“Stick close to me at all times,” Betty said tersely.
“Yearwood, what’s the latest?” the older female cop asked.
He peered at Jennifer before answering. He inclined his head towards her. “What’s she doing here?”
“Sergeant Peterson put her on with us. Now, the four of us are on this case.” Feinster’s eyes begged him to challenge her.
He thought it over for a second. He shrugged then began briefing them. “Rennkler’s body was spotted by a couple of teenagers out for a romp. The girl, allegedly playing hard to get, ran over to the area near the water where the rocks are located.” Yearwood pointed to indicate the area as they walked closer to the body which was covered by a white sheet. “She says she saw a dark bobbing object that seemed to be anchored in some way. She went into the water to check and started screaming her head off bringing the dude over. He’s the one that dialed 9-1-1.”
“What held the body?”
“Rennkler’s clothes got caught on some debris below the surface. Normally, the undercurrent would have taken him out and no one would have found him. I’m telling you the whole thing is just freakish ‘cause in mid-November how many couples come out here for a romp?” His wry smile made Jennifer grin in spite of the circumstances.
Betty hit him with another question. “So how was he ID’d?”
“Everyone knows what the guy looks like. He’s not a recluse. He just likes his privacy. As a backup, we were able to get prints off him. He hasn’t been in for too long, maybe 20 hours, give or take.”
Jennifer piped up, “So, death was Friday night?
“Still not sure. The Coroner would have to say. He may have been killed earlier and then dumped yesterday. Damage wasn’t too bad. His eyeballs are gone; fish. But everything else seems to be intact.”
Jennifer’s stomach went into a spasm. She took a deep breath and focused on the frenetic movement around her. It wasn’t working too well.
“Holden, you may want to not look until he’s more…cleaned up.”
Jennifer shot Yearwood a dirty look. Betty guffawed and walked off to intercept a cameraman from going under the yellow tape.
“I’m fine,” Jennifer snapped, giving the comely cop a mirthless grin.
“Tell that to Barnes!” he shot back with a mischievous grin.
Anger swelled in the pit of her stomach but she saw the twinkle in his eyes and knew what he was doing. Inwardly, she relaxed and thanked him with her eyes.
Yearwood gave her a quick nod and strode off.
“Feinster! Stop playing with the media and come on,” yelled Jennifer walking towards Yearwood. The female detectives caught up and he continued to brief them.
“The damnedest thing is that he has absolutely no ID on him. Nothing. He’s wearing a emerald green velour jogging suit, or some kinda haute couture designer threads. I dunno. But, it’s got cufflinks on the ends! Can you believe that shit? I bet fifty bucks the stones in the cufflinks are diamonds.”
They were now by the body. He bent down, slipped on some latex gloves then he pushed the sheet back and pulled out one of Rennkler’s arms. “See?”
The cufflink twinkled as Jennifer’s penlight moved over it. Betty whistled.
“Wow. Those are some stones.”
Feinster bent down to inspect more carefully making sure not to touch the cufflink, or the body.
Jennifer moved closer and angled her head to the side for a better look. Somehow, the sleeve and the cufflinks looked…familiar. She rubbed her chin and tried to think of where she might have seen the cufflink. She racked her brain but the feeling of recognition did not get any clearer. Jennifer knew she had seen that suit and the cufflinks before. Of that, she was certain. Then, it hit her.
Could I have had something to do with this? Rennkler could have been killed in my blackout period. My gun is missing two additional rounds...
“And look at his hands. They’re so well-groomed. Think he had a mani/pedi recently?” Betty joked.
When Jennifer didn’t answer, Betty looked over at her and saw the faraway look on Jennifer’s face. She poked her colleague on the leg jerking her out of the fugue-like state.
“Earth to Holden. Something click?”
“Ah…maybe.” Jennifer scrambled to think of something to say and her brain snagged on the casino.
“Anybody check his pockets?”
“Holden, that’s Detective 101. We did. Told you, no ID,” snapped Yearwood.
“But was there anything else in his pockets?”
