Fury From Hell

by Rochelle Campbell

  “What were you doing there? I know it wasn’t just for pleasure…”

  A look of pure terror crossed his face before he clammed up. “I want my lawyer. I don’t have to say nothing more.”

  Jennifer putting her gun away slowly. Wait a minute. I recognize this guy from somewhere…

  She came to stand in front of Giordano who was now leaning against the wall. So, while Jennifer stood a half foot shorter than him, the steely look in her eyes made up for the height difference.

  In a low voice that Betty could barely hear Jennifer made herself crystal clear. “Look, you bastard, we’ve got a lot riding on what you’ve got to say. We know you were at Resorts Friday night. We have you on surveillance. And we know you had something to do with Rennkler getting whacked early Saturday morning.”

  At the mention of the billionaire’s name Giordano’s eyes became wider.

  A second later, the memory of the security disc filled Jennifer’s mind and she refocused on Giordano and gave him a toothy grin before continuing, “We have you on disk walking into the parking lot with him and his daughter. Why?”

  Licking his lips his eyes darted back and forth between Feinster and Holden. They could almost smell his brain frying.

  After a long sixty seconds, he sighed and began talking. “I didn’t have nothin’ to do wit him bitin’ the bullet. I was just the con man. I was there to lure him away from the crowds. That pretty daughter of his was easy to lure. She took to my physique quite nicely. I wanted the rock on her hand, and since my brother Joe’s got a jewelry shop, I knew what to say to make her feel I was an expert making it easier to boost it. I told her I could get her a deal on another exquisite piece to add to her collection but to show her she had to come with me. Figured her Pops wouldn’t let her go off alone.” He shrugged and looked squarely at Holden. “Men dote on their daughters, you know?”

  When she did not respond in any way, Giordano looked away into the distance and continued. “So’s I get them to the parking lot and these three goons appear and grab the girl and zapped her with something in a syringe. She’s down without a sound and they nab the Pop, same way, but they’re carted off into different cars.”

  Jennifer and Betty exchanged glances both thinking the same thing — why hadn’t Chelsea Rennkler told Clift and Yearwood about this?

  “Then, I was given a suitcase full of money and told to forget about my involvement…or else.”

  Holden found her tongue first. “So, shooting at us was your way of holding your tongue?”

  Giordano darted his eyes at her, but said nothing.

  ***

  Tuesday, November 13th, 3:17 P.M.

  The EMS team finished bandaging up Giordano and the Forensics team was on its way to sweep the tidy little house. Feinster was on the phone with Clift, and Holden was content to listen to the one-sided conversation.

  “Yeah, Giordano was the con man. He was the lure to get Rennkler and his daughter out of the casino without raising any red flags.”

  “Uh-huh, exactly — but, he says he had nothing to do with the actual murder…right. Yeah, he’s an accomplice. Yeah, yeah, he is.”

  Betty listened for a minute and said, “No, Holden only grazed him making sure he couldn’t fire off another round. No serious damage. He’s fine. Uh-huh. Uh, she’s right here.”

  Feinster looked at her nervously and slid her eyes back to the ground in front of her before turning her back. “Sir, do I have to?” With a heavy sigh, she clicked off and turned back to Jennifer.

  Without bothering to look at Betty, Jennifer stripped off her waist holster and pulled out her ankle piece, handing them over without batting an eye.

  Feinster’s eyes were glassy but no tears fell. “How did you figure it out?”

  “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why you couldn’t look at me all of a sudden. Yearwood and Clift are back at the precinct?”

  “Yeah, they just got back.”

  “IAD told them to strip me.”

  Betty nodded as she headed to the trunk to put away the weapons.

  “So, am I off-duty?”

  “Well, not yet, but it seems it’s coming, soon. You can’t have your weapons. You’re officially on desk-duty as of this minute. It was supposed to happen this morning, but since —”

  “Yeah, whatever. My actions speak so loudly that I’m a threat to all of society and my fellow officers.”

  Slamming the trunk Feinster came around and grabbed hold of her shoulders and hissed, “You listen to me! If it wasn’t for you and your actions I may very well have gone home in a body bag today. I don’t care what any of them say you’re an excellent cop and I’m going to fight with everything I’ve got to prove it. You did not kill Derrick Palmer. We will find a way to free you of that rap,” Betty used a low voice that wouldn’t carry to officers milling about.

