Killing With Kings

by Lois Lavrisa

  A cluster of prom kids—girls in long gowns and guys in tuxes—gathered on the iron walkway connecting the buildings, snapping selfies. For a moment I thought I’d lost my suspect until one of the girls screamed. “Hey, you creep!”

  The shooter bolted out from behind the cluster of teens.

  I chased after him until he made it across the street and then zoomed into a shop. Entering the store, I felt cool air blast my face as I scanned the area. The narrow aisles were crammed with displays of postcards, T-shirts, souvenirs, and other tourist treasures. Shoppers populated the little remaining open space.

  Damn it, where was he? Dread filled my chest that I’d lost him. Then an alarm sounded, indicating a back door had opened. He must have exited.

  Darting to the back of the store, I flashed my badge at the employee who was in the process of shutting off the alarm. Exiting, I whipped my head from left to right. A cluster of people gathered outside of a bar. Passing in front of them was a family pushing strollers. No hoodie guy running anywhere. He was gone. The back alley was empty.

  How did I lose him? I turned back and saw a garbage can with its lid cockeyed. A piece of fabric protruded. Taking a pen from my pocket, I hooked the lid and lifted it off to set it on the ground. Then I used the pen to poke around the contents heaped on top. There was the dark gray hoodie. Wrapped inside it was a mask and gun. He’d gotten away, and I had no decent description of him. He could’ve been standing right next to me, and I wouldn’t know him.

  “The shooter seemed to be after either Nowak or me.” I was standing next to McFalls in the alley.

  “Are you sure of that? That this guy was gunning for you specifically?” McFalls asked.

  “The first shot could have been random. But when we moved, shots followed us,” I explained.

  “Who was behind you?”

  “I don’t remember. I was too busy looking for the shooter. When I spotted him, I took off.”

  “If you don’t know who was in your immediate area, the gunman coulda been after someone else. A gangbanger maybe. A drug dealer. We have no way of knowing right now. I’ll look into it.” He shook his head. “Shit. Let’s hope we don’t have a wannabe cop killer on the loose.”

  “No kidding,” I agreed.

  “Thankfully, no one was hurt.” McFalls bagged the gun. He had already bagged the hoodie and mask. “I’ll see if the gun was registered. The officers on River Street have already secured the area and recovered a couple of slugs. We’ll send them to ballistics and cross-check for matches.”

  I had given him all the physical details of the shooter that I recalled. “Can you check social media, see if anyone posted pictures around the time it happened? Maybe some tourist got a photo.”

  “Yup. I already have a team working on it.” McFalls zipped the bag with his gloved hand. “More than likely, though, it was gang-related. Our unit has been working nonstop to find members, get them off the street and locked up. One gang wears masks like this.” He held up the bag with the mask in it. “So that’s my hunch. Hell, last night WSAV broadcast an investigative report on Savannah gangs. Anybody could’ve seen the same report. For all I know, we could have a damn copycat on our hands.”

  There were too many coincidences. Nowak and I had questioned the staff at the Bohemian about Ray and then visited Patrice at her office to uncover details of Ray’s final day. It was shortly after leaving her office that the shots had been fired at us. I thought we were stirring up something that someone wanted to keep concealed. “My gut says that what happened could be related to Ray’s death.”

  McFalls exhaled. “C’mon, José, you’re a great cop. Get off that whole theory. Do I have to spell it out to you? Ray’s death was an A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T. Besides, you’re bomb squad, not homicide. Stay out of it. Remember, I told you I’m taking care of it.”

  Next time, I’d keep my thoughts to myself.

  On my way to Ray’s memorial service, my cell rang.

  “José, you busy?” Regina asked.

  “I’ve always got time for you.” I pulled over and parked on the side of the road under a shady oak tree.

  “Did you locate Ray’s EpiPen?”

  “No. Did you find out anything more from his autopsy?”

  “Actually I did,” Regina told me. “There was peanut residue around his injection site.”

