left Ms. Hellsey’s apartment, her skin had crawled and the hair was standing up on the back of her neck and down her arms. She had seen or heard no one, however, and after several minutes of listening and watching, she shivered and slipped behind the wheel of the Shelby.
The return to the station house was uneventful, and Raven stopped only to deliver her seized items to evidence before heading upstairs to her office. When she arrived, she slipped into her chair and stared, unseeing, at the window. She was still thinking some time later when Levac arrived behind her and said in a cheery voice, “Guess what I have?”
“Cooties?” Raven replied absently. “Leprosy? Shingles?”
“What? No!” Levac said in a hurt tone. “The meat pie lady was here this afternoon and worked with one of our artists. They put together a pretty decent drawing.”
Raven turned and looked up at Levac. “Who did she draw? Anyone we know?”
Levac held up the charcoal-shaded piece of high-quality drawing paper and grinned.
The drawing was a perfect rendition of Brand Symone.
“Damn…” Raven said. “Please tell me you already sent a black and white to pick him up?”
“He and his attorney are waiting downstairs as we speak,” Levac replied. “Now…what was that crack about cooties and leprosy?”
Raven grinned. “Escort me to the interview room and forget I said it!”
Levac shook his head and offered his arm. The two arrived outside the interrogation room, where once again Lieutenant Frost and a uniformed officer were waiting for them.
“Levac says a witness positively identified our boy Brand,” F
rost said. “Your fabled instincts going bad on us?”
“Good afternoon to you too, lieutenant,” Raven replied. “Yes, I think it’s going to turn out cold again, but that’s Chicago in the fall; just a little extra edge to it this year.”
Frost rolled his eyes. “Can the crap, detective, and answer the question.”
“I don’t know,” Raven said. “She identified him as the guy who bought the candles and sundries, we know he had motive, but we haven’t placed him at any of the crime scenes.”
“Then it’s your job to do so,” Frost said. “Get to it; the captain is breathing down my neck on this one.”
“What, three high-profile murders? That’s no big deal,” Levac said with a smile.
“Easy for you to say,” Frost said, turning his back. “The captain doesn’t have you on speed dial.”
Raven glanced at Levac, who smiled, and she then stepped into the small interview room, pausing to hand her firearm to the uniformed officer.
As before, Brand Symone's lawyer, Wall, was dressed in a well-tailored suit that did its best to conceal his bulk; Raven was certain it had come from Geoffrey Beene. Brand sat next to him, dressed in a tee shirt and designer jeans.
“What is this all about, detective?” Wall asked before Raven had even taken a seat. “I thought we’d already cleared my client of any wrongdoing in this case.”
Raven ignored the attorney and sat down opposite Brand. “Hello again, Mr. Symone,” she said in professional tones. “It is good to see you again. Thank you for coming to the station to assist with our inquiries.”
“Your officers went to his home and arrested him in front of friends!” Wall growled. “It’s an affront to his dignity, one I’ll be taking up with the chief in the morning. And you didn’t answer my question: What is this all about?”
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