by Blake Banner
“Yeah,” he said and leered at Dehan. “I tell you whole story. Give me, I sign.”
I pulled out the document and slid it across the desk to him. It was short and concise. He read through it carefully, pursed his lips and nodded. He held out his manacled hand without looking up. “Give me pen, I sign.”
I handed him my pen. “Now, start talking.”
EIGHTEEN
He held his manacled wrists toward me. “You no gonna prosecute me. You can undo this, no?”
I showed him an expressionless face. “Talk. Let’s see what you’ve got. Right now, you’re the punk who tried to shoot my wife last night. Show me I’m wrong and I’ll take the cuffs off.”
He slouched back.
“OK, couple of month ago, I start shooting at Coyne Park, in Yonkers. Is ten, fifteen minutes drive. I know guns. I like guns. But I am only professional there. Everybody else is big mouth, no experience. Then I meet Am.” He laughed. “Americano! He’s nice guy, always joking, making funny. But he knows guns. He never been in army, but he know guns. He have the mind and the heart of a warrior. Cold inside. I know. I recognize. I tell him, you wasting your fucking time in university. I introduce you to people, you can make big money doing what you love.” He shrugged his big shoulders. “But he don’t want to know. ‘No,’ he say me, ‘No, I gonna make an electric motor!’” He threw his head back and burst out laughing. “He is going to make electric motor! Electric motor is going to make him rich man, like Elon Musk!”
Dehan said, “What made him think that?”
“Because his professor is telling him, ‘You and me going to make electric motor, with fantastic battery, fastest car in world.’ He tell me, ‘Peter, this car going to go two hundred mile an hour, minimum! Accelerate zero to one hundred in one second.’ It’s going to be fucking space ship.
“OK, so then week is passing, two weeks, and he ask me, ‘Hey, Peter, you in the Russian Army?’ I tell him yeah, I was in special unit. We do a lot of bad things. He tell me, ‘My friend is looking for tough guy like you to help make a job.’ I tell him, I am not cheap. He wants me to kill somebody, it is going to cost ten thousand dollars minimum. If is university professor, it is going to be more.”
I said, “Names.”
“Not yet. So he tell me this is very expensive. I say to him, ‘Look, you can do this. You don’t need spend money on professional like me. I only advise you, tell you how, two thousand bucks, you make the job. He think about it and he says OK.
“So this the job: professor who was going to make super car with him, Dr. Jose Robles. Now he is going to sell idea to big company.” He thought for a moment. “There were two company, LightYear was one, then Electron was other. He was interested in LightYear. But he not tell Am about this. Am is find out because…” He screwed up his face. “Dr. Robles’ lawyer is tell Am about it! So I am saying, what the fuck? What the fuck, man? You bring lawyer, he sit down here with me and you both going to tell me fucking everything. His lawyer is telling you? Somebody trying to screw somebody, right?
“OK, so then lawyer is Costas Varufakis. And it don’t take me long find out that lawyer Varufakis is fucking Robles, and Robles is threatening to sell story to TV. So Varufakis and Am making a plan to fuck Robles.” He threw back his head and laughed out loud again. “Everybody fucking somebody.”
I said, “So you advised them?”
“Yeah, they come to my house. We drink, we make plan. They tell me everything. I tell them, OK, this how you going to do it. You kill him and you kill woman. She going to be easy to kill. Then, he like wine, so you make it look like they been having drink, she is in love with him, everybody in love with Dr. Robles, she jealous, she kill him. Some fingerprints on gun, on glasses. You take her, put rocks in her clothes and put her in river. She is probably in Bahamas by now. She killed him and she run away. Simple.”
I shrugged. “It’s a story. Where’s the proof?”
He looked at me with dead eyes. “I not finished yet. Give me pen and paper.”
I handed him my pen again and a slip of paper. He scrawled down a series of numbers alongside dates and an address downtown.
“Four payments of five hundred dollars in cash. Nielsen goes with Varufakis to this ATM to collect money. You check Varufakis account, you see he makes these withdrawals. This money is to pay me for my advice on the murder of Robles and Shine.”