“Sure. Some coins, a few thousand dollars — so robbery was not the thing. Oh yeah, a set of keys and a VIP card from Resorts World.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. She forced herself to keep a poker face.
“So, I guess that’s where we start.”
“Where?” Both Betty and Yearwood asked looking up at Jennifer with identical quizzical stares.
“The casino.”
“Why? He could have been there at any time since he’s been in town. Resorts World is New York’s first real casino without having to be on the water. How can we know when he was there?” Yearwood turned more fully towards Jennifer narrowing his eyes.
“How do we know he wasn’t there just before he died?” challenged Jennifer.
“Wait, you’ve got a hunch don’t you?” asked Betty as she stood up.
Jennifer averted her eyes and pressed her lips in a firm line not answering. Betty nodded imperceptibly and turned to face Yearwood. “It’s not rocket science, Yearwood. We should have all thought of it. A guy like Rennkler probably has a suite there. Didn’t I hear he likes to gamble? He’s so God-damned loaded that dropping a few hundred thousand is not a habit for him; it’s chump change. The non-rookie’s on to something. Let’s get the search going by starting there.”
Pursing his lips he gave Jennifer a considering look for several long moments before nodding slowly. “Yeah, yeah. She just may be on to something. Lemme go find Clift and fill him in.”
When Yearwood began walking away to search for Warren Clift, the fourth member of their team, Betty squeezed Jennifer’s shoulder and said under her breath, “We’ll talk later.”
Jennifer’s heart sunk and she trailed behind Feinster and Yearwood wondering what she was going to say that would make sense.
Betty spun around and caught up to Yearwood and asked, “Where is he anyway? Haven’t seen him since we arrived.”
“He’s been answering the media’s questions and making sure the crime scene remains intact. He was the first of the team on-scene. Clift’s the one who spoke to the first on-scene cop — a beat cop — who called it in.”
“So…Clift found the note?” Betty asked in an undertone.
Yearwood swung around and looked at her sharply. “Yeah, but that’s more than enough about that.”
“No one can hear us.”
“We can’t be too careful,” he said looking pointedly at all of the fur covered boom microphones. He snapped his attention back to her and the lagging Jennifer.
“So, when are you two going to get going?”
“Where to?” asked Jennifer.
“Didn’t we have this convo already?” Yearwood said over his shoulder as he walked away still in search of Clift.
Catching the drift, Jennifer looked at Betty and found the answer reflected back to her in her partner’s eyes.
To Resorts World Casino, of course…
***
Sunday, November 11th, 9:25 P.M.
“Okay. Spill it.”
In the privacy of the squad car, Jennifer looked over at Betty askance.
“Don’t play dumb. You sent us to Resorts World. Why?”
“I did no such thing. You said it yourself that —”
“Cover. You know that. What? You think you spotted him while you were at Resorts the other night?”
“Yeah,” she said a tad too quickly.
Betty screeched to a halt and several cars honked at her. Ignoring them, she swung
around to face Jennifer. “Let’s get one thing straight. I just saved your ass from a freakin’ demon. I’ve been your friend and confidante — when you let me — for six years. I also don’t like that my good friend and mentor, the High Priestess, is working to try and bring back your memories to help you figure out if you’re a triple murderess, or not. And what do you do? You sit here and play me for a damned fool! I’m. Not. Havin’ it! Start talking.”
Jennifer sat and blinked but said nothing. Her mouth was too dry.
“Now, please.”
The menacing tone was not false. Jennifer understood completely why Feinster was so good at interrogations.
“When you frame your request like that, I do see your point clearly.” Jennifer’s attempted levity was totally lost on Detective Feinster. Betty’s arched brow was the only response.
Jennifer cleared her throat and tried to figure out how to tell Betty she didn’t know what she knew.
“Don’t try and sugarcoat anything. Just start with what you’re sure of and go from there.”
Nodding, Jennifer said simply, “All I know is that I’ve seen that expensive jogging suit and the cufflinks before. I know this. But the whole where I saw it piece? I’ve got no clue. I asked about the other stuff in his pockets ‘cause I had a horrible thought.” She stopped and stared out the window unwilling to go further and fighting for composure.
