“We’ll be talking to Utley tomorrow, to get his take on
things. He’s a pretty dark character, as well, right? He alibied
himself when we first interviewed him, but never mentioned
anything about a relationship with Jessica. Just like everyone we
talk to in this case, you have to pull everything out of them and
no one gets it right the first time.”
“Tyrell’s tough. He doesn’t rattle easily. Your sadistic
partner can have some fun with him. My money’s on Ty though.
Your guy is about to meet his match.”
“Then I’ll encourage him to get nasty, I promise you
that. But for now…” she reached under the covers and slid her
hand down his stomach, finding him erect.
He caught his breath sharply, and said, “You’re
insatiable.”
“I have a lot of lost fantasies to catch up on.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
6 :00 a.m. Karen and Will watch as the players saunter onto the practice field. “They look pretty ragged for a play-off team, eh?” “Will, at this hour of the morning who doesn’t look ragged? I can’t imagine being padded up and working through a day in this heat. It’s the middle of December and they say it’s going to hit the high eighties today. Well, at least they get to wear shorts.”
“Yeah, well, this isn’t about weather or what the players are wearing, hon. This is about finding a murderer.”
“Oh, thank you Sergeant Friday. I quite forgot. I so thought I was here to watch muscular men and get autographs. Why don’t you drink that coffee coolata and chill out some. It’ll be awhile before you can badger these guys.”
“Yeah, fine. You go to Dunkin’ Donuts and you don’t think to pick up a bagel or something to go with this stuff?”
“Geez! Anyone else would be grateful for the coffee.”
“Anyone, like maybe number thirteen out there?”
“It’s too early for this shit, Will. Back off.”
“Just remember that I’m lead on this case. I call the shots, and whether or not you agree, you live with them. You got that straight?”
“Where the hell did that come from? You’re just way too hung up on being lead detective here.”
“Yeah. And you just get way too fucking happy when that prick is around. It puts me off and makes me think maybe you’re enjoying this way too much. All tied up in knots over that murdering slime bucket, is what you are, lady.”
“All this because I didn’t bring you donuts?”
“Yeah, go ahead. Blow me off, but you know where the hell I’m coming from here.”
“Whatever. You’ve really become the quintessential asshole over this case.” And then, with the small hope of lightening the mood, she stuck her tongue out at him.
“Oh, look who’s headed our way, your buddy Coach Raymond. Did you give him the heads-up on our needing to visit with his boy Utley this morning?”
“Nah, he’ll find out quick enough. Shit, this case is more like watching one of them fucking reality shows. Sex, drugs and the favorite survivor wins.
“I’m as big a football fan as the next guy, but I got no stomach for the bullshit going on with this team. Bunch of overpaid prima donnas. Too much money, too much time on their hands and too many fuckheads willing to make it easy for ‘em. So long’s the owners are making money they’ll put up with anything these assholes got to give and cover up any messes they make along the way.”
As the coach approached, Will stopped ranting and switched gears without missing a beat. He smiled and reached out with a warm handshake.
Karen was so disgusted with Will’s second face that she turned her back on him for a moment and looked out at the players hoping to see #13. Her partner was imagining nothing, and she was pretty sure he knew it. She winced, realizing that she, too, had a second face, and a hidden agenda. She turned from the field and looked over at Will, hoping he hadn’t noticed to where her attention had wandered off.
“Coach! How’s it looking for the big game this week? You suppose those guys in Boston are sweating some after yesterday’s blow out against the Rockets? That was some sweet win.”
Never one to linger on a victory, Coach Raymond snapped at Will. “Every week’s a new game, every win is as good as the moment, and the team’s just gotta move on afterwards. I’m sure the Minutemen are chafing at their bits to get at us. That game’s gonna be a real motherfucker...” At that moment the Coach became aware of Karen’s stare and stopped himself. “Uh, sorry m’am. I guess I’ve been too long in the sun. You’ll have to excuse my language.”
