Monster In The Closet (The Baltimore Series Book 5)

by Karen Rose

  Still, Denny had grown a backbone in the two years, nine months, and fourteen days that Gage had been gone. Which was a shame.

  Good thing I shadowed his family. Not-so-idle threats might be required.

  ‘I will ask you once again,’ Gage said with quiet menace. ‘Why are you here?’

  Denny drew a trembling breath, but he didn’t look away. ‘The man you framed for Valerie’s murder died today.’

  Gage raised a brow. ‘Really? How?’

  Denny continued to hold his gaze steady. ‘OD’d.’

  Gage shrugged. ‘He was a junkie. ODs happen.’

  Denny’s jaw tightened. ‘A second man was found dead a few blocks away. Gunshot wounds. I heard that they think he was a dealer.’

  ‘The junkie shot his dealer?’ Gage asked innocently.

  Denny’s nostrils flared again. ‘No. A cop shot the dealer. The dealer knifed the cop, stole his gun, and blew his brains out. They’re all dead.’

  Gage shook his head. ‘A sad ending for all, but law enforcement officers live with risk. It’s part of the job.’

  Denny’s eyes flashed such fury that Gage was tempted to back up a step, but of course he did not. ‘You motherfucking bastard,’ Denny whispered. ‘You killed them all, didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Gage lied baldly. Then smirked. ‘What did you want me to say?’

  Denny was shaking his head in disbelief. ‘You killed a fucking cop, Gage. What the hell is wrong with you?’ He was still whispering, so Gage wouldn’t have to kill him.

  Not just yet, anyway.

  Gage didn’t blink. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. And neither do you.’

  Denny’s shoulders sagged. ‘I hoped. I really, truly hoped that I could look in your eyes and see truth. But I only see lies. All lies. Just like it’s always been.’ He looked around the room, saw the new suit hanging on a peg next to the door. ‘And what’s that? You told me you were broke, that you needed cash for food. Yet you buy a new suit. From Brooks Brothers? I can’t afford Brooks Brothers. What idiot would extend you credit?’

  Another shrug. ‘I didn’t ask for credit. I used cash.’ Because killing a dealer had its bonuses. Cleon Perry had had more than five hundred bucks stuffed in his pockets and another two grand stashed in the broken-down Chevy that Gage had appropriated.

  He’d netted twenty-five hundred bucks, and that didn’t count the sizable stash of coke Cleon had been carrying with intent to distribute. Too bad he died first.

  Leaving it all to me.

  ‘If you have no further accusations, you can go. I’ll pay you back the money I borrowed when I get my first paycheck.’

  Denny stared in disbelief. ‘Paycheck? You got a job?’

  ‘I start on Monday.’

  Denny’s mouth worked, but for a few seconds no sound emerged. ‘Monday?’ he finally managed. ‘Who on God’s green earth would give you a job?’

  Gage was getting really pissed off. ‘Cesar Tavilla.’

  Denny stumbled backward until his back hit the door, his knees buckling, horrified panic filling his eyes. ‘You’re going to work for an El Salvadoran gang boss?’

  Gage shrugged. ‘I imagine he prefers to be called the head of his family’s business empire. “Gang boss” is so pejorative, don’t you agree?’

  Denny blinked hard. ‘What are you going to do for him?’

  ‘Legal work. I’ll defend his people when they find themselves falsely accused by BPD.’

  ‘Falsely accused by BPD?’ Denny echoed in a small voice. ‘How . . . how did you get this job?’

  It hadn’t been easy, actually. ‘I crossed paths with Mr Tavilla in a bar in Miami.’ Because he’d heard that the man was in South Beach on vacation and had followed Tavilla’s entourage, waiting until he could get close enough to talk to him. All while making it look like a chance encounter, of course. Getting close had been the hard part. Tavilla’s entourage had included several bodyguards. ‘We got to talking and he remembered that I defended his son a few years back.’ Because Gage had reminded Tavilla explicitly that his son might have been on death row had it not been for him. ‘And that I saved his life.’ Cocky little bastard. Tavilla’s son had always been a fuck-up and always would be. ‘And that he owed me a favor. He asked me if I wanted a job. I needed one, so I said yes.’ Because he’d run out of the money he’d stashed away in offshore accounts in case he was ever audited. Money that nobody had known about but him. ‘So, in summation, little brother, that is why I have a suit and that is why I’m still here.’