I glanced at Dehan. She took the piece of paper and left the room. Yeltsin said, “More. I was at house when they prepare for killing. I see Am kill Agnes. He use his arm in arm lock and strangle her. Varufakis run upstairs and sick in toilet. Am is cool, he set glasses out on tables by chairs, pour wine, only a little in each glass, pour half the bottle down sink, then Varufakis come down. I go check all his sick is gone. I come down and Am call Roble on Agnes house telephone. He tell him to come over to Agnes house. He has to argue, but finally Robles is agree. So if you looking for fingerprints on Agnes house phone, you going to find Am’s prints. They are going to be last prints on telephone.”
I took my cell from my pocket and called Joe.
“John, how’s it going?”
“Joe, can you get a team over to Dr. Agnes Shine’s house, dust her telephone, the landline, see if Am Nielsen’s prints are on it. Theory is he was the last person to use it.”
“Sure. I’ll get a team over there right away.”
“Thanks.” I hung up. Yeltsin continued:
“Dr. Robles arrive. Am let him in, close door and pull gun. ‘You go and you sit down. Pick up fucking glass. Put down.’ Bang! Eight times. Bang! Bang! Bang! Then wipe gun and put it in Agnes hand. Take Agnes to river with her ID documents. Finish.”
“Where, exactly?”
“Through park at back of house. Is easy, into Pugsley Creek.” He made a face and carried on. “So, everything going nicely. We leave it like this and soon case is closed. But Varufakis want to be clever. You can be too clever. Varufakis too fucking clever. He want to make sure everybody believing he is innocent man. So he call your chief, ‘Hey, I want you put your best men on this case.’ But his best man is good cop, fucking pit-bull, never let go, huh? He can smell something wrong, something wrong. So Varufakis say me, ‘We going to tie up loose ends.’ He write a confession for Am. We take to Am and I put gun to Am’s head.”
“Your friend.”
“I have two friends, Detective: me and money. I put gun to Am’s head: write fucking confession on your phone. He write. I take him to toilet, I fill sink with water and I put in his head until he dead. Then we take to the river and throw in. You going to find fingerprints on arm are from my hand. Now, I going to ask you, what motive I have for killing Am Nielsen? No motive. Now I asking you, what motive Varufakis has? Good fucking motive. Same man who employ me to scare you.
“Last thing I give you. In my apartment, where your police find me, there you find burner telephone, Samsung, on table. This Samsung is one I use for communicate with Varufakis. You going to find on it the calls he is make to me, before I make him use burner. Then you going to find the number of his burner. Maybe you get lucky and find that phone in his house. So, you got the money, you got Am’s prints, you got my prints, you got the telephone and you got my testimony. You got proof.”
“What about the research? What happened to that?”
He stared at me a long time. There was something odd in his eyes. I couldn’t make out if it was humor or insolence; maybe both. He shrugged. “I don’t know what happen to that. Maybe is still at university. Maybe LightYear get it. Maybe Electron.”
The door opened and Dehan came in. I stood. “OK, Peter. We’ll see if this all checks out. If it does, it looks like you’ve got your deal.”
I stepped out and had the uniform take Yeltsin down to his cell while the tapes of the interview were taken to the Inspector and the DA. Then I called Joe again.
“Stone, you again so soon? People will start to talk.”
I forced a laugh. “One last thing, Joe. The print
s on Am’s arm. Yeltsin—the guy who shot at us last night—he says those prints will be his. Can you check that?”
“Sure thing, I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks.”
Dehan put her hand on my shoulder. “Newman has requested his financials. We got him, Stone.”
I nodded. “Yeah. We got him…”
“You OK?” I nodded again. She shrugged. “Agnes is dead. You were sure she was still alive. I’m sorry.”
I smiled. “It was so hard to get a handle on any of their personalities. Hers more than most. Sounds like she was a nice person.”
“Academics. They’re all crazy, right? What you see is definitely not what you get.”
“For sure.”
