The Reveal: A Detectives Seagate and Miner Mystery (Book 6)

by Mike Markel

  I knocked on her apartment door and waited to feel her footsteps through the cheap floor. Nothing for about half a minute. Then, I felt the vibrations. She made it to the door and took a few seconds to check us out through the peephole. I held up my shield. “Open up, Ms. Moranu.”

  The door opened partway. I pushed it open all the way and walked in. Ryan followed me.

  “What is it?” Krista said. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, no socks or shoes.

  I closed the door behind us and waved her over to a chair. “Sit. We need to talk.” Ryan and I sat on the couch.

  She took a seat on an upholstered chair. “Is it the fire?”

  I shook my head. “We’re not here to accuse you of anything. Just listen to what I say.”

  “You scare me.”

  “Ms. Moranu, you’re not in any danger, and you’re not gonna be. But I need you to pay attention. Will you just listen to me?”

  She nodded and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Okay. Here is what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna pretend that we’re arresting you for the murder of Virginia Rinaldi.”

  Her face contorted. “I didn’t kill Virginia.”

  “Listen to me, Ms. Moranu. We know you didn’t kill Virginia. And we’re not really gonna arrest you. But we need to tell people that we arrested you.”

  “Why you do that?”

  “We’re gonna say you’re telling us exactly what happened—with Virginia and the video with Abby. When the killer hears this, he’s gonna do something.”

  “Just arrest them now.”

  “We’re not sure who the killer is. We’ll know later today. Right now, we know it isn’t you.” I looked at her.

  She held my gaze. “Who you think it is?”

  I shook my head. “All you need to know is it isn’t you. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”

  “You bring me to police department now?”

  “No, we’re not gonna bring you to the police department. You’re gonna put two or three days’ worth of clothing in a bag and leave town.”

  “Where do I go?”

  “Go to a motel. Not here in town. Anywhere else. Go at least ten or twenty miles away. Park your car so it you can’t see it from the road. When you check in, use a different name, not a name Christopher James Barlow would recognize. If you have to pay up front, use cash. Do you have cash?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t leave the motel room. Call for takeout for your food. Don’t make any calls and don’t answer any calls except from me or Detective Miner.” I pointed to Ryan. “Your screen will show ‘Miner, Ryan’ from him and ‘Seagate, Karen’ from me. Do you understand everything I’ve told you?”

  “What do I say to Mr. Barlow when he sets me up a job?”

  “We’re gonna tell him we arrested you. He won’t call you.” I paused. “Do you understand what I’ve said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me your cell number.”

  She told me. Ryan and I each wrote it down.

  “What happens next?”

  “Next, you pack a bag and drive away, check into a motel. I hope to call you later today to tell you it’s all over and you can come home.”

  “What about fire?”

  “The arson fire? We’re gonna get that person, too.”

  “Then what happens?”

  “Then you go back to your life.”

  “I’m scared.”

  I nodded. “I understand that. But if you do what I just told you, nobody will be able to hurt you. They will think you’re in jail, which is the safest place you could be. The people who have nothing to do with killing Virginia will be glad we caught you. The person who killed Virginia will be trying to figure out what you’re telling us—and how it’s gonna screw up their lives. They’ll know they can’t get to you now. It’s too late.”

  She looked at me. “Why you believe I didn’t hurt Virginia?”

  “When this is all over, I’ll tell you why. Now you work on getting out of here, okay? Wait for my call.” I paused. “Will you do that?”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  Ryan and I left her apartment. We were about to get into the Charger when Ryan said, “You sure she’s going to do it?”

  I stopped. “Good point. Let’s go over there and wait.” I pointed to the entrance to the next building in the development. From there we could see her car in its numbered spot under the carport roof.

  We walked over there and stood out of sight.

  “Dial her pimp for me and give me the phone, will ya?” Ryan did it. Christopher James Barlow picked up. “Mr. Barlow, Detective Seagate.”

  “How can I help you?”

  “I don’t think you can. Just calling to let you know we’re arresting Elena Moranu for the murder of Virginia Rinaldi. We had a nice talk.”

  “What about?”

  “Oh, all kinds of things: murder, prostitution. And arson. She’s a very intelligent person. When the prosecutor brought up the concept of reduced charges in exchange for incriminating evidence—I was kinda worried she might not understand. You know, because her English isn’t that good? But she was fine. She caught on right away. Just a heads-up. The bazaar is open, so if you got something you wanna sell us, you get in touch. First come, first served. You have a good day.”

  I ended the call and handed Ryan his phone. “Now Richard Albright.”

  Ryan dialed Albright’s number and handed me his phone. Albright didn’t pick up, so I left him the message that Krista was talking to us and how he should get in touch if he wants to deal. I returned the phone.

  Ryan kept an eye out to see if Krista got in her car and drove off. I stood back, in the shade. I was starting to doubt the plan would work. What if Krista threw an empty suitcase into the truck of her car and drove off—straight to Christopher James Barlow’s house behind the expensive gates? Even with her broken English, she wouldn’t need more than two minutes to explain my half-assed plan to him. He would need another minute to get in touch with Chief Murtaugh. The chief would need another minute to dispatch a couple of patrol cars to seal off the two entrances to Krista’s apartment complex. The plan would be dead in the water, and I’d be unemployed. All before lunch.

