Power Struggle

by Carolyn Arnold

  She snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention back on her. “I think you have.”

  Gary stood back and crossed his arms. With his closed body language, any suspicion that he was hiding something was confirmed. Maybe if she shocked him, she’d jog his memory. She made sure the screen on her phone hadn’t gone black and held it up for Gary.

  “This man is dead,” she said. “Murdered, actually. Not long after he left here.”

  The man seated beside Madison turned to face her, but she went on as if she never noticed.

  “So if you don’t want us—” she gestured to Terry “—to take you downtown for interfering with an investigation, I’d suggest you start talking.”

  Gary ran a hand over his mouth. “If I started talking to the cops about all the customers we get in here, we wouldn’t have any.”

  “Amen.” The man on the stool lifted his glass.

  Madison shot the man a glare. Directing her attention back to Gary, she said, “At least you’ve admitted he was a customer.”

  “I’m outta here.” The nosy patron slapped down a twenty and left.

  Gary snatched the bill from the counter. “Wow, thanks for that.”

  Madison wasn’t sure if he’d said it because of a bad tip or because their presence had lost him another customer. It was probably both.

  Gary leaned over the counter, closing the space between himself and Madison and Terry. He curled his finger for them to lean in, too. “Yes, I recognize him, okay?” He grabbed a towel from the bar and started wiping in a circular pattern. “You said he was dead?”

  “Murdered,” she said slowly, gauging his reaction.

  His movements stopped but he still held onto the towel. Gary paled and took a deep breath.

  “Are you afraid of someone?” Terry asked perceptively.

  Gary’s eyes snapped to Terry, and he nodded subtly as he straightened back up. “I really shouldn’t be talking to you.”

  Madison considered showing him a photo of Bates in his bed, stabbed multiple times, but rather than jolting Gary to talk, it might make him go silent. She couldn’t take that risk. “We’re just asking some questions. What you say stays with the three of us.” She glanced at Terry briefly and shifted her gaze back to Gary.

  “With us? You promise?” Gary’s timbre fluctuated.

  “Hey! Can I get a beer?” a customer called down the counter.

  Gary held up a finger to Madison. “I’ll be back in one minute.”

  Gary spoke to another bartender and motioned for Madison and Terry to follow him. He led them to a back office.

  “It’s probably best we talk back here,” he said.

  The music was still loud in the office, but not quite as bad as the main area of the bar. At least they wouldn’t need to raise their voices now.

  “Was he here alone?” Madison asked, getting the conversation started again.

  “No.”

  The skin prickled at the back of her neck. “Do you know who he was with?”

  “You mean, have I seen him before?” Gary asked.

  So Bates had been here with a man… Madison nodded in response to Gary.

  “No, and he’s not exactly the type you’d forget.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

  “The man was huge,” Gary said. “Think Dwayne ‘the Rock’ Johnson huge.”

  Her heart sped up in her chest as flashbacks danced around the edges of her mind of Constantine’s hulking frame hanging over her, of him about to… Sweat dripped down her back, and chills ran through her at the same time. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Terry watching her, but she couldn’t speak, not right now. It was like her throat was stitched shut.

  “What else do you remember about him?” Terry asked. “His hair color?”

  “He had blond hair.”

  Terry pulled out his phone and extended it toward Gary. “Was this the man?”

  Madison caught a glimpse of the image on the screen as it went quickly past her toward Gary. Constantine Romanov.

  She studied Gary’s reaction. He stepped back and twisted the towel he still held onto.

  “Gary?” Madison pressed, finally able to command her mouth to speak.

  He was looking straight at her, but his eyes were blank. He glanced at Terry and nodded.

  “He was here with—” Terry started.

  “The dead man? Yeah,” Gary rushed out, interrupting.

  The hairs rose on the back of Madison’s neck, and shivers laced down her spine. First the letterhead was from the prison where Dimitre was incarcerated, and now Bates had been seen having drinks with Constantine, a known Russian hit man who reported to Dimitre.

  “How long were they here?” Madison inquired.

  “Long enough to order a drink, but not long enough to savor it. At least that big guy—” Gary pointed toward Terry, referring to the image he had pulled up on his phone “—ordered a vodka and shot it back no sooner than it was delivered to the table.”

  A skilled bartender had a good memory, but Madison sensed Gary’s recollection was suspiciously clearer than most people’s would be. “You seem to have paid them a lot of attention,” Madison said, calling him out. “Why?”

  “Like I said, he was huge.”

  Madison quirked her eyebrows. “And that’s all?”

  Gary licked his lips and looked away.

  If Gary was aware Bates was connected to the Mafia, it could explain his nervousness, but she wasn’t going to come out and ask because he might clam up. “Was Bates a regular here?”

  Gary hitched his shoulders. “He came often enough.”

  “Did the two men get along? Do you know what they were talking about?” Madison was determined to get something more out of Gary.

  “Well the two of them didn’t exactly look chummy, or even like they should be hanging together. The older guy, the one who was…murdered”—he seemed disgusted by the word—“appeared to be nervous around the bigger guy. And I can’t blame him.”

