Elegy in Scarlet

by BV Lawson

  “I see most of it. But why the card-in-the-throat thing?”

  “Her mother’s body was found like that.”

  “But her father told us he killed her in a drunken rage and doesn’t remember doing it. Or exactly why.”

  “According to that police report in your hand, it was five-year-old Rena who found her mother dead with her mouth open and the card stuck there. It couldn’t help but make a huge impression. When she turned to her own homicidal ways, she must have copied what her father did. As to why she killed her grandmother, she told me the woman beat her.”

  “Hates men too, I take it.”

  “Or just likes controlling them. Barney Schleissman at the assisted-living home said Rena always likes to be in control. And Jerold liked domineering women. First Ophelia, then Rena.”

  “The whole sexual harassment thing was just a ruse on Rena’s part?”

  “Probably had consensual sex, but she turned it around to blackmail Jerold into going along with her plan. Plus, he was in debt, the TSA job didn’t pay well, and she probably told him he could make millions. Which he did.”

  Drayco thrust the paperwork back into its folder. “Sad fact is, she didn’t need any of that lottery money after the pot of gold she got in her divorce. Must have been for the thrill of it all.”

  Sarg tugged on his ear. “Why frame Maura?”

  “When she thought Maura was threatening her little scheme, she wanted to make both Maura and Jerold pay for it. It’s probably why she stabbed Jerold in the groin.”

  “She’s one clever, sick bitch, you know that?”

  Drayco recalled Halabi’s account, that even though Ophelia’s head was bashed in with a baseball bat, she was still conscious when the ATM card was forced down her throat. Bleeding, in pain, possibly aware enough to be frightened, then the card slowly suffocating her. Poor, innocent Ophelia. Just like her Shakespearean namesake, collateral damage.

  He said, “Benny Baskin would say there’s wiggle room for reasonable doubt. Though it might make that reference of Jerold’s, about going on a trip to Nevada, make more sense.”

  “You mean he knew Maura wanted to go to Reno, and Reno was his way of saying Rena was there holding a gun on him? Could be.” Sarg grabbed the folder and threw it into the briefcase.

  “It’s funny, but Rena was every bit as much a con woman as Maura. Maybe more. Pretending to be normal, respectable, even working for the TSA, all the while she was a cold, calculating psychopath.”

  Sarg said, “We should call Halabi.”

  Drayco whipped out his phone and dialed Halabi’s number.

  The detective answered right away. “You must be psychic. I was going to call Agent Sargosian. That key you found in Jerold Zamorra’s condo. We finally traced it to a storage facility. Thought he might like to join us.”

  Drayco told Sarg the address Halabi passed along, and Sarg started whistling the Peter Gunn theme as they drove away, down the same road where Armas had seen Rena the night Jerold was murdered.

  Chapter 51

  Halabi looked like he wasn’t going to let Drayco join in the fun. But then he relented, confirming what Sarg had found out three days ago. “Might as well let you go in with Sargosian, Drayco. The forensic guys say blood they found on the brick outside the back entrance to Jerold’s condo was relatively fresh. And definitely his.”

  He didn’t have to say it aloud. If Maura was caught standing over the body with the knife, then someone else—likely the real killer—transferred the blood to the brick as they left. Halabi motioned for Drayco and Sarg to enter the storage unit. It was barely large enough for the three of them and a table and chair, but at least, it was climate controlled with electricity.

  Halabi glared at the laptop computer on top of the table, ignoring two of his men who were carting off boxes. “Took longer to trace Jerold’s key than I’d hoped because he used an assumed name when he rented this place.”

  Sarg peeked over the open lid of the computer. “Powered it up yet?”

  “We’ve taken photos, prints, searched the desk—hell, the whole unit, from the corner spider webs down to the snickerdoodle crumbs on the floor. We’ll take the laptop back to the office and check it there.”

  Drayco filled him in on what Vito Armas had told them as well as the info he and Sarg had tracked down. Halabi put his hands on his hips. “Intriguing, I’ll grant you. At least as far as Ophelia’s murder is concerned. Still doesn’t prove Rena was involved with Jerold or that she killed him.”

