Deadly Conception

by Patrick Blake

  “Lotta people at the funeral,” Cody noted.

  “Yeah. It’s not every day you see hundreds of Cuban-Americans, tattooed millennial hackers, food truckers, and Silicon Valley tech nerds hanging out together.” He sighed. “God, I fucking miss him already. Son of a gun. He was a goddamned good friend.”

  “I’m sorry, Gabriel. Really.”

  “Me too. Listen, I’m glad you’re here. I want your help on something. I wanna set up a memorial foundation for his family. It’s the least I can do. They’re going to need help.”

  “Really? Cool. Damn good of you. Um, can you afford it?”

  “I’ll find a way. I want you to start on it right away. I’ll stop at my apartment to get the files you’ll need before dropping you off. I gotta move fast, though. I have to get back to DC tonight.”

  “Shit, Gabriel. Don’t kill yourself. Get the files. I’ll drop you off at the airport and bring your car back to the city.”

  “Oh, so you’re sober now? Bump that.”

  “Gimme a break. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about my car.”

  “Aww, man. I thought you loved me.”

  “Yeah. Like a bad habit. Goddamned ambulance-chaser.”

  “Spin doctor.”

  “Shyster.”

  “Flack.”

  “Okay. Okay. You win. I don’t have time for this. Just try to keep it under 70. Please. I seriously do not need another friend in the ground.”

  Chapter 65 – Great Falls, VA

  Firuzeh drove quickly. “The director at Blue Pines Cemetery is waiting for us. He’s got Asrani in the prep room. You’ve got what you need, right?”

  “I’m all set,” said Raimy, just as his phone vibrated with an incoming message.

  “It’s Gabriel.”

  “What does he say?”

  “He’s on his way back to DC. Oh shit! He thinks New York cops are part of this. He’s got info about Kypreos. Wants us to double check it with Forbes. Says Maple is clean. He wants to go to him for help. Right away.”

  “Dammit! Okay. Here’s my phone. Send it to Warren.”

  By the time Raimy finished the couple arrived at the cemetery and were quickly greeted.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Patel. Thank you for being so prompt.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Grever. I really appreciate your cooperation. With all the commotion, I just forgot. I’m so sorry.”

  “No need to explain, Mrs. Patel. We have made all the arrangements as you asked."

  “May my associate and I get started? It’s late and I know you want to close for the day.”

  “Of course, Madam. Mr. Patel is in our maintenance center. You may walk outside and around to the left and you’ll see the building. Do you have the casket key?”

  “I do. Thank you, Mr. Grever. I’ll contact you when I am finished.”

  “Take your time, Mrs. Patel. I’m the only one here. You will have the privacy needed. Please make your peace with your husband. When you’re done, we will complete the burial.”

  Firuzeh and Raimy walked to the windowless maintenance center and entered, locking the door from the inside. They paused and looked at the casket of Asrani Patel, resting on a sturdy tabletop at the center of the room.

  While Raimy unpacked the cooler, Firuzeh used the casket key to unlock the gasketed casket. The key was little more than a fancy hex wrench and served no purpose to the surviving family other than to act as a memento. The practical purpose for the key is to easily open a so-called burping coffin that has been sealed to protect the body while allowing gas to escape.

  Raimy looked at Firuzeh. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Raimy started. “By the way, how did you get all this stuff so quickly?

  “I asked the funeral home that prepared Asrani. You’d be surprised at what a mortician has on hand. Oh my god. I can’t watch,” she said faintly. “Just let me know when it’s all done.”

  “Okay. It should take just a few minutes.”

  Firuzeh turned her back and retreated to a far corner of the room.

  Raimy quickly snipped Asrani’s thumbs and separately bagged the two digits in saline solution, placing them in the cooler.

  The eyes took longer.

  He used Wescott scissors to perform a limbal conjunctival peritomy for 360 degrees. Then he carried out a blunt dissection in the sub-Tenon's plane in each of the oblique quadrants. Isolating each rectus muscle using the muscle hook, he cut at the insertion to the eyeball.