  “What about the others I did kill?” Jennifer parried.

  The challenge took Betty aback but a sharp gleam came into her eyes but said nothing allowing Jennifer to continue.

  “Remember there are three others, and two I did without the Fury, ‘member?”

  “You shot those three with your ankle piece right? Is it the same one that’s in the trunk?”

  Jennifer paused and searched her partner’s eyes seeing the craft in them. “Yeah, I used my ankle piece but not the one you have —”

  “So, as long as the piece you did use never surfaces, there’s nothing that anyone can pin on you, right? You’ve not been linked to those other two murders only to Derrick Palmer’s.”

  It took several moments for it to sink in to Jennifer’s brain. “You’re saying I’ll only have to answer for one of them — Palmer?” she whispered.

  Betty nodded with a grim look on her face and lowered her hands. She looked around to see if they had been overheard but no one was paying attention to them. “Provided that the weapon never shows up, it may be very difficult to pin anything on you. And, if we can go for temporary insanity due to the triggering of your past trauma due to the Barnes case we might stand a chance. Then, we showcase your exemplary skills in breaking open this Rennkler case I think we can get this done with minimal time in the psych ward. This is all depending upon forensics, of course. Are your prints anywhere on the scene?”

  Mind spinning, Jennifer shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. When the Goddess brought back my memories, I saw that I was real careful and got rid of everything. The torching part was overkill.”

  “Good. Damned good. Let’s see them build a case. Ball’s in their court. All they’ve got is you on video at the casino leaving with the guy. Anything could have happened between then, and his death. It’s all probable cause on their part. Oh, will Lady Ariella find the other one?”

  Jennifer jerked her head up and nodded. “Yeah, if she looks deep in my bedroom closet she’ll find it and the safe holds the bullets.” She rattled off the code quietly.

  Betty memorized it and stalked off, pulling out her phone.

  Blinking, Jennifer bent her head and crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the trunk of the squad car. She felt naked without her guns but she also felt lighter and freer than she had felt in years. A spark of hope flared in her mind. She repeated to herself the little mantra that the High Priestess had shared with her earlier. With the Goddess, all things are possible. Maybe, just maybe…

  ***

  Tuesday, November 13th, 6:33 P.M.

  Jennifer came up behind Yearwood and Feinster. They were watching Clift through the two-way glass as the veteran cop interrogated Giordano. Neither one turned around as their attention was riveted on the scene before them.

  Through the surround sound speaker system they heard Giordano’s raspy voice answering Clift’s questions with a disdainful air. “I told five times already, I had nothing to do wit the Rennkler guy’s murder”

  “Did you know your mark was Rennkler?”

  “Nah. Again, I told you I wasn’t after Rennkler. Wh
y would I go after him? I was after somebody else. Bully for me I was in the wrong damned place at the wrong time. They told me my mark was someone that stiffed one of their…associates. That couldn’t be Rennkler. He don’t travel in our type of circles.” Giordano gave a shrug before continuing. “I figured my mark offed one of their main kingpins and this was payback. Figured the woman was going to get whacked, too, since they like taking out who’s ever around whenever possible but…” Giordano shrugged and didn’t continue.

  “Did they know who Rennkler was?”

  “Of course they know who Rennkler was. You’d have to be an idiot to not know the guy’s worth about fifteen million times whatever they think he was worth. Why you think I had something to do with Rennkler getting whacked? That guy’s way outta my league! Geez, even you pigs should have that much intel. I’m small beans.”

  Yearwood smirked at that.

  Clift continued. “It may sound like I’m splitting hairs but bear with me. Before the con Friday night, did you know the mark was Rennkler?”

  Giordano looked up at the ceiling and then back at Clift and squinted in confusion. “Huh? My mark wasn’t Rennkler — I keep tellin’ you that. If you must know, since it seems you won’t stop asking, my mark was the Dandy.”

  The three detectives behind the glass all edged closer to the glass almost as one unit.

