Evil in the First House: A Starlight Detective Agency (Starlight Detective Agency Mysteries Book 3)

by Mitchell Scott Lewis

  Andy picked up his gun. “You want me to chase him?”

  Lowell shook his head. “Let him go. They were just hired hands. I don’t think there’s much we can learn from him anyway. Let the police deal with him. Karen, you’ve met Andy.”

  She waved. “How wonderful to see you again. Your timing couldn’t have been better.”

  “Thank God for texts. Glad I could help.” Andy looked down at the body and then turned to Lowell. “Okay, Boss, now what?”

  Lowell dialed Melinda. “Andy just killed a man in self-defense. Can you call Lieutenant Roland and meet us here as soon as you’re free?” He gave her the address and hung up.

  Andy looked shaken up. He sat on the edge of the tiny bed. “You know I was in the Corps.” Lowell nodded. “I killed people before. But this is different. Most of them were a long ways off, not in your face.”

  Lowell had been responsible for the death of a man in the Judge Winston case and knew the feelings it could create. There was a sense of karma—that this act would never completely leave you and would even follow you into future lifetimes. Lowell was a firm believer in reincarnation.

  Andy continued. “I know it’s part of the job, and hell, he was a piece of dirt who was gonna kill us if he could. It’s just that, I don’t know, sometimes I wish I did something else for a living. You know?”

  Lowell knew.

  “Andy, if you ever get the itch to try something else, no matter how off the track it may seem, please come to me and I’m sure we can work it out.”

  Andy nodded. Then he smiled. “Well, for now I’m still your bodyguard and chauffeur.”

  “And friend.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  About twenty minutes later Roland arrived with two uniforms. Melinda was just a few moments behind. Roland nodded to her as she entered. “How are you, Melinda. Haven’t seen you in a while. You’re looking well.”

  “Hi Phil, how have you been?”

  Roland shook his head. “Tough business.”

  Melinda walked over to Karen. “I’m Melinda Lowell, David’s daughter.” She stuck out her hand.

  Karen shook it forcefully. “Karen Sweeney. How nice to meet you.”

  The lieutenant walked over to Lowell. “What happened?”

  Lowell tugged at his ponytail. “Lieutenant Philip Roland, Officer Karen Sweeney of the Los Angeles Police Department. This is her uncle’s apartment.”

  Roland ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed. “Why do I think this isn’t going to make me happy?” He turned to Karen. “What can I do for the LAPD?”

  “Well…” she started.

  Lowell interrupted. “Actually, Karen isn’t working officially for the department at the moment. She’s here on personal business.”

  “I see,” said Roland. “May I ask what personal business?”

  “I’m here to find my uncle’s murderer.”

  “And your uncle was…?”

  “Mickey Broad,” said Karen, “a private eye from L.A.”

  “This was his place?”

  Karen nodded.

  “And he was killed in N.Y.?” asked Roland.

  She shook her head. “No, L.A.”

  The cop frowned. “Then why am I so lucky to have you in my jurisdiction?”

  “He was in New York shortly before his death and I’m here following a lead.”

  Roland nodded. “Just stay within the law and I’ve got no problem with that. Are you carrying?”

  “I have my piece at David’s place.”

  Roland cast a glance at Lowell, his mouth turning up just at the very corners. “At David’s place?” Luigi walked over to Roland and pushed his head up into the lieutenant’s hand. Roland unconsciously scratched Luigi’s head. “Your dog?”

  Karen nodded. “That’s Luigi.”

  Roland smiled and turned toward Lowell. “He staying at your place too?”

  Lowell nodded, a slight grimace on his face.

  The cop grinned broadly. “So what happened here?”

  “Karen wanted to see her uncle’s place and look around a bit,” said Lowell. “We were getting ready to leave when the deceased and McFarley pushed their way in.”

  “McFarley again?” asked Roland.

