Night Justice

by Diane Capri

  Another nod.

  She said, “I wasn’t a big Evan Hayden fan. Pretty much no one at the firm was. You probably got a sense of that. He was a racist, bigoted, misogynist who only cared about himself. He treated me and everyone else he came in contact with horribly.” Kelly’s voice broke. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “But he didn’t deserve to die just because he was an asshole.”

  I reached over and laid a hand on Kelly’s trembling forearm in a show of support. “But you think someone might have killed him because of his behavior?”

  “No. Not entirely, anyway,” she murmured.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There was something else. Something I saw on his laptop the day he died, when I walked in unexpectedly.” Kelly shuddered as if envisioning something disgusting. “Pictures. Videos, too. Of what looked like really young girls. They were doing…” She cringed. “Sexual things to adult men. I-I couldn’t—”

  She covered her face with her hands as George returned with her water. I met his gaze over Kelly’s bowed head and gave him a warning look. He quickly made an excuse about checking on something in the kitchen and escaped.

  I waited silently until Kelly gathered her composure and was ready to continue.

  “Evan shut the screen fast once he knew I’d seen it. Then he gave me some baloney about the stuff belonging to one of his clients. He said the porn turned his stomach, and he was going to the police with it first thing the next morning.”

  “But he never made it,” I said, piecing this new information together in my mind.

  Hayden had discovered criminal activities involving one of his clients—child porn, from the sounds of it—and he’d decided to take it to the police.

  Interesting, given that he’d been described as a lowlife villain by just about everyone I’d talked to.

  It was possible he’d made up an excuse simply to get Kelly out of his office. What I knew about Hayden’s personality suggested he’d have been more likely to take that evidence of criminal conduct and blackmail the owner with it.

  “There was a party that night at Shannon’s Irish Pub for all the firm’s staff. Over on Howard. You know it?”

  I nodded. “Everyone knows Shannon’s.”

  “Right. Well, it was a year-end party. A celebration of all we’d accomplished this year.” Kelly stopped for a sip of water, her fingers shaking as she picked up the glass. “We’d been there about an hour when Mitch arrived.”

  “Mitch Rogers?” I froze.

  “Yep. All us girls thought he was so sweet. Always so nice and handsome and polite when he came into the office.” Kelly shrugged, giving a little smile. “We knew he was married, of course, but a girl can have her fantasies.”

  “Right.”

  “Anyway, he came to the pub that night and pulled Evan aside. They were across the room from where I was standing, so I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but they both looked sort of upset. Which was odd, because I’d never seen Mitch angry. Even the time the stock market in Japan crashed and he lost a boatload, he just let it all roll off his back. He’d say, ‘It’s only money. I’ll make more.’” Kelly’s face scrunched up like a child’s immediately before she began to cry.

  “And then what happened?” I handed her a tissue.

  Kelly wiped her tears. “Some guy sitting at the bar must’ve been drunk or something. He turned around and said something to Mitch that I couldn’t hear. Evan took a swing at the guy and connected with his shoulder. The guy swung back and missed. Mitch dragged Evan away, and the fight ended.”

  The picture was coming together in my head. When witnesses said there was a bar fight, they must have meant the guy on the barstool at Shannon’s. Hathaway interviewed that guy and concluded the fight wasn’t relevant to Hayden’s death. Which was probably true.

  But Hathaway’s team had missed the other bar fight. The verbal argument between Hayden and Rogers.

  I nodded. “Is that all?”

  “Mitch and Evan left maybe ten minutes after that, still pissed from what I could see. Arguing all the way outside.” Kelly wound up her story. “And that was it. No one saw Evan again until he turned up on that news tip line asking people to call in if they knew who he was. That’s when we called the police.”

  “I see,” I said, although I didn’t quite yet. Not completely.

  Knowingly possessing, controlling, or even viewing child porn was a sex crime in Florida. A felony. Any image that depicted any child under the age of eighteen engaging in sexual conduct of any kind was a third-degree felony. Each image counted as a separate felony. Ten images, ten felonies, each with a possible sentence of up to five years in prison. Seizing the evidence and proving the crimes wasn’t difficult because the internet services cooperated with police to shut down the purveyors of child porn.

