Dresden flushed. “You know the answer. I told you last night I knew her. So yes, I know who she is. But I didn’t have anything to do with killing her.”
“But you were with her?”
“Yes.” Dresden’s voice was shaky and weak.
“You told me last night you had sex with her. Do you like hitting girls, Joe, beating them up? Is that part of your sex play with them?”
“No, I never hurt that girl.” He averted his eyes from the morgue photo on his desk.
“What did you do with her?” snapped Storm.
“I told you, we had sex. That’s what she wanted, I wanted her, too, but that was it. Honest. I had nothing to do with her death.” There was a strong quiver of fear in his answer.
“How do you know that? Did you ask her if she wanted to get screwed in a bathroom of the VIP club, Joe?”
“No, but she had been around before. She was at the barbecue Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. I am not the only guy she was with; she was with other guys out there, too. It could have been some other guy.”
“You see, Joe, I am only interested in Saturday night, the night you were with her. The night you pulled her into a bathroom and raped her.”
“That is a lie. I never raped her. She was the one who suggested the bathroom. I only met her Thursday night. She was with Alex Flanders that night and they had already done the nasty.”
Alex Flanders had been identified as one of the men seen entering and leaving with Joe on the video. Russell had commented when he saw the men in the group that they were the regular horn dogs and show dignitaries. This gaggle of nefarious reprobates was usually in each other’s company.
He’s pleading with me now. Let’s see where this leads. “How do you know that?” Storm moved closer to Joe’s face as he asked.
“Everybody talks about the Badge Bunnies out here. Everyone knows who they are. They’re not sacred or anything.”
“‘Badge Bunnies’? What the hell are Badge Bunnies?” asked Storm.
“Girls like her, ones that come out to party and be a part of this whole experience. Girls looking for wealthy connected men that are at least directors of the Show.”
“Then you and your buddies pass them around?”
“No, it’s not like that. You just know if they are available. You know what they want and they know what they have to do to get in.”
“So you take them up to the VIP club, get them drunk, take them in a bathroom or a stairway and do them?”
“Kinda.” Dresden’s voice had begun to shake. “How do you know I was with her Saturday?”
“You were caught on security video taking her up to the VIP club.”
“How? Cameras aren’t allowed in any clubs.” Storm could see Joe thought he had him there.
But he’s so wrong, Storm thought with satisfaction. “Oh, Joe, tell me you don’t know.” Storm just looked at Dresden and shook his head. “It’s funny, people like you have already forgotten about 9/11. The world has become much more Orwellian since then. All buildings and facilities have to have security cameras at all entries and exits. Big Brother really is watching you. Did you think because you can stop pictures from being taken in the clubs, you and your buddies can stop public security? I guess Homeland Security hasn’t heard about your elevation above the law.”
Storm went on. “Who else ‘knew’ her, Joe?”
“I’m not sure. Alex probably knows some of the others.” Joe looked as if he was still processing the idea that cameras now were being used for surveillance at the Show and that neither he nor probably most of his friends were aware of it.
“OK. Enough about Leslie for now, Joe.” Storm pulled the rest of the pictures out and arranged them across Joe’s desk. Joe’s face went from flushed pink to putrid green.
“You know any of these girls?” The shock and fear in Joe’s eyes gave him away. It was obvious he knew at least one of them. Not waiting for an answer, Storm asked, “Joe, you ever in the military?”
Dresden’s gag reflex kicked in, and he swallowed hard before answering. “No. Why?”
“Well, each of these girls was killed in exactly the same way. Each had her throat cut and windpipe severed so she couldn’t scream. Do you know how to do that?”
“God, no. For God’s sake, put those away.”
“Not ‘til you have looked real close and tell me if you know any of these girls.”
“I know two of them,” Joe stuttered. His hands were shaking so bad he held them in a clinched double fist.
“Which two?” Storm pressured.