  Lowell nodded. “Right before they broke in I texted Andy and let him know what was happening.” Lowell pointed to the wall and then to the dead man. “You’ll find a bullet over there that came from this guy’s gun. Andy only shot in self-defense.”

  Roland spoke to one of the uniformed policemen. “Dig that slug out of the wall and bag it.” He turned to Lowell. “The forensic team will be here soon and they can go over it all.”

  “Do you need us here?” asked Lowell.

  Roland shook his head. “I’m going to have to take your driver to the precinct, but it’s only a formality.” He turned to Andy. “Frankly, I wish you had gotten that other piece of garbage.”

  Andy nodded. “No time, or I would have.”

  Roland took out a cellphone and dialed. “It’s Roland. McFarley was involved in a possible hit gone bad. I don’t care what it takes, I want that SOB in custody now. Find him. Circulate his picture to everyone.” He hung up,

  Melinda walked over. “Lieutenant, do you think Andy needs a lawyer?”

  Roland shook his head. “I don’t think so. It looks like a righteous shooting. Is your permit in order?”

  Andy nodded and opened his wallet. “Here’s my license to carry.”

  Roland looked at it and returned it to Andy. He turned to Melinda. “If there are any legal problems I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you, Phil,” she said.

  Lowell was getting antsy. “Can we leave?”

  Roland turned to Lowell and Karen. “I’m gonna need statements from you two. Might as well get it over with now.”

  He called over one of the officers. “Wilson, take down their statements.”

  “Okay, Lieutenant,” said the officer.

  “And Wilson,” said Roland, “try to make it legible, will ya?”

  The officer smiled and took out a small digital recorder. “Got it covered,” he said. “They can type it up at the precinct.”

  When they finished telling their tale, Lowell, Melinda, and Karen left. Lowell was forced to drive the limo home. Although he enjoyed driving on certain occasions, and would at times take a journey by himself out of New York, navigating that huge car in the city wasn’t much fun. He managed to get them home without incident.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  As they entered the townhouse Julia greeted them at the door. When Luigi saw Julia he lunged toward her and leaped up onto his back legs putting his front paws on her shoulders and lapping her face.

  She tolerated the licking for a few moments. “Okay, that’s enough. Get down.” A stern look on her face. He went on all fours and then sat, looking up at her with anticipation. She took out a kitchen cloth from her apron pocket and wiped her face. “I suppose you want to eat again?”

  He cocked his head to the side and stared at her.

  “Supper?”

  He got up, tail wagging fervently and pranced into the kitchen a step ahead of Julia who turned back halfway down the hall. “I swear he understands English better than I do.”

  The others walked into the living room. Lowell sat in the armchair. Karen and Melinda sat on the couch.

  Melinda looked at her father. “Did you find anything at the apartment?”

  “There was a tiny thumb drive in the mail.”

  “Why aren’t we downstairs in your office looking through it?”

  “Well, we don’t actually have it at the moment. I had to hide it.”

  Melinda saw her father smirk. “So who has it?”

  Just then Luigi came bounding into the room, as if on cue, licking t
he remnants of his supper from his lips. He sat at Karen’s feet. Lowell pointed to him.

  “He does.”

  Melinda and Luigi both cocked their heads to the right at the same time. “Really? And when do you think he’ll give it back?”

  Lowell clapped his hands and Luigi came over. He took hold of the dog’s collar and pealed off the taped thumb drive. “Here it is.”

  “Well?” said Melinda. “Let’s go see what’s on this device that’s so important.”

  They went down to the townhouse basement office. Luigi chose to stay close to Julia. You never knew when an errant morsel might find its way onto the floor. Lowell turned on the computer and popped the thumb drive into the USB port and tried to open the files.

  “There’s a password.” He turned to Karen. “Any ideas?”

  “None at the moment. I’d have to think about it.”

  Lowell dialed Mort and put him on speakerphone.

  “What’s up, Boss?”

  “Sorry to bother you, but we’ve got a thumb drive from Karen’s uncle and we need to get the password.”

