The False Mirror

by Dana V. Moison

  “I can get you out of this, Richie,” Sharon continued, ignoring Helborgen’s remarks. “I know you had nothing to do with the attempt to kill me. We know what really happened to Tracy, and, sooner or later, we’ll be able to prove it. If you show us good will and help us now–” She stopped abruptly and pulled out the vibrating cell phone from her pants pocket. “Yes, this is Davis . . .” they managed to hear her saying before she left the room.

  “We don’t have much time, so you better listen,” Ray turned to his soldier. He whispered a few sentences in his ear before the detective returned to the room. She didn’t see them confiding.

  Sharon closed the door behind her and glared at Richie. “I’m telling you, you’re making a mistake,” she repeated. “You may walk now, but we’ll catch you.”

  Richie looked at her and let out a snide quip, “I’d like to see you try.”

  The detective shook her head with evident discontent. “Come with me,” she ordered as she led him out of the room, leaving Helborgen alone.

  Sharon took Richie to one of the empty interrogation rooms, making sure to lock the door behind.

  “Did it work?” she asked anxiously.

  “Like a charm,” grinned Richie. “You know, you’re not a bad actress. Helborgen bought the whole thing, even the fake phone call.” He paused and stared at her. “That’s the second time you played him for a fool. Did you ever think of working undercover?”

  “I think that career path was ruined the day The New York Times posted a two-page spread about me.” She tilted her head and asserted, “As you can see, dangerous criminals also read newspapers – or at least they know how to use Google.”

  Richie shrugged, “Our loss. I guess Hollywood is your last resort,” he added with a wink.

  “I’m sorry to tell you about the premature ending of my acting career, but I don’t think you’ll see me staring in any action films anytime soon. I have enough real-life action as it is,” she smiled.

  “I’ve noticed. Secret meetings with mobsters, crafty cover-ups, and intense shootouts. Say, is this considered a regular work week for you?”

  “Pretty much.” Her smile extended.

  “Maybe life as an undercover cop isn’t as bad as I thought.”

  Sharon chuckled. “I’m just glad I could help.”

  “You’ve helped me more that you can imagine. Once Ray saw with his own two eyes that I wasn’t cooperating, he immediately told me all the details of the meeting. He wants me to keep my ears pricked, pay close attention, and report back to him.” Richie arched his eyebrow in a sly gesture. “I wish I could have helped more with solving Tracy’s murder, but I realized what had happened only after the fact. He wouldn’t tell me anything about it.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something,” she replied decisively. “Now, should I release you from these handcuffs, or do you prefer to stay in jail for a few more days, just for the fun of it?”

  CHAPTER 59

  September 25, 2013. Manhattan, New York

  Detective Davis was sitting at her cluttered desk, sipping from a mug of piping hot coffee. Another day had gone by, and Helborgen still hadn’t said a word. She felt like a marathon runner who can see the finish line clearly, but suddenly her legs betray her, and she is locked in place just before the end of the race.

  She knew Lisbon was guilty of Tracy Navarro’s death. She also knew that he had made sure that his mobster friend would do his dirty work for him. Damn it, Helborgen was sitting right now in the adjacent holding cell, available for questioning. He was about to pay a heavy price for killing Max and Emily Webber and spend many years in prison, but he still wouldn’t admit any connection, neither his or Lisbon’s, to Navarro’s death.

  And he was right, she told herself. After all, she had no proof against them.

  Time was running out. Ray Helborgen would soon be transferred to the regional detention center, where she would no longer have direct access to him. Furthermore, Lisbon would use all his connections to keep her away from him. Then he would continue on his safe path to the Senate as if nothing had happened, as if Tracy Navarro’s death had never occurred.

  She could not let this happen.