  “That explains the anomaly you told me about before. But how do you think the allergen got there?” This made me even more convinced that Ray’s death was not an accident.

  “No. That’s why I need the EpiPen.”

  “Why would there be peanut oil on the shot?”

  “I’ve been wondering, too. It could’ve been on his hands, his pant leg—there are lots of possibilities. There was also residue on his coat jacket pocket where he kept the shot. I think a lot of questions can be answered, and theories ruled out, once we have the device.”

  “It really is the Holy Grail now.” I repeated what Norman had said before. “Dickey did research and found that there were faulty injectors, so he wants it as well. Trust me, I’m doing my best to find it. But peanut oil around the injection site is a big development.”

  “Yes. But we need to trace where the peanut residue could have come from.”

  “Don’t I know it.” I thought about the last few hours of Ray’s life, at the Bohemian Hotel bar with Patrice, then at the poker game. What I knew was that he’d come into contact with the allergen somewhere along the way. I needed to narrow down the time. “Do you know how long it takes to have an allergic reaction after contact with the allergen?”

  “Symptoms can start a few minutes after exposure. But they can show up as long as two hours after. Sometimes the symptoms go away, and a second wave hits—a biphasic reaction. Although, given what I’ve learned through the autopsy, I doubt that Ray experienced the second wave.”

  “So, based on what you just said, Ray must’ve been exposed two hours or less before he died.”

  “Yes. I’d say that’s correct.”

  Thinking of Bezu’s concern, I had to ask Regina. “So, the allergen could have been in his food?”

  “I’ve ruled that out. There was no indication in his saliva or his stomach that he had ingested peanuts.”

  “That’s good news for Bezu. She was worried she might have accidentally used peanut oil in the muffins.” I’d call Bezu with the news as soon as I finished the conversation.

  “Based on my medical expertise, Bezu can rest easy.” Regina stopped. “But that still leaves wide open the question of how he came in contact with the allergen that night.”

  “You’re telling me. This has been on my mind nonstop since he died.” I inhaled a deep breath and then let it out. “I think it must’ve happened right before or during the poker tournament. The span of time from us beginning the game to when he went into anaphylactic shock was just under two hours.”

  “That’s a reasonable time frame from exposure to symptoms.”

  “Which makes me think one of two things. One, Ray had the allergen on him right before he entered the tournament, or two, someone in that room exposed him to peanuts.” I would bet that same person had shot at Nowak and me.

  “Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Based on McFalls’ reaction, I knew Nowak and I had to go rogue for this investigation.

  Out of the ten of us in the room that night, all of us had had the means and opportunity. A strong motive would separate the innocent from the guilty. Taking Ray, Bezu, and myself out left seven suspects.

  Chapter 20

  “Uncle Ray was in the first row of every one of my games or school functions. He didn’t miss a single one.” Nowak spoke from the podium at Ray’s evening memorial service.

  As was the case for anyone on the force who died, nearly the entire police department attended, along with the mayor, local elected officials, state and federal officials, and other government employees. In consequence, the pews were packed in th
e downtown church. For the past hour or so, Howie had sat by my side during the formal full-honors ceremony. We were now hearing the eulogy. Ray’s sister had spoken after the police chief and was followed now by her daughter, Nowak.

  “I could always count on my Uncle Ray, who was like a father to me. His heart was so kind and open,” Nowak told the crowd. Like all of us, she wore her full uniform.

  “Open zipper, more like, screwing my wife,” Howie muttered to me under his breath.

  “You were separated,” I whispered back, hating that he was being disrespectful during the memorial. “It sucked that it happened, but get over it.”

  “Never will. Good riddance,” Howie loudly whispered.

  “Now is not the time,” I chided in a hushed tone.

  “Last month, my wife and I ran into him at the grocery store, and he started flirting with her. Right in front of me. The jerk pushed my buttons.”

  He was talking in an audible whisper now, and he didn’t seem to want to stop. I had to get him out of here. Since we were in the last row, I motioned for Howie to follow me out into the vestibule.

