Deadly Conception

by Patrick Blake

  It wasn’t the first time Gabriel had seen a dead body. His grandmother’s funeral. At the wakes of a couple of college friends who’d died from heart attacks. But he’d known they were dead when he saw them. This was different. This was…unexpected.

  “How did he die?”

  “It appears to be a heart attack,” Keeler volunteered. “He had no ID on him. No wallet. No phone. Nothing. How do you know him?”

  “A heart attack? Shit! He looked fine last night.”

  “Mr. Sweeney, how do you know him?”

  “Okay…okay. This is a lot to take in. Fuck.” Gabriel took a deep breath. “He’s my client. He’s the CEO of Pilgrim Trust Bank. We met...back in June, I think. I pitched him for some communications work. I run a PR firm.”

  Shaken, he took a sip from the bottled water and continued.

  “He has board meetings in Boston. Started yesterday…runs through today. That’s why I’m here. Jesus, we had dinner together last night. He seemed fine. Oh my God! Does the board even know? Holy shit!” Gabriel stood to leave.

  “Hold on, Mr. Sweeney. Please sit down,” Keeler directed. “Tell me about the dinner.”

  “We ate at Dowling’s, over by Boston Commons. He ate the salmon…and…shit…what was that appetizer called…?”

  “Mr. Sweeney, what time were you with Asrani Patel?” Keeler leaned in.

  “What? Oh, right. Who cares what we ate. Got it. Lemme see. I got there around 5 or so. I met my colleague first. Asrani…Mr. Patel…showed up about 20 minutes later…maybe 30.”

  “Why were you meeting?”

  “Huh? Oh. We needed to go over the presentation we’re making today at 11. Oh, Christ. Sorry. We were going to make later this morning.”

  “What happened? When did you see him last?”

  “Um…we had dinner, private room. Went over the presentation. We wrapped up things around 8 ish, I think. Asrani left on his own. That’s the last time I saw him.”

  “What did you do after that?”

  “My colleague and I, Pablo Souza, left about twenty minutes afterwards. We went over to Aesop’s for a couple of drinks. I went back to the hotel. I got your call this morning.”

  “You didn’t speak to him or see him since last night?”

  “No, not at all. Well…not quite. I texted him last night right after our meeting, and then again, this morning, after I got your call, letting Asrani…Mr. Patel…letting him know that I’d be late to the meeting.”

  “Okay, Mr. Sweeney. Thank you. That adds up.”

  “Whaddya mean?”

  “Mr. Patel didn’t have anything on him. Nothing. We don’t know if this was a robbery. But there are no signs of struggle, and thieves usually just take jewelry and cash. Did Mr. Patel have any of those things with him at dinner?”

  “I guess so. I didn’t see any ID. Nobody proofed him when we were drinking. He didn’t pay for dinner, so I never saw a wallet or anything like it. He did have an attaché case. Oh, and he had a mobile phone, too. It dropped on the floor. So, I saw it. He put it in his jacket pocket before he left. I don’t know about any watch or jewelry. I just didn’t notice.”

  “And he left with everything? He didn’t leave anything behind?”

  Gabriel looked over at the dead man. Cold. Still. Departed. He offered a silent prayer. When life gives you a song you better dance, because the song is going to end for everybody.

  “Mr. Sweeney?”

  Gabriel looked up at the detective. “No. He took everything. He kinda rushed out. Said he had a lot to prepare for the meetings today.”

  It never occurred to Gabriel that he still had the memory chip from Asrani’s phone in his pocket.

  “Mr. Sweeney, I’m very sorry to have caused you any alarm. We needed to identify this man as soon as possible.”

  Raimy cut in. “Gabriel, are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

  “No…no, thanks. What time is it? I’ve got to get over to the bank. Tell the board what happened. Mr. Patel was the head of one of the largest banks in the DC-area. Shit! He’s married. How do I tell his wife? Christ, I never met her.”

  “Mr. Sweeney, I think it’s best if I come with you to the bank.”

  “Yeah…yeah…probably right. Jesus! Thanks, detective.”

  As they left, Gabriel’s phone buzzed with an incoming text from Cody.

  You okay? Lemme know. My Boston lawyer friend is ready if needed. FYI, she says Dan Keeler has a sketchy reputation.