  Mort’s voice filled the room. “Karen, did you talk to your uncle often?”

  “Yeah, all the time.”

  Mort was silent for a moment. Lowell could imagine him at home furrowing his brow as he often did while trying to use his psychic intuition. “I think it’s something you know very well. Did you discuss a password for anything?”

  Karen frowned. “Not that I remember.”

  The speakerphone was silent for a few moments. The Mort’s voice returned.

  “It’s something you’ve discussed with him many times. He wanted to make sure you could work it out, if necessary. Did you two have a favorite sports team, or nickname?”

  “Not really.”

  Mort suddenly laughed.

  “You know what it is, don’t you?” asked Lowell.

  “Yes, I think so. It’s…”

  “Luigi.” Lowell and Mort said at the same time.

  Mort’s booming laugh filled the room. “Try it.”

  Lowell typed in the dog’s name and the files popped open. “It worked.”

  “Hey, you two are good,” said Karen. “See, everyone loves Luigi.”

  “Thanks Mort, I’ll see you in the morning.” Lowell hung up. Then he scrolled through the files and printed copies of a dozen items. He looked through each quickly as they popped into the tray, and then handed them to Melinda. “Well, you’re my legal expert. What do you think?”

  She took the pages and read through them. When she was done she put them on the desk, stood up and stretched. “Karen, I think there may be something to your theory.”

  “Why? What’s it say?”

  “It says that Dr. Ethan Williamson might very well be a crook.”

  Lowell spoke. “There’s a record of several genetic patents Williamson owned and how he acquired them, including the one involving Francis Goldsmith, a woman who was suing Williamson when she died in a hit and run. Apparently Mrs. Goldsmith was just about to get her case into court when she had her most unfortunate accident. Quite a coincidence.”

  “And my father doesn’t believe in coincidences.”

  “No, I don’t. There’s also a note here about a cash layout of fifty thousand dollars to something called A-One Security Services at the same time.” He made a mental note to have Mort follow up on the name.

  Karen started to pace. “So what does all this mean?”

  Lowell leaned back in his chair. “Williamson owns a number of valuable patents. How he acquired the blood samples used to extract that DNA has everything to do with legal ownership. If they were obtained from discarded blood, it’s considered public property. If they were taken directly from the patient for the purposes of research, they are that patient’s property. Of course, all of this may become moot as a result of the Supreme Court’s recent ruling that nobody can own an exclusive patent on DNA and how that is interpreted.

  He handed Karen the paper. “That’s a sworn statement from the attending nurse who was present at the time of Mrs. Goldsmith’s examination. According to this, Williamson did his research on blood that he took directly from Mrs. Goldsmith’s body for the sole purpose of experimenting and patenting it, not from discarded samples, as he claimed, which would make the acquisition illegal. Your uncle may have been on the verge of proving that Williamson did not, in fact, own the patent.”

  “What’s it worth?” asked Karen.

  Lowell slipped off his loafers and put his feet up on the edge of the desk. “Likely millions. I wonder where your uncle got this.” He leaned back in his chair. “Melinda, what do you think?”

  “Well, it may show that he was a crook, but there’s nothing here to prove murder.”

  “I agree.”

  Karen wasn’t sold. “If ten years with the LAPD has taught me anything, it’s that one thread leads to another. Uncle Mickey found out that Williamson stole this woman’s DNA, and he was dead soon after. I find that a coincidence I can’t accept.”

  “Okay,” said Lowell, “maybe you’re right. But even if Williamson had stolen it, why would he risk murdering your uncle for something so difficult to prove? Mrs. Goldsmith is long dead and the DA would be loath to reexamine her accident now based solely on this nurse’s testimony.” He tugged on his ponytail and sighed deeply. “I don’t think this is why your uncle was killed.”

  Karen stopped pacing. “What about those two thugs? They must have been after those files.”