  “Prosecutors have built successful cases on far less.” Drayco reached into his pocket where he’d stashed a pair of gloves he’d swiped from a box on one of the police cars. He slipped them on and headed to an open box where something had caught his eye.

  “Will this help?” He pulled out a voice changer device, the type that plugs into cellphones. He tossed it at Halabi, then maneuvered around the detective and powered up the laptop.

  Halabi reached out to stop him, but Drayco batted his hand away. The detective’s face flushed a deep red, but he nonetheless moved behind Drayco to watch what he was doing. A password dialog box appeared on the screen, and Drayco typed in LOTTERY. That didn’t work, so next he tried CARAMEL. Just as Halabi opened his mouth to protest, Drayco typed CLIBO, and the desktop popped into view.

  Aside from the password, Jerold hadn’t been particularly careful. It took all of thirty seconds for Drayco to find a spreadsheet with details of Jerold’s lottery fraud takings, as well as the address of the D.C. mail drop. It took another thirty seconds for him to find a letter Jerold had typed mentioning Rena’s involvement in the scheme, and in case of his death, the police should talk to her first.

  Halabi finished reading that bit and scratched his cheek. “He didn’t trust her. Or had an inkling of her anger toward him. At any rate, this is enough to haul her in for questioning.”

  Drayco turned off the laptop and folded down the lid. Halabi promptly gestured to one of his men, who strode in and spirited the computer away. The detective barked at another of his men to button down the place and ushered Drayco and Sarg outside.

  Halabi focused on Drayco. “Doesn’t mean your mother isn’t guilty of something. But, if you add it to the report about the shallow wound on Jerold’s body the M.E. now says came after he was dead, well. Gives more of a ring to your mother’s crazy story.”

  Sarg added, “And Zamorra didn’t mention Drayco’s mother in that letter of his.”

  “Yeah, there is that.” Halabi walked to his car, which turned out to be the one with the box of gloves.

  Sarg waited until Halabi was out of earshot. “I take it neither you nor Benny Baskin told him what your mother told you. That she was Jerold’s partner?”

  “Technically, it’s hearsay. If there’s no proof of her involvement, they won’t be able to convict her. She can admit to it all she wants, but saying you did something isn’t the same as proving it. Besides, I have a feeling a certain uncle of mine has already taken care of it.”

  Sarg looked up at the sky and squinted. “Judging by the angle of the moon, I’d say it’s about seven o’clock.”

  Drayco grinned. “Nice try, but I saw you glance at your watch when I was talking to Halabi.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  Drayco watched as Halabi’s car sped away. “When this is all over, why don’t we drive up to Annapolis for some blue crab.”

  “If that’s your way of saying you owe me, you don’t. But Crab Caprese sounds good. Lots of vitamin C. Don’t want you getting scurvy.”

  Realizing he still had the plastic gloves on, Drayco pulled them off and stuffed them into his pockets. He turned back to the storage unit and gave it a hard stare as the last two police officers yanked the door shut.

  Sarg said, “Uh oh. You’ve got that one-plus-two-equals-Q look. You don’t think Rena’s guilty?”

  “Oh, she’s guilty all right. There’s just something ... I don’t know. Put it down to lack of sleep. My brain’s turning to mush.�
�

  “Let’s hope Halabi can charge Rena soon. Then you can sleep for a week.” Sarg put a hand on Drayco’s shoulder. “What about your mother?”

  “Benny’s working on it. We should know something tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know if I can get away or not.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  Sarg gave Drayco a little shove in the direction of the car. “I’d kinda like to meet Maura McCune. Don’t have too many friends with mothers who are con artists.”

  Chapter 52

  Wednesday, February 27

  Drayco doubted he’d slept more than three hours. Again. Mornings were becoming Drayco’s least favorite time of day. Sarg looked better rested, at least.

  This time, the comfy chair was front and center in Benny Baskin’s office, and Sarg made a beeline for it. Naturally. That left the chair that always made Drayco’s butt go numb. Drayco pointed at Sarg’s chair. “Benny, where is that thing most of the time?”