  ‘But why here?’ Denny cried. ‘Why not go somewhere else to find a job?’

  Rage flashed abruptly. ‘Because,’ Gage snapped through clenched teeth, then caught himself, drawing a breath and smoothing his expression. ‘Because,’ he continued calmly, ‘this is my town. They forced me out once, but they’ll soon see that they made a big mistake. They’ll see exactly what they let slip away because they were stupid.’

  ‘Who is they?’ Denny demanded.

  Gage gave him a pitying look. His brother was not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, for sure. ‘Everyone in this fucking city. But mostly Stegner, Hall and Kramer, the fat-assed bastards. My clients paid their salaries, but they didn’t appreciate anything. They forced me to quit and I lost everything. They’ll be begging me to come back to the firm and I’ll just laugh in their wrinkled old faces. This is an opportunity that they’d kill for, but it’s mine.’

  Denny shook his head, eyes flashing with bewildered fury. ‘You came back to impress your old firm by getting a job with a gang boss? You killed your wife and framed an innocent kid for the crime so that you could go to work for a murdering criminal? A fucking drug lord? You killed three people today. One was a cop. Dammit, Gage. I lied for you.’

  ‘And I said I was grateful,’ Gage said mildly. ‘Now, I need to get a few things done today. I’m meeting my new boss for dinner tonight. I hate to be rude, but you need to leave.’

  Denny didn’t move. ‘Who are you?’ he whispered, his voice breaking. ‘This is going to kill Ma.’

  Gage just looked at him. He really didn’t care who it killed. His mother had outlived her usefulness when she mortgaged her house to pay for rehab he hadn’t wanted to attend. Now she had no house and no money, so Gage had no use for her. ‘Time to go, little brother.’

  Denny shook his head slowly. ‘Your wife. You beat your wife to death. Why?’

  Gage shrugged again. ‘I told you. She stole from me.’

  That answer had seemed to satisfy Denny a month ago, but it wasn’t satisfying him today. ‘What exactly did she steal, Gage?’

  ‘My house – the one I paid for that strangers are living in. I never saw a penny.’

  Denny’s face went florid with a sudden burst of rage. ‘You sonofabitch. Your wife was forced to leave her home because you ran away and stopped paying the mortgage because you snorted all your money up your goddamn nose! You were gone for almost three years! Valerie didn’t steal from you, Gage. She was foreclosed on. She declared bankruptcy.’

  Gage knew that now. He hadn’t known it when he’d first arrived back in Baltimore, tired and hot and hungry after hitchhiking from fucking Florida and just wanting to sleep in his own goddamned bed in his own goddamned house that he’d paid for. But there were strangers living there now. An old guy with a red Ferrari in the garage and a barely legal, smokin’-hot wife who lounged by the pool – that Gage had paid for – wearing not much more than a piece of string.

  Seeing strangers in the home he’d paid for . . . His temper had simply snapped and he’d found Valerie in her little apartment. She’d told him there was no money from the house, but he hadn’t believed her.

  If she hadn’t lied to him so many times before, he might have. But Valerie was a serial liar. So he’d hit her to mak
e her talk. And then she’d threatened to call the cops and he’d hit her again. Knocked her to the floor, to her hands and knees. And then? She’d laughed. Kneeling on the floor like a dog, she’d looked up and laughed. At me. At what he’d become. So he’d hit her again and again. And again. Until she hadn’t laughed any more.

  It was only due to years of practice that he kept his voice icy and his emotions hidden. ‘If she’d needed money for the mortgage, she should have asked St Lilah. The woman’s loaded.’ Because Lilah Cornell was a penny-pinching, man-hating, power-hungry bitch, who thought she was something special because she worked for the attorney general.

  Gage wanted to laugh. His new boss had the AG’s office in his pocket. Huh. That means I’ll have Lilah up against a wall. Maybe literally. He was turning that optimistic thought over in his mind when Denny took an unexpected step forward, his eyes flashing once again.

  ‘If it weren’t for “St Lilah”, your daughters would be homeless because you killed their mother. And Ma, she gave up her house, sold it, so that she could take care of them, because Valerie worked all the damn time. Ma cooks their food and washes their clothes. Did you know that?’