  Next, he isolated and transected the oblique muscles. Now he could rotate the eyeball freely. He found the optic nerve and cut it with enucleation scissors. He removed the eyeball to a Baggie filled with Celsior preservation solution before placing it in the cooler.

  Raimy repeated the steps for the other eye. When he was done, he re-sealed the casket, and packed up his tools in the cooler. “I’m finished. It all went well. No problems. Let’s go.”

  Firuzeh turned. She had tears in her eyes as she followed Raimy out.

  It was a just after five o’clock. Saturday night traffic slowed their return trip to the mansion lodge, and the silence between the two passengers made the trip seem longer. It was nearly six o’clock when they arrived. Raimy stored the cooler in the kitchen refrigerator.

  Firuzeh stood in the great room staring out across her wooded property to the river.

  A hundred and thirty-two miles away, Nino crossed the Delaware Bridge, on pace to arrive at the Blue Pines Cemetery near sunset.

  Chapter 66 – New York City

  By the time Gabriel and Cody reached the Strathmore on 84th Street, traffic had picked up. The city was a wet from all the rain, but it was also coming alive with the bridge-and-tunnel crowd flowing in for Saturday night fun, crowding the streets and filling up the available parking.

  “Dammit. Cody, I’ll never find parking. Here’s my apartment key. I’ll sit tight with the car. I don’t need to get towed for double-parking. You go up and get Pablo’s file from my bottom right desk drawer. All his info is in it. That should be enough to get you started on the memorial fund.”

  “Okay, boss. I’m on it. Gimme your umbrella.”

  “Here. Take my raincoat, too. We’re about the same size.”

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  Cody stepped out of the Audi and into a deep puddle, soaking his shoes.

  “Shit.”

  Gabriel laughed, “You’re not going to melt or anything, are you?”

  “Eat shit. These are my best shoes.”

  Cody opened the umbrella and held it close to his head, shielding himself from the wind-driven rain as he headed to the building lobby doors and let himself in. He thought nothing of the well-dressed middle-aged man in the black trench coat who skirted in behind him.

  “Thanks, man. It’s coming down hard,” the man said to Cody’s back.

  Without turning around, Cody made a beeline for the elevators and stepped into the unoccupied car and tapped the 28th floor button.

  “You comin’?” he asked the other man who had just passed by the elevator.

  “No. Thanks. Gotta check the mail, first.”

  The doors closed. The man, a Boston Police detective named Dan Keeler, halted his fake walk to the apartment building mailboxes. He pivoted and watched the elevator’s floor designator until it stopped at 28. Keeler pressed the call button and waited.

  Cody let himself into Gabriel’s apartment, switched on the lights and hustled to his boss’ desk built under the bedroom loft. He quickly found the file, checked the contents to make certain it included what he needed. Satisfied, he closed the drawer and briefly admired Gabriel’s loft apartment.

  Nice place, he thought before turning off the lights.

  At the door, he turned the knob and pulled. That’s when it opened into him, hard and fast.

  Cody didn’t know it, but the force broke two fingers, shattered his wrist, and punched the air out of his chest. He twisted and fell f
ace down on the hardwood floor. He was out cold.

  Keeler stepped in, quickly shut the door, left the lights off for cover, and walked to the windows where he closed the blinds. No need for prying eyes, he thought.

  Looking around, the detective squinted in the darkness and found Gabriel’s exercise equipment and grabbed the Rogue Elite Surge 2.0 Speed Jump Rope. This will do just fine.

  He dragged the face-down body by the ankles up the short flight of steps to the bedroom loft, taking nasty pleasure as he heard the face of the knocked-out man slap against each wooded step.

  At the landing, he released the man’s legs and lashed one end of the jump rope to the safety railing overlooking the living space fifteen feet below.

  Keeler slipped the other end of the jump rope around his victim’s neck and tied a simple noose knot. Squatting, he lifted the man and, with a quick swivel, took a step to the railing and launched the body over.

  He heard a loud crack and then a slow creak.

  That ought to do it, he thought. He pulled an envelope from his jacket and took care of one last detail before wiping down everything he had touched as he worked his way downstairs.

  Despite his caution, he overlooked the indoor security camera hidden in a digital alarm clock atop Gabriel’s desk. It was the surveillance camera he used to keep tabs on his adventurous daughter, Iona.