“This one and the one on the end.” His well manicured index finger touched the bottom of each photo.
Joe had picked out Elaine Gage and Stephanie Gilgore. Stephanie was the girl killed last year.
“How did you know them?”
“Like I knew that other girl.”
“Then you raped them, too?”
“Yes. No. I mean, I was with them. I never raped anyone.” Dresden seemed to be shrinking behind his desk. Storm knew he realized he was not in control anymore and actually never had been.
“Did you kill them, too?” Storm didn’t expect any other answer than a “no.”
“No!” Dresden pleaded, yelling. He’s totally falling apart, Storm told himself.
“Joe, I want a DNA sample from you.”
“Why? I already admitted I knew them.”
“To verify that the semen found in Leslie’s vagina is yours and to check against any DNA findings from the other girls.”
“I didn’t know any of the others, just those three.”
“OK, Joe, then giving me your DNA will eliminate you from suspicion in other murders.”
“Am I a suspect in the deaths of these girls?” Joe asked, indicating the three he had identified.
“No, Joe but you are a person of interest, though, so I wouldn’t leave town if I were you. And one other thing, Joe, you keep your mouth shut about this. You talk to no one, not even your wife. If I find out this has gotten out with rumor mill at that damn Rodeo I am coming for you first, you understand? I can assure you won’t enjoy county lockup. Pretty boys like you don’t do well there.” Storm had to scare Joe bad enough to keep him from talking to the Show.
“OK, now, Joe. Here’s what you need to do: You will report to the medical examiner’s office no later than noon tomorrow and they will take a DNA sample to compare the semen left on Leslie to verify you were the one who had sex with her. If you are not there by noon I will come back and I will place you under arrest and take you out of this building in handcuffs in front of your wife and all your employees.”
Storm knew egomaniacs like Dresden would do just about anything to avoid the perp walk. He packed his pictures back in the manila envelope, and left Joe’s office to return to his car. He wasn’t sure about Joe yet and no one could be written off as a suspect—well, no one who had anything to do with the Show.
* * * *
Ellen had seen Storm come into the building and recognized him from the incident with Joe the night before. Her office was positioned she could see the visitors who came in to Joe’s office. She had watched the entire episode and had seen the look on her husband’s face and his hands shaking as he looked at the papers the man had arranged on his desk. Whoever this guy was, showing Joe whatever he was showing, it had totally unnerved him. Who was this guy and what was he doing with Joe? She had to find out.
She reached across her desk, which was a match to Joe’s except just a tiny bit bigger just as her office was just a little bigger than his, and took out her personal phone book to look up Russell Hildebrandt’s phone number. This man had been at the Show with Russell the night before. What was their connection and what did it have to do with Joe?
When Russell didn’t answer his home phone, she called the TV station and after a few minutes Russell came on the line.
* * * *
“This is Russell Hildebrandt.”
“Russell, this is
Ellen Dresden. I need to talk to you.”
“Well, imagine this. I see you last night and here you are on the phone so soon with me. What can I help you with, Ellen?” said Russell, his mind now racing in overdrive. What could she want? Had Storm already been to Dresden’s office? What did Ellen know? Storm had told him and the others to keep quiet and that was exactly what he was going to do.
“Who was that man with you last night?” Ellen was always direct and a little mannish, but then, she was her father’s daughter.
“You mean my friend Storm?”
“I guess. Is that his name? How do you know him?”
“We have known each other since college, why?”
“Well after he talked to Joe last night Joe pushed me out the door and wouldn’t speak to me all the way home. And just now he was here in Joe’s office and it is obvious Joe is even more upset this time. Who is he and why is he bothering Joe? What is going on, Russell?”
“He is a homicide detective with HPD, Ellen. He is my best friend; he is the one whose wife was killed about five years ago—not sure if you would remember that or not.”
“That doesn’t answer why he was here and why he just scared the shit of Joe.”
