Ingram snorted. “Oh, come on, Detective. You shouldn’t hold that against me. What could you have said anyway?”
“You need to pack up and leave. You can’t harass these people.”
“It’s not harassment. I’m out on the public street making a news report. All I want is for the domme to come out and talk to us. She can tell us all about Berkeley Drummond’s pathetic sex life. Then we’ll leave.”
Ivy put a restraining hand on Court’s arm. Ingram made a gesture with his hand. The cameraman aimed the lens directly at Court. Fine. So be it. Court shrugged Ivy off and composed himself. He wasn’t stupid enough to get caught on film while attacking a reporter. “Karen Hunter is a valuable witness in an ongoing investigation. She is not a suspect in any crime at this time.”
“We heard otherwise. We heard she’s a prime suspect in the murder of Berkeley Drummond. Are you saying this is not true?”
“She is not a suspect. You should leave. You’re wasting your time.”
“And you are willing to verify Karen Hunter is the real name for the dominatrix known as Mistress Fidelma?”
Court shook his head and moved toward the car with Ivy, Ingram following them hurtling questions to their unyielding backs.
53
Court phoned Ashena as they were crossing the bridge back into Seattle. The roads were wet and slick from the rain. It wasn’t officially afternoon rush hour yet, but traffic crept along slowly, partially blinded by the setting sun.
By the time they got back to the office, Ashena had Karen’s latest emails up on her screen. She was scanning them to see if there were any clues to Jarvis’s identity. Eighty new messages had automatically split off into various mailboxes. Karen would have said something if there had been anything in the ones she read in her client folders, so they concentrated on the list set aside for creepers, the one labeled when hell freezes over.
Court and Ivy crowded in close, eager to help. Ashena flicked her manicured nails at them to back off. They gave her a little space.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Damn it. You know, she asked if she might have a stalker, and I blew her off.”
“We blew her off,” Ivy said.
Ashena spun around, pointing a finger at them. “You both need to be quiet. I can’t work with hover bees all over me. Now get back to your desk before you drive me crazy. I’ll come get you when I have it all.”
“I need something to pick me up,” Ivy said as she bypassed her desk for the coffee room.
Court followed her, watching as she poured a cup of what looked like fairly fresh brew. “At least we know what happened. This Jarvis guy lets whatever happened years ago stew. It grows and morphs into something huge. Something collapses in his life and triggers his obsession for her. He goes after her. He figures out who her best client is, the one she spends the most time with. The one to be most jealous of. He sets out to teach them some sort of lesson. He takes his opportunity when he sees her leave early. He goes inside, and sees her iPad on the desk. He sees the first message and decides to take advantage knowing Drummond will be there. He gets everything set up, changes into the costume he associates with his best time with her, and waits for Drummond.”
He grabbed the pot and poured himself a cup. “Once Drummond shows up, he waits for Drummond to take his position on the floor, coming up from behind. He uses what he knows from previous visits. He’s probably picked up on some clues about what they’ve done together by prowling around. He starts with Drummond’s arms and then gets him into the air. Then, he steps around and….”
He dumped in three packets of sugar and stirred it with a wooden stick. “He steps around and masturbates until he ejaculates on Drummond’s face. Given he was getting jealous of other subs, I’m betting it was a sort of ‘fuck you’ move on his part, not something meant to please himself or Drummond. Drummond struggles, but there’s nothing he can do. Jarvis delivers his message and leaves thinking Karen would be there any minute. He pulls off the hood, tosses his street clothes on over top of the leather suit, but the collar sticks out above the neckline, making the black-collar priest effect Audrey Drummond saw. He leaves, thinking the guy he’s degraded and humiliated is going to be released. But, what he doesn’t know is he has missed a second text, and she’s not coming.”
54
“You’re gonna be so happy with what I found.” Ashena waved two stacks of papers toward them as they returned. She held out the first stack. “This is a series of emails speaking of perpetual servitude and eternal devotion, if only Mistress Fidelma would heed his humble requests.”
Court reached for the packet, but Ashena thrust it behind her back, teasing him with it.
“But wait, there’s more.” Ashena’s face broke into a big grin. “Eternal Devotion Boy is not your man. Him? He’s here.” She held up the second packet of papers. “The first email came eight weeks ago. The latest one was yesterday. Practically a confession.”
Court’s heart was thumping harder, and the surge of adrenaline that came with closing in on a killer was coursing through him. Eight weeks ago. It kept popping up. It was not a coincidence. It was a link. “Show it to me.”
She held onto the papers, and instead of handing them to Court read the last message aloud. “Mistress, Please ma’am. I cannot take your silence any longer. I need you to know it was a mistake. I didn’t mean for him to die, I wanted him to be the messenger. I am not a killer. Why don’t you answer? Please respond. Tell me how you will punish me. Please. I do need punishing.” She paused, a triumphant grin on her face. “It’s signed Jarvis.”
They had their man. Sort of. Jarvis was more worried about Karen getting his message and punishing him than about a man dying. And his latest letter, the one taped to her front door, was stalker crazy. It was a good thing they’d posted protection at her house.