  The relationship between the respectable politician and the low-life mobster had begun long ago, she deduced. Sharon had gone through lists of auctions and municipal projects that Lisbon had approved in recent years: she found a suspicious match between the exclusive winners in certain auctions and anonymous donations to one of the “non-profit” organizations Lisbon chaired – a bribe that must had come straight from Helborgen’s wallet into Lisbon’s own pocket. The money transfers had been made through shell companies to mask the relationship between the two, so there was no concrete evidence. All she had was a bundle of sophisticated yet unsubstantiated assumptions.

  Sharon gathered the documents, folded them hastily, and shoved them into the top drawer of her desk. She closed the search windows and turned off the computer screen. She could go on and on burrowing into this while trying to decipher the dubious connection between Lisbon and Helborgen for days on end, but it wouldn’t help her convict either of them of Tracy’s murder. It was no use. In Ray’s organization, loyalty was thicker than blood; as long as George Lisbon hadn’t violated this loyalty, there was no way Helborgen would turn him in. A deputy mayor with the potential to become the president some day is an ally worth keeping around, she sadly realized. Helborgen had no good reason to betray him.

  Unless . . .

  “As you’ve probably realized by now, Ray Helborgen is not the type of person who lets anyone who makes him look like an idiot get away with it,” Richie’s words echoed in her head.

  Helborgen was an impulsive and vindictive man indeed. He could hold a grudge for years until he got the chance to strike back. Right now, Ray had the perfect opportunity to crush Lisbon completely – she just needed to give him a reason to do it.

  ***

  Sharon dialed George Lisbon’s number and waited on the line. For a brief moment, she debated if she should just hang up before anyone answered; this plan only had a slight chance of success.

  On the other hand, she had nothing to lose.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you hear the good news?”

  “Miss Davis, it’s great to hear from you.” Lisbon paused for a moment. “I guess it’s concerning the unfortunate death of Tracy Navarro?”

  Sharon could hear the smile in his voice.

  “We caught Ray Helborgen. Does that name ring a bell?”

  “The mobster? What’s his connection to this?” he asked, poorly faking an innocent voice.

  “Oh, it turns out quite a lot . . .” she tried to apply pressure and rattle him. “We were lucky to lay our hands on him.”

  “And I heard he tried to kill you,” he retorted, half maliciously, half amused. “I’d be careful if I were you.”

  “But he failed,” she stressed with passion, “so I guess the criminals are the ones who should be worried.”

  “I’m sure some of them have managed to escape from your snare, Sharon.”

  “Don’t you worry, George. Tracy’s killer won’t evade me.”

  “Well, thanks for the update,” Lisbon replied crisply. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do . . .”

  “You won’t get away from me,” she snapped.

  The gloves are off.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Helborgen is facing life in prison for a cold-blooded murder that happened right before my eyes, and perhaps even the death penalty if they try him in Oklahoma, where he committed another heinous murder. He has all the reasons in the world to turn in the man who hired him to kill Tracy in exchange for a commutation of sentence – or at least the promise that he won’t get the chair.”

  “Hitmen? Mobsters? So far, I hear no facts, only speculations.”

  His composure bothered her. He was too sure of himself. She wanted to shake him up.

  “Even speculation c
an turn out to be true. The old crow began to sing . . .”

  “Not a chance in hell. People like Helborgen would rather rot in jail than be known as snitches. They’re blinded by their stupid honor code.”

  “And you don’t care if Helborgen rots in jail?”

  “Ray Helborgen is a notorious criminal,” he replied cold-heartedly. “Some say a lowlife scumbag.”

  “But I heard you’ve been good friends for many years, helping each other out with all sorts of things . . .”

  Sharon knew this last sentence would throw him off. Lisbon had no clue that she’d found out about the secret financial partnership between him and the mobster. As far as the deputy mayor was concerned, the only way Sharon could have known about their long and fruitful relationship was if Helborgen had volunteered this information himself.

  “You heard wrong!” he snapped. “And no matter what else you hear, anything that comes out of that stupid, ignorant mobster’s mouth is worthless.”

  It worked. She finally had managed to shake him.

  “Well, I think a firsthand testimony is quite a promising lead,” Sharon continued to provoke him.