Then back to Will, “You can be damn sure they ain’t gonna lay down and die for us like those pussies from New York did. Anyways, how’d you find your seats for the game? Most folks seem to like hanging out with the brass in the boxes.”
“Best I ever had. Forty-five yard line and free beer and food. That’s what I call living the good life!” Will gave him a big smile. “Thanks a lot, man.”
“Well, stop shaking up my staff some and the same ones’ll be open for you this week if you’re interested.”
“Sure! That’d be great.” He gave the coach a conspiratorial wink. “Purely for investigational purposes, you know.” Karen thought she was going to throw up.
“No problem. I’ll get ’em over to you sometime around mid-week. So, what brings you here so early in the morning anyway? I know you’re not planning to bother any of my boys, right?”
“Uh, well, as a matter of fact we’re gonna need to pull one of your players for some questioning. But we’ll keep it short. Don’t want to screw up our deal for the tickets, heh-heh.”
The coach’s smile was replaced by a hard glare. “Sands again?”
“No, not today, though we’re not finished with him by any stretch of the imagination.” He turned to his partner and said, “Right, Karen? She gave a somber nod.
“Well who then?” the coach asked. “I know you already spoke to Lundy, and one cop or another has pretty much spooked all the other players. Arnold’s still stinging from the slap you gave him after the game yesterday. Maybe you could put your time to better use somewhere else today.”
Will clamped his jaw shut for a minute. He took a deep breath and flashed a big crocodile smile at the coach. “How about you deal with football and leave the homicide investigation to us. So far we’ve tried not to step too far onto the playing field, if you get my drift. But if we have to, we’ll roust everybody associated with this team. Everybody. Fuck the box seats.”
The Coach squinted his eyes as though appraising the detective’s resolve. Finally, he shook his head and asked, “Who do you want?”
“I need Tyrell Utley.”
“U-Utley?” he sputtered. “What’s he go to do with this? Sands and him don’t even talk on the field unless they have to.”
“Look, Coach, this is police business. The more time passes, the less likely we’ll find Jessica Benson’s killer. That means that whenever and whoever we need to talk to we’re gonna do it. Now the quicker you get Utley over here, the quicker we’ll be outta here. Understand?”
Raymond made a show of clearing is throat, then turned and spat. “Doesn’t look like I have any say in this mess anyhow, does it. Gimme a minute and I’ll send him over to you.”
“Got some place we can talk to him, in private?”
The coach sighed and said, “Yeah, use my office. Utley’ll take you there. I don’t need you distracting the other players any more than you have to.”
Karen smiled. “Thanks, Coach.”
He grimaced at her and headed off toward the field.
Will turned to Karen. “Now aren’t you Miss Nicey Nice with the coach.” Karen arched an eyebrow and said, “Just trying to follow my lead’s example.”
The Coach’s office was a big step up from Luke Arnold’s cluttered box. It was impressively decorated in the team colors and was almost pathologically neat. Plush si
lver carpeting covered the floor wall-to-wall, with the team’s crimson logo woven in the center. Footprints showed everywhere on the freshly vacuumed carpet except on the grinning Demon. The papers and files on his teak desk were precisely stacked. It was set against a vast picture window that overlooked the field so that Raymond could take care of paperwork and not miss a minute of the action on the field. On the other side of the room, a complicated video set-up was housed in a black wall unit next to a teak conference table surrounded by a dozen black leatherupholstered chairs. A 72-inch flat screen monitor covered the wall.
Utley stared sullenly at the two detectives. He didn’t leave any doubt that he was a hostile witness. Will stood while Karen relaxed in the Coach’s chair. Utley sat across the desk from Karen.
“So, you never left your house that night after the guests were gone, huh?” Will asked.
“Look, I been through this with you before. Not everybody left. I had some sleepover guests. Dig?”
“Team members?”
“Huh. I don’t think so! It was a coupla lady friends of mine.”
“So you had a couple of females stay the night. What about Jessica. She ever stay the night with you?”
