Chapter 97
One of Atlanta’s most decorated detectives, steely yet diminutive Anita Blalock, was headed across town to arrest Alec Roberts. During her phone call with Detective John McQuillan, his euphoria was palpable and contagious. She knew all too well what it was like to finally nail someone you’d been chasing for years. Some cases get under your skin, and this one was under his. She had heard her grandmother say on more than one occasion, ‘Honey, you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas.’ The way McQuillan had described him, she thought, Alec Roberts was most definitely a hound.
By eight o’clock that night, Blalock received the arrest warrant from the judge in Rochester, grabbed two uniformed deputies and headed over to the downtown Marriott. She had promised to let McQuillan know when Roberts was in custody. After hearing all the particulars of the case, she was looking forward to making that phone call.
Wanting to avoid commotion with the other hotel guests, she and the two officers entered the property through a side door and spoke privately with the night manager.
‘We’re going to need a key to Alec Roberts’ room,’ said Detective Blalock. ‘Don’t want to go breaking down no doors if I don’t have to.’
The three police officers took the elevator to the fifth floor and knocked three times on Room 506.
‘Go away, Señorita. Estoy muy cansado,’ said a laughing male voice inside the room. ‘Come back tomorrow, I’m sleeping.’
Better wake up, hound dog, the detective thought. She knocked harder. Roberts was a bad guy, and she smiled to herself contemplating how his world was about to come crashing down around him.
‘Occupado,’ said the male voice snickering. ‘Come back mañana, por favor, Señorita.’
A woman giggled inside. ‘Alec, just answer it,’ the woman said.
Blalock knocked a third time, heard some commotion and the door swung open.
‘I told you to come back,’ Alec said, standing in the doorway with only his pants on. Confused and annoyed, it took him a second to realize the group was not housekeeping, nor were they señoritas.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked, noticing the police uniforms. ‘Is there a problem in the hotel?’
‘You Alec Roberts?’ the detective asked, knowing for sure that he was.
‘What’s this about?’ he said.
The detective grinned and held up a warrant.
‘Good news. You’ve won a free trip to New York, compliments of the Newbridge PD and the District Attorney of Monroe County,’ she said as the two deputies moved in to handcuff Roberts.
‘Alec Roberts, you’re under arrest for the murder of Quinn Roberts,’ she said. ‘You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.’
The two officers led Roberts towards the door as the half-naked young woman in the bed stared, mouth agape, clutching the sheets around her neck. Knowing Roberts’ history, the irony that she had arrested him while in bed with what looked like another student wasn’t lost on the detective.
‘Alec, what’s going on?’ the girl shouted as one of the officers opened the door.
‘Can I see some ID, Miss?’ the detective asked the girl.
‘You don’t have to say anything to them, Vanessa,’ Alec shouted over his shoulder.
Rolling her eyes, the girl reached for her bag on the nightstand, dug out her wallet and handed her student ID and US passport to the detective.
‘Vanessa Rivera. 601 Argyle Road, Rochester, New York,’ Detective Blalock read aloud, leaning heavily on her southern drawl for her own amusement. ‘You’re a long way from home, Ms. Rivera.’
‘Thanks for the geography lesson,’ said the young woman.
‘Your passport says you’re only fifteen years old,’ the detective said as she looked at Roberts and gave him some shade. Alec’s eyes widened.
‘Yeah, so what?’ said Vanessa defiantly.
‘I guess, in addition to murder, Mr. Roberts,’ the detective said, looking directly at Alec, ‘we’re going to have to add statutory rape.’
‘But you’re a college freshman,’ shouted Alec to the girl.
‘I skipped two grades,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘I’ll be sixteen in December.’
‘Gotta stay away from the smart ones, Roberts. They’ll take you down every time. You know what happened to Al Capone? They got him on tax evasion. You probably thought you were giving Ms. Rivera a charitable contribution, but I’m afraid fifteen is against the law in the great state of Georgia.’