  “From a man who has a death sentence hovering over his head and is only trying to please an obsessive interrogator with crazy ideas? I doubt it,” he lashed back. “Because that’s all you will have left, a crazy idea and no evidence to support it.” His voice escalated. “If that idiot wants to admit to another murder, he really does deserve a death sentence. Perhaps I should arrange for him to be transferred to Oklahoma . . .”

  “I guess you’re not as close as I thought.”

  “Ha!” he blurted with evident contempt. “Sometimes people need someone to take the trash out for them, but they’ll always make sure the filth remains at the dump . . .”

  The message behind this metaphor was clear as day: My hands are clean, and you’ll never be able to prove otherwise.

  “Now, you have a chance to turn things around,” he continued. “Put aside your crazy theories and let me help you move up in the system. You could be a great captain.” He paused for a moment, letting his tempting offer linger. “I have a few friends at the NYPD, you know,” he added smugly, but then his voice softened. “Too bad, Sharon, you really are a good cop. Why should your entire career go down the drain for this?”

  “You’re right,” said Sharon. “If there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that I’m good at what I do – and good cops don’t make dirty deals.”

  “You just made a huge mistake.” Lisbon stressed every syllable before hanging up.

  Sharon looked at the phone screen as a big smile spread across her face. “Gotcha,” she whispered.

  The ten dollars she’d payed for that call-recorder app for her smartphone had been the best investment she ever made.

  CHAPTER 60

  September 25, 2013. Manhattan, New York

  Detective Davis entered the familiar interrogation room once again. She sat across from Helborgen and gave him a long, inquisitive stare. She waited patiently until he finally looked at her.

  Ray narrowed his eyes, acknowledging her presence.

  “I’m giving you one last chance before I’m sending you back to your cell,” she spoke eventually. “The authorities in Oklahoma have already connected you to the murder of Emily Webber, and they want you to be brought to justice in their jurisdiction. We both know what that means.” She gave him a cold stare. “You won’t get out of it alive.” Her gaze slightly softened, “If you give us information that helps us put Lisbon behind bars for Tracy’s murder, we’ll be considerate,” she tried to appeal to him. “I’ve talked to the DA; if you help us, she’ll make sure that you’ll be tried for all your crimes in New York, so at least you’ll avoid the death penalty.”

  Helborgen let out a smug smile, but his eyes conveyed concern. “I’m no snitch.” His nasty grin widened, revealing his teeth.

  “Do you understand that you’ve just signed your own death warrant?”

  “Whatever you say,” he shrugged.

  “I understand. Just before I leave, let me play you a little something.”

  Ray looked aside toward the wall, ignoring her.

  “I had an interesting chat with George Lisbon today,” she continued. “If only you could have heard it . . .”

  He glanced at her instinctively before he stared back at the wall. There was no doubt that her words piqued his interest.

  “Actually, you can, thanks to the wonders of technology.” She took out her smartphone and pressed the play button.

  “Hello?” Lisbon’s recorded voice was heard.

  “Did you hear the good news?” Sharon’s voice played.

  The recording kept playing.

  “. . . People like Helborgen would rather rot in jail than be known as snitches. They’re blinded by their stupid honor code.”

  The mobster pricked up his ears.

  “Ray Helborgen is a notorious criminal. Some say a lowlife scumbag.”

  A flash of surprise took over Helborgen’s face.

  “. . . anything that comes out of this stupid, ignorant mobster’s mouth is worthless . . .”

  Ray’s eyes widened in shock at the evident insult.

  “If that idiot wants to admit to another murder, he really does deserve a death sentence. Perhaps I should arrange for him to be transferred to Oklahoma . . .”

  Now the stunned, enraged Helborgen completely abandoned his attempts to ignore her. He leaned forward and listened carefully, painstakingly. His sharp facial features scowled each time his name was mentioned.

  “Sometimes people need someone to take the trash out for them, but they’ll always make sure the filth remains at the dump . . .”