“You didn’t kill him, Holden. You absolutely didn’t.”
“How do you know that? Forensics hasn’t gotten to work yet.”
“I guess you didn’t take a look at the ragged crater in his head. The gun used on him was much larger than a .38,” Betty clarified, understanding finally dawning. “Jennifer, I had no idea that’s where your thoughts went. I — I was so rude and crass…”
Jennifer waved her hand dismissing Betty’s apology. “No, you were right on point. Forget it. And, for the record? I appreciate everything you’ve done for me today and in the last six years. Never had someone that I felt I could trust with…anything. I know that I can trust you and for that…thank you.”
Betty’s demeanor softened a bit.
“I’m glad to be there for you. You’re okay and you’ll be okay as we move through this thing together. You’ll see. So, now that that’s out of the way. You know you saw Rennkler at the casino. I’m assuming that it was during your memory loss period and you don’t have a full recollection, right?”
“I’m assuming that as well. I’ve got no clue about anything other than I’m certain I’ve seen that cufflink before. It’s not something you can easily forget with the moon and star pattern in the black onyx against a deep emerald green velour jogging suit!”
Betty grunted her agreement and started the car back up. They completed the drive to the casino in Jamaica, Queens in silence.
***
Sunday, November 11th, 7:13 P.M.
Happily gnawing on the frosty lead crystal sphere, Moxie panted and slobbered her joy. The smell was getting stronger the more the dog chomped away at it. The Fury was slowly beginning to come awake. The vapors from the heavy sleep the Earth Goddess wove into the entrapment spell was escaping the more the dog bit and chomped at the exterior of the Fury’s spherical cage. Abatu needed no explanations as to what occurred. Betty, the lady cop and the host’s friend, was a white witch. The friend then called for back-up in the form of her coven High Priestess, which was the Lady Ariella. Then, finally, between the two witches, they called in the big gun…the Earth Goddess.
Abatu hadn’t anticipated this modern society would have practicing knowledgeable priestesses readily available within the field of law enforcement! Abatu was furious but its respect came begrudgingly right behind it.
As to the Fury’s current state of affairs, there were things it could do to nullify any further witch attacks but in its weakened state it required more life essence to get those things done. Fury Abatu barely survived the Goddess’ attack. If the Fury had not feasted on Palmer, the Goddess’ attack would have killed it. Grunting with impatience and no small bit of thankfulness, the Fury hunkered down while waiting for the dog to free it from its cramped prison.
***
Sunday, November 11th, 9:53 P.M.
At the casino, Detectives Feinster and Holden were immediately taken to the Floor Manager.
“Detectives, I have no idea why you’re asking me. You must already know that the names of the guests of this establishment are confidential.”
“Except when one such guest turns up quite dead a few miles from here and this establishment was the last place said guest was seen alive. Then, when said guest is a multi-billionaire and a public figure, it kinda makes all that confidentiality stuff — uh — what’s that word? Bullshit. Yeah, that’s the word.”
Betty glared at the squeaky clean straight-laced manager who squirmed in front of her. She gave him a moment to digest all she said and, more importantly what she didn’t say, before continuing. “We can do this the hard way, or the easy way. Which sounds better to you?” The audible gulp he made almost had Jennifer in stitches. Betty was good.
“I know my rights and the rights of the casino. I don’t have to do anything unless you bring in a warrant.”
A glittering predatory smile spread across Betty’s features. “I like you — what’s your name again?”
“Smythe with a “y”.”
“Yeah, yeah. I like you Smith with a ‘y’. You’re kinda cute to boot in a civilian, stuck-up, pencil-necked turd kind of way.”
His eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
“But see, if we have to get a warrant? That means I’ll take offense and have to haul you down to the precinct for obstruction of justice. And while your lawyer — which probably you’ll have to end up paying for one by yourself — will get you out in about, say seventy-two hours. But, there’s Bertha to consider.”