  He did, actually. And he knew that their mother hadn’t sold her house. She’d been foreclosed on too. Stupid woman. Gage hadn’t asked her to mortgage the place to send him to rehab. He hadn’t needed rehab, because he was not an addict. The idiot woman had paid for the whole thing in advance.

  None of that money was refundable. He knew, because he’d checked. He’d wanted the cash. Which he would have snorted up his nose. Which was his goddamn business.

  ‘No,’ he lied smoothly, because Denny obviously didn’t know that Ma had lost the house. If he had, he’d have been a lot madder. Gage fleetingly wondered how she’d kept that detail from Denny’s notice. Hm. The old woman might not be as stupid as he’d thought. ‘I didn’t know that. That’s nice of her.’

  Denny was staring at him like he’d sprouted antennae. ‘Nice of her? Goddammit, Gage. Do you even hear yourself? We are all taking care of your children. Because you are not. Because you killed their mother. My God. If it weren’t for Missy and me, your daughters would be going to bed hungry, because we pay their grocery bill. Did you know that? Times are tight. Missy and I count every penny. But we feed our children, Gage. And now we feed yours.’

  But they were not Gage’s children. Which was really the crux of the whole matter, wasn’t it? He inclined his head. ‘Again, I am grateful.’

  ‘Grateful? You’re grateful?’ Denny took another step forward, his shoes nearly touching Gage’s, his eyes wide and furious even though he continued to speak in harsh whispers. ‘Have you even seen your daughters in the month that you’ve been back? Do you know what they’re going through? Do you even care? Did you know that they found their mother? Did you know they have nightmares every night? How can you have done this to them? How do you sleep at night?’ Tears filled his brother’s eyes. ‘Do you have a fucking soul?’

  ‘I suggest you step back, Denny. I may have no soul, but I do have a temper and you are dangerously close to making me lose it.’ He cocked a cool brow. ‘And you know what happens when I lose my temper.’

  Denny didn’t step back. Instead, he leaned closer. ‘Are you threatening me?’ he hissed.

  Gage’s control on his temper thinned. ‘It appears that I am. Get out. Just get out.’

  ‘Or what? You’ll kill me too? Shoot me? Knife me? Beat me to death?’ Denny’s fists were clenched and he was slowly drawing them up, as if he really planned to throw a punch.

  Oddly, it was the sight of Denny’s fists that calmed Gage down. Who the fuck was this stranger? he wondered. Not the brother I knew. If Denny had been like this all along, Gage might have had more respect for him. He smiled at Denny, and it was not a nice smile. ‘Maybe all of the above. Or maybe I’ll just focus on Missy. After all, she’s so small. Her bones are so fragile.’ And then he had the pleasure of seeing his brother turn sheet white.

  ‘You stay away from my wife!’ Denny snarled as he lunged for Gage.

  Gage reached for the pistol at his back and had it pressed to Denny’s throat before his brother could lay a hand on him. Denny froze, his gaze fixed on the pistol.

  ‘Or what?’ Gage mocked, just to be an asshole.

  Denny took a giant step back, feeling for the doorknob behind him. ‘Or I’ll do what I should have done weeks ago. I’ll turn you in.’

  Gage tilted his head, curious. ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘Because Ma still thinks you’re redeemable. That you’re worthy.’ He spat the word. ‘Because I didn’t want her to have to visit you in jail for the rest of her life. Because I thought you’d leave and she’d never have to know you were even here. I gave you an alibi – I lied for you – because knowing what you really are would break her heart, and I won’t do that to her.’

  Gage smiled. ‘Then you won’t tell her now,’ he said calmly.

  Denny’s eyes narrowed. ‘Just watch me.’

  Gage wasn’t impressed. ‘You’d be disbarred. You’d lose the pathetic career you have.’

  ‘I don’t care. Because I value my family more than my precious job. I promise you, Gage, if you touch one hair on Missy’s head, if you even look at my sons, I will turn you in so fast your head will still be spinning when you get a needle in your arm.’

  Gage rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be dramatic. Maryland doesn’t have the death penalty.’

  Denny leaned forward once more. ‘I didn’t say the state would do it.’ He left, slamming the door behind him.