  I cocked my head. “Why didn’t you report the porn yourself, Kelly?”

  If Kelly had reported what she saw, it would have been simple enough to get a warrant for Hayden’s laptop, locate the child porn, and charge him with possession. Hayden, being the jerk everyone said he was, would have implicated the client who owned the porn in exchange for a plea deal that would get Hayden a suspended sentence and a fine.

  But it would have ended his career, most likely. He’d probably have lost his license. And even if he hadn’t, who would trust him to manage their investments ever again after something like that?

  Kelly’s eyes widened. She sniffed and wiped her pert nose. “Evan said the porn belonged to one of the firm’s clients. Which made the situation—sensitive. He asked me to keep it quiet and said he’d take care of it. With the party and all, I figured I had time to deal with it later if Evan didn’t. I guess I was wrong.”

  I nodded, still thinking.

  Even if Hayden had merely stored the child porn on his laptop, he was guilty of several felonies. If he’d used the porn to blackmail a client, he’d been playing with his own freedom, too. Blackmailers rarely stopped after one payment. And the target rarely let the blackmailer bleed him totally dry before he struck back.

  Was the argument between Rogers and Hayden in the pub that night about the child porn?

  Had Mitch Rogers, Mr. Family Friendly, been the client Hayden claimed was responsible for the child porn Kelly saw on Hayden’s laptop?

  If so, that would be the end of Rogers’s life as he knew it. His baseball career would be over. He’d probably get hefty prison time. He’d lose his wife and kids. His whole life would’ve been ripped apart if Hayden disclosed that porn’s mere existence to anyone.

  “Kelly, were any other Foster & Barnes clients at the pub that night for the party?”

  Kelly wiped her eyes again. “Oh, sure. It was a big crowd. At least a dozen clients were in and out before the night was over.”

  If Rogers wasn’t the client who owned the porn, any one of Foster & Barnes’s clients would be in the same situation when the porn was disclosed. The firm’s clients were all powerful, wealthy people. Child porn could bring any one of them down in a hot Florida second.

  According to the Texas Sharks website, during the past season, Rogers had been in several locations where the specific toxic heroin that killed Hayden was found. Rogers could have purchased it and brought it back to Tampa. So could several other Foster & Barnes clients and employees, probably.

  The coroner had said that it could have taken up to thirty minutes for the toxic heroin to kill Hayden. Plenty of time for Rogers, or someone he paid, to dose Hayden and then shove him into the street.

  The more I thought about it, the more it made sense for the killer to hire this out. The only problem would be the loose end. How could he be sure the killer wouldn’t simply take Hayden’s place and blackmail him, too?

  “And you didn’t tell the police any of this? Why?” Chief Hathaway would’ve had this whole thing wrapped up by now if he’d known about the porn. Once he’d found it, he’d have been able to trace it back to the owner.

  �
�I didn’t want to get Mitch in trouble. He’s such a nice guy, and he’s never gotten into some of the crap the other people in our circles do. With all that money lying around, most of our clients are always seeking the next big thrill. Heroin seems to be the most recent thrill they’re all taking.” She finished her water, then toyed with the glass. “Mitch was never like that, though. In fact, he took a lot of his profits and gave them away to charities and stuff.”

  It was the “and stuff” that was the problem. Guys like that were even worse than the quiet offenders because they tried to cover up their sins with cash and blarney. Too often, it worked.

  I’d zoned out for a second there, but Kelly was still talking. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  Kelly offered a weak smile. “There are actually a lot of people at our firm who’ve become heroin users recently.”

  “And the bosses are allowing that to happen?”

  “Everybody denies it. The whole thing has caused a kind of ‘don’t ask/don’t tell’ situation.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Bosses might suspect, but no one says a word. As long as the profits keep rolling in and nothing goes horribly wrong, it’s all fine. No one wants to get fired or worse,” Kelly lowered her gaze to the table. “We’re all hoping this stops soon. Before more people get hurt.”

