Deadly Conception

by Patrick Blake

  “Christ. My head is on fire.”

  “Poor baby. Half a bottle of wine, a lethal drug cocktail, and a gunfight. I’ll have to remember what a lightweight you are,” Firuzeh teased.

  Raimy laughed. “Yeah. That’s me. Cheap date.”

  Without warning, the room door bumped open. Raimy and Firuzeh jumped, startled.

  “Hey. Where do you want the painting? And what’s with the cooler?” Gabriel asked, loudly banging into the hotel suite.

  “Criminy, man. You scared the crap outta me” Raimy said.

  “You sure did. Thank you, Gabriel, for getting it. Put the cooler in the fridge. The painting on the table. I’m off to the shower,” she said, and walked to the bathroom.

  Gabriel squatted near the small refrigerator, tucking the cooler inside when he heard Firuzeh scream out, “Oh my God, is this all from me?”

  Gabriel smiled to himself before answering. “No. Just the mess in the tub is you. Raimy took care of everything else. Oh, and all that red stuff is not blood. Apparently, you two had some red wine.”

  “Oh…right…okay…that’s good news…I guess. Better order some more towels. I’ll be awhile.”

  The bathroom door clicked shut.

  Raimy was puzzled. “Towels? Blood? What’s the deal?”

  “Dude? Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh my God. That’s right. You induced vomiting. That was smart.”

  “Yeah…well, that’s what you told me to do. Your throat probably hurts from hurling…and possible smoke inhalation from the house fire.”

  “Jesus!”

  “Raimy, what do you remember?”

  Raimy got up, shuffled across the room, and opened a bottle of water. He explained the excursion to the cemetery.

  “Okay…so that’s why the cooler is so important. What else?”

  Raimy laid out everything he could remember.

  “What the hell? This is all connected to research? The Martian heroin is supposed to be a fertility cure? There are too many lives at stake?”

  “That’s what he said. After that it’s a blur. I heard shooting. You got us out. Something about artwork. Lots of throwing up. And…did I dream this? Did Firuzeh execute two people?”

  “I wouldn’t call it execution. Both of those shitbags were dying. She whispered something to Paolucci and then stood over him and shot him…twice. She said it was revenge. Then she whispered something to Forbes, stood over him, and shot him several times.”

  “Lord!”

  “Yeah. That’s quite a woman you’re with.”

  Raimy smiled. “I’m kinda turned on. Is that weird?”

  “No…it’s not…unless she’s pointing the gun at you. Now put on some pants, I’ve got more information.”

  Gabriel filled in some blanks about the night …and then told his friend about Cody’s murder-by-hanging and Keeler getting run over in the street.

  “Oh my God, Gabriel. I’m so sorry about your friend.”

  “Keeler thought it was me. He made a mistake. It should have been me…and now Cody’s dead, along with Pablo. Goddammit!”

  “Gabriel, you didn’t do this. Take it easy.”

  “I know that. But they’re still dead. I don’t blame Firuzeh one bit for shooting Forbes and Paolucci. In fact, I’m glad Keeler go his. Revenge feels good right now.”

  “I hear you.” Raimy gripped Gabriel’s shoulder.

  “Thanks, buddy. Oh, and Raimy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Take a long, hot shower. You smell like ass.”

  Chapter 84 – Great Falls, VA

  Deputy Chief Dan Ashe led the Fairfax County Fire Marshal’s Office and routinely determined fire causes to classify criminal investigations or insurance claims. He dialed the number for the police investigator on the case and looked over the preliminary fire incident report while the line rang.

  On August 11th, investigators arrived at 8922 Fallon Road at 2344 hours. Evidence revealed the fire was started by the distribution of multiple open flames (candles) that ignited household textiles (curtains, bedsheets, carpeting) and quickly spread throughout the residence.

  Chief Ashe initially suspected insurance fraud since mansions rarely burned to the ground, unless a bankrupt one-percenter needed the payoff. But as he read on it became clear this was going to be a major criminal investigation.

  Two unidentified adult male remains were discovered on the ground floor. Firearms were observed near each victim. Fairfax County Police was notified and dispatched Detective Joon Park from the Major Crimes Division.

  “Detective Park. Who’s calling?”

