by PJ Fernor
“The shady loan company everyone knows about?” Laura asked.
“Exactly,” I said. “They’re involved in this somehow.”
“How do you figure?”
I explained to Laura the correlation of Jessica, Calvin, and IY Green.
“It also doesn’t hurt that the two brothers that run it have a certain look to them,” Ben said. “They look like they’re capable of ordering someone to be killed.”
“And we met one of their financial experts,” I said. “Who had tattoos and looked like he could bench press a car.”
“Which fits in with what Garrison told us,” Ben said.
“Garrison is working this?” Laura asked.
“A little,” I said. “He dug up a lot of information. And he gave us a contact point to figure out the truth behind IY Green. We need access to their books and employees. Someone there has to crack under the pressure. I bet they didn’t mean for Jessica to die.”
“How do you figure?” Laura asked.
“Murder creates attention that doesn’t go away,” I said.
“They cut her hand off, right?” Laura asked.
“Maybe they intended for her to survive,” I said. “That’s one heck of a message to send to Calvin.”
“Ben?” Laura asked.
“That’s possible. These guys are known for being rough. According to Garrison’s contact, they would stalk people. Threaten them. Slash tires. And it would only get worse from there.”
“It wasn’t Jessica’s debt,” Laura said.
“No, but these guys go after family too,” I said. “This is murder. This is far beyond anything they’ve been involved with.”
“That we know of,” Ben said.
“You think they’ve done this before?” Laura asked.
“Who knows,” Ben said.
I sat down in my chair. “I don’t want to think about that.”
“Maybe you should,” Laura said. “Maybe this isn’t the first person they’ve killed. Anything we throw at them, they’ll throw back. They have money and lawyers. They’ve been through investigations before. What you have right now is a theory. A solid one at that. What did Calvin say?”
“He had his lawyer with him,” I said.
“That’s not suspicious,” Laura said.
“Not at all,” Ben said. “He was visibly upset though. He’s hurt that Jessica is dead. He didn’t do this on purpose. That I believe.”
“Then he needs to talk to us,” Laura said. “If he wants justice for his girlfriend’s murder, he’ll talk.”
“He knows if he whispers the word boo, he’ll be the next to get murdered,” I said. “Or better yet… his car will have some kind of tragic accident.”
We all fell silent.
Laura looked around. “So, Garrison has been helping?”
“That’s right,” I said. I pushed at the chair and stood back up. “He’s been a great help, actually. And that’s coming from me.”
“Well, it looks like you two are busy enough then,” Laura said. “Keep going with it. Bring me more. I’ll make some calls and see what I can do. We have to have something concrete to pin this on IY Green.”
“We’ve been running through ideas,” Ben said. “We were going to check out the crime scene photos, evidence… we’re waiting for any lab reports too. We might go to the scene. Whatever it takes.”
“Just stay focused on this one then,” Laura said.
She looked at me.
I nodded to her.
She thanked us and stormed out of the office.
Ben slowly shut the door.
“Allie…”
“I won’t say it,” I said. “I won’t say it. I’m thinking it.”
“She’s not trying to babysit you,” he said. “Believe it or not, she cares about you. That’s her way of showing it.”
“I said I wasn’t going to say it,” I said. “Meaning say anything. Okay? Let’s focus on this case. I don't want to think about anything but this case.”
“I know you, Allie Down. That’s not how you work.”
“Fine,” I said. I slammed my hands to my desk. “She’s babysitting me. She thinks I’m going to go rogue and try to track down The One. So now I have to watch my step and never know if she’s going to be waiting for me to ask what I’m doing today. Like I need that.”
Ben nodded. “There. Feel better?”
“No,” I said.
“Next steps, Ben. Let’s figure them out.”
Before Ben could speak, someone knocked at the door.
He opened the door and Muldavey was there.
“Sorry to bother you,” Muldavey said.
“It’s fine. What’s going on?”
“Someone is here for you,” he said.
“For me?” I asked. “Is it Lo?”
“It’s a man,” Muldavey said. “A big man. Scary looking man.”
“Big and scary?” I asked. “Did he give a name?”
“No,” Muldavey said. “He refused. He also won’t leave until he talks to you. You should come too, Ben.”
“Why?” I asked. “You think I can’t handle myself?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Muldavey said as his cheeks turned red.
“Allie,” Ben said.
I shook my head and walked from behind my desk.
I pointed for Muldavey to walk and I followed him.
As we approached the front of the station, I heard Ben let out a ha sound.
There was nothing funny about who was here for me.
The big, scary guy?
It was Jerry the ‘financial guy’ from IY Green.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I’ll talk to him,” I said to Ben.
“Not alone,” Ben said. “I don’t trust him.”
“You mean you don’t trust me.”
“That too,” he said as he opened the door for me to go into the front of the station.
