by Deanna King
“I did, why?” Lucky looked at the clothing laid on the end of the table. No bloodstains were visible on most of the clothing. He guessed she had been naked when she was killed, I mean, she was a prostitute, right?
“That’s a freaking gold mine.” Jack was thrilled at the find; scarves weren’t on any of the reports in the murder book.
“Why are scarves such a big deal, women wore them as adornments back then, it was the style.” Lucky’s latex-gloved hand came up to scratch his chin.
“Because I recall Daphne telling me that this JoAnn woman liked the rough bondage sex, S&M, what better way to be bound than by scarves, eh?”
“That doesn’t prove a thing, why are you so thrilled?”
“Skin cells transfer by touch. I’m betting that whoever was using them had to have transferred skin cells, sex and sweating go hand in hand. If the scarves were used in the sex choking kinda crap, or used to bind her, then whoever tied her up or was doing the choking had a handful of scarf, pulling. All of this happened in one night, no one washed the scarves, whoever handled the scarves, their touch DNA is on them, jackpot.” Jack had won the lottery.
“That’s another one, why doesn’t anyone call you Jackpot?” Lucky howled with laughter.
“Don’t start now, because I don’t like it.”
“I found the condoms in this box, there’s a roll here of twelve.” Jack held the bagged strip up. “They’re all intact, at least in the wrappers, no telling what’s left inside.”
“You think that was from a box of what, twelve, and none were used?” Lucky walked to Jack’s end of the table.
“How would I know? I mean this chick bought them in bulk, dontcha think? Look what she did for a living.”
They were both quiet as they looked at the evidence bag that held the condoms, and then they both cracked up.
“All I do know is from what everyone said about Celeste Mason, the girl was more of a timid prude where men were concerned. As far as business sense, she had to have had some balls for this type of business, ya know?”
“That brings me to a question, Jack. How did she get started, I mean, she wasn’t very old. What did she do? Walk in one day and say, here’s what I want to do. I mean, have you thought about that?”
“I’ve wondered about that, and I have no answer, but someone knows. We just need to get someone to start talking.”
“I guess we just take this one box back.” Lucky began boxing the evidence back up.
“For now, but at least we know where they are. The guy that got hit on Richmond with the attorney, didn’t they say he was related to the owner of one of the bars?”
“The son, but different last name—he was Bowers. He wasn’t the target though, the sleazeball attorney was from what I get. Why?”
“I was wondering why, if his old man died, he didn’t inherit the bars. I remember that Daphne said something to the fact that he was an idiot, so if this Mason chick took over, why her and not him? I mean, it doesn’t matter because he’s dead and from what we know, she might be alive.”
“Good question, Jack, I can look up the kid, see what pops, maybe nothing, but hell, we’ve at least found the scarves and a few other stupid items. You know, we’ve had less than this before and managed to arrest the perp and make it stick.”
They signed out with Smitty, had a short chat, and then headed to the station.
“Lucky, take a left here.”
“Why, where we going, you want to get something to eat?”
“No I want to take this evidence to Bennie, and let him know to keep it on the down low.”
Dawson Luck turned left and headed to the forensic science lab.
Knee-deep into performing an autopsy, Bennie hadn’t heard them knock. Jack pushed the door open and stuck his head in.
“Hey, Ben Gay, can you talk?”
“Hey, Jack, sure, sure, come on in, just digging for gold over here,” he said with merriment. “Gown and mask up, then I’m all ears, not like your buddy Dawson is, but figuratively, that is.”
Jack stepped into the doorway of the autopsy room, Lucky right behind him, but they didn’t go too far in.
“Bennie, you’re itching for a Doogie Howser comment, aren’t you?” Lucky did a fake snarl.
“Bennie, can you get to a stopping point and come out, do you mind? We’ll wait in your office, this is a very private matter.”
“Yeah, let me document something, and I’ll be right there.” Bennie turned his masked face back to the cadaver on the steel table and bent over, looking into a body, which sort of grossed Jack out but fascinated him as well.
In a matter of ten minutes, a gowned but unmasked M.E. met them in his office.
“So, what are you two crime fighters up to today, and what can I do to help?”
Bennie took a seat behind his desk, grabbed the bacterial wash, pumped out a dab, and rubbed it with both hands, then repeated the same process.
Jack filled him in on most of the details of the cases they were working, how they were connected, and then he added in the story regarding Daphne Walden implicating Judge Troy Wolff.
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how sensitive this is, and how it needs to be kept under wraps, that’s why you have to be the one that does the forensic work, not any of your techs, and it needs to be kept quiet.”
“Absolutely, Jack, but how are you going to get a comparison sample, I mean, it’s not like he’s going to volunteer his DNA.”
“Lucky and I will figure that out. How soon can you get a DNA profile?”
“Jack, for Christ’s sake, this is Houston, you know. The freaking crime lab is backed up, and everyone wanted stuff yesterday.”
Jack opened his mouth, but Bennie interrupted him. “I’ll do my best, see if I can get it back in at least a week, that’s not a promise, Jack, but I’ll try, okay?”