‘This is bullshit, this is a set-up,’ Roberts said. ‘I want to call my lawyer.’
‘They are going to extradite you to New York, but because of Ms. Rivera being only fifteen, the state of Georgia may want a little piece of you, too,’ the detective said. ‘Make sure you catch a glimpse of the sky when you walk outside tonight, Roberts. It’s a full moon. Might be the last time you see one of those.’
The two deputies walked Roberts out of the room, and the detective turned her attention back to the young woman in the bed.
‘What’s your relationship with Alec Roberts?’ she asked her.
‘He’s my History prof at the University of Rochester.’
‘I need you to come down to the police station to make a statement,’ the detective said.
‘I don’t want to,’ Vanessa replied.
‘I’m going to have to insist. Get dressed, Ms. Rivera. I’ll be waiting right outside the door.’
Detective Blalock stepped into the hallway and phoned McQuillan just as she had promised.
‘Guess who’s on his way to central booking,’ she said to him.
‘We’ve been after him a long time,’ McQuillan said. ‘I wondered if I was going to retire before we nailed him. This is a good day, a great day. I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘You’re gonna love this part,’ Detective Blalock said. ‘When we got to the hotel to make the arrest, he was in bed with a teenager, one of his students.’
‘A leopard doesn’t change their spots,’ McQuillan said. ‘Quinn Roberts’ family used to say that about him all the time. They figured if they waited, he’d screw up again. I’ll be on the 6am flight to Atlanta tomorrow morning to pick him up. Looking forward to shaking your hand in person, Detective.’
‘Same here,’ she replied, ‘same here.’
Chapter 98
The traffic between the Atlanta airport and downtown was brutal. McQuillan’s taxi was stopped in a sea of immobile cars filled with angry drivers. It was almost ten o’clock, and he was already late for his meeting with Detective Blalock.
The car finally started moving and arrived at Peachtree Street stopping in front of the Atlanta Police Department headquarters. Over six years had passed since he had first heard the name Quinn Roberts.
When he received that phone call from the Atlanta detective the previous night, McQuillan felt lighter, like a humongous weight had been lifted off of him. He walked into the building, flashed his badge and was told Detective Blalock was waiting for him outside conference room twelve.
Anita Blalock was an attractive, petite woman with eyes that cut right through you. She may have been small, but you knew instantly that she meant business.
‘Detective McQuillan, I presume,’ she said, reaching out her hand and flashing a big white toothy smile.
‘Detective Blalock,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘You are my hero. So, where’s our filmmaker?’
‘Mr. Roberts is right on the other side of that door,’ she said, pointing to one of the conference rooms. ‘He’s hog-tied and ready for transport to New York.’
‘I can’t thank you enough. I mean it; this was the big one. Roberts was kind of my white whale.’
‘Glad to help you reel him in, Detective,’ Blalock replied. ‘You’ll do me one, someday. Go on in, he must be dying to see you.’
McQuillan took a d
eep breath as he thought back to the one time he had interviewed Roberts where he’d copped an attitude with the way the detective had mispronounced his name. McQuillan turned the knob on the clouded glass and wood door and went in.
‘Hello, Alex,’ he said. ‘Been to Costco lately?’
Chapter 99
Victor Malecki was no snitch. He’d been in tight spots before and he’d never ratted on anyone, until he crossed paths with Alec Roberts, the guy who had ruined his already shitty life.
Since the night he hit the runner, Alec Roberts had put the squeeze on him and played him like a puppeteer with a marionette. Alec had stood over him waving a gun while he put his phone on speaker to call the cops. It rang twice but before anyone answered, Alec disconnected the call. He continued to stare down at the man on the ground. Fifteen silent seconds later, a half-smile crept across Alec Roberts’ face.
‘Get up, asshole,’ he finally said. ‘I have a proposition for you.’