  Jennifer’s jaw dropped. Feinster swore and the vein in Yearwood’s right temple throbbed.

  Leaning back and tipping his chair back so it rested on its two back legs, Clift put one hand across his chest and the other went to rub his eyes all of which hid his own shock masterfully. With his head still down, Clift asked one more question. “So, if that’s the case, how come you lead Rennkler out of the casino?”

  “Nah, I lead the Dandy out of Resorts. What are you? Stupid?”

  “Do you know what the Dandy looks like?”

  “Yeah, he’s the guy I took out to the parking lot.”

  Clift gave up and went with another angle. “Can you give me a good reason why the people you would associate with would have any dealings with a man like Stagg Rennkler?”

  “They didn’t have any dealings with Rennkler. He’s out of our league.”

  After two heartbeats, Giordano finally got it and asked in a shaky voice,“You mean…I picked the wrong guy?”

  While he said it in a voice barely above a whisper it was heard loud and clear by everyone on the other side of the two-way glass. Clift only pursed his lips.

  Giordano’s grey eyes were no longer hawk-like. They were wide with shock as the idea filtered through his brain. After a long time, he began nodding and his eyes glazed over. “Awww…fuck. That could make some sense.”

  Moving his hand from his eyes, Clift looked over at the handcuffed man and waited.

  “Now, I know the Dandy’s a big guy…around Rennkler’s size and build. He’s flashy, hence the name. Dandy likes doing things big and the iced out cufflinks on an otherwise no-name jogging suit — it seemed like his style. That’s why I didn’t question it. I’ve seen pics of the Rennkler guy before. He and Dandy? They could pass for brothers, you know? Fuck me.”

  “Fucking shit!” hissed Yearwood.

  Feinster and Holden were too numb to respond.

  Clift, to his credit, didn’t move a muscle. His stillness belied his tension but it didn’t seem to register with Giordano who was still musing and speaking out loud, almost to himself. “I didn’t know if Dandy had a daughter or not but I didn’t care. I saw the girl, and the rock, and chose that as my way into the con. It made my job easier to lure in the pretty thing, figuring the guy would come along. Nabbing Dandy…Rennkler…through her was a piece of cake after that.”

  Clift set the chair down on all four legs and nodded his head to Giordano and grilled him for another half-hour during which he extracted the names of the people who had contracted Giordano for the botched job.

  “Thank you, Mr. Giordano. You’ve been most helpful. This will be remembered when you’re next in court.” Clift smiled at the two-bit criminal who had just broken the case open for them. He left the room and closed the door quietly.

  When he walked into the observation room the other three detectives looked at him solemnly. No one could find the words to say. They did their job and were on track to find their killer but it wasn’t what they were expecting at all.

  Feinster recovered first. “Mistaken identity? Rennkler wasn’t really the target but…a tragic accident?”

  Clift pursed his lips and nodded.

  Yearwood spoke up and voiced what Jennifer and Betty were wondering all afternoon. “So, why didn’t Chelsea Rennkler tell us she was hijacked in the parking lot?”

  “We’ll have to ask her that, won’t we? So we know for sure that we’re not caught in a masterful game of misdirection by Mr. Giordano.”

  Yearwood looked sternly at Clift, “You don’t believe she’s involved in her father’s murder do you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Then, why hide it that she was abducted?” asked Holden staring at Clift with confusion.

  “Because whoever did the final kill probably figured out Giordano nabbed the wrong guy but it was too late. They wiped the daughter’s memory, or reduced the impact of the memory.”

  “What are you talking about?” All three of them asked him almost simultaneously.

  Clift grinned, “If you guys kept up on recent scientific breakthroughs like I do as I’m doing my online research you’d know about a drug called metyrapone. It allows the person to overwrite bad memories. If they gave a walloping dose and told her some cock-and-bull story her brain would make the necessary changes to the actual memory and ‘believe’ their story. This would, effectively, make the memory of her and her father being hijacked disappear.”

  “That’s all conjecture, Sir.” Feinster said.

  “Maybe so, but we’ve got a guy in there who really believes that he escorted the Dandy out of the casino early Saturday morning. But we all know that the Dandy is very much alive since the multi precinct sting is still in place and we have him under constant surveillance. The Dandy was nowhere near Resorts this weekend. He was in his neighborhood the whole time in Bay Ridge. Right, Yearwood?”