  “I just can’t sit in there and act like I give a shit that he died.” Howie shook his head. “I had to be here, or I’d look like a big jerk for not honoring one of our own.”

  “But you were out of line talking like that in there. It was disrespectful. Can you just shelve it for now?”

  “No, I can’t. You don’t know how Ray got to me. What he did with my wife still makes me crazy. I can’t help myself.”

  “You know he wasn’t all bad. He was an incredible uncle to Nowak. He was a good cop. He had issues, I know. But he wasn’t one hundred percent asshole.”

  “Hmph.” Howie leaned against a wall. “Maybe ninety-nine percent.”

  Howie had a motive to kill Ray. I’d hate to think of him as a potential suspect in Ray’s death, but he’d been one of the players at the poker tournament. And the fact that he was a friend didn’t mean I could rule him out.

  “We are here to celebrate his life, his many accomplishments here in Savannah. Just as the mayor mentioned during his speech earlier, Ray made this city safer by getting criminals off the street and behind bars.” Nowak’s voice came over the speaker into the church vestibule, where Howie and I stood. The scent of lit candles mixed with the smell of polish on the heart pinewood floors.

  “Yeah. One of his convicts just rode the needle,” Howie said under his breath.

  I was thankful we were now out of earshot, and no one could hear his remarks.

  Howie was referring to the criminal Ray had put away for murder fifteen years ago and who’d been put to death the other day by lethal injection. “It was a big case, and he did a great job on that,” I told Howie. “You heard the mayor; that case made Ray’s career. Ray’s work was solid—it stood up even after multiple appeals.”

  “Really? That’s how you feel about him? He’s some sort of a hero?” Howie shook his head. “He was nothing but a jerk. I heard his dad didn’t even show up today.”

  I thought of how it would tear me apart if I didn’t have a relationship with my father. His opinion of me meant the world. I wouldn’t do anything that could jeopardize it. Like come out. “That’s sad that his father chose not to attend.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ray shouldn’t have died.” I kept a close eye on Howie’s physical reactions.

  Howie waved his arms around. “But he did, and here we all are.”

  “Yeah.” I paused. “It was such a weird accident—it was almost too coincidental.”

  “Seriously?” Howie stepped back and held his hands up. “Are you doing this again? Your witch hunt?”

  “No, no,” I lied. “There are some things that simply aren’t making sense, and I want to make sure I get answers to my questions.”

  “By the way, if you’re even considering for one nanosecond that I had anything to do with his death, then you’re barking up the wrong tree. Yeah, I hated the guy, but damn it, I’d never kill anyone. C’mon, José, you’ve known me forever. How could you even think I’m capable of that? It was a tragic accident, nothing more.”

  “Yeah, I know. But what if it wasn’t? I think the shooter on River Street was after Nowak or me.”

  “I heard about the shots on River Street and that you and the rookie were there. That can spook even the best of us. This city has gone to shit with all the gangs. Thank goodness no one was hurt.”

  “No kidding. We recovered clothing and the gun the shooter dumped. Maybe we’ll get a lead on that soon.”

  “I hope so.” Howie paused and then added, “You know, even on the outside chance there’s more to Ray’s death than an accident, you’d have nothing to do with it anyway. It would be McFalls’ case.”

  He had no idea that my involvement had become personal. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Do me a favor and let it lie. Ray’s going in the ground today. I suggest you bury whatever questions you have about his death, too.”

  I nodded, although I had no intention of burying anything.

  Chapter 21

  After updating Nowak on the investigation, I told her that I’d interview those who’d attended the poker tournament. She was busy with family in town for the memorial service, and I didn’t want her to worry about the inquiry.

  After leaving the memorial, I headed to the Magnolia Club to visit Norman and Big Mike, the next two on my list to question. My gut said that they weren’t suspects. Yet I had to talk to them and make sure they could be ruled out.