Since Alec had the gun, Victor complied and clumsily stood up. Alec could see from the way the drunk man moved that he was still very intoxicated. He guided Victor to the front door and demanded his phone number.
‘I’m going to call you tomorrow when you’re sober, asshole. No point trying to talk to you now, you won’t remember anything,’ Alec hissed. ‘When I do call, you answer, is that clear?’
Victor nodded in agreement. A minute later Alec Roberts was gone.
The next morning, Victor woke up because his phone was buzzing. His head was pounding and his mouth was dry. He didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway. Big mistake.
‘Good morning, Victor,’ said a man’s voice. ‘It’s your friend from last night.’
Victor rubbed his eyes and scratched his head. He wasn’t completely awake yet.
‘Who is this?’
‘Oh, Victor, I’m hurt that you would forget me so soon, after all that we shared.’
An image was triggered in Victor’s mind of a man with a gun and he realized it wasn’t a dream. How the hell did he get my number? Shit.
‘What do you want?’ Victor demanded, still half asleep.
‘To meet with you,’ the man said.
‘What for?’ Victor asked.
‘I have a little job for you,’ Alec said.
‘No thanks, I’m busy.’
‘You might want to reconsider, Victor. Remember, I have that video of you hitting that runner with your car last night. Would be such a shame for it to end up in the hands of the police,’ Alec said.
That was when Victor saw another image of a dead guy in the road. Shit.
‘What do you want?’ Victor asked.
‘I’ll tell you when I see you,’ Alec said. ‘Meet me at three o’clock by the carousel at Ontario Beach Park.’
Victor met Alec at three. Alec told him to call him ‘Doctor’, leading Victor to assume his tormenter was some kind of medical doctor. That afternoon by the lake, Alec told Victor he wanted his wife ‘removed’ and expected Victor to take care of it.
‘Do this for me, Victor,’ Alec said, ‘and I’ll destroy that awful video of you running that poor man down. So sad, I read in the paper he was training for the New York City marathon.’
Alec held out his phone and played the video of the accident for Victor. As Victor watched, he knew he was screwed.
His first thought was to kill Alec Roberts and be done with the whole mess. When he was in a gang he had killed a few people, and he had liked some of them a lot more than Alec Roberts. He’d never whacked a woman and wasn’t sure he wanted to. He was thinking over his next move when Alec boxed him in.
‘If you’re considering harming me in any way,’ Alec said, ‘don’t. If anything happens to me, I’ve got copies of the videos with dates, times, names and addresses all locked and loaded to go to the police and the FBI.’
Victor didn’t want to kill her, he didn’t even know her, but he started to think he had no choice. He was on parole, and he had a kid now. He wasn’t going back to prison. He had to get that video.
‘I need it to happen within the week,’ Alec said. ‘When you finish your task, I’ll destroy all copies of the video, and you’ll never hear from me again. Sound good?’
After that day, they never met in person again and only communicated by phone.
Alec told Victor that his wife, Quinn, went for long walks every afternoon between two and four and usually stopped at a local market called Kenny’s. He said his wife was a sucker for dogs. Victor needed to get a dog, wait down the street in his car and when he saw her, start walking with the dog on a leash.
‘I guarantee she’ll stop and talk to you,’ Roberts said. ‘My wife can’t pass up a dog. Never could. They are like catnip for her. Let her start the conversation so she’s the instigator and she won’t suspect anything. Let her walk with you for a while. Her guard will be down if she initiates contact. Once she trusts you, when you get to her place, ask if you could get some water for your dog before you head home. She’ll agree. She’d do anything for a dog.’
‘What if somebody sees me?’
‘That neighborhood is like a ghost town during the day,’ he said. ‘Everyone is at work. My wife used to complain there were never any people around to talk to. She should have gotten a job like everyone else instead of bleeding me dry.’
Victor’s mind raced trying to figure a way out of his predicament and came up with nothing.
‘I don’t care how you do it, just get it done. Make it look like a drug addict robbery or something like that,’ he said. ‘You’re a resourceful guy, Victor, you’ll figure it out.’