  Chapter 28

  It was just after 9 in the morning when Gabriel and Detective Keeler privately explained the situation to the bank board Chairman. Things moved fast after that.

  The remainder of the day’s meeting agenda was cancelled. The data security report – the lynchpin for the bank’s expansion – was put on hold. Gabriel, an expert in crisis communications, was tasked by the executive board to oversee the announcement of the CEO’s death, to reassure Pilgrim’s customers and Wall Street. He would run operations from the Boston office until close of business, and then to go to the McLean headquarters to continue.

  It was a long day for Gabriel, but by late afternoon he got a message to Pablo.

  Pablo, thanks for sticking around. I’m almost finished here at the bank. I need a drink. I’m tired. Meet me at the bar in a few. Thanks. By the way, I’ve got a funny story for you. See you soon.

  Chapter 29

  “Hey, Nino! Do you believe those turds?”

  “Not at all, Dan. You saw the text. Those two retards have it. I don’t know who they think they’re scamming.”

  Detectives Dan Keeler and Antonio “Nino” Paolucci were a pair of dirty cops. Often suspected, never indicted, frequently decorated. They ran illegal operations. Blackmailing street punks to do their dirty work in exchange for staying out of the criminal justice system. Bust a teen dope dealer, turn him to run drugs for you. Arrest a hooker, use her to seduce and video record powerful married men for blackmail. Find a desperate banker, gum up security for a heist and get a piece of the pie.

  “Fuckin’ amateurs.”

  Nino and Keeler thought nothing of turning on low-level hoodlums to advance their careers inside the department, and simultaneously providing cover and inside information for heavy-hitting organized crime bosses…for the right price.

  The pair huddled in the neglected, poorly lit squad room, slurping bad coffee and cramming the remnants of cold breakfast burritos into their mouths.

  Keeler kept talking, despite a mouthful of food. “I can’t believe Asrani did it. You would think a guy that high up would friggin’ know every file stored in his phone had a virtual trip wire. Jesus. As soon as those files were opened yesterday the alarms must have hit the top guns instantly.”

  Nino agreed. “No shit. They run a tight operation. No slips. No room for error. No witnesses. That fat fuck Kypreos and the punk-ass Southie snot learned the hard way.”

  “That’s for damn sure. These cocksuckers do not mess around. Man, Patel was wigging out. Cryin’ like a baby. Some bullshit about hacking and his burner phone getting stolen from his car. What a snowflake. His fucking phone was on him. Jeez. He musta thought we was idiots.”

  “What gets me is that Patel was smart. How did he figure he would get away with this?”

  Dan wiped cheesy goo from his mouth with the dirty sleeve of his polyester sport coat. “Greed. Ambition. Arrogance. That’s Patel. I guess he just got blinded by it all. Made him careless, stupid...”

  “…and his stupidity got him killed…and his two buddies are going down, too. I don’t know how they figure in all this. But we gotta get that fuckin’ chip first.”

  “Damn right.”

  “I tossed Souza’s hotel room, luggage, car. Nothing but a ton of electronic gadgets. I also checked the surveillance cameras and the X-ray machine logs when he cleared security at the precinct. No chip on him.”

  “I think Sweeney’s got it. I checked everything, too, with no luck. But Officer Gerardi walked Sweeney into the
station, bypassing the metal detectors and X-ray machines. The dumb-cluck thought he was helping me out by escorting Sweeney through.”

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Nino rubbed his temples. “Okay. Listen, they’re both checked in at the WyndMark now. I’ve got a guy there who owes me. We can tap their rooms. See what they’re up to. Maybe we can dose their drinks or something.”

  “I dunno. That didn’t work before. Your spinnah fucked that up.”

  “Watch your mouth. She did her job. Sweeney just dodged a bullet.”

  “Whatever. Let’s get eyes on these clowns. Use Gerardi. He can help your inside guy. There’s no guarantees here. But if this works, we can’t have two dead guys in one hotel. Too much of a coincidence.”

  “No shit. I got an idea. These bozos like to party. Boozin’ at nightclubs, right?”

  “So? Who doesn’t?”

  “So, it’s not safe to get drunk and wander around the streets at night. Especially for out-of-towners. Traffic can be dangerous, y’know?”

  They smiled at each other. Both men got up, gobbled the last of their fast-food breakfast, and went to work.