  “There she goes,” Ryan said.

  I stuck my head around the corner. “Is there anything in the bag?”

  “What?”

  “Can you tell if there’s anything in the suitcase she’s carrying?”

  He looked at me, confused. “No, how could I tell?”

  “I’m just asking if it looks like it’s empty or full.”

  “Interesting question. Why would she carry an empty suitcase to her car?”

  “Never mind. Too late.” We watched her get in her car, back out of her space, and drive off.

  I pulled my phone from my bag and speed-dialed Mary Dawson in the dean of students’ office. She picked up.

  “Dean Dawson. Karen Seagate. I need to talk to you. Right away.”

  She sighed. “Don’t tell me.” She sounded wrung out. “I don’t think I can take another incident.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. But we have to talk.”

  “I got a million things going on here, but I promise I can fit you in.”

  “That’s not gonna work. It has to be off campus. Leave your building, get onto the Greenpath, head two-hundred yards upstream. Detective Miner and I will be sitting on the bench. Ten minutes.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to understand, Mary. You need to be at that bench in ten minutes.” I ended the call.

  Ryan gave me a smile. “This is exciting, huh?”

  “Let’s go, goofball.”

  We got into the Charger and drove over toward campus. I parked in the lot behind a small industrial park near campus. We walked the fifty yards down toward the Greenpath, a paved walkway that followed the Rawlings River ten miles in each direction from the city.

  Bicyclists, joggers, and little ol
d ladies passed us by in either direction as we sat and waited for Mary Dawson.

  “Is she gonna show?” Ryan said.

  “Yes.”

  I saw a figure that looked like her walking toward us along the Greenpath. She seemed to pick up speed when she recognized us. When Ryan and I stood up, she said, “This is so not a good time for me to take a walk along the river. What is it?”

  “Mary, I’m really sorry to have to do it this way, but we needed to get you out of your building. We need to talk to you uninterrupted. It’ll just take a few minutes.”

  “Do you know how many calls I’m getting from parents about the ‘pornstar on campus’? And now I’m getting national media about the arson. The student paper has put together the address of the arson and the identity of Abby Demarest. In about two hours this thing is going to … it’s going to fucking blow up.” I could tell she wasn’t used to cursing, the way she emphasized the word.

  “Mary, I need you to take a deep breath. It’s going to work out. You’re going to get through this. You’re smart and you’re honest and you care about the kids, right?”

  “I have worked here at CMSU for twenty-three years, and everything I’ve tried to build …” She started to break down.

  Ryan helped her onto the bench.

  I sat next to her and took her hand. “Mary, listen to me. We don’t have a lot of time. I want you to be able to get back to your office. But I need your full attention now.”

  She wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. This is just …”

  “Mary, we need your help in arresting the person who killed Virginia Rinaldi and Jennifer Taylor.”

  She looked at me. “Who is it?” Her voice was calm and determined.

  “A student.”

  “Who?”

  I shook my head.

  She nodded, as if I meant I couldn’t tell her. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Call Abby Demarest and tell her we’re gonna arrest Krista for Virginia’s murder.”

  “The sex worker?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know she did it?”

  “We know she didn’t do it—either crime.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “We need Abby to think we’ve arrested Krista.”

  “Shouldn’t you call her yourself? Why do you want me to call her?”

  “You have to call her. She trusts you.”

  “You’re asking me to lie—as part of my professional duties?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Arthur Vines would never approve of it.”

  “Neither would my boss. I haven’t told him. And you don’t tell Mr. Vines. You just do it.”

  “What happens after I call Abby?”

  “One student is gonna try to kill another student.”

  “And you’re going to stop it.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  She shook her head and put up her palms. “This is madness. I can’t do it. My entire career is on the line. This is all I’ve ever done. This is what I love to do. This is my life. I could be fired.”

  “No, if this goes bad, you will be fired. Your career will be over. You’ll never get another job in a college.” I paused a moment. “Mary, we don’t have any evidence. We don’t know who killed Virginia—or who killed Jennifer Taylor. That person—those persons?—he’s out there, and I can’t promise you he’s done killing. For all we know, there’s still some loose ends he needs to take care of. Somebody out there who knows what’s going on.” I let that thought hang there for a moment. “This is our best shot at flushing him out.”

  “Why did you tell me that Krista is innocent?”

  “What?”

  “You want me to call Abby and tell her you’re going to arrest Krista, but then you said she’s innocent. You’re lying to everyone; why not just lie to me, too?”

  That was a good question. I took a moment. “Because you’ve always been straight with us. We made it clear we don’t think Arthur Vines is telling the truth, that he’s covering his ass now that Jennifer Taylor’s dead. You’re the only one we trust.”

  Mary Dawson looked at me, then at Ryan. “I won’t lie to a student and deceive my supervisor.” She shook her head and stood up. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it.” She turned and started walking back on the Greenpath toward her building.

