The False Mirror

by Dana V. Moison

  “You’re right,” he chuckled with a self-deprecating smile. “One-nothing, in your favor.”

  “Interested in a chance for a tie?”

  Sharon waited for Will around the corner, across the boulevard, at a safe distance from the Tiffany & Co. flagship store. She used the spare time to set a meeting with Jacob at Rebecca’s house later that day. In the meantime, she refrained from reporting her (lack of) progress to Rob in finding the mystery buyer. So far, she had not acquired any new information. Not only that, if Rob had known she was using one of the potential suspects in Tracy’s death – even if he had a rock-solid alibi – to extract information that could be crucial to the case, he would have killed her and turned himself in with a clear conscience.

  Sharon assumed that the workers in the store weren’t too eager to share their sales history with a cop; but with a potential customer – especially one of New York’s most successful businessmen, with a million-dollar look and an even bigger bank account – she might have a chance.

  To her surprise, Will seemed to be excited about playing “cop for the day” and immediately agreed to help. She showed him a photo of the necklace and described the woman from the store with whom she had already spoken. She explained that the woman might get suspicious if she were asked about this matter twice in one day. It would be better to approach someone else.

  Will entered the store, certain that he had this mission covered. Sharon only hoped that the entrepreneur’s high success rate would prove itself this time as well.

  Twenty minutes later, she spotted Will leaving the store and heading her way, holding a turquoise bag in his hand.

  “I see that you used the opportunity for some shopping.”

  “I didn’t want anybody to get suspicious,” he gave her a wily smile.

  “Did you find out anything good?”

  “I’ll tell you everything – after we eat.”

  As the limousine headed north and the street numbers grew higher, so did Sharon’s uneasiness. First, she was still on the clock. Second, she was wearing jeans and sneakers, which did not exactly meet the dress code at any of the restaurants located uptown.

  After a few minutes, the driver stopped.

  “I have to warn you, I’m not really into fancy restaurants,” said Sharon.

  “Neither am I,” he assured her with a mysterious grin.

  “Hi, Will, the usual?”

  “Yeah, two please.”

  Sharon looked amused at the millionaire in the expensive suit holding a street hot dog. He handed it to her.

  “Sharon Davis, meet the best hot dog stand in the city,” declared Will.

  Sharon’s lips curled in an involuntary grin right before she bit into the warm bun. Will noticed and smiled as well.

  “So, what did you find out?” she asked. She didn’t really expect to hear much. Will might have been a charismatic man, but to the best of her knowledge, he was no Sherlock Holmes.

  “I better let you finish; I don’t want you to choke.”

  Sharon sent him a meaningful look and hurried to swallow the rest of her delicious hot dog, “Shoot.”

  “The name George Lisbon sound familiar?”

  “What?!” she blurted, dumbfounded. Will was right; if he had said that while she was eating, she would have choked.

  No, no. There had to be some kind of a misunderstanding. Maybe it was someone with a similar name. It couldn’t be . . .

  “We’re talking about George Lisbon, the deputy mayor of New York City?”

  “The same.”

  She blinked a few times. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  He told her how he had approached one of the sales representatives at the store, asking to see a necklace with a similar description to the one Sharon had showed him earlier. The man had presented several options, including Tracy’s necklace. When Will pretended to consider buying it, the vendor told him proudly that even the deputy mayor had bought this same necklace as a gift for his wife just a few weeks ago.

  Yeah right, only if his wife happens to be a call girl named Tracy Navarro. Or perhaps this was an early engagement present. . .?

  “I can’t believe this!” she exclaimed. “I have to start working on this right away. Tell Rob; calm him down when he panics after he hears that our new main suspect is none other than the deputy mayor; go through Tracy’s belongings and find the incriminating necklace; collect an official testimony from the sales rep at Tiffany’s – but who was it . . .?” At this point, Sharon was already talking to herself, completely forgetting Will’s existence.

  “Here are his details.” Will waved the salesman’s business card in front of her, trying to bring her back to reality.

  “How did you . . .?”

  “Apparently, as a wealthy single man who likes to treat his female companions with expensive jewelries, I’m the ideal client,” he grinned mischievously.

  “And it appears that you’re also the ideal bait,” smiled Sharon. “Thank you, Will.”

  “Anytime, Sharon. Just one more thing . . .”

  Sharon gave him an almost worried look.

  “You’ve got some mustard left right here . . .” He reached his finger and passed it slowly next to her lower lip.

  “You’re not going to try and kiss me now, are you?”

  “Don’t worry, Sharon. When I try to kiss you, you’ll know.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want a ride back to the police station?”

  “It’s on the other side of town; it would be faster to take the subway,” she declined the generous offer. Besides, she figured it would be safer if no one near the precinct saw her coming out of an eye-catching limousine in the middle of the day. Too many questions there.

  “Wait, you forgot something.” Will handed her the turquoise bag of the famous jewelry brand.

  Sharon glared at him, “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “It might just help you crack the case.”

  “Unless this bag contains a handwritten declaration from George Lisbon confessing Tracy’s murder, I doubt it.”

