Trevar's Team 2

by Kieran York

  I called Homicide and reported the information about the death of a young woman in Fort Lauderdale. Chief Powers would be checking it out.

  When I arrived home, I told Rachel and Summer the complete story about my talk with Dyan Cross Inge. And that it was to remain confidential. Summer interrupted, “But isn’t that a crime? She allowed Pixy to fall and nearly be killed?”

  “The case wouldn’t even get to court. First, there is the statute of limitations. Secondly, she’d win her case. There were no witnesses.”

  Summer questioned, “But she could confess. Why do you think she’d win the case?”

  “Because I’d be the attorney defending her,” I retorted.

  “But she did that to Pixy?” Rachel argued.

  Rubbing my eyes, I finally looked across the office and into Rachel’s face. “Rach, she wanted Pixy, Lacey, to sprain an ankle. It was a freak accident. She hadn’t meant permanent harm to come to Pixy. And…”

  “And?” Summer questioned with resolve to win the argument.

  “And she loved Pixy/Lacey like a sister. The same love, and the same jealousy. Dyan is a woman in her early thirties. Living the good life, husband, children – incidentally, she named her children after Pixy. She looks as if she’s pushing fifty. There is unhappiness blooming out of every line on her face. She’s spent the last fifteen years with guilt. She believes what she did killed Pixy. She took the girl Lacey from the world. And it did. But Pixy was wonder, love, and she had the grace of sharing happiness. Different from Lacey, but she certainly was a human being who brought joy to others. Although Pixy couldn’t have interfaced in some ways, she communicated the love of handing roses or shells to others. What she gave the world can’t be marginalized or minimized in any way.”

  The rest of dinner was quiet. After dinner, we adjourned to the conference room where Rachel showed us what she’d gleaned from the smudged images on the flash drive. Although she hadn’t been able to clean it up completely, the scene was there. Ryder was alone in his convertible. He drove beside Pixy, harassing her. Tormenting her by shouting, screaming taunts that terrorized her. Then he pulled his car into the lot, behind shrubbery. He opened the trunk, and he got something out. It was long, but not visible from the vantage point of the camera. He began pounding her with it. He dropped the stick. When she fell down, into the bushes, he hit her with his fists. He picked up the stick, and then returned to the back of his car. He threw the stick into the trunk. He got back into his car and roared away.

  “There’s no doubt in my mind that he killed her,” Summer indicted.

  “Some of the images aren’t visible,” I commented.

  “Still,” Rachel spoke, “surely it’s enough to arrest him.”

  My voice broke, as if I suffered a bad case of strep. “It might be enough to arrest him. But I don’t want him simply arrested. I want him to be found guilty of capital murder. I want that jury to have the death penalty on their mind. I don’t think this would do it. The grainy images would be something a defense attorney would take apart. Ryder will be represented by his daddy’s battalion of legal eagles.”

  “His father will certainly see that he’s protected,” Summer complained.

  “So where do we go from here?” Rachel asked.

  Summer stood. Her great physical presence was a bow with string pulled back, taut with a well-tuned strength. “We’re going to get whatever he was hitting her with, and just maybe it will have Pixy’s DNA on it.”

  I instructed, “Summer, please think about the options we might have logistically to get our surgeon-gloved hands on that object.”

  We each went to our respective staterooms. Tossing and turning, I considered how this could be a make or break case. With whatever implement in Ryder’s trunk, and the film, perhaps it was a slam-dunk case.

  I heard Hanna coming in, and then I heard Rachel’s laugh. Thinking over what I’d heard today, I was considering the Hanna/Rachel deal. Hanna was overwhelmingly bossy. She was opinionated. She was a hell of a good doctor. And Rachel appeared, for only the second time in her life, to be in love. Her first experience was when she had become a cop. Her lover was also on the force. Undercover, drugs. To validate her drug-buying, she snorted coke to prove she wasn’t enforcement. She got hooked. Rachel hadn’t been able to undo it. She’d lost the woman she loved to the streets. And finally, that woman disappeared.