  A couple of joggers in spandex ran past, water bottles in holsters around their waists. They were talking to each other, their voices too loud, laughing and having a great time out by the river on a beautiful spring day.

  Ryan had his hands in his pockets, his head down. He looked up at me. “Shit.”

  Chapter 28

  Ryan and I were at our desks in the bullpen. “I thought Mary was gonna do it,” I said.

  “You have to understand, she’s not sure Arthur Vines is lying. We drag her out to the river, tell her we are lying, and expect her to sign on. At least she was straight with us about why she wouldn’t do it: This is her career. She probably has a family, a whole life here. She can’t just pick up and move to a new place.”

  “Yeah, all very good reasons. But where does that leave us? I mean, with the case?”

  “With any luck,” Ryan said, “Mary won’t tell Arthur Vines about our idea—”

  “Very nice of you to call it our idea, but it’s mine. If she rats us out to Vines and it makes it back to the chief, I’m going down for it alone.”

  “We’ll deal with that when we need to, Karen. But you can’t force an investigation. It will move on its own schedule. Eventually, something will happen. New evidence will come in, or someone will start to talk. Or someone will make a mistake.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t see anyone making a mistake—nobody has to do anything. Krista keeps hooking; Christopher James Barlow keeps pimping; Richard Albright keeps shouting about sinners; Abby and Marty keep doing whatever it is they do. I mean, in addition to making lesbian porn and screwing moron girls in the mattress room. Whatever Virginia did to piss somebody off, she’s not gonna piss them off again. Whatever threat she posed to somebody, she’s not gonna threaten them anymore. Everything’s back to normal, except that Virginia and that girl who was doing her homework when her goddamn apartment blew up … oh, fuck it. Why am I breaking your balls?”

  Ryan took that as a rhetorical question. He nodded and gave me a sad smile, and we turned back to our computers. I stared absently at my screen, brooding and cursing under my breath.

  “I’m going to start the report on the Rinaldi murder,” Ryan said.

  Once he mentioned to me he enjoys writing reports. Helps him understand the case, he said. That way, he better appreciates the human motivations at play. He actually used those words. I’ve been a cop for seventeen years. I’ve never heard of any cop—ever—who wants to appreciate the human motivations at play.

  My cell rang. I looked at the screen. “It’s Mary Dawson.” I picked up and hit Speaker. “Hello, Dean Dawson.” She’s going to act like a dean, I’m going call her a dean.

  “Karen, do you know how to do nails?”

  I exhaled and smiled. “You mean, for after I get fired?”

  “Or run a flower shop. Maybe a bakery. The two of us.”

  “This is just terrific, Mary.”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s the stupidest thing I’ll ever do. I know that going in. Tell me exactly what you want me to say to Abby.”

  “Okay, wait till 1:30.” I looked at Ryan to be sure that gave us enough time. He nodded. “At 1:30, call Abby. Tell her you’ve got great news. You’re notifying all the students in Virginia’s class. The police are gonna charge Krista with the murder of Virginia Rinaldi. She’s already in custody. Her lawyer’s been meeting with the county prosecutor’s office. They’ve reached an agreement.”

  “What if she asks what the agreement is?”

  “I don’t think she will, but if she does, say it’s kinda complicated and you didn’t understand what I told you. The important point is to communicate that Krista�
��s making a deal. Then tell Abby that, because of the arson, the university is happy to put her up wherever she is. You know, to finish out the semester—and to help her any way you can going forward. I don’t know exactly: What can you do?”

  “I think we’ll offer to help her relocate to another university in the Fall, assist her with changing her name on her transcripts if she wants to do that. I haven’t handled a case like hers, but that seems reasonable to me.”

  “Yeah, good, that sounds fine. But you really have to sell it. How you’re looking forward to helping her turn a new page, that kind of thing. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Yes, I can do that. I’ve got a daughter. She’s sixteen. I don’t know what I’d do if I found out she did what Abby did, but when I talk to Abby, she’s not that different from my daughter. I’m going to do everything I can to help Abby get past this; that part’s honest.”

  “Great. Now, do you know where she is now?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “What’s the address?”

  “Do you really need that?”

  “Listen, Mary, you need to trust me. I’m not gonna go there and knock on the door or anything. No lights or sirens. But if she takes off, I need to be able to follow her.”

  “She’s not going anywhere. The arson really upset her—what happened to Jennifer.”

  “I get that, Mary, but just in case. Where is she?”

  “She’s at my house. It’s 3714 Alder. Off Victory?”

  Ryan was looking at his screen. He nodded.

  “And she has a car?”

  “It’s a little thing. Yellow. A Saturn. Four-door.”

  “All right, Mary. This is terrific.”

  “Will you stay in touch, Karen?”

  “Of course.” I paused. “You’re doing the right thing, Mary. Call Abby at 1:30.”

  “Talk to you later.”

  I ended the call.

  “How do you want to do this?” Ryan said.

  “Any way we can listen in on their phones?”

  “That would take a while to set up. And we’d need authorization. Probable cause.”

  “All right. We’ll go old school. You’ll tail Martin; I’ll tail Abby.”