It was better than waiting months, and they were a bit at Bennie’s mercy.
“Look at it this way, Jack,” Bennie said as they were leaving. “This gives you a few more days to dig deeper, see what else you find to make it that much more of a solid case, right?”
“Yep, I got my mental shovel and I ain’t about to stop digging yet.”
In his heart, Jack knew that this was an explosive situation, but had no clue just how many bombs were fixing to go off.
“It’s close to six. I’ll drop you off in the garage. I want to go tell the captain what we found and that we added Ben Gay into the mix of who’s in the know.”
Jack walked into the station, took the back steps, and headed to Captain Yao’s office. He needed to update him and let him know what the next step was. He hoped the captain wouldn’t be mad about him bringing Bennie Guay into the mix without telling him, but it was too late to turn back now.
Davis Yao was not at all happy. “Damnit, Jack, you should’ve asked me first.”
“I’m sorry, Captain, didn’t think that Bennie would be a problem.”
“It’s not Bennie, damnit, he’s not the problem. I trust him explicitly.”
“Then what’s the problem, I need to make sure to get your permission to solve a crime, is that it?” Jack was pissed off. Davis called him up on the carpet, not trusting his decisions, which irked him.
“Jack, you know that’s not it. I…”
He cut him off. “Tell me, Captain, you afraid that your balls will end up in a vice and it’ll hurt your career going after a judge? Are you having second thoughts about this, Davis?” he yelled.
Davis Yao looked up at him. Jack had jumped up, and his face was red. Neither man said a word, they stare
d at each other for what felt like an eon.
He squeezed his eyes shut, his brain thinking several things. First, he called him Davis, not Captain. He raised his voice to the captain along with accusing him of thinking about his career first and not the crime. He knew better than that. Captain Davis Yao wasn’t the kind of man who only thought about him or his career. What in the fuck was he thinking?
“Jack, damn it, what the fuck are you thinking?” He knew Jack, he knew he was passionate, but he had never yelled at him like this, ever. “Sit down.”
He took his seat, apology all over his face. “Funny, Captain, I was just asking myself that very same question. I apologize for yelling, and saying that you were worried about your career. I know you better than anybody here does, and you aren’t like that. You can write me up, I deserve it. I should’ve talked to you before I took the stuff to Bennie and involved one more person to the mix.”
Jack slumped in his chair and ducked his head. He was waiting for the deserved reprimand. This was a sensitive case; he knew that better than anyone did. Nothing happened for a few minutes then all he heard was Davis Yao laughing.
“You find this funny, Captain?”
“Jack, you do have passion, no one can ever deny that. That’s what makes you such an outstanding detective. I’m fine with you taking the stuff to Bennie. He knows how to keep it tight, I wish you’d have called me on your way, given me a heads-up, that’s all. I trust you, Jack, but you know, the fact of the matter is we are talking about a judge, a man of power. Before you say a word, it’s not my career I’m worried about, it’s yours.”
“My career, why?”
“Because you’re the lead detective, and what you do without my knowledge can get your ass in hot water, especially with a case like this. I should be turning it over to Major Crimes, but I’d rather not involve any more people. The probability of info leaking out is a concern. I want to keep as tight a lid as we can on both cold cases. It would be best if something like this comes up that we make sure it’s done with the proper chain of command, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Okay, we’re good. Tell me, what’s the next step, you have something in mind?”
“We talked about repossessing her car, which means I’ll need to pull someone from CSU.”
“Get Vince Stoner, tell him to keep it tight, no one else.”
“Sure, Davis, I’ll give him the skinny on how this is a touchy situation.”
“Just keep me in the loop. Shake the bushes, Jack, but not so hard that the leaves fall off. We need a solid lead before we start advertising what we’re looking into. When the news gets out, there is no way to tell which way the dominoes will fall.”
“We have so many dead leads literally…anyone that would have known anything is dead. If anyone we’ve talked with talks, you know bad news travels faster than the speed of light. Hell, Judge Wolff may already know. I wish we knew how to locate the Mason woman.”
“Jack, we don’t want to announce what we’re doing but if any of the major players that are alive find out we’re looking into this case, I’m anticipating someone will slip up, or someone will talk. They’ve had over twenty-five years to let it fester, could be someone grew a conscience since then.” Davis Yao tried to sound convincing, but even he had doubts about his own words.
“Yeah, but doubtful.” There was no other way to reply, and he left the captain’s office feeling rather miserable, and a bit mad at himself.
It was almost 8:30. He was gonna stop for the day, start fresh tomorrow morning. He decided he needed to stop by the Lone Star, get a few minutes of Gretchen time and a kiss, and then he would head home…he needed a lift in his spirits, and right now she was what he needed. It would make him feel better, and he needed good karma right now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“How did the captain take it, our getting Bennie into the mix?” The first words out of Dawson Luck’s mouth, not even “hiya Jack.”
Jack didn’t go into the details of their conversation; he didn’t tell his partner that he had acted like an ass with the captain.
“Keep him in the loop, that’s all he wants,” Jack explained in short.
“Roger that.”
“I looked up Max Renner before you walked in.”