I walked with purpose and when Jerry saw me, he showed me his hands.
“I’m not here to argue or fight you, Detective,” he said.
“I assume you’re here for a confession,” I said.
“Possibly,” he said. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”
“Mind if we pat you down first?” Ben asked. “Protocol.”
Jerry stuck his arms around. “I doubt that’s true but have at it. No guns, knives, secret recording devices from the mob.”
I nodded to Ben.
He did a pat down of Jerry, who stood with a mean look on his face. His evil eyes never for a second left mine.
“He’s good,” Ben said.
“Now we can talk,” I said.
“Privately?” Jerry asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Follow me.”
I led the way, Jerry between Ben and I, as I took him to an interrogation room.
This guy wasn’t going to sit in my office and put his feet up and smile.
He was going to sit under a light and look me in the eyes and talk to me.
I opened a heavy door and nodded.
“Can’t even get a nice room, huh?” Jerry asked.
“Nope,” I said.
Jerry walked around the table and took a seat. He put his hands on the table and folded them.
“Need to cuff me?” he asked.
“Should we?” I asked.
“That’s up to you, Detective.”
“How about a drink?” I offered. “Water? Soda?”
“Soda?” Jerry asked. “Wow. That’s nice of you.”
“Ben, will you get our friend here a drink?” I asked.
Ben left the room and I stayed near the door.
I folded my arms.
“You know, you’re the last person I expected to show up here,” I said.
“That’s not true,” Jerry said. “Jessica was.”
He winked.
I didn’t find that disgusting joke funny at all.
I moved closer to the table. “So you’re here. Why?”
“I think we need to talk. Clear the air. That wasn’t too much fun back at the office.”
“Investigating a murder isn’t all that fun,” I said. “Especially when you know who did it and you can’t quite arrest them. Yet. But trust me, Jerry, we’re right there.”
“You really think I did it,” he said. “Why? Because I’m strong and have tattoos?”
“I can read people. You don’t work in finance.”
“Then what do I do?”
“You’re the muscle,” I said. I put my hands flat to the table. “Anthony and Giovanni hire people like you to keep an eye on their clients.”
“Right. I work in finance.”
The door opened behind me and Ben came in with a can of soda.
He slid it across the table to Jerry.
Jerry lifted the can. “You didn’t shake this, did you?”
“The entire walk here,” Ben said.
Jerry laughed. He tapped his finger to the unopened mouth of the can and then popped the top.
Soda didn’t spray everywhere.
Jerry took a sip. “What else do you think you know about me, Detective?”
“You’re the guy that threatens people,” I said. “If they don’t pay, you show up. You scare them. You flatten their tires. Break windows. You go after family and friends. You’re nothing but a bully. But you’re also weak. I bet if I rolled those sleeves of yours all the way up, I’ll find out who is really controlling you. Right? Anthony and Giovanni don’t just pay in cash. They pay in drugs. They keep you happy, so you keep them happy. Only this time… it went too far…”
Jerry put his arms out. “Why don’t you come over and try to roll up my sleeves. See what happens.”
Ben punched the table. “Talk to her like that again and I’ll put that soda can somewhere very uncomfortable.”
“Hey, I’m a free man here,” Jerry said. “I can stand up and walk out. You have nothing on me. Or the company. I’m here as a friend.”
“Then be a friend and tell us the truth,” I said.
“I told you, I didn’t like the way things went at the office today,” he said. “I didn’t like the way we were introduced. The tension was too much. It wasn’t fair. You’re judging me poorly, Detective.”
“So give me a reason to change my mind,” I said.
Jerry reached for the soda can and took another drink.
He made a smacking sound with his lips.
“What is this?” Ben asked. “Are you just trying to rub it in our face that we can’t arrest you yet? Believe me, we will. Soon.”
Jerry put the soda can down and stood up. “Maybe I should go.”
“If you do, tell Anthony and Giovanni we’ll see them shortly,” I said. “We’ll have a warrant soon. And then we’ll tear through every file they have. We’ll know everything. Of course, you can help with that by telling us the truth.”
“I am telling you the truth. I work for them.”
“Right,” I said. “You’re the finance guy. Sure. And I’m a brain surgeon at night.”
“You want to know what happened to Jessica,” Jerry said.
“Do you know what happened to Jessica?” Ben asked.
“Parts,” he said.
I reached for my handcuffs. “Time’s up, Jerry. Talk or turn around.”
“On what charges?” Jerry asked.
“We can figure that out later,” Ben said.
“You want to know if I killed her, right? That’s what this is. You think I’m the guy that was in that park that night and killed her.”
“You tell me,” I said. “Look me in the eyes and tell me.”
Jerry put his hands to the table and leaned forward. “Yeah. I was in the park that night. Yeah. I was told to be there. Yeah… I attacked her that night.”
