The False Mirror

by Dana V. Moison

  “You’re a genius!” she proclaimed.

  Jacob stared at her with an unsure expression, which rather quickly turned into a coy smile. “Why do I have the feeling I missed something?”

  CHAPTER 47

  September 21, 2013. En route to Manhattan, New York

  Sharon was on her way back home. The subway just arrived at Manhattan Bridge, and the dense darkness that dominated beneath the earth was replaced with one of New York’s most spectacular views – at the price of a single ride.

  Sharon absorbed with her gaze every detail in the stunning view reflected from the window: the Brooklyn Bridge standing proudly over the East River; the great skyscrapers shaping the metropolis’s signature skyline; the marvelous city lights twinkling across the water. For a moment, she forgot about everything, the murder cases she had to solve and the people she had to save. She ceased being a cop and became yet another tired traveler coming home after a long, hard day of work.

  It didn’t last long. Soon enough, these same thoughts returned and penetrated her cranium. The fears of meeting with Ray, the desire to capture Lisbon, even the current situation with Jacob bothered her. She decided to put her contemplations aside for now and refocus on the view before it dissolved into the underground darkness.

  The right pocket on her jacket vibrated, and she slipped her hand inside. The burner phone Helborgen had sent her rested peacefully and probably wouldn’t trouble her until tomorrow. She pulled out her cell phone and noticed a text message from Chris: I’m on my way. She replied quickly before the train could be swallowed under the city, and she would lose reception. With their unusual schedules, it was hard to coordinate and find the time to see each other. The fact that Chris lived uptown, whereas Sharon was on the opposite side of the city, did not make it any easier.

  Everything would be so much easier if we just lived together.

  Sharon felt her heart skip a beat. She looked around to see if any of the other passengers noticed the overwhelming change she had just experienced. An excited smile crept to her lips.

  This was the first time she thought about moving in with Chris without immediately dismissing the idea.

  Could he be the one?

  She felt impatient, waiting to get home, longing to see Chris. She didn’t plan on telling him anything, but she sure hoped that what she was feeling inside would still be there the next morning.

  CHAPTER 48

  September 22, 2013. Manhattan, New York

  “I need you to arrange a meeting with Lisbon.”

  Captain Jackie turned his head slowly from the computer screen toward Sharon. “And what exactly are you going to ask him?”

  “I’ll ask him how he’s doing, what’s new, about the nice weather . . . Oh, and also, how the diamond necklace he bought for his wife ended up on the neck of a dead call girl,” she called out reproachfully.

  “And he’ll ask you what necklace you’re talking about.” Her captain sent her a sharp look that made it clear that as far as he was concerned, nothing had changed since yesterday. They were still lacking the smoking gun to prove Lisbon’s involvement in the case.

  “You mean this one?” She waved a transparent evidence bag containing a diamond-studded gold necklace in front of his face.

  Rob's eyes widened as he studied the piece of jewelry. He raised his head and looked at her in awe. “What the . . .? How . . .? Where did you find that?”

  “At Tiffany’s,” Sharon declared in a sassy voice. “But if I fooled you, I’m sure Lisbon will take the bait. He knows damn well that the NYPD prefers to invest its resources in other areas.”

  Rob flashed a pleased grin: they might have a chance to get something out of Lisbon after all. “Say, are you always carrying expensive jewelry in your pocket?”

  “Actually, in my desk drawer.”

  “Your desk drawer?!” he exclaimed. “You couldn’t think of a slightly safer place to store thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry?”

  “Safer than a police station?” she grinned.

  Rob chuckled and shrugged meekly, but then his eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute,” he said suspiciously, “how exactly could you afford this? I know how much we pay you, and it’s not nearly enough.”

  “Let’s just say I got it from someone who has a great interest in seeing us solve this case,” she said mysteriously.

  “So great that they bought you a diamond necklace as a gift?” Rob arched an eyebrow.

  “It wasn’t a gift, and it wasn’t for me,” stressed Sharon. “That’s exactly what we needed to move on to the next step. This necklace will go back to the store the moment we get Lisbon,” she declared. “And we will get him.”

  “Whatever you say, Davis. I just hope for their sake they kept the receipt.”

  ***

  A couple hours later, Sharon entered the impressive City Hall building and marched toward the elevators. A few minutes separated the present and her confrontation with the deputy mayor. She was surprised at his inclination to meet with her – she expected that, as a high-powered politician, he would try to pull some strings and delay the whole thing. But Lisbon had done the opposite and set the meeting even earlier than proposed.

  What is he trying to get by doing this?

  The chamber secretary welcomed her in and directed her to the last door at the end of the hall.

  “Hello, Miss Davis, I’m so glad we finally get to meet in person.” George Lisbon smiled warmly at her as she arrived at his office, and he walked over to shake her hand.

  Sharon examined him closely. His impressive height added to the aura of power and awe radiating from him. His silver hair made him seem noble, majestic even. His bright eyes, full of wisdom and experience, gave her a piercing stare. It was a somewhat surreal experience to meet the famous politician face-to-face, without the convenient detachment provided by a television screen.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Sir.” She smiled back at him and reciprocated with a firm handshake. Sharon inspected his pleasant features and wondered if this likeable person might actually be a cold-blooded killer.