“Ellen, I’m sure I don’t know,” Russell lied through his teeth. The less he said the better off he would be.
“Does it have anything to do with that girl found dead Sunday morning? Or does it have something to do with his dead wife?”
“Again, Ellen, I seriously have no idea. Storm doesn’t talk to me about things like that.” The lies continued to roll out of his mouth like they were warm molasses.
“That girl from Sunday was a tramp, you know. You know the type. They hang around the Show hoping to meet someone with money. You’ve been there and you’ve been with them.”
Damn, his next thought caused Russell to consider something that would have never entered his mind earlier. Did Ellen have anything to do with this? If Joe was later considered a suspect was Ellen getting ready to build an alibi for Joe? I’m not sure I should even ask the next question but in for a penny, in for a pound, this is no time to back away. This realization led to his next question.
“Ellen, really I have no idea, but I’m sure if Storm was there to talk to Joe, he’s checking all leads to see if Joe had ever seen the girl or knew anyone who might have known her. I am sure it has nothing to do with the murder of his late wife.” As if an afterthought Russell asked Ellen, “Did you know the girl who was killed Saturday night, Ellen?”
“No,” she spat out. “I don’t bother myself with whores like her out there.”
With that, Ellen abruptly hung up the phone.
What the hell was that about? Damn, he had to get hold of Storm. Could his old friend Ellen have gone from being a childhood playmate to being a killer or an unwitting accomplice? That idea disturbed him to no end.
* * * *
Meanwhile Ellen was fuming. She knew about Joe’s dalliances, but she also knew Joe was a pretty boy wimp who jumped when she screamed. She knew he had married her for her money and his womanizing had long ago worn thin on her. It was time to confront Joe. She had confronted one of his little flings, what was her name? Stephanie, yes, Stephanie, and the girl had backed off. Nobody was leaving her for some little gold-digging slut. If Joe left her he got nothing, and he knew it.
Chapter Eighteen
Joe’s Naughty Little Secrets
Dresden was standing at the bar in his office pouring himself a glass of bourbon when he heard his office door open and immediately close. From behind he heard a voice. “Must have been quite a conversation for you to need a drink already. It isn’t even lunch time.”
It was Ellen and he was sure she had seen the man from last night come into his office this morning. He tried to stop his hands from shaking by gripping the glass he held tighter as he turned around to confront her.
“No, honey, just a bit of the hair of the dog,” he replied, trying his best smile as he shrugged, hoping to disarm her.
“Bullshit, Joe, I know who he is and we are not going to talk about this in your office. Meet me at my car in five minutes. Do you understand?” Ellen glared as she held up five fingers. This was not a request and Joe knew it.
Five minutes later Joe opened the door to Ellen’s white Escalade and got in. Her change of clothes for the Show hung in back. Hat boxes filled the cargo area, along with at least six pairs of boots and small bags of lingerie.
Ellen looked over as Joe got in and quietly asked, “What does that detective want with you?”
I need to think. I have to be quick to give a plausible answer. But Joe Dresden’s mind went completely blank.
“Before you answer, I want you to consider your answer very carefully, and don’t you fucking think you can lie to me,” growled Ellen.
“I’m not going to lie.” Joe paused momentarily. “He came here to talk to me because I knew the girl that was found dead on Sunday out by the stadium. He just wanted to know what I knew about her. If I might know anyone who might have seen her last or wanted to kill her.” Joe was trying to conceal the truth, but he could see in Ellen’s eyes he wasn’t succeeding.
“That’s not the whole truth, is it?” demanded Ellen, her piercing eyes boring into his face.
“Yes, it is,” Joe was quick to answer, though he knew right away his answer was too quick, actually.
“I told you not to lie to me. There is a hell of lot more or your hands wouldn’t be shaking like that and you wouldn’t look like a dead trout.”
Joe’s entire body was tense and shaking. He was trying to control himself, but it wasn’t working. He knew he would have to tell her everything or there was no telling what her reaction would be.