  “What about Evan Hayden? Was he a heroin user?”

  “No.” Kelly gave a sad shake of her head. “Sometimes we wished he would. Might have improved his personality. But Evan kept his vices strictly to the job. All work, all the time. Money, money, money. In a lot of ways, I think money was his drug of choice.”

  Another thing that didn’t make sense was Cindy Allen’s role in all of this. Assuming she had one. Was her death unrelated?

  That didn’t seem likely, since the same toxic drug was found in her system and she had known both Hayden and Rogers.

  Perhaps, she’d somehow seen the child porn. Maybe she knew who owned it. Was the owner Rogers? Or Hayden? Or someone else?

  I thought back to the night Mitch and Genevieve Rogers had dinner with us. I’d sensed something off about him. But I’d ignored my intuition because George was a fan and Hathaway recruited Rogers to work with the police.

  After Cindy Allen died, Rogers had volunteered to help. Which kept him on the inside of the investigation. But Ben didn’t trust him implicitly because he’d continued to run down leads involving Rogers right along with everyone else.

  Hathaway was smarter than the average bear when it came to star athletes. We had dozens of professionals living and working in Tampa, including more than a few lawbreakers. Tampa PD had loads of practice dealing with entitled idiots acting as if fame and riches gave them a pass to do whatever they wanted, whether it was illegal or not.

  “What happened to Evan’s clients?” I asked Kelly. “Did they go to a different firm?”

  She looked up at me, startled by the question. “Some did. But most were handed off to the other brokers. Why?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know who’s handling Mitch Rogers now, would you?”

  “Uh, I think Max Fletcher took him on.” Kelly arched her eyebrows as if she’d had to think about it. “The firm’s having another party at Shannon’s Irish Pub tonight to welcome a new crop of analysts aboard. That’s where I was before I came over. Fletcher’s there. Mitch, too. They seemed pretty chummy.”

  “Would you mind going back?” I asked impulsively. “And taking me with you?”

  Kelly looked at me quizzically. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

  “Hang on. I’ll be right back.” I made a beeline for George, who stood at the entrance to the kitchen discussing tomorrow’s menu with the chef. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I rose to whisper in his ear, “Call Ben Hathaway and tell him to get over to Shannon’s Irish Pub. I’ll meet him there.”

  I took a couple of steps toward the table where Kelly was waiting, but George stopped me with a hand on my arm. “What’s going on?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. It looks like Mitch Rogers is into child porn. Hayden was blackmailing him. That’s why Rogers killed Hayden.”

  George’s eyes bulged like a cartoon character. “What?”

  “Just call Ben and tell him to bring a couple of officers with him.” I took a deep breath and let it out. “I think I might know what happened to Evan Hayden and Cindy Allen.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Thursday, November 24

  12:25 a.m.

  Shannon’s Irish Pub was still packed with patrons by the time I arrived with Kelly. It was going on twelve thirty now, and from the raucous noises and booming music, the party was just getting started.

  We weaved our way through the crowd, the floor sticky with spilled drinks and the air sharp with the scent of warm bodies. I glanced around to locate Mitch Rogers, but no luck.

  Kelly cleared a path toward the bar, and I followed in her wake, always keeping an eye out for Rogers. I hadn’t told Kelly, but Chief Hathaway should be arriving soon, too. As we stepped up to the large half-circle oak bar and squeezed in between two men I recognized from my earlier questioning of employees at Foster & Barnes, I leaned forward to see around the bar.

  Sure enough, there sat Mitch Rogers, having dinner with Tom Bradford, the guy I’d interviewed along with Kelly Webb at Foster & Barnes.

  Bradford looked disheveled this evening, dark circles punctuating his eyes, hair and clothing unkempt. Much different from the slick hipster who’d given me a heaping helping of snark the one and only time we’d met. He looked scared and strung out and…like Hollywood’s depiction of an addict too far gone to save.