  “You won’t know unless you check for yourself what’s inside . . .”

  “Will, it’s really nice of you, but I can’t accept it.” She extended her hand, trying to return the bag.

  “So, let’s just say you’re not accepting it. Give it back to me after you’ve solved your case.” He rejected her gesture and went inside the black car, leaving her with no opportunity to protest.

  Unsure, Sharon looked at the small bag in her hand. She reached inside and extracted the robin’s-egg blue gift box.

  When she opened the box, she was surprised to find a golden necklace embellished with three beautiful diamonds, exactly like the one that had belonged to Tracy Navarro.

  CHAPTER 45

  September 21, 2013. Manhattan, New York

  Sharon was sitting at her office desk, exactly where she had buried her head in her hands just hours ago. This time, though, she wasn’t slouched in desperation; now she had a possible lead, and a rather good one.

  Her captain wasn’t thrilled, to say the least, to hear that a political figure such as the deputy mayor had a possible connection to the dead escort girl who was driving the media crazy even from beyond the grave. Nevertheless, he couldn’t deny the next course of action: they had to find this necklace. It might very well be the key evidence.

  Sharon was waiting impatiently, sipping lukewarm coffee and blandly glancing at some papers – she couldn’t concentrate anyhow. Her eyes kept wandering toward her cell phone as if her gaze could miraculously make it ring.

  After their conversation, Rob had sent two officers in the area to go over Tracy’s apartment again. According to her calculations, they were supposed to be done by now. The mere fact that she hadn’t heard from them yet wasn’t a good sign.

  In perfect sync with her gloomy thoughts, Rob came out of his office and signaled for her to come in. As she walked in, she noticed he was shaking
his head in disappointment.

  “Nothing?” she inquired.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So, what now?”

  “We need to think about it,” he said firmly. “This necklace was our ticket in – concrete evidence connecting Lisbon to Navarro – but now . . .” He shrugged.

  “Now, we have nothing besides a suspicious coincidence to hold on to,” she completed the sentence in a bitter tone. Damn it! Every time they thought they were taking a step closer, they were actually taking two steps back.

  “It’s too risky to approach Lisbon right now,” determined Rob. “We have to find something more solid.”

  “More rock solid than a Tiffany diamond?” she asked in a sarcastic tone.

  “So where is it, Davis?” he demanded, equally sardonic. “Where exactly did our rock-solid, twinkling, glittering evidence disappear to?

  “Disappear . . .” she mumbled to herself. “Disappear . . .” Sharon left the room and came back after a few minutes, holding a brown folder. She pulled out a few photos and spread them out on the desk.

  “Here’s a photo of Tracy from the crime scene,” she turned the photo toward Rob, “without the necklace.”

  “Yes, I know, Davis. Do I need to remind you I was there?”

  Sharon ignored the chiding tone and started scanning the rest of the photos. Her eyes stopped on one of them, and a satisfied smirk appeared on her face.

  “And here is the last photo Tracy posted to her Instagram profile, two hours before she was murdered.”

  The photo showed the beautiful Tracy, smiling and posing with two of her girlfriends; a gold necklace, decorated with three diamonds, rested around her neck.

  “Well, I be damned . . .” blurted Rob.

  “Looks like someone decided to make our evidence disappear in case we snooped around too much.”

  Lisbon’s defensive move is exactly what framed him, she noted to herself.

  “It’s possible that the necklace was stolen after Navarro had been murdered. After all, her body remained unattended for a few good hours in a dark alley in a shady part of town, and her purse had been emptied,” mentioned Rob.

  Sharon was convinced that this was just a diversion meant to explain the disappearance of the necklace; she was certain that Lisbon was the one who stood behind its absence from Tracy’s neck.

  “So, tell me, Captain, why would someone bother to steal one expensive piece of jewelry but not the other?” She pointed with her index finger at the gold bracelet around Tracy’s left ankle, now sealed in an evidence bag gathered from the crime scene and safely stored. “It’s not like her mini-dress hid her ankles.”

  Rob stared at the photo at length. “My god, Davis, you could be right.”

  A triumphant smile took over her face. She was already picturing herself casually entering the deputy mayor’s office, taking out a pair of handcuffs, and placing it on his desk with one look that said it all: We can do this the easy way or the hard way, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m just fine with the hard way.

  Rob’s voice interrupted her short fantasy, “Now we have to take our time and think this through. Wait and see where we go from here. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  What?!

  Patience wasn’t one of Sharon’s virtues. Impulsiveness, on the other hand, was probably ranked in the top three. She wanted to snap at Rob and implore him to let her act now, before it was too late, but a quick glance at the clock on the wall reminded her that she was supposed to meet Jacob in Brooklyn in one hour – which meant she was already late.

  Perhaps it would be better if she slept on it and try to come up with a logical course of action she could present to her captain in the morning – because, as much as she would have liked, it was too soon for handcuffs.