My heart jumped into my throat.
“You killed her,” Ben said.
“I’m not finished,” Jerry said, without moving his eyes from mine. “Hear this carefully, Detectives.”
“We’re listening,” I said.
“I attacked Jessica that night, yes.”
He paused for effect.
“But,” Jerry said. “I did not cut off her hand.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
He looks under his desk.
The bag is still there.
The expensive tan leather bag.
Inside… the hand.
Bringing the hand was a terrible idea.
He hasn’t been able to focus on anything but the hand.
A plan came to him this morning. To come to work and plant the hand in Leighland’s office. Then call the police and watch the pieces fall into place.
The cops were out there looking for who killed the woman and cut off her hand.
As far as he knows, that woman was dead when he found her.
Taking her hand was nothing.
What did she need it for?
She was…
I killed her. I killed someone. And if I did it once, I can do it again. Or I can just kill Leighland for real. Why not?
The thoughts plague his mind.
He thought about it all night.
The police raiding the office.
Taking Leighland away.
The company would never want anything to do with Leighland again.
But they would want him to take over Leighland’s spot.
If that happened… things would start to balance again.
Too many hands in the kitchen?
He would be the one in the kitchen. The only one in the kitchen.
He can do it. He knows he can do it.
The business isn’t that hard.
And he would be better than Leighland.
“There’s my favorite guy!” Leighland’s voice booms.
He turned in his chair and sees Leighland with a cartoon coffee mug.
A big grin on his face.
“Those reports… right?”
He nods to Leighland. “I always take my time to get them right.”
Leighland knocks on the cork board cubicle wall. “Tell you what I’m going to do for you. I’m going to give you a hint in this industry. Accuracy isn’t everything. You can get things wrong. Everyone does. This is a general idea of what’s happening. The key? Always be producing. Got it?”
He nods.
In his mind he pictures Leighland’s face when the cops show up. The confusion. The fear. Getting put into cuffs and walked through the office in front of everyone.
“I’m telling you as a friend,” Leighland says. “I want you to succeed. I don’t want you in this fake box for much longer. I need you at my side. In other words - get the reports done. You can’t sit there for hours. You’re better than this. I know it.”
Leighland clicks his tongue and walks to the next cubicle.
Leighland gives almost the same speech.
This is how Leighland manages.
Leighland moves down two more cubicles…
Now’s the time to act.
He knows it’s time.
It’s either set Leighland up for murder, or just kill Leighland outright.
He grabs his leather bag and casually walks to the hallway.
He looks up and down the hallway and slips into the bathroom.
His feet tap and echo off the floor as he walks to the last stall.
There he puts one foot up on the closed toilet seat and balances the bag on his leg.
From deep within himself, he needs to hug the bag.
There’s a connection here…
He moves his foot and puts the bag down.
Carefully, he unzips the bag and digs through the bags of ice cubes.
There’s no true way to preserve the hand from what naturally happens, but with ice, he can slow it down.
Does it smell?
What do you think…
It’s a rotting limb.
He reaches into the bag and touches the woman’s thumb. He always compares this thumb to hers. She
had tiny hands. What a pretty woman. With small hands. Perfect for hand holding. To feel powerful and strong.
He pictures the hand on Leighland’s desk.
No.
The drawer.
It has to be in the drawer.
To make the story work better.
But if he does that, he’ll never have the hand again.
In a way, the hand is keeping him alive.
He’s not thinking about anything else in his life.
The focus is the hand.
His mind travels back to that night.
Finding the woman on the ground. That fateful opportunity.
Holding her arm and cutting at her wrist. Battling through skin, muscle, and bone.
The blood everywhere. The small chips of bone that danced into the night.
The sound of the squishy flesh tear and then the snap of the bone when it finally gave way.
His teeth chatter.
That was the feeling.
Not killing Leighland.
Killing Leighland would be good for a minute.
Seeing Leighland arrested would be good for a day.
But this woman’s hand… it was still giving him a sense of energy.
He zips up the bag and exits the stall and the bathroom.
He’s smiling.
He’s going to fly through those reports for Leighland.
Then he’s going to take the woman’s hand home and leave it there.
There’s another direction now.
Another purpose.
Or back to the original purpose.
He’s going to add to the collection.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The SUV dips into a pothole and he growls.
“Sorry, sir,” the driver says.
“Did you put that hole in the ground?”
“No, sir.”
“Then don’t apologize.”
He looks out the window and feels his mood shifting.
He’s angry.
He’s not sure why.
Things are going well, all things considered.
The untouchable stayed that way. As planned.
Time and life always moved forward.
The road becomes bumpier by the second now.
“I take it we’re almost there?” he asks.
“Yes, sir. I should have mentioned the condition of the road.”
“You’re so hung up on the bumps in the road. If you live that way, you’ll lose sight of the destination.”