  “Yup, he sure was.”

  Clift continued, “Giordano said the daughter and Rennkler were punched with a syringe. Guess we have to see if Rennkler’s body has any trace unknown elements in his blood. We have to see if Ms. Rennkler does, also. Boy that’s gonna be fun trying to get that blood sample.”

  Clift passed a hand over his thinning hair and looked off into a corner while chewing the inside of his cheek vigorously. “Shit!” he said to no one in particular.

  “Ditto,” muttered Betty.

  Jennifer was the only one who found a bright spot. “So, since we broke the case can’t the Feds come in and finish it off?”

  The others looked at her with grins but the mood in the room didn’t lighten.

  “Holden, the Feds are already here and working this new angle. We’re already on the outskirts.”

  Clift looked over at the sullen Yearwood who had let lose another expletive. Holden moved away and wandered over to the two-way glass knowing she should probably be far away from the possessed man. She stared at Giordano through the two-way glass. His head was on the metal table as an FBI agent tried to grill him. Giordano was banging his head against the metal table slowly and wasn’t answering the agent at all.

  Clift followed and stood behind Jennifer. In a low voice he told her what he had been wanting to say for several hours. “No matter what IAD says, I know you didn’t kill anybody — not without good reason. I’ll stand by you and help you fight this thing. You’re a damn good cop, and I’d hate to lose you.”

  He took a breath and continued, “I know you’re on desk duty, but I’ll turn a blind eye if you want to finish working on the Barnes case. I know it means a lot to you. I’ll put Feinster on any legwork that needs to be done, or I’ll d
o it myself. All paperwork, bring to me and I’ll process it through one of the other detectives but I’ll keep detailed notes of where it all originated from…you.”

  Without turning around, Holden nodded and silently left the room. She needed to be alone.

  ***

  Tuesday, November 13th, 7:13 P.M.

  The Fury brooded as it watched the original host in the observation room. The male the demon inhabited was almost out of control. He required constant vigilance or else he would go off half-cocked. Abatu was no longer amused by Yearwood’s aggression, if it ever was. It took great stores of Abatu’s energy to subdue the man’s natural selfish impulses. However, it was a relief to not have to push and cajole a host into violence but there were limits to everything. The Fury knew that it needed sustenance; it was getting quite weak. Being in the midst of a precinct, the demon knew it would be difficult to find the nourishment it required.

  Yearwood looked up and saw Clift speaking to Holden softly…so softly he couldn’t hear what the older cop was saying to the traitorous woman. Yearwood saw red. He clenched his fists by his sides and willed himself to stay calm. From everywhere, and nowhere, Yearwood felt a calmness descend upon him and he was able to get his breathing back under control. He’d have to speak to Clift later to see what that chat was about. Whatever it was, it did not bode well for the plans Yearwood had in mind. Clift looked at Holden with a fierce loyalty that spoke volumes. He watched as Holden nodded with her back turned to Clift, then watched her poker face carefully as she walked out of the room, without looking back at the older cop.

  Yearwood turned suspicious eyes on Clift and the rage edged closer to the boiling point. Yearwood bet Clift had pledged he’d do everything in his power to help clear her name. But she was on desk duty for God’s sake! Didn’t anyone realize what a threat she was to this investigation? To the precinct? Yearwood bided his time and waited for an opportunity to speak with Clift…alone.

  ***

  Tuesday, November 13th, 2:25 P.M.

  Lady Ariella zipped through Jennifer’s apartment going for Jennifer’s closet first. She opened the safe and took out the bullets in what Betty called a ‘magazine’ and closed the safe door when she grabbed all of them. She wiped the dial off with bleach on a paper towel. She then went in search of the guns and found them right where Betty said they would be — in the bowels of the huge closet. She picked out the small gun that had Smith and Wesson etched on it. Bundling the gun and its magazine in a large fluffy Egyptian cotton bath towel, she placed the whole thing in a gym bag she had brought with her. With a satisfied pat, she put the bag down by the front door and began cleaning the apartment with bleach and other cleansers.