  Now, Rachel found Hanna. I vowed to be more forgiving, understanding, of Hanna’s attitude. I’d learned something today. When we try to invade the lives of others, it doesn’t turn out at all good. When we intervene with fate, maybe for one brief moment in time, we chance ruining the lives that fate might have better touched. Dyan had interfered. And paid dearly for it.

  She had lost her best friend.

  Chapter 15

  Overnight Summer had concocted a plan. We would try to find Ryder. Wait for an opportune time. That being the time he left the car unattended. Then Summer would watch, while I used my handy lock picks to open the trunk. I’d wear a latex glove, reach into the back of the trunk, snag the weapon, and then we’d make a run for it.

  As we drove the streets of Palm, Summer questioned, “What makes you think he didn’t toss the pole? Or take it in his home?”

  “Because he’s an arrogant punk. Whatever it is, he probably wants it and would keep it.”

  Spending a great chunk of the morning traversing the streets of Palm gave us a chance to go over the clues.

  Then, the final part came together. It was a puzzle being finalized, Rachel called to tells us a vital part. Tess Norris from Cambridge called. She read to Rachel an excerpt from a Harvard newsletter about Ryder being suspended from the football team. He had, however, been allowed on the lacrosse team.

  My heart pounded. All three of us knew exactly what that meant. Pixy had the strange circular orb marking on her neck. Now I realized that it was the marking of a lacrosse net head. She had been hit first with the pole – a lacrosse stick. Stunned, and unable to fight back, or even scream, she was then beaten to death.

  There would probably be blood on the lacrosse stick. Perhaps the shaft would have blood, and skin with DNA on the head or mesh pocket. It would probably match with Pixy’s blood. And the handle would be dotted with fingerprints. Lots of ‘ifs’ which with to contend. We’d overcome a few. If Ryder had tossed the weapon in the Atlantic. If he had destroyed it in some other way. But he’d probably scored with it, and wasn’t giving it up. Our guess was he’d kept it because he’d used it on a lacrosse field.

  Tom Powers needed to build a good case to take to the prosecutors. Now, we had that case if we could get that lacrosse stick. That would tie the case together, along with the security film. Albeit a grainy film of the murder. It told a story. The murder weapon looked to be lacrosse equipment. Another part of the story. I worried, it could be a long, hooked branch. Without DNA.

  A lacrosse stick with Pixy’s blood would be a winnable case. No matter how many of the Hodges family attorneys showed up, and no matter how much armament they could stuff in their briefcases, they couldn’t win. Purchased witnesses could be discredited. It was a chance to fight for justice. The fight would be against huge quantity of dirty money that would spring a guilty criminal.

  Perhaps, I admitted, the car bombing attempted murder of Evan might not be an airtight case. That remained to be seen. It made an interesting sidecar case. In addition to the murder of Pixy.

  “I just saw a red car on the right,” I said as Summer drove into the right-hand lane. “Looked like it might belong to Ryder.”

  As we approached, we saw Ryder entering a tiny coffee establishment. He had parallel parked a few car lengths from the java bar. Summer and I nodded. I slipped on the gloves. I took the lock picks from my pocket. Summer, kept the engine of Rachel’s car running. She stood guard, looking out as I moseyed to the back of Ryder’s car. I quickly opened the trunk. When it popped open, there was the lacrosse stick. I picked it up and suddenly heard Summer beep
the horn. Ryder had exited, and saw me at his car. Rushing, I dashed as he approached. Summer had pulled around, and threw open the passenger door. Leaping inside, I tossed the stick into the backseat.

  In the side mirror, I saw Ryder scurrying to his driver’s seat. His face was as flaming red as a solar flare. Summer was eluding him beautifully.

  “Where to?” she asked.

  “Keep spreading the space between us. I don’t want to take him back to the marina. I have an idea.” Quickly I punched in Mandy Jewel’s number. “Mandy, I have a favor. You have parking at your apartment, don’t you?”

  “Yes. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve got a problem. Would you help?”