“What if she did? No laws I know against it.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” Will shouted. “Just answer the fucking questions!”
“Hey man. I could give a shit about that broad. We hooked up a few times. She was a real trick. She be doin’ everybody around this town some time or another. Hot piece, hear?
“This the Black man’s burden. Get a little cozy with a white woman and next thing you a murder suspect. Whitey gonna come right after you.
“Watch out, man, or I’ll slap a lawsuit on you, harassing innocent African-Americans. Next thing you be beatin’ on me to force a confession. I want my lawyer. I know my rights...”
“Settle down, dickweed. No one’s harassing you, but you got some questions to answer. We can do it with your attorney present, down at the station or we can take care of it here, without the media circus. It’s your call.”
“Hey man. Chill out. Sands was runnin’ around like a fuckin’ crazy man the night that chick was killed. Knocked some guy half unconscious for just dancing with his ho’ and then she gets beaten to death later on. So tell me again, boss, why you hassling me, huh? Don’t take rocket science to solve this one.”
Will leaned down, his face square with Utley’s. “Now listen real close to what I am saying here. We know all about Sands’ and the deceased’s problems that night. That’s not what I want from you. I want you only to answer what you’re asked. You can skip the descriptive dialogues. And in case you’ve forgotten, my question was about your relationship with Benson, not Sands’. Get it right or we take it down to the station, like I said.”
“Shit. Okay, okay. Sure, you right, Jessica and me spent some time together here and there. Meant nothing to me but a hot piece of ass. But she the type like to sink her hooks in and suck the life outta you, and I don’t mean that in a good way. She always wanting more of everything, more’n what I had for her, for sure. I got real tired of it, you know what I’m saying? So, I told her to stick with the white boy and lay offa me. But she greedy, want her chocolate and her vanilla, dig? She even threatened me she gonna tell Kyle I was making moves on her. Nasty bitch, yo? I told her to do what she wanted, s’long’s she did it away from me. The fact being, I told her if she didn’t back offa me, I be going to Sands myself. That was a while ago and she ain’t messed with me since.” He smiled defiantly at the two detectives.
“You had no relationship at all with her after that?” Will asked.
“We never had no relationship before that. I was just fuckin’ her, the way she liked it.”
Utley’s alibi was solid. He was a cock-sure son of a bitch, but two things were certain. He had no conscience and no fear of Kyle. He had nothing to gain by killing Jessica, except by Kyle taking the rap. Then the top spot on the Demons’ roster would open up. But it was fairly common knowledge that spot would be his sooner rather than later, so sabotaging Sands would be an unnecessary risk for the number two quarterback to take.
Will went back to chanting his Kyle Sands’ mantra on the drive back to the station. “The more people we talk to, the closer we move to arresting Sands for this. He had motive and means, Karen, and even the circumstantial evidence is mounting everyday. All I gotta find is one shred of something solid and he’s gonna find out what the inside of a cell on death row looks like. ”
“Get off it, Will. There are too many loose ends in this case. We have that creep Arnold sneaking around spying at everyone. Tells us jack till we corner him and then he’s a regular encyclopedia of sex and the team. And Feyzi Batan. We know he was involved with Benson but he blows us off when we come to him. Then he supposedly shoots himself after calling me panicked, saying I have to go right over there. Thing is, he pulls the trigger with his right hand when he’s a lefty. So someone else must have set him up. I guess you think Sands did that one as well. Batan, Arnold,” she ticked the names off with her finger as she spoke, “and DiAngelo? Where does she fit in here?”
She took a deep breath and continued, her volume escalating steadily. “And now Tom Grant says she flew home to Bumfuck, Idaho or Iowa because of a sick aunt or something. She not only fails to tell us about her little dalliance with Jessica, but fails to mention the parking lot fight between Arnold and her.”
“Whoa, hold on, Karen. Take a break here. You’re getting crazy on me.”