  Ray’s pupils moved frantically from side to side. It seemed as though his eyeballs were about to burst out of his eye sockets. He gave Sharon a lethal stare.

  “Is this for real?” he asked even though he already knew the answer.

  “Absolutely.”

  It appeared that Ray wasn't sure how to react. He seemed furious. His mouth twitched, but he did not utter a word.

  Sharon knew she had to maintain her momentum. She had to strike while the iron was still hot. Helborgen just took a hard blow and was about to respond with a flight-or-flight response: he could either entrench himself in silence or fight fire with fire.

  Ray might have been a criminal and a murderer, but he also cared about his reputation. He wouldn’t let anyone threaten him – let alone make a fool out of him – and allow them to stay alive to tell about it.

  “I’ll call someone to escort you back to your cell.” She got up from the chair and advanced toward the door.

  “Wait,” he called. “What do you want to know?”

  CHAPTER 61

  September 25, 2013. Manhattan, New York

  “George Lisbon asked me to help him get rid of the whore who fell in love with him,” explained Ray. “Ah, I mean, Tracy Navarro,” he hurried to correct himself. “She wanted him to leave his wife for her and couldn’t get into that pretty little head of hers that it just wasn’t going to happen.”

  Sharon was sitting opposite of him, listening carefully.

  “Lisbon tried everything,” continued Ray. “He bought her expensive jewelry, took her on secret getaways, and even promised to pay for her new apartment,” he said in awe, “but it just wasn’t good enough for the little bitch. She kept complaining that she wouldn’t share him with anyone else. And then, this whole little-black-book fiasco happened, and Lisbon realized he was in real trouble. The bitch, er, Tracy,” he corrected himself again in response to Sharon’s critical glare, “could have ruined everything he’d worked for in a mere second. Discretion wasn’t exactly her strong suit, you know,” he sneered.

  Many questions popped into her detective’s mind, but Sharon preferred not to interrupt Ray. She motioned for him to carry on.

  “Lisbon just didn’t have a choice. He lied to her that he was planning to tell his wife every
thing and divorce her.” Ray gave Sharon a sarcastic stare and arched his left eyebrow in a theatrical manner. “He only asked Tracy to wait a little longer so he could have enough time to hide some of his savings from his wife, to make sure she wouldn’t get it all in the divorce,” he faked an innocent tone of voice, clearly mocking Tracy’s naivety. “Of course, that little gold digger agreed to wait, especially after Lisbon had bought her an expensive diamond necklace to prove the ‘seriousness’ of his intentions . . . ” Helborgen stressed the last words with contempt and rolled his eyes. “But the truth was he just wanted to shut her up and buy more time.”

  Sharon immediately thought about the necklace from Tiffany’s that had become a key element in her investigation. If Tracy hadn’t uploaded the photo of the diamond necklace to her Instagram account, Sharon probably wouldn’t have been able to follow Lisbon’s footsteps. In a way, it was Tracy who’d been able to help point out her killer even after her death.

  “As you probably have already guessed, Lisbon asked me to help him take care of his little problem . . .” Ray flashed a venomous smile. “But what you may not know is that the idea of how to kill Tracy was entirely his.”

  Sharon arched an eyebrow: that was an interesting fact, all right.

  “Lisbon knew that this bitch was addicted to cocaine and preferred her death to look like a drug overdose,” explained Ray. “As far as I was concerned, I would have stuck a bullet in her brain and been done with it,” he let out a loud snore, “but Lisbon didn’t want anyone to investigate. You need to understand,” stressed Ray, “he wasn’t afraid of getting caught for her murder for one minute; it wasn’t an option as far as he was concerned.” He shook his head. “But exposing him as one of Tracy’s clients was a real threat that could have ruined his career. Lisbon was concerned that if the police and the media snooped around too much, his name would get picked up, and so he did everything in his power to prevent it. But as we both know, things didn’t quite go according to plan.” The poisonous words oozed from his grinning lips.