  “Out for upholstering or something. I’m not a musical-chairs coordinator.”

  At Drayco’s raised eyebrow, he replied, “What?” Then he opened a chiller in the wall unit behind his desk and grabbed a bottle. “Celebratory Scotch,” he said.

  “Celebratory, sir?” Sarg looked at Drayco.

  “After hearing of your new evidence proving Maura was not Jerold Zamorra’s killer, I’ve arranged to get her out on bail. Should be a free woman by this afternoon if all goes well. Tomorrow at the latest.”

  “We haven’t entirely proven Maura wasn’t involved, and the PD will need time to make a case against Rena.”

  “Close enough.”

  Drayco stared at Benny as he poured glasses of Scotch. “Who’s paying the bail?”

  “Money was wired into my account for that very purpose. Any guesses on who that might be from?”

  Brisbane’s little wiretaps were doing their job. Drayco rubbed his eyes and frowned.

  Benny frowned back at him. “You don’t look as overjoyed about this as I’d expected. I’m going to stop giving you good news.”

  “Just uneasy, I suppose.”

  “Don’t tell me you think she’s not innocent, after all?”

  “Innocent of Jerold’s murder.”

  “Well, that other stuff is minor by comparison. As for lottery fraud, we’ll handle all that later, as I mentioned yesterday. If it ever happens since there’s no evidence.”

  “That’s what worries me. Well, one of the things. This is too neat.”

  Benny put his hands on his hips. “If you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, I see the two you have on seem nice and tight.”

  The door opened behind them, and Nelia Tyler popped in. She spied the bottle of Scotch and glasses and poured herself some, then lifted it in Drayco’s direction. “Congratulations. Although you don’t look too happy, considering the outcome.”

  Sarg piped up, “Oh, you know junior here. Likes all his dotted-I’s and crossed-T’s.”

  Nelia said, “If you mean Rena, it’s just a matter of time before she turns up.”

  Drayco nodded at the Scotch. “Kinda early for that, isn’t it?”

  She smiled. “I’m taking mass transit.”

  Benny added, “My wife is picking me up later today,” and downed his shot in one gulp. He looked from Drayco to Sarg. “Which of you two drove?”

  When Sarg pointed at Drayco, Benny poured Sarg a glass of Scotch and handed it over. “So, Mister Special Agent, how long you think it’ll be before Detective Halabi and his minions track down Rena Quentin?”

  “Soon, plus or minus. Wouldn’t it be a kick if her name is added to the TSA’s Do Not Fly list? I still say she’s one sick bitch.”

  Benny poured himself another. “Her attorney will plead insanity. Guaranteed.”

  Nelia turned to Drayco. “Have you had a chance to talk with your mother about all of this?”

  “No, but if Benny works his magic, maybe later today.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  Drayco forced a smile. “You three are going to owe me some Scotch later.” He didn’t miss the look his other three companions exchanged between them. He was happy about all of this, right? His mother was essentially cleared and so was the young Leon Mecko, for that matter. Why did he feel like grabbing that bottle and downing it all at once?

  § § §

  The shadows of the morning had long turned to twilight, but Rena was still missing, meaning the police didn’t have their suspect in custody. But even so, and despite the fact it took most of the day to accomplish, Benny managed to work his magic and secure Maura’s release.

  Drayco’s mother stood stiffly as the police clerk handed over a small box of TicTacs, ten five-dollar bills, two keys and a paperback-sized beaded purse. She stuffed the items in the purse, then opened it wider and ran her finger along the interior.

  Drayco said, “Detective Halabi kept the fake driver’s license.”

  Benny, who was standing on the other side of Maura, chimed in, “You’re off the hook for the murder charge, thanks to Drayco.”

  Maura didn’t look at her son but nodded.

  After a moment of awkward silence, Benny said, “I knew all along Drayco would get to the bottom of this. He’s kept my bacon out of the frying pan more than once. Yep, you should never bet against boy-o, here.”

  Drayco almost spoke up to remind Benny that when Drayco first approached him, Benny hadn’t exactly been encouraging. Even calling Drayco’s objectivity into question.