  The line outside the Magnolia Club was long, and a few people remarked about my cutting ahead. I flashed my badge, although I felt a bit guilty doing it since I wasn’t there on truly official business.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Big Mike asked while he carded a guest at the door by shining a light at the ID.

  “Sweetie Pie always draws a crowd, doesn’t she?”

  “Yup.” He carded another guest.

  “Do you have a minute? I’d really like to talk to you,” I said.

  “Sure. Let me get someone to take over here.” He set his flashlight down on the barstool and waved another bouncer to the door.

  We moved inside beyond the club’s front door.

  Big Mike grabbed a bottle of water and then turned to me. “What do you need?”

  “You remember Nowak, Ray’s niece?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s having a real hard time with her uncle’s death.”

  “I bet she is, poor kid.”

  “Truth be told, I’m troubled over how Ray died and wondering if you could help me clear a few things up.”

  “Not sure how much I can help, but I’ll try.” He inclined against a wall.

  “The night Ray died, did you see any peanuts or peanut oil anywhere?”

  “Nope. There aren’t any in the bar that I know of.” Big Mike took a swig from his water bottle.

  “I believe that Ray came in contact with his allergen sometime during the game.” I ran a hand through my hair.

  Big Mike straightened his back. “Oh?”

  “It could’ve been an accident, a chain of one bad event after another.”

  Big Mike shook his head. “Shitty luck.”

  What I needed to find out was Big Mike’s history with Ray. See if Big Mike had a grudge against him. “Seemed like you knew Ray already.”

  “Sort of. I’d seen him around here and there during the past couple of years or so. I didn’t know him really well, though.”

  For a second, I wondered why Ray had spent a lot of time in the club. Could he have been gay? He certainly seemed homophobic. Maybe he overcompensated with a macho demeanor to cover who he really was. I focused back on Mike. “Didn’t Ray cause you to lose your job?”

  “Yeah, that was last year. I was a bouncer at a dive bar down the street. But then I got this job after, and it’s much better. It all worked out. He tried to get me canned from this one, too, but that didn’t happen. Just to get Ray off his back,
my boss told him that he’d fire me. I had to play along, but as you can see, I still have my job.”

  “Yes, I see that.”

  “You know, I think Ray was a garden-variety homophobe. Since I work here, and Norman performs here, he had it in for us. He thought this place was filled with nothing but flaming homosexuals. But that’s not our only clientele. We get lots of straight tourists and locals in here, too. Like you, for example.”

  Inside, I cringed. Here I was, lying again. Hiding. Maybe one day, who I was wouldn’t matter. I could be myself and not care what anyone thought. And maybe no one would care. But not now. “Ray could be a really big pain in the ass, though. He pissed off a lot of people.”

  “He did that to me all the time.”

  “Sometimes when a person gets really mad, they can break. Snap. Do something crazy they normally wouldn’t do.”

  “Like what? Kill someone who pisses them off?” He laughed. “Yeah, no doubt he aggravated me. But really, José, I don’t make a habit of going around and hurting everyone who was ever a dick to me. Not in my job description.”

  A few feet away from us, a ruckus began at the main door.

  “Looks like I’m needed,” Big Mike noticed. “You staying for the show? Sweetie Pie is the MC tonight.”

  “I plan on it.” I glanced around. Tables were filling up. Music played, and the strobe lights flickered patterns on the walls. “So, where is he?”

  “Right behind you.” Big Mike grinned before he left.

  “They let anyone in here, don’t they?” Sweetie Pie said when I turned around.

  “Speak of the devil.” I smiled.

  “Only if he wears heels and a boa.” Sweetie Pie gave me a hug. “I’ve got a few minutes before the show. Let me buy you a drink.”

  We walked over to the bar and gave our order to the same bartender from the other night, Elias.

  For a few minutes, Sweetie Pie and I caught up.

  Eventually, I steered the conversation to the real reason for my visit. “You know, today was Ray’s memorial.”

  “I heard.” Sweetie Pie sighed. “Not that I cried over it. I mean, we weren’t friends, but all the same, it’s awful that he died.”