“Damn right I am. Oh yeah, and then there’s the good Dr. Fraga. He stinks, too. We’ve got a real hornets’ nest here. More leads and less substance, and you can’t get your head out of Kyle Sands’ ass!”
The discussion was interrupted by Karen’s cell phone. She blew out a frustrated breath and answered. She nodded as though the caller could see her, and uttered a few clipped “uh huhs,” and a quick “thanks,” she looked at her partner and said, “Now that’s good timing. We might just’ve caught a break here.”
“Who was it?”
“Frank Garcia. Seems the gun that killed Feyzi Batan was the one stolen from Fraga. And there’s more. They found a bruise on the back of his head that indicates he may have been unconscious when he ‘shot himself.’ I’m betting that’s going to tie Batan’s murder in with Benson’s.”
Will slowly nodded and then said, “Fraga…”
“Are we both on the same track here, thinking the same thing for a change, Will?”
“I’m thinking we just might be, partner. The good doctor could’ve staged the burglary and reported the gun gone to set up an alibi for Batan’s murder.”
“Feels good to be on the same page. I almost forgot what that felt like. What do you say we pay another visit to the doc?”
Karen nodded. “Lead the way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
G loria DiAngelo’s trip had nothing to do with love or family. She used the convenient death of a distant elderly cousin as an excuse to get out of Miami. There was too much pressure after Jessica’s murder, and she knew a lot more than she had let on. Her first meeting with the police left her nervous, uncomfortable, and more than a little scared.
She had been tempted to cut her losses by not going back to Florida, but she loved her job with the Demons and the fat paycheck that came with it. The closest thing to pro football back home was the Barnstormers, an arena team, and hell, the players didn’t even make any money there. Kurt Warner had to supplement his income by bagging groceries when he quarterbacked for them. It didn’t take a mathematician to figure out what kind of money the trainers made.
Then Coach Raymond had called her and she found herself on the wrong end of one of his dreaded tirades.
“I don’t care if you lost your goddamn mother. You never should’ve left here at all, much less without talkin’ to me a fuckin’ game out from the playoffs! I ought to cut my losses and can you. What the fuck were you thinking? I want my head trainer here, now!
I don’t got enough going on here with this Sands’ shit?”
She apologized over and over, and told lie after lie. “It was so sudden. I couldn’t reach you before I left, and when I got here my family needed me and, well, I just had to be with them...”
But Raymond wasn’t interested in her excuses and warned that he would fire her if she wasn’t back in one day. She knew he was good for his threats, and that he was a vindictive enough bastard to stop her from finding another job in any professional sport should she not meet his demands.
She promised to take the next flight back, and did just that. It probably wouldn’t have been long before the cops tracked her to Iowa anyway. So here she was, back at the scene of the crime, and knowing that it was a good bet the police would be visiting her sooner rather than later.
Karen sat at her desk staring at the phone. She had just finished talking to Kyle who told her Gloria DiAngelo was back in town and at the team complex. He’d seen her in the locker room and made small talk, thinking she might say something but couldn’t get her to discuss anything other than the upcoming game.
Gloria had withheld vital information, obviously recognizing how incriminating it was to her. But everyone involved in this case seemed to be holding on to dirty little secrets. The trainer had been having an affair with the murder victim, but the real question was, who hadn’t?
Then there was Karen’s own little sack of rocks. She was sure Will had no real sense of her deepening relationship with Kyle, but she was just as sure that he suspected more than he was letting on, and he hadn’t been shy about letting on plenty. He never missed a chance to jab her about the quarterback, so she felt like her back was exposed all the time.
Will walked into the squad room munching loudly on a sandwich. He was smiling for a change and handed Karen a brown bag.
“Corned beef is great today. Mmm. This is my second one. That one’s for you. With mustard on rye. Cream soda. Sound good?”
“This a peace offering?” she asked. “We’ve had some differences, but this ain’t the first time and probably not the last. Shit happens.”
The Mystery of Jessica Benson Page 15