  “Maybe I’ll succeed where Charlie failed.” He spoke to her like an old acquaintance. “I told him about our meeting,” he revealed. “I promised I would try to convince you to restore our lost honor and become the new spokesperson for the NYPD.”

  Charlie, eh? Hearing the deputy mayor calling the tough commissioner Charles Pearson by a nickname made her feel strange and rattled her confidence. She might have reached some impressive accomplishments in her career, but she still wasn’t on a first-name basis with the commissioner. On the other hand, Lisbon had close ties with the NYPD leadership, and he made sure to let her know it in his subtle and refined way.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not ready to give up the glamour of working as a homicide detective just yet . . .” she replied with half a smile.

  Lisbon chortled and sat behind his magnificent mahogany desk. “Your witty answer only makes it clearer that you are the perfect person for the job . . .” He gave her an intrigued stare. “But I’m sure you didn’t come all the way over here to discuss a career change. How may I be of help?”

  Sharon sat down on the chair in front of him and inhaled a deep breath. She knew she had to take a more delicate tact, unlike her usual “cut to the chase and spare me the bullshit” approach. This time, it wasn’t difficult since, to her surprise, the person who sat before her turned out to be very gracious.

  Well, as gracious as one could be, considering the fact that he was suspected of taking a young woman’s life.

  “As the detective in charge of the Tracy Navarro case, the escort girl who was murdered a couple of weeks ago,” she explained, pretending to have missed the flash of surprise that suddenly overtook his face, “I’ve encountered, over the course of the investigation, a few details that tied her to you.”

  “What exactly do you mean?” he asked, keeping his expression frozen, not batting an eyelid. He was in no hurry to make a deni
al, but he also did not show any agreement with her claim. Sharon understood that Lisbon would leave the ball in her court; that is, until she sent it over to his side and forced him to face the facts.

  But perhaps, before she started with an offense, she should try and pass him the ball peacefully. Maybe this move would give her the leverage she needed.

  “First of all, it’s important for me to mention that this conversation is off the record. See it as my way of saying thanks for always watching our backs.” Sharon meant the NYPD officers. As the son of a firefighter and a nephew of a patrol officer, Lisbon had dedicated a lot of his work and effort into improving conditions for law enforcement workers and was therefore quite loved by them. For a brief moment, Sharon hoped she might be wrong and that he had nothing to do with Navarro’s death; but her intuition – and the evidence – suggested otherwise.

  Lisbon released a warm grin as she continued talking, “Tracy had many important and powerful clients with whom I have dealt both professionally and discretely, and I plan to continue doing so. Whatever you say remains between us. I’m not going to ruin a man’s reputation over his personal choices. However, for the sake of a proper continuation of the investigation, I need to know the nature of the relationship between you and Tracy Navarro.”

  This was Lisbon’s chance to clear himself of suspicion, thought Sharon. Even if he was Tracy’s secret client, it didn’t necessarily mean that he had killed her – because a person willing to admit that to a cop, surely wouldn’t have killed to keep it a secret.

  Tell me the truth; prove to me that you have nothing to hide.

  “Miss Davis, I’m afraid you have been misinformed. I have nothing to do with Miss Navarro. I can’t help you.” His face remained blank, though it had lost some of its color and vitality.

  “Sir, are you sure?” She tried to give him one last chance.

  “Absolutely,” he asserted.

  “Maybe you could explain this?” She pulled out the evidence bag that contained the gold and diamond necklace from Tiffany’s, courtesy of Will McKenzie.

  Lisbon almost gaped at the transparent bag. Several seconds passed until he replied, “Is that supposed to tell me something?” His tone of voice was no longer confident and stable.

  “This necklace was found on Tracy Navarro’s body,” lied Sharon. “We dug up a post on her Instagram account where she thanked a client, referred to as ‘Mr. X’, for the expensive gift. We found his details on her cell phone, but the number was disconnected. We managed to trace the necklace back to the Tiffany store on Fifth Avenue.”

  “I have never seen this necklace . . .” he almost stuttered. Sharon noted the confusion and anxiety taking over him.

  “How can you explain the fact that one of the sales representatives at the store recognized you as the only customer who had purchased this type of necklace corresponding to the time Tracy had received her special gift?”

  Lisbon’s face momentarily contorted as he opened his mouth to reply, but then he seemed to regain his composure. His facial features went back to their natural state. “Perhaps they confused me with someone else. Did you check the purchase details? Maybe that way, you will find the right person,” he added with fake innocence.

  It was clear to them both that she had already checked, and that the result had led to a dead end since the payment had been made in cash.

  Damn it! He knew she had nothing. Everything was purely circumstantial; there was no concrete proof linking him to Tracy, let alone to her death. She certainly was rattling him, but not enough to let something incriminating slip out. He thought through every word before opening his mouth so he wouldn’t mess up his story. Now, she should use the same calculative tactics when speaking with him.