  I gave her instructions. She was to be at the gate of the street-level parking entrance. She would open the gate. We would enter when we knew we wouldn’t be seen. That meant making certain Ryder, in his little sports car, was far enough behind us that we could get through the gate. We needed to stay out of his view. Mandy would shut the motor controlled gate quickly, and Ryder would be left wondering where we’d gone.

  Summer raced, taking the two-wheel corners, and soon Ryder was several blocks back. Mandy was awaiting our arrival. She beckoning to us. Summer went through the gate. She pulled the car to the right, where it wouldn’t be easily seen. Mandy had closed the gates behind us. We watched as Ryder’s red car blazed by.

  Then we explained the situation to Mandy. She was giddy with glee that she had worked a gig with us. And done so beautifully. Mandy said, “Now, then, let’s go up to my apartment, have a drink that will calm you down. Then we can exchange cars. You can bring mine back to me whenever.”

  “Thanks, Mandy. We’ll take you up on the drink later. Now, we need to get the lacrosse racquet back to the yacht. Rachel has evidence bags. We’ll take a few samples with a Q-tip, just for safe keeping. In case evidence goes missing. We’ll shoot film, and to have as evidence. With Ryder’s daddy owning a bunch of Florida, money was in good supply. Relinquishing the evidence might be worth it to a forensics worker needing or wanting an infusion of capital.”

  Summer frowned. “Rachel mentioned that you mistrust everyone.”

  “On this case I don’t trust anyone, because folks are easily bought with big amounts.” I wondered if my soul was becoming hardened.

  “I can attest to that?” Mandy giggled. “I’ve seen all kinds of people bought and sold. And I never trusted, and rarely got burned.”

  Summer smirked. “I’m in the wrong profession. I get shot at.”

  Mandy chided, “Better to die of life than to die of irrelevance.”

  Summer laughed heartily. She then gave her watch a tap. “Let’s roll.”

  “Let me know when you’d like me to pick up my car.” Mandy held out her keys.

  My stare was one of concern. I said, “Mandy, I don’t want you driving our car back to the marina. I’m certain both Rachel’s car and my car have now been made by Ryder. So please wait for us to exchange the cars. We’ll do it.”

  “You two be careful,” she said with her frown deepening.

  “He won’t be looking for your car. So, we’ll be fine. Summer and I are both carrying. With one of us at the wheel, we still have the other of us riding shotgun.” I patted the side of my waist. “We’ll be absolutely fine.” I’d doubled up on my shooting range practice.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Mandy said as she followed us. We placed the lacrosse stick carefully in her car, she admonished, “Watch out.”

  We kissed her cheek, then left in her car to find our way back to the yacht. We would loop around a little, and use side streets only.

  Our trip through Palm was precarious, and carefully thought out. When we arrived at the marina, Summer parked beside my convertible. I opened the trunk, then slipped on latex gloves. Rachel and Hanna were at the door. It was quickly and precisely opened as we arrived.

  Rachel said, “Take the stick into the office. I set up the table. We can photograph it, take samples, and then wrap it carefully. Make certain Tom realizes this is both his Christmas and birthday gift.”

  Hanna questioned every single move we made. Rachel made certain we would have backup swabs – in case the stick and the net head went missing in either Forensics or an evidence room. She touched a swab to one of the small splattering of blood. She also swabbed a small spot on the handle area. It was all being carefully filmed, also just in case.

  Rachel said, “I’ll call Tom and tell him to expect you. I’ll explain you just borrowed the lacrosse stick. Or maybe it fell out of a car’s trunk. And you found the Aubrey Portilla film contents from the security system in an alley.”

  “Rach, good excuses,” I complimented. “Tom has to be fussy about getting evidence. It just falls into our awaiting hands.”

  I placed the envelope holding the thumb drive in my pocket. I then quickly made my way to the door. I had wrapped the lacrosse stick carefully and placed it in a box. I began to call for a rental car to be delivered.

  Hanna offered, “You can take my car.”

  Rachel teased, “Hanna, I know you drive a beater, but between Beryl and Summer, they’ve wrecked a lot of cars.”