“OK, OK. He came here to ask me if I did it. If I killed her,” Joe croaked, his head slumping over in his lap, the sweat running down his brow over his nose.
“Why would he think that, Joe?” Joe knew all too well that Ellen was not stupid. She was not going to let him off so easy. She knows it’s time to call me on it, he realized. I think she’s about to let me know she’s known about the other women. I’m in deep shit.
“He has video of me taking her into the VIP club in the stadium the night she was killed. He claims I was the last one seen with her,” Joe croaked again.
“Were you, Joe, were you the last one to see her alive?” Ellen asked through clenched teeth.
“No!” Joe’s voice was almost inaudible. “I left her in the club. I went with the guys to Fuad’s and that was the last I saw her till he showed me her picture.”
“What was she doing with you at the club, Joe?” Ellen’s voice had calmed and she seemed more in control of herself.
“She was around all last week, hanging out with all the guys. She was at the barbecue every night and she asked me to take her to the VIP club.” Joe thought, that’s partially true, anyway.
“Did you do anything with her? Did you have sex with her and goddamn you, I mean even a blow job, you’re not Bill Clinton, understand?” barked Ellen.
Joe just sunk his face toward his chest again and said, “Yes.”
“So she was another of your fucking tramps. The little whores who follow you men around the Show hoping to snag a rich husband and sleep with anyone they think has money.” This was more of a statement than a question from Ellen.
Joe nodded his head “yes” as his eyes concentrated on the floorboard of the SUV.
Ellen was again calm. “The one last year was just the same. I had to pay her off to get her to stay away from you. She disappeared after that and was not seen in the clubs again.”
The shock registered on Joe’s face and he turned to Ellen, “What do you mean you ‘paid her off’?”
“I gave her ten thousand dollars to go away and not come back.”
“When did you give it to her?” Joe asked, incredulous.
“The second week of the Show. I got her name from the security guard working the door. I called her, met h
er for lunch, and gave her the ultimatum: take the money and stay away from you and any other married men out there, or else.”
“Ellen, that detective had her picture, too. She was killed last year,” Joe said. When he looked at Ellen’s face it was cold as stone and dispassionate. She doesn’t care, he realized.
“Ellen, I told him I knew her.”
“Did you kill her, Joe?”
“Hell, no.” He knew the shock was painting his face—that was probably a good thing—and it made his answer sound more authentic.
“Then, so what? You knew her, but if you didn’t kill her. Why worry?”
“Ellen, he had pictures of seven girls, all young, all found dead somewhere on the grounds of the Dome. He asked me if knew any of them. I told him I knew two besides the last girl. The girl from Sunday, the girl last year (the one you paid off), and the very first girl killed.” Joe could feel his fear running deeper now. It was almost palpable.
“Did you have anything to do with any of the murders?” Ellen whispered.
“Goddamn it, Ellen, I could never kill anyone. I just knew them, the same way I knew the girl from Sunday. Actually, I knew all of them, but I didn’t tell him that. If he finds out, I really will be his best suspect,” Joe’s voice quivered even more.
“You were doing the horizontal bop with all of them and now all of them are dead?” Ellen asked, sounding as if she was about to laugh.
“Yes, but I didn’t do it. I didn’t even know some of them had been killed. Ellen, if it gets out I was with them and you paid one of them off, it could get really ugly.” Joe was in a state of panic and he knew it showed in his voice.
“No one will know that I paid off some slut who was fucking my husband and no one is gonna find out you knew them all. There are a lot of men who probably knew them all. They were sluts, anyway.”
* * * *
Ellen thought it was funny to watch him squirm like this. He’s such a pussy. He could never go to jail. He would be the favorite on the cell block with his cute little tight ass. Joe also didn’t need to know that she had paid off more than one of them.
Charity Kills (A David Storm Mystery) Page 14