  Madison was doing all she could to suppress the flashbacks, but in doing so, her temperature was rising and her palms were sweating now.

  Terry glanced over at her, shooting her a sympathetic look. “Do you know what they were talking about?” he inquired. She knew he was taking the reins while she pulled herself together.

  Gary shook his head. “I couldn’t hear their conversation.” He pointed toward the ceiling, referring to the pumping speaker system. “I know that the older guy handed the big guy something under the table,” he continued. “I couldn’t see what it was, but they were both leaning forward. It was obvious something was being passed between them.”

  “And you’re sure it was coming from the older man to the larger one, not the other way around?” Terry asked.

  The bartender nodded. “Absolutely certain.”

  “And you have no idea what it was?” Terry confirmed.

  “Nope.”

  “What about its size? Shape?” her partner tried.

  “It’s pretty dim in here, and they were sitting at one of the most poorly lit tables. It’s not exactly easy to make out details, period, let alone at a table where it’s really dark.”

  “Was the object larger than their hands?” Madison asked, finding her voice again.

  Gary pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think so, yeah.”

  Unfortunately, that could describe a lot of things. At least they could conclude it was unlikely drugs. First of all, most drugs could be palmed, and second, Constantine wasn’t exactly a drug dealer. It could have been money, but what for? Was Bates supposed to hand over something to Constantine but crossed him instead? Hence the torture and murder? Did any of this have to do with that letterhead in Bates’s office cubbyhole? The questions were coming to her rapid-fire. It would be nice if t
he answers came just as quickly.

  “When did they make the transfer?” Terry asked.

  “Just after ordering their drinks…or at least not long after. If I remember right, they talked for a few minutes first.”

  Terry nodded and kept the questions rolling. “When did the big man leave?”

  “Pretty soon after they passed whatever it was between them.” Gary paused. “Listen, I really need to get back to work.”

  Madison plucked her card from her pocket and handed it to Gary. “If you think of anything else, call me.”

  Gary tucked the card into his shirt pocket and led Madison and Terry out of the office. He scurried behind the bar and didn’t even give them so much as a nod goodbye as they left.

  Outside, Madison stopped on the sidewalk in front of the club and looked up at the sky, trying to take even breaths.

  Terry walked around in front of her. “We should get you into protective custody.”

  “As I’ve said before, that man is not going to control my life.”

  “But he could take it,” Terry snarled.

  “He might be back, but he hasn’t threatened me,” she pointed out.

  “That’s what you’re clinging to?” Terry threw his arms up. “God, you’re so stubborn.”

  “I’m determined to stay on the case and remain objective.” Even to her own her ears, it sounded like she lacked conviction, especially in regard to the latter part.

  “And how’s that going for you so far?” he fired back.

  The last thing she’d be doing was admitting to the dread lacing through her bones. Confiding her feelings in other people didn’t come naturally to her anyhow. And if she made the exception in this situation, she knew it would blow up in her face. Terry would persuade Winston to pull her from the case and justify it as being for her own safety. She wasn’t about to take that risk. No, it was much better to keep some things to herself and her fear was one of them. Instead, she referred back to the details of the interview they’d just conducted. “So Constantine met up with Bates here and they exchanged something, but we don’t know what or why.”

  Terry was shaking his head. “Fine. Let’s pretend the Mafia hit man who almost killed you isn’t back in town.”

  “We don’t know that he is. We know that he was.”

  “You really think he’s going to leave without settling with you?” he hurled out, catapulting her to the memory of a past quarrel they’d had when she’d risked her life on a previous case. He had threatened to get a new partner, and for a time, it seemed like he might have gone through with it. Regardless, she wasn’t going to back down.

  “You’re the one who believes we need to remain objective,” she said. “That’s all I’m doing here.”

  Terry stepped back, and Madison’s chest expanded for a full breath at his surrender.

  “They met for a purpose, obviously,” Terry said. “Assuming Constantine killed Bates, I’m having a hard time figuring out motive. I mean, it seems like they were in on something together rather than enemies.”

  When her partner’s eyes met hers, tremors ran through her as a possible explanation took root in her mind. Bates was a skilled accountant, and add to that the letterhead in his cubbyhole, a connection to the Mafia, and eyewitness who saw Bates handing something to Constantine… Was Bates paying him for a job?

  Nausea slammed into her.

  “What is it?” Terry asked.

  She explained how her thoughts were jumbling together. “Now this is just a wild-card theory, but what if Bates was inadvertently paying Constantine for the contract on his own head?”

  -

  CHAPTER

  10

  BACK AT THE STATION, Madison pulled a Hershey’s bar out of her desk drawer and tore open the wrapper. She bit off a huge mouthful.

  “I understand you’re hungry, but chocolate’s not a good choice for dinner,” Terry chided.

  Her stomach was growling as the food was going in, and her body was quaking from hunger. “We passed dinnertime hours ago. Are you sure you really want to mess with me?” She glowered at him and bit off another chunk of the candy bar.