The inspector put his head out his door. “Stone, Dehan, we got confirmation. They’re sending his records over, but they were able to confirm the withdrawals. We have him. It is a very sad day in many ways, but well done to both of you. A superb piece of work. Well done. I’ll let you know as soon as we get confirmation on the prints and the rest of it. How’s the shoulder, John?”
“Nothing a Bushmills won’t fix, sir. Yeltsin tells me Agnes’ body was dumped in Pugsley Creek, at the back of her house. It has probably been dragged out into the East River by now, but we should conduct a search anyway.”
“Yes, indeed. I’ll see to it.” He nodded, then smiled. “Bushmills, excellent choice! Well, I’ll see you Monday, then!”
“I think we’ll go and give Dr. Meigh the news, sir. I believe La Piccola Liguria in Port Washington does rather good oysters and a sirloin steak in black pepper and brandy sauce that is really something special.”
He looked vaguely surprised. “Oh, well, that is very thoughtful of you, John. Thank you, and you two have a lovely evening.”
“Thank you, sir. We will do our best. After that, we’re going to Goa, for Christmas, I owe it to Dehan as part of a bet.”
He laughed. “Gotta go ta Goa!”
“Never gets old, sir.”
We went down the stairs, collected our coats and stepped out into the icy wind. It was only midday, but the heavy, bellying clouds and the dull, uniform gray light made it feel like early evening.
We made it to the car and climbed in before Dehan said, “OK, what’s going on? What did I miss, get wrong, overlook or fail to take into account?”
I smiled, started the engine and reversed out of the lot. “That is not very nice, Dehan. I take you out for a romantic evening and you impute all kinds of dishonest motives to me.”
“Yadda yadda…”
“Seriously, Dehan. I just want to wrap the case up, inform Dr. Meigh and take you to dinner. It is almost Christmas!”
She raised an eyebrow and we set off toward the Throgs Neck and Long Island.
* * *
Dr. Meigh opened the door and the slight widening of her eyes said she was startled.
“Detectives… We are just having lunch…”
“And we are on our way to lunch, but we thought we’d just drop in to let you know that the case has been closed.”
“Oh, well, that’s very good of you. Thank you.” She hesitated, unsure whether to close the door.
I waited, smiling, until it became awkward and then added, “You must be curious to know who did it. I’m afraid I also have some rather sad news for you.”
She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “You had better come in.”
“We won’t keep you long, Dr. Meigh. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes.”
She forced a smile. “Of course. It is thoughtful of you to come all this way.” She led us into the drawing room, where a fire was burning in the grate, reflecting off the baubles and tinsel on a vast Christmas tree, and throwing ghostly reflections against the windowpanes. She sat, perched on the edge of a calico armchair. Dehan took the sofa and I took the other chair.
I said, “Perhaps your husband would like to join us.”
Dehan glanced at me and frowned. Meigh said, “No, that is quite unnecessary, Detective. What is the news you have for me?”
I spread my hands, “Cutting a long story short, Dr. Meigh, Peter Yeltsin has confessed that he was employed by Assistant District Attorney Costas Varufakis to kill Dr. Robles.”
“Really? How extraordinary.”
“Yes, Robles and Varufakis were having an affair, and Robles was threatening to tell the media. One of his power games. Varufakis panicked and employed Yeltsin to kill him. Part of the plan was to frame Agnes, kill her and dump her body in the river, to make it look as though she had killed him and fled.”
“Oh.” The only sign of emotion was that her face went very rigid.
I waited a moment, then said, “I imagine you’ll miss her.”
“Of course, we all will.”
“Of course, Am was also a part of the plot. There were three of them, Costas, Yeltsin and Am.”
“I see.”
“Am’s motive was that the LightYear Corporation had made Robles an offer to buy his research, and he admitted to Costas that he was going to make the sale, and cut Am out. So Costas and Am teamed up.”
“Well, thank you for taking the time to bring me the news…”
Dehan made to stand. I said, “There is just one thing.”
Meigh sighed. “Yes, Detective Stone.”