  Keeler scanned the apartment one last time, made certain nothing looked unusual. Nothing except for the corpse gently swaying over the darkened living room.

  Pleased, the detective left, scurried down the stairwell to the city streets, and vanished.

  Moments later, the apartment unit air conditioning kicked in and the gentle puffs from the loft register nudged a newly placed envelope off the nightstand. It fluttered to the floor face down.

  Chapter 67

  Gabriel was getting impatient. It had been more than fifteen minutes since Cody left.

  He called, but there was no answer. He waited five more minutes and called again. Still no answer. He texted and waited.

  Nothing.

  After 30 minutes, Gabriel remembered his indoor security camera. He logged onto the device.

  Gabriel quickly saw the motion-detected entry of Cody going into his apartment. Then, moments later, he saw him at the door about to leave when someone else smashed through.

  “What the fuck!?!”

  Searching forward a few minutes, he saw someone leave.

  “Who is that!? Jesus Christ…oh shit, oh shit, oh fucking shit!” Gabriel screamed as it struck him that Cody hadn’t left the apartment…but someone else had.

  Gabriel jumped from his car, left the engine running and the door open. He ran to his building. Nearly hysterical, he slammed his palms against the glass door and screamed for the concierge to let him in.

  “Mr. Sweeney? Are you…”?

  “Call the fucking COPS. Call the fucking cops NOW, Bobby. Goddammit!” Gabriel yelled. He grabbed the young concierge and pulled him into the elevator.

  “Jesus, Mr. Sweeney. What the hell! Calm down. I’ve got 9-1-1 on the line,” Bobby blurted, handing his phone over.

  “Bobby, get your master key out. I think my friend is in trouble. Hello? Hello? Is this the police?”

  “This is 9-1-1. Please state the nature of your emergency.”

  “My name is Gabriel Sweeney. I think my friend, my lawyer, is in trouble. Send someone over. Please.”

  The elevator doors opened, and Gabriel shot out, pulling Bobby with him.

  “What is your address, Mr. Sweeney?”

  Breathless, Gabriel answered. “It’s 400…400 East 84th…the Strathmore…apartment 2855. Please hurry. Jesus!”

  The two men pulled up at Gabriel’s apartment. Bobby shoved the key in the door, unlocking it.

  “Cody…CODY!”

  Gabriel darted in. Bobby rushed in afterwards. They both stopped. Gabriel dropped the phone, “Oh God…oh my god…Cody. Goddammit, Cody! Bobby. Help me get him down.”

  Bobby picked up his phone and told the 9-1-1 operator to send an ambulance. “Hurry, some guy hung himself.”

  Chapter 68

  It took seven minutes for the city police to arrive, another twenty minutes before the ambulance showed up, and another ten before the investigating detective appeared.

  It was surreal. Gabriel and Bobby struggled to get Cody down. The two were ready to cut the nylon-coated jump rope cable but the police arrived, quickly announced the apartment as a crime scene, and instructed them to leave the body hanging.

  Gabriel and Bobby were questioned separately, and at length.

  Gabriel was too staggered to even think about cops and conspiracies. He explained what had happened. He showed the video captured on his smartphone. He pointed out where the camera was hidden and why he had it. When he was done, he forwarded the recording to them.

  “Mr. Sweeney. Thanks again for the video. Very useful. It’s a good thing you had the camera set for motion detection. Once again.... are you sure you didn’t recognize the man in the video?” Detective Ray Doremus asked.

  “I recognized Cody. The other guy? I couldn’t tell you.”

  He omitted his suspicions about Keeler and Paolucci. He wasn’t certain if it was either one of them in the video. Gabriel didn’t know it, but he was in shock. His mind was overwhelmed. His emotions, strained. His stomach, churned.

  Why the hell would they want to murder Cody? Nothing makes sense, he thought.

  By now, the medical team was cleared to bring Cody down, and, in a complete breach of procedure, they let Gabriel help. Bobby, the concierge, wanted nothing to do with it.

  Gabriel watched as they placed the attorney into a medical examiner’s body bag, secured him to a gurney, and rolled him out of his apartment to the morgue. It was too much for him.