  “Yes, I’ll definitely check into it again.” Sharon tried to appear composed. “If you remember something, anything, you know where to find me.” She extended her hand for a shake.

  “And if you change your mind about that spokesmanship position, you know where to find me. Good luck to you.” He reciprocated with a prolonged handshake and looked into her eyes.

  Sharon immediately recognized the expression on his face. It was the grin of a man who had managed to evade the long arm of the law.

  CHAPTER 49

  September 22, 2013. Manhattan, New York

  “Ray.”

  “Hey, Georgie-Boy! What’s–“

  “Don’t say my name. I need you to answer one question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Were you really dumb enough to try and win a few lousy dollars at my expense?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I told you to get rid of it. No matter how expensive it is or how good you thought it would look on the neck of your wife – or your lover.”

  A moment of silence passed before the hoarse, masculine voice replied in a serious and threatening tone, “It’s down deep in the East River.”

  “So how did it end up with the police?”

  “There’s no way they found it.”

  “Maybe one of your goons decided to make a few bucks behind the boss’s back.”

  “No way, I took care of it myself. Your doughnut-eaters are full of shit.”

  “I just don’t understand it. How could it happen, God damn it!”

  “I think they pulled a fast one on you, Jay.”

  “You might be right. And if that’s true, soon there will be another beauty you’ll have to put to sleep, and this time for good.”

  CHAPTER 50

  September 22, 2013. Manhattan, New York

  “Hello?”

  “Did you miss me?”

  “Hi, Will.” An involuntary smile welcomed itself upon Sharon’s face.

  “How much do you love me?”

  “On a scale of one to ten? Probably three,” she teased.

  “And if I were to tell you that this number is going to triple itself within the next minute?”

  “I would tell you that despite your great vision as an entrepreneur, I doubt that this one would come true.”

  “Lisbon is planning to run for the Senate.”

  “What now?” Sharon felt her jaw drop, “How the hell do you know that?”

  “A close friend told me today that Lisbon approached him in an attempt to snoop around and see if he would agree, when the time comes, to contribute to his campaign. He’s planning to run next year. In the meantime, it’s completely under the radar; everyone thinks he plans to take over McCarthy’s position as mayor in the upcoming election and add another impressive entry to his resume. But it seems that our boy is aiming much higher, perhaps even running for the presidency . . .”

  “Damn it,” blurted Sharon. This wasn’t just an attempt to bury an unpleasant affair that could cause a problem between Lisbon and his wife. Rather, it was a cover-up for a media-lethal scandal that could easily cost him a seat in the Senate and, in the future, perhaps even the presidency. And Lisbon was definitely “presidential material”.

  Well, without taking into consideration the fact that he was most likely a murderer.

  Now when she stopped to think about it, he certainly had a chance to end up in the White House someday. Instead, she would tilt the scales in favor of a more suitable venue for his skills – e.g., prison.

  “Is it really possible that Lisbon was trying to avoid, at all costs, his own personal reenactment of the Monica Lewinsky fiasco?” Will’s voice interrupted her thoughts, “It’s pretty damn crazy.”

  “In detective language, we call it ‘motive’.”

  ***

  When Sharon arrived at the police station, she went straight to the kitchenette at the end of the hallway. Her skilled hands prepared, with automatic movements, a nice extra-strong coffee as her mind wandered back to her conversation with Lisbon. As much as she had wanted to admit to Rob that she was wrong, that Lisbon’s involvement in this affair was purely coincidental, and that he had been cleared from any suspicion, she couldn’t. On the contrary
, her meeting with the respectable deputy mayor only intensified her preliminary hunch. Lisbon is guilty, and thanks to the info she had gotten from Will McKenzie, now she knew why he had done it.

  The first sip of the hot brew brought her back to reality. She sensed the cool marble on which she was leaning, and little dots of frost started to lightly sting her back. She remained in her place and tightened her grip on the warm mug. Her eyes fixed on a few magnets on the refrigerator door that contained addresses and phone numbers of several local take-out restaurants.

  “I thought I’d find you here.” Rob’s voice made her turn her head from the fridge to the kitchen door.

  “Oh, yeah . . .” she hesitated. “I was just about to come into your office.” Sharon brought the mug closer to her lips and took another long sip.

  “It’s not going to work, Davis. I know you too well.” His eyebrows scowled, forming a determined line between them. “I understand that Lisbon didn’t pass your little test?”

  “Sorry, Boss, he’s our guy.”

  Sharon described the course of her conversation with Lisbon and the new discovery regarding his secret political aspirations.

  “Great,” blurted Rob, “now all that’s left is to prove it. Piece of cake,” he said, half sarcastic, half disgruntled.

  Sharon’s cell phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen to check the message she’d just received.

  “Perhaps we just did.”

  CHAPTER 51

  September 22, 2013. Manhattan, New York

  Ray Helborgen. This name had haunted her from every angle for the last few days, and here it turned out that it might be the key to solving Tracy Navarro’s murder. It couldn’t be just a coincidence. It had to be him.