Smythe couldn’t help himself. “Who’s Bertha?” he asked in a voice just above a whisper.
“Bertha the plumber. He likes guys like you. Right Detective Holden?” Betty threw her a look and winked. Catching it, Jennifer picked up where Feinster left off.
“See, I’d never met Bertha, so this morning I went up to the cages and asked the Warden to introduce us.” Jennifer looked at Smythe without guile and continued smoothly.
“So we get to the cage that Bertha’s in and he’s standing 6’4”, 295 strong holding this guy who couldn’t have been more than say, 145, 150 soaking wet. Hey, kinda like your size and build! Anyways, I say, ‘Good Morning, Bertha. Name’s Holden. Whatcha up to?’ So big Bertha turns to me and shakes the guy he’s holding good. Like…like a pit shakes the little toy poodles when it chomps ‘em? You know? And guess what Bertha tells me?”
Smythe just blinked as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his forehead straight down to the tip of his nose where it hung on for dear life.
“Bertha goes, ‘This guy’s a weasel, and since weasels like nuts, I figure I’d help crack his.’ So, besides the fact that weasels don’t eat nuts, I figured that maybe it might not be a good time for me to make my formal hello…”
“So you left the guy in there!”
Jennifer shrugged looking confused. “What? I didn’t put him in there. The Warden’s in charge of that stuff. I don’t do any special requests unless it’s my collar. I had nothing to do with the guy. But, see this case? This would be my collar…our collar.”
“You’re such a softie,” muttered Betty.
“Don’t listen to her, Smythe with a ‘y.’ She’s just pissed because we’re on-duty and she can’t hit the machines, is all. Where are your bathrooms, Smythe?”
He hastily pointed out the way. When Feinster left, Smythe all but groveled at Jennifer’s feet.
“Please keep that dyke from putting me in jail! I can’t give you what you want! I’ll lose my job!”
“Firstly, she’s not a dyke. Secondly, if you’re in jail you’ll probably lose your job anyway, right? That messes up your clean record, does
n’t it?” Jennifer pinned him with a hard stare.
He put a finger in his collar and swiveled it back and forth as he took in great gulps of air. His eyes darted about and landed on the wall with an Andy Warhol painting adorning it. He made sure that Jennifer saw where his eyes had landed and then answered. “Maybe so, but I still can’t take that chance. I’ll have to go and speak with the Casino Management but it’s a Sunday night. It’ll be tough rousting them from their various haunts. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll be back presently.” With a final pointed glance at the Warhol he left the room in a hurry. Jennifer waited for Betty to get back.
“Get anything out of him?”
“Yeah, something’s behind the Warhol over there.”
They walked over and took the painting down and found an unlocked safe. Pulling the door open they found labeled DVDs.
“The security tapes?”
“Looks like!” Betty said, smiling as she rubbed her hands together. Betty flicked through the discs and took the last three days’ worth. She shoved them in the small of her back underneath her dark blue shirt. They rushed to put the painting back when they heard footsteps coming down the hall. By the time the doorknob turned they each had darted to opposite sides of the room pretending to inspect various books on the shelves.
Smythe cleared his throat to gain their attention. “I’ve gotten hold of one of the casino managers and he said he’ll be here in thirty minutes.” He peered anxiously at the Warhol and visibly relaxed when he noticed its angle.
Jennifer snuck a look and realized they had put it back slightly askew. She threw him a wink and said, “You know, I like you Smythe with a “y.” Why don’t we let this ride until we get that warrant? Save your boss a trip and get you off the hook for being the bearer of bad news.”
Betty had snuck up on him while he was focused on Jennifer and spoke right into his ear. “We’ll be back real soon, though.”
He jumped and put his hand over his heart closing his eyes. Managing to still be civil to her he said through half-clenched teeth, “Thank you, Detectives. I appreciate it.” With his back ramrod straight, he extended his hand towards the door. “Before you go, please stop by the concierge and he will give each of you complimentary VIP cards. This way, when you’re next off-duty you can play on the house.” With a tight smile, he waved them out.
Fury From Hell Page 17