  Chapter 30

  Raimy finished reviewing the detailed toxicological reports for Asrani Patel. He saw the same mysterious chemical variance as he did with that kid, Liam Lohan. He was convinced he was on to something, but not certain what it was. He checked his watch.

  4:30. Arvind was gone by now.

  I’ll show this to him later…maybe. Or maybe not.

  Raimy couldn’t afford another round of administrative leave. He pushed Arvind too far last time and got sent home for two weeks. If he did it again, it could be worse. A couple weeks’ pay is tough enough, but he could lose his job, and his reputation.

  But what if I’m right? Quit? Get fired? Would I have time to get funding for research? It could take years before anything is discovered.

  Raimy didn’t have that kind of money, and he was about to have less. The divorce was going to cost a ton of money. Legal fees, child support, and alimony.

  Danged alimony. She frakking cheats and I have to pay alimony? This is one jacked-up legal system.

  “Goddammit!” Raimy cursed out loud and then tried to calm down.

  I need to be careful. Keep my job. I’d better not jump into this right now.

  Jump? Raimy flashed on his Jaws bridge leap, smiled, and texted Gabriel.

  Hey Gabriel, weird way to meet this morning, huh? You’re probably busy but if not then let’s catch up for a drink before you leave Boston. – Raimy

  Chapter 31 – Tuesday, August 7 (Boston)

  “Nino, are you sure about this? Bank robbery is one thing, but murder? I don’t know, man.”

  It had been about five weeks since Mason “Lefty” Glynn, the teenage tunnel-man, crawled out of the dirt with the last bag of loot in what had become the biggest bank heist in modern history. Now he was standing in a humid hotel kitchen working for minimum wage and the heavy-set detective who ran the bank job was blackmailing him.

  “You’ve got no choice, you little shit.” Nino sneered. “You saw what happened to LiLo, right? Just do what you’re fuckin’ told and you stay rich and out of the graveyard.”

  “Enough with the threats, Nino. I’ve kept my mouth shut, took this shitty hotel job, and I ain’t spendin’ none of the money. Jus’ like you fellas said. Keepin’ it real. No mouthin’ off, no big spendin’, nothin’. It sucks but I’m doin’ it.”

  “And you’ll do this, too. You’re a bus boy. Just add this to their drinks or food when you can,” Nino handed over two small vials. “You gotta lemme know if they took it. It ain’t traceable. Makes it look like a heart attack or a drug overdose if you boost it with some smack, like we had to do with your faggot buddy. Fuckin’ simple, you pussy.”

  Lefty took the tiny bottle from Nino. Lilo was right about you…fucker.

  “How am I supposed to make ‘em take this?”

  “You’re a bright kid. Figure it out. Just get it done, you little fuck wad. That’s your job.”

  “Dammit, Nino. I’ll figure somethin’ out. Shit. I’ll let you know. Jus’ get outta here.”

  “That’s it smart boy. Just don’t fuck it up.”

  Nino turned, used his meaty paw to snatch a club sandwich off a prep table, and lumbered out of the hotel kitchen into the rear parking lot, ready to wait.

  Mason shivered. A trickle of cold sweat creeped down his temple.

  Chapter 32

  “Johnnie Black. Double. On the rocks. Pablo, whaddaya drinkin’?”

  “Tequila Manhattan. Thanks.”

  The burly bartender raised an eyebrow. “Tequila Manhattan? I don’t get that order very often. Rail or something else?”

  “Don Julio Reposado, if you have it. Otherwise, any reposado tequila available. Let me know if you don’t have any,” Pablo warned.

  Gabriel smiled, “Listen to you, Mr. Tequila connoisseur.”

  “Blow me. It’s not often you see your dinner partner on a slab before breakfast the next day. Jesus, Gabriel. Gimme a break.”

  “I’m with you, man. By the way, I asked about Paige at the bank and guess what.”

  “What?”

  “There is no one named Paige at the Boston office, or any Pilgrim Trust office. Whaddya make of that?”

  “I dunno, man. This whole trip has been whack. I think somebody messed with my gear.”

  “What? Really?”

  “Yeah. When I picked it up at the hotel one of the double-throw latches wasn’t fully closed. The lock was intact. But someone tried to get in.”