“There was a second corporation who apparently also made an offer for Robles’ and Am’s research. The Electron Corporation. I don’t know what happened to that offer. The one Robles apparently went for was the LightYear offer.”
“I see. Anything else?”
“I just wondered if you had been approached by Electron…?”
“No, of course not.”
“OK, well, we’ll leave you to your lunch. You’ll be off to Maine soon, I imagine.”
“Yes, tomorrow in fact, if we can get away.”
She labored the last words as she stood. We followed her to the hall and she led the way across the hall toward the front door. As she reached it, I snapped my fingers and gave a small laugh. “My gloves!”
I turned on my heel and marched back. I heard her voice behind me, “Detective!”
As I reached the dining room, I grabbed the handle and pushed open the door. I could hear Meigh’s feet running behind me.
He was sitting with his back to me, eating what appeared to be a chocolate mousse. I glanced at Meigh and the distress on her face told me I was right. Behind her, moving as though in slow motion, was Dehan, both running toward me. I looked back into the room and said, “Hello, Agnes.”
Her hair was cut short and dyed very black. The clothes were a man’s clothes, jacket, shirt and tie, but the face was easily recognizable as Agnes Shine’s. She stood and turned to face me.
Dr. Meigh grabbed my arm in both her hands and pulled at me. Her face was twisted with all the emotion she had failed to show before. “You are not allowed in here!”
I spoke quietly, “It’s over, Dr. Meigh. You very nearly got away with it. But the game is up.”
“No!”
Agnes came around her chair and took Meigh in her arms. Meigh seemed to collapse, sobbing into her neck.
I turned to Dehan, whose mouth was slightly open. “You better call for a patrol car, and the Crime Scene team.” Then I turned to Agnes and Meigh. “Dr. Patricia Meigh, Dr. Agnes Shine, I am placing you both under arrest for the murders of Dr. Jose Robles and Americano Nielsen, and for the theft of intellectual property from University College New York.”
EPILOGUE
The weather outside was frightful, but the fire, where it was crackling in the hearth, was quite delightful. Big, fat flakes were falling past the window, shrouding everything in a blanket of frozen white, while a warm, wavering amber glow filled the room, and glinted off the large red, orange and yellow balls on the tree.
I sat on the sofa with my feet on Dehan’s lap and sipped a large glass of mulled wine, watching her face while she gazed at the flames.
“That has to have been t
he most confusing case we have ever had.”
I made a ‘hmm’ noise and nodded.
“How did you know that Agnes was there?”
I shrugged. “It was the simplest explanation. It all fell into place when Yeltsin mentioned the Electron Corporation. I’d had my doubts about Meigh from the start. She had shown no emotion whatsoever about Agnes’ disappearance. At first that seemed normal because we didn’t think they were very close. But then when it emerged that they were actually very close friends, her indifference made no sense at all, unless she knew Agnes was safe.”
She nodded. “Yeah, when you put it like that.”
“That was when I asked you to look into the births, deaths, marriages, et cetera relating to Meigh. You found out that she wasn’t married, and that she owned a house in Maine, where they were going for Christmas.”
“That’s why it surprised me when you asked if her husband wanted to join us. You knew she wasn’t married.”
“But that day we were checking on Robles’ research, I had seen her with a man, and they were behaving like a couple. I assumed at the time it was her husband. But then it began to dawn on me. Maybe it wasn’t her husband, but her lover. So while you were doing a background search on Meigh, I did a background search on Agnes, and found out that she really was a brilliant economist, and was on the boards of a number of corporations. When Yeltsin mentioned Electron, I recognized it as one of the corporations she was connected with.”
She snorted. “Son of a gun. So when Meigh realized the potential for the research Robles and Am were conducting, she suggested to Agnes that they should sell it to Electron.”
“Yup. Meigh knew that the real brains behind the research was Am, so she recruited him, and soon discovered he was able and willing to do more than just design batteries. And when LightYear came along and complicated matters by making Robles an offer, and Robles seemed determined to accept it and cut Am out, they decided he had to die.”
“So it was Am who killed Robles.”