  “Hi Detective. It’s Dan Ashe from Fairfax Fire Marshal’s Office. I’m calling about the house burn on Fallon Road.”

  “Yeah. What a mess.”

  “Have you been able to identify the two victims?”

  “Yeah. They were both pretty well-charred, but we know who they are. It’s not official yet so keep this to yourself.”

  “Of course.”

  “Victim #1 is Earl Warren Forbes. Victim #2 is Antonio S. Paolucci. Both men were shot multiple times. We’re running ballistics but it’s pretty clear they shot each other. We’ve got the guns and we’re matching things up. Forbes was also crushed by a huge chandelier that fell from the ceiling. I’m not sure how that happened yet. But we’re looking into it. The other guy, Paolucci, he was shot in the neck and twice in the head.”

  “Christ!”

  “Yeah. For real. Now get this. Paolucci’s a Boston police detective. I’d love to know why he was in Virginia. The other guy? He was some security dude for Pilgrim Trust Bank, they’re based in McLean, but he used to be a Boston police superintendent. Pretty high ranking. We’re running it all down, but I’ve got a gut feeling these guys knew each other.”

  “What the hell? Have the owners been found?”

  “Yes, and no.”

  “Whaddaya mean, Detective?”

  “The house that burned down? It’s owned by the Pilgrim Trust Bank’s CEO. Dude named Asrani Patel.”

  “Really? Shit. My report says this Patel guy and his wife own the place but that they weren’t there.”

  “That’s right. I did some checking…and guess what? Patel died in Boston a week ago, and Paolucci was the investigating detective.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch!”

  “Yeah…and Mr. Patel was buried over in Sterling yesterday.”

  “This just gets better and better. Where’s the wife?”

  “We haven’t reached her yet. Phone just rings to voicemail.”

  “That’s strange.”

  “Who knows. They’re effing loaded. Maybe she split town after burying her husband. Big house. No kids. Dead husband. Maybe it creeped her out. Whatever. Good thing she wasn’t there.”

  “Good point.”

  “Now check this out. We found burned canvas remnants on Paoloucci. Like burned up paintings. They seem to match up to some really expensive art from the house. We found a bunch of charred frames on the floor with clear cut marks where the pictures were sliced out.”

  “He was robbing the place?”

  “Looks like it. I’m working up a theory.”

  “Yeah? Whaddya got?”

  “Rich banker guy dies in Boston. Greedy cop on the case sees an opportunity to rip off the dude’s house and then burn it down to conceal the robbery. But rich banker dude’s security man is keeping tabs on the house, inadvertently interrupts the dirty cop, they shoot it out, killing each other. House burns to the ground.”

  “God damn!”

  “Yeah. Sounds good. Mostly. I’ve still got some questions. The shootout is tough to believe but even stranger is the Boston PD connection. That can’t just be a coincidence. We’ll see. Let me know if you get in touch with the widow. I wanna talk to her.”

  “You got it. Thanks, detective.”

  “Pleasure. Remember, keep this to yourself.”

  “10-4.”

  Chapter 85 – Tysons Corner, VA

&
nbsp; The hotel room was a mess. Damp, dirty towels piled in the bathroom, sheets and blankets twisted across the bed, and breakfast dishes scattered throughout the junior-sized living room. Firuzeh cleared unanswered messages on her phone. Raimy and Gabriel packed up.

  “Okay, gentlemen. I’m going to the Cayman Islands. Today. I want to get access to Asrani’s account or his safety deposit box. Anything to help me get more answers. Based on what those bastards told us last night there’s more I want to know. You can come with me or not. But I’m going.”

  “I’m in. I owe it to Pablo and Cody,” affirmed Gabriel.

  “Me, too. Those sons-of-buffaloes tried to kill me…us. In for a penny and all that,” Raimy added.

  “Good. Thank you, boys.”

  “Firuzeh, do you have your passport? I have mine. I travel a lot…sometimes on a moment’s notice so I always take it with me,” Gabriel said.

  “Dammit. No. I left the house with only the clothes on my back. I don’t have it. Raimy? Do you have yours?”

  “Yeah. I do. When I got kicked out of my house, I grabbed it along with other ID and important documents.”