  “Oh, c’mon. Your being paranoid. Oh, hey, I wanted to tell you something about today. It was actually kinda funny.”

  “What gives? I could use a laugh.”

  “Well, it’s not hah-hah funny. More like a coincidence, funny.”

  “Jesus, Gabriel, who are you today? Miriam Webster? Enough with the semantics. You’re not writing a book for chrissake.”

  “Okay, man. Sorry. But I have to ask. You know that ‘Miriam Webster’ is not a person, right? George and Charles Merriam bought the rights to Noah Webster’s dictionary after he died. You do know that’s where the name comes from, right?”

  “Bartender, how are those drinks coming? Professor know-it-all next to me doesn’t realize class is over,” Pablo mock pleaded.

  Sitting unseen at the back of the bar in plain clothes Officer Gerardi tapped out a message.

  They’re at the hotel bar. Just ordered. Looks like they’ll have a few.

  The pair sat in silence, trying to be interested in the bartender’s drink prep. But both men knew what the other was thinking. Death comes when it comes. Enjoy life while you have it.

  Gabriel spoke first.

  “Okay, so remember the medical examiner, you know, at the morgue earlier?”

  “How could I forget? Dr. Rainbow Bobbinpin. What a name.”

  “I know him. The doctor, Raimy Robinson, he and I met when I was in the Vineyard a few weeks ago. Crazy, huh?”

  “No shit. Wow. That is weird. What was that like.”

  “Really damned awkward. Anyway, he’s on his way here. He’s a good guy. You’ll like him.”

  “I hope he doesn’t take any of his work home with him,” Pablo quipped.

  The cocktails arrived…and so did a skinny hotel bus boy who busied himself clearing dirty glassware and replenishing ice.

  At the bar, Pablo raised his glass. “Salud, my friend. By the way, how’d it go for you today at the board meeting?”

  “Sláinte! It was weird, man. They were shocked. Just what you would imagine. But they acted fast. They had to. Appoint an acting-CEO, reassure Wall Street and the media, family condolences. It was surreal.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. No time for reflection. I was slammed all day. Prepping the new CEO and setting interviews with Bloomberg, Fox Business, The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, CNBC, Reuters, and Forbes.”

  “Damn! Busy boy!”


  Both men took healthy swigs of liquor and drifted into a reflective quiet. But their silent contemplation was quickly interrupted.

  “Gabriel? Hey man. Couldn’t wait for me, huh?” Raimy breezed up to the bar.

  “Raimy! Hey man, how are you? Thanks for coming across town. I was just telling my colleague, Pablo, about our bizarre meeting this morning.”

  “Hey Pablo, nice to meet you…again.”

  “And you, Doc. Whaddaya havin’?”

  “Sidecar, please.”

  Pablo ordered the cognac-based drink, and another round for Gabriel and himself.

  The skinny bus boy moved toward the drink prep area, handed the bartender a twenty-dollar bill and asked him to break it into small bills from the cash register leaving him alone with the drinks for a little more than ten seconds. No one saw him pull out a small vial.

  Across the bar, Raimy took on a somber tone. “Listen, you two, I’m really sorry for your loss.”

  “Raimy, relax. Pablo and I barely knew the guy. He’s a new client. We had dinner with him last night. It was just all so strange, and unexpected.”

  The drinks arrived.

  “Gotcha. Look, Gabriel, can we talk, privately?”

  Pablo took the hint, “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back in five.”

  “Thanks, Pablo. Okay, Raimy, what’s up? You look serious.”

  “This is going to sound weird so hear me out.”

  “Go ahead, man.”

  “Remember the bridge jump a few weeks ago?”

  “Of course. You made your first jump, which was actually an impressive hand-spring flip.”

  “Right. Do you remember before that? We were talking with a teenager with a bunch of tattoos.”

  “Yeah. I think so. He had a really fresh one, right. Looked like a headless horseman, or something?”

  “Exactly. Well, he ended up in my lab a couple of weeks ago. Drug overdose. Heroin specifically.”

  “Damn. That sucks. I gotta tell Iona. Shit.”

  “Yeah. And I gotta tell my kids, too. But hang on. So that kid came into the lab overnight. My night shift ME did the autopsy. When I came in, I had to check over his work. Which I did. And I discovered something very unusual.”