“Waddya find on him, Flap Jack?”
“Oh, he has a record all right. He moved to Texas from Chicago, Illinois, the same town as Buccella, what about that? He was part of a biker gang up there and got in some trouble. Was arrested on a drug charge but the charges were dropped due to lack of hard evidence, it was all circumstantial. He has an arrest on a battery charge, beat the shit out of another biker in a club. Which I have to freaking ask, what is it with everyone beating someone up in a bar?”
“I guess it’s the type we are dealing with, which I call scum.”
“You pegged that.”
“What else is on his rap sheet, Jack, does he have incidences in Texas yet?”
“No, not in Texas, but he did a two and half year stint up in Chicago, for the illicit selling of drugs to an undercover cop. Says here he had over five hundred grams of weed. That’s a class three felony up that way. His prints are available, we can crosscheck them. I mean, if he was there that night and he helped with the cover-up, his prints are in the car.”
“I think it’s worth a shot, Jack, I mean, it can’t hurt to try. He’ll be fortunate enough to expand his criminal career to Texas, if this pans out.”
“Then let’s get on it, let’s get some concrete evidence, partner. You call vehicle impound, find out the space number. I’ll call Cheech, see if he can meet us out there.”
They went to work. Twenty minutes later, it was set.
“The car is on the lot, at the back. I mean, it’s way in the back.” Lucky rolled his eyes as he leaned his head back. “Like twenty-five years in the back.”
“Cheech said he’d dig up CSU’s old reports on this case if he can find any and he’ll bring the files with him. He’s meeting us there at two-thirty, told him to keep this quiet, but I didn’t give him details of the judge’s possible involvement. I explained that he needed to keep this field trip to himself, all discussions are to be kept hushed.”
“You know, involving more people could be a dangerous thing, Jack. The gossip could get back to Wolff. Until we leave, I’m going to see what I can come up with by Googling the clubs, all three of them, I want to see if anyone of them pops.”
“Sounds good.” His mind was full of Daphne’s story, the lies told to him by Jenna Berrie and Max Renner, and if he were a betting man, he figured Ralph Delvecchio had lied to them. The involvement of a high-ranking official, a judge nonetheless, and what the end of the story would be.
There was something though, he knew it, but what was it? It just didn’t feel like the past; it felt like the present, but what was it, what was he missing? He thought back—girls/prostitution—stuff like that went on in Houston. Vice took care of that issue. Gambling…that happened everywhere too, again a Vice deal. Drugs—Houston had its share of the drug trade, being near coastal waters and shipping, that was one way drugs showed up in his beloved city. Again, another Vice issue. Murder, now that was his specialty. He went through the list: Roger Stockard, Archie Bowers, JoAnn Cutter, Randy Simpson, Scottie Buccella—five freaking real murders and one faked death by Celeste Mason. That sounded pretty awful. How did it all connect, for that matter, were they all connected? His brain was on overdrive, and he was getting a massive headache.
While Lucky Googled the clubs, owners, past owners, or shareholders, he was checking every nook and cranny on the Internet. Jack surfed through the archives of Vice reports in Houston. He was try
ing to find anything connected to any of the clubs, Max Renner, Jenna Berrie, JoAnn Cutter, even Skip, no last name.
“Whatdaya find on the clubs, Lucky?”
“I did find the connection to the owners of the club, not much else though.”
“You did? What connection?”
“The first owner of the Crystal Barrel was a guy named Gregory Staltzworth. He sold the building to Curtis Sutton. Later his wife Sara Sutton bought the land. Which is a bit odd, they each owned a separate piece of the property and that transaction took place in ‘60. The Silver Moon, as it used to be known, was purchased in ‘64, again, the Mister owned the building and the Misses the land.”
“That solves one mystery at least,” Jack remarked.
“What mystery is that?” Lucky looked up.
“Who Celeste’s far-removed cousin was: Sara no-last-name now has a last name, and it’s Sutton. The kid, Archie Bowers, was her kid, but he went by a different last name, don’t know why.”
“Archie Bowers Sutton, Sutton was his last name. Sara’s maiden name was Bowers, and evidently, he was going by that last name for some reason. Makes me wonder about that hit on Richmond, maybe he was the intended target, and the lawyer was collateral damage.” Luck furrowed his brow in thought.
“That’s one thing we might never know, pard. What about the Blue Marble, the topless bar?”
“From what I found, it was a new club. They built it, owned the building and the land. Then they took down the building and sold the land. It was an undisclosed sale to a no-name corporation. The no-name corporation that bought the land parceled it out to single buyers. There’s not just one venue that covers that land.” Lucky stretched his back and neck.
“So, evidently the Mister Curtis Sutton kicks it from a heart attack, and the wife gets the buildings in her inheritance,” Jack commented, “then Mason gets them? Wonder if that was how she acquired the business, the funny-business that the Suttons started back then.”
“It could’ve happened that way and if we find this not dead woman, we can ask her. What I did find on the clubs was this: the SS Corporation sold the Crystal Barrel in ‘91 to Ralph Delvecchio and an unnamed partner.”