‘Where does she live?’
Alec reached into his bag, tore a piece off the corner of a newspaper and handed it and a pen to Victor.
‘She lives at 1404 Brookside Drive, Apt B in the Glades section of Newbridge.’
Victor scribbled the address down on the scrap of newspaper. Alec showed Victor a picture of his wife so he could identify her. Victor thought she was pretty and wondered why the ‘doctor’ wanted to get rid of such a hottie.
Chapter 100
After numerous phone calls with Alec, and seeing no way out, Victor agreed to do it. He tucked the little slip of newspaper with her address on it into his jacket pocket and drove over to Brookside Drive to case the neighborhood. He double checked the number and parked two hundred feet down from #1404 to get a sense of the area before his big move. No mistakes.
Victor didn’t want to kill her but it was either his life or hers and given the choice, he would always pick himself. An hour later, Quinn Roberts stepped out of her front door to go for a walk. He followed her in his car for a while, careful to keep a safe distance. She walked for about half a mile and went into a small market with a blue and white sign out front that said, Kenny’s Kwik-Mart. He pulled over and sat there for a few minutes while she was inside. That’s when he had a creative brainstorm and knew exactly how it would go down.
The next afternoon, he borrowed a little white dog named Macho from his cousin and drove over to Newbridge. He waited down the street from the Kwik-Mart for about forty-five minutes. Like clockwork, Quinn Roberts showed up and went inside. He got out of his car and walked up to the store with Macho on a leash. He tied the little terrier up right outside the front door of the shop and went in.
Quinn Roberts was at the checkout. A couple of construction guys stood by the deli counter waiting for an order. Victor grabbed a Snapple from one of the fridges and stood in line to pay. The woman chatted amiably with the store manager for a moment, picked up her small bag of groceries and left the store. Victor surreptitiously watched her go, waiting to see if his bait worked. Just like her husband had predicted, when Victor exited, Quinn was outside squatting down scratching Macho’s ears and talking to him.
‘Looks like you have a new friend,’ he said to her. ‘He doesn’t take to everyone. He must know you’re good people.’
‘Is he yours?’ she asked. ‘He’s so adorable.’
‘His name is Macho,’ Victor said.
‘That’s a great name. Hi, little Macho,’ she said to the pup. ‘You’re adorable.’
The three of them walked along cheerfully talking about different breeds. Victor didn’t give a shit about dogs or the difference between a schnauzer and a retriever, but on that walk, he laid it on thick. He noticed the woman kept repeating herself and was a little disoriented. He continued to bring the conversation back to Macho hoping to maintain her comfort level. After walking a while, they ended up on her block.
‘Well, this is my street,’ she said, starting to turn towards her house and ending their walk.
That was when he made his move.
‘We’ve got a long walk back,’ Victor said. ‘Do you think we could come in for a second so I could give him some water before we start for home?’
Once he was inside, he did what he came to do. When he was finished, he made a mess. He opened up cabinets and closets, throwing a bunch of her pills around to make it look like an addict broke in and ransacked the place for money and drugs.
He didn’t want to kill her. She was kind of nice, but that doctor had boxed him in. Later, when the cops offered him a deal, he rolled. If he testified against Roberts, they’d go easier on him. If the doctor had kept his part of the bargain and destroyed the video, they wouldn’t be in this situation. Now, he was looking at manslaughter for the runner and a murder rap for the wife. He wasn’t ever getting out.
The DA said he’d probably go to a maxi somewhere out in Wyoming, that it was one of the worst prisons in the country. If he were out there, he’d never see his kid. His boy was only five and his ex-girlfriend sure as hell wasn’t going to drag her bony ass out there so he could see his son. He just had one choice. If he gave up Roberts, the DA would recommend a jail close to Rochester. At least then he’d get to see his kid. The decision was easy.
I Am Quinn Page 25