  Benny sailed blithely on, “Where ya goin’ for your first post-release celebration?”

  Maura looked in Drayco’s direction. “I think I’d like to go back to my apartment. But I don’t have a car.”

  “I’ll drive you.” Drayco touched her arm lightly and indicated the hallway to their right. He mouthed “Call you later” to Benny and led the way outside.

  They walked in silence under the faint canopy of stars beginning to shine through the gathering darkness until they reached the car. Maura stared at the man leaning against it. “Who are you?”

  “Agent Mark Sargosian, at your service, ma’am.” He opened the front passenger door to Drayco’s car.

  “Sargosian? Aren’t you Scotty’s former partner?”

  Sarg and Drayco exchanged a quick look. Drayco hadn’t told her about Sarg or why Drayco had left the FBI. She, or maybe Brisbane, had definitely been keeping tabs on his career.

  “Yes, ma’am, I am none other.”

  “But I thought—” She bit her lip, hesitated, then slid into the car. No mention of the former partners’ estrangement, but it was clear she knew.

  After Sarg closed the door and he and Drayco piled in, Drayco drove down Wilson Boulevard in the direction of his target. When they parked beside Northside Social, Maura frowned.

  Drayco said, “Thought you might like some non-prison coffee. And they make a terrific chocolate hazelnut tart.”

  Drayco and Maura found a table while Sarg stood in line to place the order. Maura looked out the window, and Drayco was beginning to think it was a mistake to bring her here, to try and break the ice a bit.

  Without the stress of prison forcing slips of her Scottish accent, she was back to her more measured, American patterns. She said quietly, “I’ve been there many times, you know, to Casey’s grave. Always bring her some yellow calla lilies. Her favorite.”

  She turned to look him squarely in the eye. “I’m not proud of everything I’ve done in my life. And I know I’m not the mother you wanted, the mother you deserve. But I won’t badmouth my family. It’s just who they are and who I am.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

  She sighed. “You get addicted to the trickster life. To see what you can get away with. For some people, it’s drugs or sex or alcohol, for my family, it’s cons. I couldn’t tell anyone about them, you can see that, can’t you? They’d be tracked down.”

  Then she reached across the table. “Promise you won’t do that, won’t sa
y anything to anyone. Forget about them. Leave them be. They’re slowly dying off, anyway. And they never killed anyone. You believe that, don’t you?”

  He reached up to touch the scar on her neck, but she caught his hand and gently rubbed it in hers. He said, “Dugald Iverson was self-defense. And much deserved, it appears. You didn’t have to run.”

  Her eyes widened to mini full moons. “How did you—” Then she shook her head. “My brilliant son. Of course, you’d find out. I was young, scared. Didn’t know what else to do. Thought I’d escaped my past here with your father. But a former mate of Dugald’s tracked me down and confronted me. Threatened to kidnap you and Casey unless I gave him a lot of money. That’s how I knew my past would never stay that way.”

  Her eyes, bright with unshed tears, pleaded with him so intensely, it shook him to the core how important this was to her—for him to believe, to know, that she wasn’t evil. She said, “I have lived my life in so much darkness. Hiding, ducking, running. But all the time, I had you as a light in the darkness, my light in the darkness. Through your music, you create peace and beauty. And through your work, you find justice for victims. My real legacy, my only good, true gift to the world is you, Scotty. I will always, always love you and be with you.”

  Sarg rejoined them, expertly balancing coffees and pastries he served, with a bow. “No tips, please. Although I will accept kudos in lieu thereof.” He plopped in his seat, reached for the sugar, but just then seemed to notice Maura’s hand clasped in Drayco’s. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  She smiled at Sarg and released Drayco’s hand. “No, and thank you, Agent Sargosian. For everything.”

  All of Maura’s words took on double meanings. It was as if she was cramming a lifetime of stored-up thoughts into a brief supernova of emotions, as one would who was saying goodbye.

  She grabbed her spoon, reached for the salt shaker and poured some into her coffee, as Drayco and Sarg both watched in amazement. She looked amused at their expressions. “What, you’ve never tried salt in your coffee? You really should. It takes all the bitterness out.”