  “Maybe not.” Terry stepped back and laughed. “Speaking of food, though, I’m hitting up the vending machine.”

  “And how is that better?” she asked, cocking her eyebrows.

  “We should have hit a fast-food joint or something on the way back here.”

  “Again, is that—”

  “Yes, it is,” he interrupted. “Most of them offer low-cal menu options.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, but she was actually on board with the whole eating-a-healthy-meal thing as long as she got some chocolate in first.

  Terry walked off in search of food, and she continued to devour the rest of the bar. As the snack started to settle, the gnawing pain of hunger subsided a bit and her focus was coming back. Before the chocolate, it had been getting to the point that all she could think about had been food. Of course, thoughts of Constantine were never too far away.

  Her mind mulled over the fact that the man who had almost raped and killed her had been in town just days ago and she’d had no idea. She had just carried on with her life as usual. The possibility that he could sneak up on her at any time didn’t sit well with her.

  And what business did he have with Bates? Hopefully, they’d find out before too long because once they had that answer, she was certain they’d be one step closer to solving this case. At least Cynthia had messaged saying that the visitor logs from the prison had come in and that they’d be working through them in the morning. She’d also sent bad news, even if it had been expected: she’d had no luck tracking Kevin Jones’s phone and surmised it must have been a burner.

  Madison yawned, envying her friend calling an end to the work day. For her and Terry, though, it was going to be a long night. The first forty-eight hours of a murder investigation always tested human resilience.

  With patience being one characteristic that didn’t come naturally to her, waiting on answers was painful. Was Bates connected to Dimitre? Madison would say that seemed likely. If Bates wasn’t tied up with the Mafia, what reason could he have had to meet with Constantine and exchange whatever it was they had? Another question that begged to be answered was what had made Dimitre order the hit, assuming he had, that was.

  Terry returned with a bag of chips and sat at his desk across from her. “I think we should update Winston on what we found out at the club.” He popped a few chips into his mouth.

  “No. We talked about this in the car.” She refused to give over to paranoia. And, yes, the concept of better safe than sorry worked great in theory, but if she jumped the gun, she could be the butt of jokes around the department. They could place Constantine in Stiles last night, not currently.

  Terry pressed his lips into a thin line, but he didn’t argue.

  “We’ll start by pulling detailed backgrounds on Rodney Bates and Greg Berger and see how their lives intersected,” she said. “Also, if we can confirm that what they’re telling us is the truth, we should pull the information on the board members from Berger & Stein Accounting. We don’t have enough to get their client list yet, but it’s a start.”

  “Okay. I’ll get Rodney’s info, you get Greg’s?”

  “Works for me.” She brought up the database on her computer, but halfway through typing in Greg’s name, she stopped. “I’m not sure if I said this out loud, but I really think that Greg took over for Rodney, and then Jimmy was brought onboard when he got out of prison.”

  “But Jimmy got out five years after his father.” Terry scrunched up the empty chip bag and put it in the garbage bin under his desk. “Why didn’t Rodney just pick up where he left off?”

  “For one, he would have lost his license, and two, we’d be on to him. They needed someone else.”

  “So t
hey’ve been grooming Jimmy?” Terry sounded skeptical. “Why not Greg’s son, Lyle?”

  “Maybe he didn’t want to get Lyle involved in that scene.”

  “But he kept the business involved?” Terry shook his head. “I don’t know…” He threw his hands in the air. “The questions in this case just keep on coming.”

  “Yeah. I just wish the answers would start coming with them.” She turned back to her monitor and finished typing in Greg’s name. She’d do a simple background search first and expand from there. She’d dig into his life and find out when he started his company. “When was Berger & Stein founded?”

  “You’re the one pulling Greg’s info,” Terry responded.

  She looked over at him. She hadn’t even realized that she’d said the question out loud.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “I’m wondering if Greg Berger started the company around the time that Rodney reentered his life or if he had already been a business owner.” Madison watched as the implication of the question sank into her partner’s eyes.

  “Because the company itself could have been set up as a business front for the mob’s accounting…”

  She nodded, brought up another search screen, and got her answer. “Berger & Stein went into business one year before Rodney went to prison.”

  “It could be a coincidence.”

  She cocked her head to the right.

  “Fine,” he conceded, “it might be. The Russians would have known that Rodney was going down at that point, too.”

  “Uh-huh, and they could have set up Greg with the accounting firm to keep the money moving.” With that, the labor the case required magnified. Even if this had nothing to do with why Bates was murdered, Berger & Stein Accounting still needed to be investigated—or at least checked out—and that included their board members and investors. “We’re going to need more help.”

  -

  CHAPTER

  11

  CONSTANTINE GRABS HER BY THE HAIR, his fingernails digging into her scalp, and he pulls her into the living room.

  A cry escapes her throat, and her body arches backward as she tries to keep pace with him. He tosses her onto the couch as if she weighs nothing. For the first time, Madison has a real sense of the man’s size and strength. He is a giant among men.