He reached for the papers and looked at the email address. Jarvis wasn’t part of the email account. It was from TinyTim. His mind almost exploded with the revelation. He thrust the paper at Ivy. “Look at the email address.”
“I don’t get it,” she said.
“We’ve had him in our sights the whole time. TinyTim. Tiny fucking Tim.”
55
Ivy’s eyes grew wide. “Tiny for his small penis? Tim. Timothy Payne? The Haubek tech? No fucking way.” She grabbed the paper from Court, her jaw dropping open as she re-read the address.
Court let out a hoot. “We’re almost there, Ivy. We’re almost there.”
“But, wait a second. We showed Hunter photos of this guy, why didn’t she ID him?” she asked. “Why didn’t she recognize him when he was at her office fixing the card-key reader? Isn’t that kinda weird?”
Court paused. He pulled out the DMV photo of Payne and the artist’s sketch. Payne sported a thick beard. The sketch was of a clean-shaven man. The only thing they had in common was their receding hairlines. “I bet Payne looks different with a shaved face and head.” He tapped the license photo. “This was taken a year ago when he renewed his license.”
He whirled back to Ashena. “Ashena, can you do some magic and figure out exactly where this was sent from? A physical address? We need to find this guy. All we know is he moved, but we don’t know where to.”
“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll see what I can find. But, if he’s at all tech savvy, he will have covered his tracks.”
“If he wasn’t planning on killing someone, he probably wasn’t even trying to cover his tracks.”
Court was distracted by Stensland waving them into his office. “News update. That Ingram fellow is getting out of hand.”
“We’ve got an ID, sir. We know who killed Drummond.”
Stensland snorted, but pointed to the television on his wall. “Great. Perfect timing.”
Ingram had his usual smug smile on his face as he launched into his report. “Behind me, hiding in what looks like a normal home, is the dominatrix who owned the lease to the office space Berkeley Drummond was found dead in la
st week.”
The camera zoomed in on the house, showing Court and Ivy coming out of the front door. “Earlier today, I spoke to Detective Court Pearson, the lead investigator on the case. He stated the Seattle Police Department is not considering Karen Hunter, also known as the dominatrix Mistress Fidelma, a suspect in the killing.”
Court’s stomach roiled. He looked awful on camera. And he hated his voice. He looked away until Ingram brought it back to the live footage.
“Meanwhile, Seattle Police are focusing their attention on the Chinese gang known as the Triad. Here is Seattle Police Department’s Lieutenant Stensland earlier today in a press conference.” The screen switched to an image of Stensland in front of half a dozen reporters.
“What the hell?” Court asked. “You chose to let out we are investigating the Triad?”
Stensland shrugged. “Triad makes for a better story than ‘We have no fucking clue’. And, I should remind you, we were investigating the Triad until about five minutes ago. You should know the drill by now, Pearson.”
Ingram continued with his newscast. “Even though the police have said they no longer consider Karen Hunter a suspect, they have placed policemen at both doors to her house. There has been no comment as to why. I’m Scott Ingram for KILO news.”
The image returned to the blond at the desk. “Thanks, Scott. Now for some breaking weather. Some of you may remember the Hanukkah Eve Storm back in 2006. Well, forecasters are predicting much worse to hit the Seattle area in the next twenty-four…” Stensland clicked off the TV. “So, who’s the killer?”
“Timothy Payne. He goes by Timmy or Tim or … TinyTim. In this case, we found an email to Karen Hunter pretty much confessing to everything.”
Stensland shuffled to his chair and sat down. “I can’t believe it’s only five o’clock. It feels like ten.” He pointed to the door. “Better hurry and find Payne before things get wild outside.”
“The IP trace bounces all over hell and gone. No way we’re going to find him that way.”
Court and Ivy stood behind Ashena, looking over her shoulder at the list of numbers. Court didn’t understand all the technology involved. He took her word for it. Payne had sent the email through a series of relay-like things making it impossible to trace back to his IP address. Court barely understood how IP addresses work, but he knew his phone always traced back to the closest cell tower serving his phone. Court’s home IP always had the same number, linked to his FIOS cable company. He’d asked Ashena to check it out a few months back. There was some protection on the web, but putting his IP address in the tracer put a bright red mark right on his house. It was kinda creepy. He rarely used email from home.
“Would his work computer help?” Ivy asked. “If they still have it.”
“Won’t help with locating him, since everything on that machine will be traced back to Haubek. But, we might be able to find out information about him on any email he left or internet searches he did. It’s been a couple of weeks, so they might have wiped his computer for a new employee.”
No one was completely untraceable anymore. It would require some effort, but since 9/11 no one could go completely under the radar for long. “We’ll get it. We need to hit Haubek and see what the people there know about him. Maybe he’s stayed in contact with one of them. In the meantime, I want you to find all his credit cards, banking, cell-phone information, use anything you can think of to get a current address. Someone is going to have it somewhere.”
Court and Ivy hightailed it to the motor pool. “I’ll get a warrant for the computer while you drive. I am betting Walker won’t let it out of his hands without one. Also, I’m going to get some extra help out there to interview his co-workers for anything useful on Payne.”