  Gage stood very still for a long moment, staring at the door. Then he shook his head. Denny would never tell. Sure, his brother had learned to posture. Bluster. Bluff, even. But he’d never tell.

  If Denny had really been all that brave, he’d have an actual job instead of schlepping it down at Legal Aid. He’d have made something of himself.

  Like I did before. Like I’ll do again.

  Baltimore, Maryland,

  Saturday 22 August, 3.25 P.M.

  JD studied the dead man’s face. ‘Yeah, that’s Cleon Perry, all right. Dealer, wannabe pimp. General scumbag. Served some time for possession and distribution when I was with Vice.’ He looked at Hector, who was staring at the corpse, a muscle ticking in his taut jaw.

  Because this was the man who’d killed Hector’s friend.

  Hector jerked a vicious nod. ‘He’s right. Cleon Perry.’

  JD knew Hector had also done a turn in Vice before being recruited into the Violent Crimes Enforcement Team, Joseph’s small joint FBI/BPD task force. He was surprised that Hector hadn’t recognized Cleon at the crime scene.

  ‘You didn’t know it was him?’ JD asked. ‘I mean, you found him, right?’

  Hector shook his head. ‘I was in the ambulance with Darren Mancuso. I stayed in the hospital with his wife until . . .’ He took a step back, his fists clenched at his sides. ‘But that’s Cleon. I never arrested him, but I knew him. Wouldn’t have made him as a killer.’

  ‘None of us would have,’ JD said, risking a squeeze to Hector’s shoulder. ‘Never seemed the type to knife a cop. He was always more of a runner.’

  ‘I know,’ Hector said grimly. ‘Guess he changed his MO.’ He drew a deep, unsteady breath. He was holding himself together, but barely. ‘Motherfucker.’

  There was silence for a moment, then Quartermaine cleared his throat. ‘I submitted his prints, but I haven’t gotten any matches back yet. For now, I’ll assume you are both correct and this is Cleon Perry. Okay, so Mr Perry here was shot once in the shoulder. Bled a lot. Soaked through his clothes.’ He looked up at them. ‘Was there a trail of blood leading to his body?’

  ‘No,’ Joseph answered quietly. ‘Officers found him during a search of the neighborhood, in the next alley. He’d crawled behind a dumpster and died, M
ancuso’s gun stuck in his waistband. There was a trail of blood at that scene. He’d apparently sat down, back to the alley wall, then crawled to the dumpster. Maybe he heard sirens and thought he could hide. But Mancuso’s backup got there fast.’

  ‘Just not fast enough,’ Hector said bitterly.

  Quartermaine sighed softly, but pressed on. ‘There should have been blood along the path Perry took from the first crime scene to where he died, a block away. He was bleeding profusely from the shoulder wound alone – the first shot from the officer’s gun – but the second shot should have left even more blood. Give me a minute.’ He walked to the computer on the countertop and pulled up several picture files. ‘I know your CSU team took photos, but my techs took a few, too.’

  JD, Joseph and Hector gathered around him, watching as he quickly tabbed through the photos. ‘Ah. This one. Look at the trail of blood. The second shot was to Perry’s thigh. Hit his artery. See this pool of blood? He lay there for at least a minute, bleeding from both wounds. You’ll want your blood-spatter expert to confirm this, but if he crawled under his own power, there should be arterial spurts along this path from the pool of blood to the dumpster. They should be longer at first, then shorter, landing closer to his body as he crawled.’

  ‘But there aren’t,’ JD said, processing all the details. ‘Just this wide swath of blood. He didn’t crawl. He was dragged.’

  ‘That’d be my conclusion,’ Quartermaine agreed. ‘There was very little blood behind the dumpster. He’d mostly bled out here.’ He pointed to the pool of blood. ‘I think he was shot where you found him, both times. In fact, I don’t think he was conscious when he was shot in the leg, or if he was, his blood pressure had dropped dangerously low. The blood pooled steadily. No indications of any spurts at all.’

  ‘So he was not shot in the alley where Officer Mancuso died. Perry was killed in the alley where he was found, then the gun was put in his waistband and he was dragged.’ Joseph turned back to Cleon Perry’s body, studying the man’s hands with a frown. ‘No defensive wounds. Mancuso had them. He fought back. What about the knife Perry used to stab Officer Mancuso? Where is it?’