  If Rogers had paid someone to administer Hayden’s deadly drugs, could Bradford have been his patsy? Along with a few others, he’d been arrested for heroin possession by Ben, then released when the drug didn’t match the kind found in the victims’ systems, but perhaps Mitch was paying him off in more than just cash. Perhaps he was helping to feed Bradford’s addiction as well as his bank account.

  “There they are,” Kelly said, indicating the two men. “What should we do now? Call the police or—”

  At that moment, Mitch Rogers looked up and caught my eye. His camera-ready smile fell slightly, and I could tell from the flicker of fear in his eyes that he knew I knew.

  My pulse raced as adrenaline rushed my system. Rogers slid off his stool and backed slowly toward the door to the bar’s back room behind him.

  It had been a long time since I’d been to a party here, but if I remembered correctly, there was a back exit that led to the alley at the rear of the building.

  I had a choice to make. Ben Hathaway should be on his way, but if Mitch escaped now, chances were high we’d never find him again. He had the financial means to travel anywhere in the world at a moment’s notice, and the contacts to make it happen. There’d be no justice for Evan Hayden or Cindy Allen.

  No proof for me to show the committee along with my written response to save my job, either.

  In the end, I had no choice at all.

  “Stay here,” I said to Kelly, taking her arm and forcing her attention back to me. “Help keep the others safe, if it comes to that. Got it?”

  She swallowed hard and gave a quick nod.

  By the time I turned around, the door to the back room was swinging shut. Rogers was gone. So was Bradford. Panic quickened my steps as I raced for that back door, shoving people out of my way as I went.

  The first thing I noticed as I pushed into the back room was Bradford’s body on the floor, convulsing and writhing. My breath hitched. His face was the same pale gray as Evan Hayden’s had been the night I struck him with my car.

  I barely noticed the door shutting behind me as I rushed toward Bradford and dropped to my knees. He’d gone deathly still, like Evan Hayden when I found him lying on the pavement.

  Hands shaking, I checked Bradford’s pulse. There it was, faint, but present. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks, then patted the pocket of m
y blazer for my phone.

  “You should have stayed out of it, Carson.” Rogers’s voice was soft, resigned. “Why couldn’t you just let it go?”

  One fluorescent bulb flickered and hissed from the ceiling, casting the room in a dull, greenish glow. Over my shoulder, I spotted him in the darkened room standing between me and the doorway, his normally sunny expression now haggard.

  Rogers watched me with wary, wild eyes. Something glinted in his hand when the fluorescent caught it through the shadows. A steak knife. He’d probably grabbed it off his dinner plate at the bar.

  “It was done. Over. Bradford was the last one, and then we’d have been done.”

  My whirling thoughts snagged on that “we.”

  My gaze darted toward the door as it creaked open once more.

  Kelly Webb slipped inside, and my heart plummeted to my toes. Her sweet smile was chilling now, given the circumstances. My heart was beating so loudly in my ears I could barely hear.

  “Tom did some of the dirty work,” Kelly said, joining Rogers near the door. “Then he went and got himself arrested, and his usefulness diminished because he was being watched.”

  Right. So, there’d been three villains in this story, not just the one. I got why Kelly would be Mitch’s accomplice. If they were sleeping together, then she had a vested interest in keeping her lover out of jail. And she’d mentioned Evan’s accounts being dispersed amongst the other brokers after his death. If she’d taken on Rogers’s finances—and not Max Fletcher, as she’d said—that gave her another tie to protect between them.

  Any breaking-news stories about child porn would tarnish the squeaky-clean pitching star’s money-making capabilities, even if he didn’t get arrested. Kelly Webb, like many financial planners, worked on commission. The more money their clients made, the more they made.

  But what about Bradford?

  He wasn’t dead yet, but the coroner’s words kept repeating in my head. Death within thirty minutes. When had the toxic heroin entered his system? No way to know for sure, but it was obvious that if he didn’t get help soon, he wouldn’t survive.