“Nolan wasn’t particularly helpful the other day. I’m betting if the guy he worked with the most didn’t know him well, other employees won’t have much more.”
“If Walker was reluctant before, he might be even more so now that we know it was one of his employees.”
“That’s why we have warrants.”
56
Six uniformed officers showed up at Haubek at the same time Ivy pulled up in front of the dilapidated building. Traffic had been on their side for once, and they’d arrived before Haubek shut its operations for the day.
They gave the officers a basic script to follow, and they all went inside at once. A show of force could sometimes knock reluctance out of people.
Leland Walker’s brows knit together as they filled him in. “I can’t believe it. He was such a quiet guy. Not some raving lunatic or anything like that. When he was here, he did his job and did it well.”
Payne’s cubicle hadn’t been taken over by a new employee yet. Walker read over the warrant, reluctantly leading them to the small six-by-six bit of real estate where Payne had spent his in-house work hours. There was nothing left on the bulletin board behind the computer. The drawers were empty, and the computer had been cleared and prepped for the next user. Ashena told him there was a chance she could still get something off it.
Nolan crept up to the edge of the cubicle. “What’s going on, Detective?”
Court directed him back to his own cubicle. “Look, Mr. Nolan, we need to find Timothy Payne. As fast as we can. We think he might be intending to harm someone. Do you have any idea where he might be?”
“No. We weren’t close. I told your partner everything I knew yesterday.”
“Maybe something has come up over night? Some new detail? Anything, Mr. Nolan.”
Nolan shrugged, held his empty palms out as if for inspection. “Nothing, I’m sorry.”
“Langston, did you bring the service record on Hunter’s office?” he asked.
“In my tote,” she said poking her head out from under the desk.
Court opened her tote and found the original file from Haubek. “Look at it again, Something might jog your memory.”
Nolan reluctantly took the folder and read through the notes. “So, Timmy did the writing on this…” He paused part way down and put his finger on the page. “This is probably how he did it.”
Court leaned over and looked at what Nolan was pointing to. “You think that when you replaced the coder, Payne stole it?”
Nolan nodded. “One way to know for sure is to check inventory. But, it’s the way I would do it. We take turns loading equipment in and out of the van. Sometimes we let stuff pile up in the van for days before we bring it back inside for recycling.”
The fact Payne hadn’t bothered to wipe the system that logged his comings and goings supported his assertion in the letter that he’d never meant to harm Drummond. Maybe he knew Karen never checked the actual card usage on her system, and that she’d never notice the extra access to her space.
“Did Payne ask the owner any questions that seemed odd to you?”
Nolan thought for a moment. “Well, not unusual questions, but we often ask clients how often they review their system for security reasons. She sort of blew him off. To tell you the truth, she acted like she didn’t want us in her space. Wanted us to be in and out as quick as possible.”
“How did he respond to her being aloof like that?”
Nolan shrugged. “He wasn’t much of a talker, you know? He tended to keep quiet unless it was about work stuff.”
Court shifted gears a bit. “Did Payne always wear a beard?”
“Uh, yeah. I think he was compensating for going bald on top. He usually wore a company baseball hat to cover up.”
“And you never saw him clean-shaved?”
“Nope.”
Ivy stood behind them, dusting off her pants. “Well, the computer’s ready to go.”
By seven o’clock, they had a statement from every Haubek employee who had ever worked with Payne. The consensus was that he was a quiet, but normal enough sort of guy. Two of the women reported feeling weirded out by him, but the word Payne was being sought for murder had gotten out.
People generally felt sorry
for Payne when his mother died, but also a little jealous that he could leave his job. He hadn’t been back to visit. He had never made any real friends at Haubek, and none of them knew where he was living or anything about his plans.
He wore plain clothes, usually Dockers and the company shirt. Nothing unusual. He didn’t eat lunch out with his co-workers. He brought his lunches from home, and talked about cooking dinner for his mom. Everyone had the impression they were very close.
57
All the pieces were fitting together. Court drew a timeline on the white board to make it clear in his head. Eight weeks prior Payne showed up on a repair call and saw the woman he’d been fixated on for years. She’d hidden herself with a new identity so he couldn’t find her, but, suddenly, there she was.
Two weeks went by without any activity. Maybe he was biding his time, or fantasizing about what to do next. But then, he started making visits in the middle of the night. Wednesday night in particular. This went on for a couple of weeks, and then his mother died from a heart attack. Maybe their arguments had gotten heated after he started paying extracurricular visits to Hunter’s office.
Payne started visiting Hunter’s studio more frequently, snooping around after she left for the evening. His fixation grew into full-out stalker mania. Maybe it was because his mother had died, and he no longer had a strong female to control him. Maybe it was something darker than that. Had the argument with his mother been intentional? Something to push his mother into heart-attack territory?
Payne came and went at odd hours, doing whatever it was he was doing in there, without being detected by Karen. Then Wednesday, everything changed.
Payne must have seen Hunter leave early and gone inside to investigate. He saw the text about her being late for Drummond’s appointment. He put on the leather bodysuit and waited. What did he do in the two hours between the text and Drummond’s arrival? Court put a circle with a big question mark during the two-hour interval.
Bound to Die Page 27