  “Look,” Hanna’s assertive voice insisted, “I offered. And soon my student loans will be paid off, and I’ll get a fancy car that I might not offer up for those two to damage. But now, I’m all in.” She searched her pocket for the keys.

  “That’s nice of you, Hanna,” the frowning Summer said. “Maybe Beryl should drive since I’ve wrecked a couple more than she has.” Hanna extended the key to me.

  On the way to Hanna’s vehicle, Summer said, “That was nice of her. But did you see the look she gave us and the voice she used when she said those two. You’d a thought we were going to leap the Grand Canyon.”

  Arriving in Tom’s office wasn’t the usual. He usually made us wait. Not this time. We were lead right it, and the evidence was placed on his desk.

  Incredulously, he repeated, “Found the memory stick in an alley, and the lacrosse bat or whatever you call it, you found that in some public place.”

  “Just as it fell out of Ryder Hodge’s trunk,” Summer issued her statement with a crisp nod and a completely deadpan face.

  “Yes, that’s how it went down,” I lied through my teeth. And he was well aware of it. “Tom, have you had a robbery report? Anyone claiming it?”

  “You know I haven’t. I’m going to send these to Forensics. I know State has a digital forensics lab.”

  “Plug the memory stick in your USB and take a peek,” I suggested.

  Summer urged, “In fact, fix some popcorn and invite several of the prosecutors to your office. They’re going to enjoy it.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Tom said with a snort. “Of course, a signed confession would have been better yet. It’s going to take a few days to get the reports back on this evidence. So, we won’t make an arrest on the Hodges kid until we’ve got that checked out. And we need to talk with the prosecutors about what’sa go and what’sa no.”

  “Tom, time is important.” I argued, “Ryder’s dad has probably already got him booked in at some swank hotel in Europe. Let’s keep the lid on as best we can until we’re ready.”

  Summer proposed, “Let’s move on this yesterday.”

  “Tom, Ryder Hodges thinks that Summer and I have the evidence. He chased us, we lost him. He wants that lacrosse stick. How about if I call him and tell him I want money for the stick. A fake blackmail. We’ll meet, and you can arrest him. Confession and all.”

  “We’re doing nothing,” Tom huffed, “until we get the reports back. We need to know for sure if it is evidence. Then maybe we can go after him. Like you said, with a little covert deal. But not until we know for sure.”

  Summer’s excitement was building. “We can be wired, then go in. He’ll undoubtedly confess.”

  Tom rubbed his chin. “It’s tricky.”

  I planned, “We’ll get a duplicate stick, then offer it up to him. For money.”
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  Tom nodded. “Okay, I’ll get that stick, and we’ll even scuff it similar to the actual one. An exact copy of the stick! You know, we could get this little scene played out perfectly. Get a confession.” Tom’s eyes gleamed. The guy was all in with our plan.

  “I just hope he’s not already on a trip to some sweet island,” I said.

  “We’ll go as quickly as we can. He won’t want to leave the lacrosse stick behind,” Tom guessed. “He knows that’s solid evidence.” Suddenly he stopped. “But what if the two of you get hurt?”

  I laughed loudly, “Then Rachel inherits the yacht and business.”

  “Seriously,” Tom replied, “I don’t want you two getting killed.”

  I spoke with reserve. “We all know Ryder is scared. He knows we have his death warrant on the table. If he doesn’t get his hands on that lacrosse stick, he’s toast. I’m afraid if we don’t go for him now. He’s going to do a runner. We’ll make certain the meeting place is in the open,” I answered. “The least vulnerable place.”

  “We can pull this off.” Summer’s voice was filled with determination. “Tom, Pixy didn’t harm anyone. She didn’t deserve being killed by a sadistic punk.”

  “Naw, she didn’t,” Tom agreed. “We have to wait for the lab tests. The minute I have the reports, we’ll act.”

  “Tom, we’ve confided in you before, and you haven’t betrayed our trust.” I looked toward Summer for confirmation. “I think you should know about something. But it must remain a secret until the criminal has been caught. And I don’t want this news out until then.”