  CHAPTER 46

  September 21, 2013. Brooklyn, New York

  Sharon was a few steps from Rebecca Hershenberg’s house when she noticed a familiar, sulky face watching her from a gray sedan. Her hand involuntarily came up, adjusting the sunglasses on her face – her “Jackie O” glasses – making sure they were properly placed. She crossed the road.

  “Did you miss me?” she asked the man waiting inside the car. She tried to adopt the sassy attitude of “Katie”, the bounty hunter.

  Richie didn’t respond and took out his cell phone. “Boss? She’s here.”

  Sharon pushed the sunglasses closer to her eyes, as if to protect her identity, even though the speaker on the other side of the line couldn’t see her.

  Richie handed her the cell phone and inspected her with a cold stare. It was clear that he did not like her, or to be correct, Katie. She just prayed he didn’t recognize her.

  She pressed the cell phone close to her ear, “Do I need to get a restraining order against this not-so-secret admirer you sent over here?” She forced herself to send a teasing grin to Richie.

  “Where’s my money?” Helborgen ignored her attempt at bantering. She felt his slimy voice come through the speaker into her ear.

  Sharon had to think fast. She couldn’t give Ray the slightest doubt that she was successful in completing her mission. “Somewhere safe,” she answered.

  “Don’t play games with me, Couric.” His voice was steady and low, but the threat was evident.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get your money – after you give the girl her father back.”

  “What’s it to you? You can take your commission and walk away from this whole thing . . . Or is there another reason why you care so much?”

  He was starting to get suspicious and rightly so. She might take off her uniform and act like a bounty hunter, but no one could take away her cop’s soul.

  Try to think, what would Katie say?

  “Listen,” she said, “in my line of work, you’re only as good as your word. This money belongs to the grandma and her granddaughter, who hired me for this work, but they’re willing to exchange it for the kid’s father. I’m not going to give you the money and leave them with nothing.”

  Silence from the other side. Sharon hoped she sounded convincing enough.

  “Tonight. A swap. The grandma will get a package with a burner phone. The meeting point will be sent later today.”

  Sharon was surprised. It worked better than she thought. But she had to buy them more time; right now, they had nothing even remotely close to two million dollars.

  “Like I said, I moved the money to a safe location. I can’t just pull it out of my sleeve at your command.”

  “You’ve got till tomorrow night, or you won’t live to see the new dawn,” he growled and hung up.

  ***

  “Hey.”

  Jacob stood at the doorway, his broad body blocking the entrance. Sharon wasn’t sure how to behave. Should she kiss him hello on the cheek? Shake his hand?

  “Hi,” she replied, frozen in place.

  Jacob’s eyes focused on her for a few seconds until he realized he was preventing her from entering. He moved aside and opened the door wide, “Come in.”

  “Sharon!” Becky ran to her gave her a big hug.

  The detective was slightly surprised, but she happily reciprocated with a warm embrace. This girl really got into her heart.

  The three of them went into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

  “Any news?” inquired Jacob. He tried to maintain a light expression, but the crease between his eyes grew deeper.

  Is there ever a time he doesn’t look so serious?

  Sharon didn’t answer but signaled him with her eyes that yes, they should talk.

  “Sharon, how are you?” she suddenly heard Rebecca Hershenberg’s voice. “We’re making pasta, would you like to stay for dinner?”

  “That’s a great idea, Grandma!” called Becky. “Sharon, please join us.”

  Well, if she had to stay anyway and come up with a strategy for tomorrow night, she might as well do it on a full stomach.

  “I’d love to, thank you.”

  “Great,” R
ebecca smiled. “Becky, sweetie, would you mind helping me with a few things in the kitchen?” she asked her granddaughter and then turned her gaze to Sharon as if saying, The coast is clear.

  Sharon and Jacob remained seated on the couch.

  “Helborgen’s soldier was waiting for me outside the house,” she revealed.

  Jacob immediately rose from his seat and advanced toward the door, but Sharon stopped him. “He already left.”

  “Are you okay? What was he doing there?” He seemed worried.

  “I’m all right, but ‘Katie’ needs to report tomorrow night with two million dollars in cash for a trade-off for Max Webber’s life.”

  Jacob’s pupils flitted from side to side as if trying to seek a solution. “I’ll talk to some people at the FBI; they owe me a few favors over there. I’ll do my best to get the money by tomorrow night.”

  Sharon shook her head in disbelief. “We’ll never manage to get two million dollars on such short notice,” she concluded desperately.

  “That’s right,” agreed Jacob, “but we don’t need the entire two million, just enough to fool Helborgen.”

  Sharon raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if we don’t have what he wants, we’ll just have to make him think we do have it.”

  We’ll just have to make him think we do have it . . .

  That’s it! This was how she was going to catch George Lisbon. She might not have the necklace he had given Tracy, but he didn’t know it. In fact, she had an exact replica of the incriminating piece of jewelry, thanks to a certain William McKenzie.

  This was the first time she was truly thrilled about receiving a gift worth thousands of dollars from New York’s most eligible bachelor.

  Even if Lisbon eventually found out that it wasn’t the same necklace, she might be able to rattle him. And when people get nervous, they make mistakes.