  “We don’t even know who hired McFarley,” said Lowell. “I’m working on several cases at the moment. He didn’t mention the thumb drive once. I don’t think he was even aware of its existence. They may have just followed us to your uncle’s place. I think there’s something else amiss here. Something that we’re missing. I’ll let Mort examine the files tomorrow.”

  Lowell got up, closed the computer, and headed toward the stairs. “In the meantime, I don’t know the answer. But I’ll be better able to look at it with a fresh perspective in the morning. Good night, ladies.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  “Mort, here’s the thumb drive Karen’s uncle sent. I want you to go through it and see if there’s anything I missed. Track down a company called A-One Security Services that Mickey Broad referred to. There’s also someone named Maria Rodriguez mentioned several times. See if you can find out who she is.”

  Lowell handed Mort the tiny device. “Have you found out anything else about the uncle?”

  Mort was sitting in a client’s chair. “He ran a one-man operation out of L.A. Usually he took one case at a time. He didn’t put much on the Internet and there’s no way for me to tell what he was working on, unless I go out to California and look through his files.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  Mort smiled. “That’s too bad. I could use a few days by the beach.”

  Lowell chuckled. “Maybe next time.”

  Mort flapped his arms. “I’ll start on this now.”

  He took the thumb drive and headed for his office.

  ***

  About an hour later Mort entered Lowell’s office waving a piece of paper.

  Lowell looked up. “So what have you got for me?”

  “A-One Securities is a small operation out of Jersey City. From what I can gather they operate just barely within the law. Seems to be mostly strong-arm tactics specializing in intimidation and harassment.”

  Lowell took this in and jotted down a few lines. “What about the woman?”

  “Maria Rodriguez. She lives on the other side of Clifton about three miles from the hospital.”

  “What have you got on her?”

  “Ms. Rodriguez has a degree in anesthesiology from a small medical college in upstate New York. She’s worked at Williamson’s hospital for the past thre
e years.”

  “Okay, so she knows Williamson. Any connection beyond that?”

  “I’ve got a few pictures of them together at a charity ball the hospital threw about a year ago. But there isn’t much more. But I’ll do a more thorough background on her.”

  “Soon, please. Get me anything about her that seems pertinent.”

  Mort got a strange glint in his eye. “Say, I have an idea. Do you know where Karen is?”

  “I think she’s at the townhouse. Why?”

  “I think I’ll do a little detective work.”

  Lowell raised his eyebrows.

  ***

  Karen and Mort sat in Lowell’s Volvo. Karen was behind the wheel. Although he had a license, Mort wasn’t fond of driving and rarely did so.

  “That’s her house,” said Mort, as he took a sip of coffee.

  It was a small, simple abode with a picket fence in front of a diminutive lawn. A large oak took up much of the front yard, its branches producing a welcome summertime shade. On one side of the tree sat a swing set, long abandoned. One swing was broken, hanging on by a single chain. Rust lined the poles. A red Ford sat parked in the driveway.

  “So now what?”

  “Now,” said the cop, “we wait. Haven’t you ever been on a stakeout before?”

  Mort shook his head. “David doesn’t usually work like this.”

  “Well, I don’t know how you guys manage.”

  Mort took a swig of Poland Springs water. “Mostly we work from the office using astrology and the Internet. Although we do occasionally break a few laws.” He laughed, then reached into the backseat and grabbed a bag from a deli. “I’m just glad you had me pick up sandwiches. You want one?”

  He took out a chicken salad on rye and started eating.

  She shook her head. “I’ll wait a little while. You never know how long you may have to sit.”

  They were silent for a few minutes.

  Mort looked over at her, his mouth loaded with chicken salad. He scrunched up his face. “He’s coming back.”

  Karen turned to him. “What? Why would you say that?”

  “Well, that is what you were thinking about, isn’t it? Your boyfriend left angry and you’re afraid it’s over. Don’t worry, when you get back to L.A. there’ll be a message. He wants to come back and try again. Bob, or Bruce, something like that.”