  “Christ! I’m screwed. Shit, I need to go back to my home. The house is probably just a pile of smoking ash by now. But the passport’s in a firebox. Maybe it’s safe?”

  “Perhaps. But the authorities probably won’t let you poke around to find it. I’ve worked some arson fires…with dead bodies…it’s a crime scene. Cops don’t let anybody in. Firefighters keep folks away, too, for safety,” Raimy said.

  “Firuzeh, you have to contact the fire department. Or maybe the cops. Jesus. There’re a couple dead bodies there. We were all there. Shit. It’s undoubtedly a crime scene. Cops could be looking for us right now. Lemme think this through,” Gabriel said.

  “They’ve been calling me all morning. Raimy, what do I tell them?”

  “Dang. I don’t know how to work this.” Raimy sagged into the sofa. “Gabriel? Any ideas?”

  “Okay. I got a plan. Firuzeh, just play innocent. You’re shocked and distraught. You just buried your husband. You were never there. You couldn’t bear to sleep in the home you shared with your husband. You needed time alone. You stayed at a hotel. You didn’t know anything about a fire, or the two dead bodies, until they called you. You have no idea who was there or why.”

  “Okay. I can make that work. What if they’ve identified Forbes?” she asked.

  “Admit you know him…but not Paolucci. Just play dumb. If they ask about Forbes just tell them you have no idea why he would be there. He didn’t have a key…that you know of. He was chief of security. Maybe he had access. You just don’t know. Your husband took care of all that stuff.”

  “Right. So, the little woman is too busy shopping and baking cookies to know anything. Is that it?”

  Gabriel grinned. “Correct. It’s a stretch for you, I know.”

  “What about the passport?” she asked.

  “We got one shot. We gotta get past the yellow tape. Here’s your story. Your house just burned down. Tell them you have nothing…you need to get clothes, insurance papers, mementos, jewelry, whatever. You’ll need to show emotion, cry, and all that. Just fake it! I’m sure you can get past them.”

  “Gabriel, it is my home that burned down. I won’t need to fake it. God, you’re such an ass sometimes.” Firuzeh glared.

  Raimy squirmed.

  “Firuzeh, damn, I’m sorry,” Gabriel said. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to be so…insensitive…I’m angry and tired. That’s not an excuse. I’m in crisis mode. I get objective in a crisis. It’s how I work. Christ, it’s my business. But I do apologize…for my tone…but not my advice.”

  The two stared at each other…a long stare. She saw that he was sorry…and angry. Her scowl softened.

  “Okay, Gabriel. I accept your apology…and your advice. You are an ass, though, sometimes. But you also saved my ass. I’m on edge, too. They killed my husband…and I got some revenge last night. I’m not ashamed of what I did…but I’m not proud of it either. They tried to kill all of us. We’re in this together…it’s a foxhole…and you two are in it with me.”

  No one said anything. There was nothing to say…almost.

  Raimy started mock singing, “Kumbaya my Lord, kumbaya.”

  “You’re a dick, Raimy.” Gabriel threw a soggy towel at him.

  “Yes. I agree.” Firuzeh smiled.

  “She’s a killer. You’re an ass. And I’m a dick. Killer Ass Dick. That’s a good name for a band. Do you want to start a rock n’ roll trio…or can we get to work? I vote for the Caymans. Firuzeh, call the fire department. I’ll start loading the car,” said Raimy.

  “Gabriel, go check out,” she said, and looked around at the mess in the hotel suite. “And make sure to leave a huge tip for housekeeping. I’ll meet you all out front.” We’re going to the scene of a crime where I killed a cop and an ex-cop. This better work.

  Chapter 86 – Great Falls, VA

  “Lady…hey, lady! Get outta there.”

  Firefighter Mike Boyle carefully stepped through the burned debris, making his way to the slender woman clumsily picking her way around the rubble.

  “Lady…you can’t be here. This is a crime scene. You gotta leave. It’s dangerous here.”

  Firuzeh looked up at the burly firefighter, his face was crusted with soot and sweat.

  “It’s all gone.” Her face was puffy, red, and streaked with tears.

  “Lady…c’mon. This is unsafe. Lemme get you outta here.”