  “Oh shit. Excuse me,” he stammered, and hurried to the kitchen and vomited into the sink…three times. When his stomach was empty, he walked over to the officers.

  “I need to change my clothes. Pack a bag. I can’t stay here for chrissake. Can I go upstairs?” he asked, pointing to barf splatter on his suit.

  “Yeah, sure thing, Mr. Sweeney. We’re almost done here. You okay?”

  “No…I’m not okay,” he answered and climbed the stairs to his loft.

  Gabriel stripped down, bagging his pants, jacket, and shirt for the dry cleaner. He washed his face and hands, dressed, and packed an overnight bag. Sitting on the edge of the bed, still dazed, he bent over to tie his shoe…and he saw it.

  “What’s this,” he mumbled and lifted the envelope. He read the note it contained.

  I did my best, but it wasn’t enough. I’m drowning in debt. I’m more valuable dead than alive. This is the right choice. Forgive me. Tell Iona I love her. Goodbye.

  “What in the hell…”, Gabriel whispered. “Cody wasn’t married…and didn’t have kids.”

  Then it finally dawned on Gabriel.

  They meant to kill me. Mistook Cody for me. These fuckers are not going to stop. Raimy could be next. Shit, maybe Firuzeh. Now they think I’m dead, too.

  He retrieved his handgun lockbox from his closet.

  Chapter 69

  Dan Keeler sat comfortably out of the rain at a nearby bar with a clear line of site to the front of the Strathmore and a freshly made Cosmopolitan. He texted Nino.

  In NYC. Sweeney’s done.

  But Keeler wasn’t done. Like many criminals, he relished the power of watching while a crime was discovered and the authorities investigated, knowing there was nothing anyone can do about it. But his ghoulish pleasure soured when he saw a man run wildly into the apartment building.

  Fuck. Was that Sweeney?

  Keeler kept his eyes on the building and sipped his fruity drink. He watched the police arrive in two waves. First a patrol unit with paramedics. Then an ambulance. Finally, the investigating detective. Keeler settled his bill and wandered over.

  “What’s going on?” he asked a patrolman. “Some old dude
have a heart attack screwing his mistress?”

  “Can’t say, sir. Please step back.”

  “Sorry, officer.” Keeler flashed his badge. “Occupational hazard.”

  The patrolman quickly changed his tone. “Boston PD, huh? Nah. No heart attack. Just a swinger.”

  “Who’s the stiff? Anyone famous?”

  “No idea.”

  Keeler nodded. Maybe that wasn’t Sweeney running into the building. Sure be nice if I didn’t ice the wrong guy, he thought.

  The pair started making small talk about the Yankee Red Sox rivalry. Minutes later, Cody’s fully draped corpse was rolled out and loaded into the ambulance. A throng of police walked out next. At the same time, traffic cops ticketed Sweeney’s double-parked car and then an axle-cradling tow truck lined up its metal yoke under the Audi.

  “Jeez,” Keeler said. “Your traffic boys are aggressive when it comes to towing. We’re not that fast in Boston.”

  “Don’t kid yourself,” the patrolman said. “Special case, that one. Car tripped the speed cams going over 140 on the Grand Central Parkway. Immediate impound. Probably arrest the driver when they find him. Or when he claims his car. Dumb fucker.”

  “Yeah.” They both shared a good laugh. Keeler thought, More like a dead fucker.

  From inside the building lobby, Gabriel saw his car getting towed and ran out yelling for them to stop.

  “Hey! Stop! That’s my car. I have to go to the airport. Stop!”

  But he was too late. The tow truck and his car were nearly out of sight. He glanced around for help…and spotted Keeler…laughing it up with a NY cop.

  Then Keeler spotted Gabriel and their eyes locked.

  Gabriel panicked…and ran.

  Chapter 70

  Gabriel dashed across busy First Avenue, darting in and out of the stop and go traffic. Tears mixed with rain as he burst into his favorite local wine bar, snaked his way past the Saturday crowd, making his way to the kitchen and out the back door. He turned briefly and saw Keeler shoving his way through the crowd.