  “This was my home…it’s all gone,” she said, and held up a scorched picture frame containing a blistered photo of Asrani and her on their wedding day. “My husband…and now my home. Just gone.”

  “Jeez, lady. This was your home? I’m so…”

  He never finished his sentence. Firuzeh collapsed to her knees, sobbing, and then wilted onto the soggy, charred timbers.

  “Aww…shit!” Boyle slung his fire hook over his shoulder, picked up the distraught woman, and carried her to the burned-out building’s driveway where police, fire, and the coroner’s vehicles were parked.

  “Hey Chief. Gimme a hand. I think I got the owner. I found her picking through the ashes,” he called out as he wrapped a blanket around Firuzeh who was weeping uncontrollably.

  During the next 15 minutes several firefighters and police investigators gently soothed Firuzeh, who never let go of the picture frame. Finally, Detective Park was able to interview her. And then she spoke with Chief Ashe, who called his team in with new orders.

  “Awright fellas. This lady’s husband just died…and now her house is gone. She’s got nuthin’ but the clothes on her back. Now we’re gonna help her find some stuff. I checked with Detective Park and he gave the okey-dokey. Here’s the list. Now get to it.”

  Like bloodhounds, more than half a dozen Fairfax County firefighters combed through the seared wreckage. They systematically and expertly hunted for a jewelry box from her powder room, a firebox from the den, her purse in the kitchen, and photo album from the living room.

  Within minutes, a shout of “Got it!” broke the silence. Firefighter Clark Patrick eagerly jogged over to Firuzeh, who was sitting on the rear step of a fire engine. The firefighter dropped to one knee and presented the firebox to her.

  “Is this it?”

  It was. She hugged him, and he blushed before returning to the hunt.

  One by one, they recovered everything, and seemed as happy about it as did Firuzeh. Almost everything was damp, dirty with soot, and a little burned – but salvageable. The photo album was a near total loss, just a few photos survived.

  “It’s better than nothing,” she told Firefighter Ken Keenan, and hugged him just as tightly and gratefully as the others.

  When they were done, she thanked them all, making certain to remember their names.

  Damn good men.

  Firuzeh carried her things and walked down the driveway to her car where Raimy and Gabriel waited.

&nb
sp; “Sorry to keep you waiting. It took a while to find what I needed.” She handed everything off to Raimy and took the driver’s seat, holding back tears. “I need to drive.”

  “You okay?” asked Raimy.

  “No…yes…just leave it alone. I’ve got my passport.” She wiped her eyes and drove.

  “Well, you’re not in handcuffs…so it worked,” Gabriel said.

  “Yeah. For now.”

  Chapter 87 – Culpeper, VA

  “Hey, the airport’s the other way. Where the hell are you going?” Gabriel asked.

  “Culpeper Regional Airport. It’s just a few minutes up the road,” Firuzeh said. “I chartered a flight.”

  “Why?”

  “Commercial flights to the Cayman Islands are infrequent. We need to get in and get out on our own schedule. Plus, there’s no passenger manifest.”

  “Okay. We need to hurry. That makes sense,” Raimy agreed. “But what’s the deal about the passenger manifest?”

  “We don’t need anyone knowing we flew in and out of the Caymans. God knows who else is after us. This helps minimize suspicion, and exposure.”

  “Ahhh…got it.”

  Firuzeh pulled into the airport, drove to a security gate, and was passed through to the airfield. She zipped by two hangars, pulled into the third, eased along the left side of the huge shelter, and parked at the back.

  “Okay, gents, let’s go. Our plane is the white one with the yellow stripe.”

  “A gosh danged Learjet?” Raimy turned, saw the sleek jet, and smiled so wide he nearly swallowed his ears.

  They boarded, sat down in the plush leather chairs, and belted in.

  “We arrive in a little more than three hours. We’ve got a lot to do before the bank closes for the day. It’s going to be tight…if it even works,” she said.

  No one smiled.

  Chapter 88

  The Learjet 70 taxied quickly from the airport hangar to the runway and immediately took off. Within minutes the jet accelerated to its three-quarter Mach cruising airspeed and leveled off at 45,000 feet. The pilot announced clear skies, smooth flying, and gave the green light for passengers to move about the cabin freely.