by Dee Dawning
"Excuse me Miss Dillon." Carboni and Goodwin stepped away.
~* *~
"Yes John."
"I need to check something in the kitchen. I'll only be a minute." Goodwin said, then smiled and continued, "Besides it'll give you clear sailing if you decide to pursue this little honey."
Carboni rolled his eyes and frowned. "In case you haven't noticed, this is a crime scene and Miss Dillon is a witness. I'm not about to put the moves on a witness no matter how attractive she may be. Just stick around."
He shrugged "If you say so."
"I do."
Returning to Paige, Carboni said, "I'm sorry for the delay. I'm going to record our conversation so there are no misunderstandings. Is that all right with you?"
Paige nodded.
"Let the record show that Miss Dillon nodded agreement. How long have you known Miss Robbins?" After five minutes of background and general information, Sergeant Carboni began to question her about the previous night. "You asked Miss Robbins to meet you at JoJo's?"
"Correct."
"And you had done this for four weeks in a row? Why did you ask her to meet you?"
"I was supposed to meet my boyfriend. He couldn't get there until seven and I didn't want to be there alone until he showed up."
"So, Miss Robbins was to act like a chaperone, until your boyfriend arrived."
"Correct."
"What happened when he showed?"
"We went into the restaurant part to eat. We invited Mallory, I mean Miss Robbins, but she declined, saying she was going home. I could see her from where I was sitting and she hung at the bar for awhile."
"Did anyone talk to her at the bar?"
"Yes, a very nice looking man struck up a conversation. That's who I thought you were. They talked for a minute and she appeared flustered. She left for a couple minutes then came back. She grasped his hand and headed for the back of the bar. I assume they went to sit in a booth." Paige looked around at the uniformed and plainclothes men moving about. Wiping a tear from her eye, she demanded. "What happened here? Where's Mallory? Why are you here?"
"As I told you, I'm investigating Miss Robbins disappearance, and I'll ask the questions, Miss Dillon."
"Paige, please. Yes, but it's only ten-thirty. Why would you be here already? Who reported her missing?"
"No one reported her missing. There was a report of gunshots about four-thirty this morning."
~* *~
"Gunshots! Oh my God!" She sniffled. "Was anybody hurt?"
"Paige, please. I will ask the questions. As I was saying, uniforms were sent to investigate and the front door was left wide open. No one was here but there were some suspicious signs so John and I were called in. Now, is there anything else that you can think of that might be helpful?"
"I'd question the bartender at JoJo's."
"I intend to."
"Her name is Kelsey.
"All right, thank you. We'll talk to Kelsey when we wrap up here. Should be three or four hours. If you talk to Kelsey, tell her to expect us. I think that's all for now. Here's my card. If you remember something you haven't shared with us. Call me."
She glanced at his card. She was being dismissed. "Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"
"Sorry, Miss Dillon, I've already told you more than I should have. How can I get in contact with you, should the need arise."
Paige didn't like it one bit. Something happened to her lifelong friend and she didn't know what. "Here's my card. I sell real estate. You're not looking for a house, are you?" The detective smiled. He had a nice smile. She decided that she liked Ritchie.
"I'm sorry ma'am not right now, but I'll definitely keep you in mind. The patrolmen will drop you back home. I appreciate your help."
"I always ask. You never know."
"Of course, ma'am," answered Carboni, an understanding smile on his face.
"Detective Goodwin, would you take Miss Dillon outside to the patrolman who brought her."
Carboni walked back toward the bedroom as Detective Goodwin began to lead her outside, but she broke away and ran toward the bedroom. There were three or four men in Mallory's bedroom. Ritchie Carboni caught her and ushered her back out, but she looked over his shoulder and formed a metal image of the bedroom. As detective Goodwin forcefully grabbed her wrist and guided her outside, she recalled that image. There was a handcuff on the bedpost. Handcuff? My God! There was blood on the sheets and loose feathers from one of the pillows.
Paige was not going to stand by and not know what happened to her friend. She decided to contact Kelsey and see what she knew. After all, she planned to call her anyway after what she told her about Robbie. "Hi Kelsey, it's Paige.
Kelsey answered. "Oh, hi Paige. What's up?"
She thought she heard a yawn. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
"No. Well yes. Don't worry about it. What time is it anyway?"
"It's ten-thirty. I've been awake since six-thirty. Can I come over?"
"What for?"
"I want to talk to you about Robbie. I've been thinking about what you said and…well, I just need to talk with you about something else important. Can I come over?"
"Sure, why not? C'mon over.
"Where do you live?"
"I'm at my apartment. Forty-two, Sixty-two Orange, apartment seven, in Hollywood, but I warn you, my apartment's a mess. I've been doing some decorating."
"I don't care. Be there in twenty minutes."
In addition to the episode with the police that morning, Paige was unsettled from what Kelsey told her about Robbie. Kelsey and she had become friendly and the night before Kelsey had opened up to her. Her mind recalled the dreaded words.
You know Paige, you remind me of a good friend I had once. I wasn't going to say anything, but I have grown fond of you and I really think you should know. I've seen your boyfriend with another woman twice in a nightclub on Los Feliz and the last time, I'm sure she was sucking him off near closing time, in a back booth.
She'd been crushed. She wanted to ask Kelsey more, but Mallory showed up, right then, so Paige acted as if nothing had happened. She wasn't surprised, because she suspected for a couple of months that he'd been tom-catting around, but that was the first confirmation.
Intent on calling Kelsey anyway, the thing with the cops and Mallory made it that much more urgent. She knew Kelsey got off at two and probably didn't have much sleep, but it was imperative she talk to her about Mallory and the gorgeous hunk from last night. With Kelsey being right there, she should be able to shed some light on what went on.
~* *~
"What do you think?"
Goodwin smirked. "I think she likes you."
"About her statement, lughead."
"Hey, she's a hot number. If she looked at me the way she looked at you, I'd be on the phone asking for a personal tour of her favorite listing with a special emphasis on the master bedroom. Maybe check out the whirlpool tub. Can't you picture her in a tub? I'll bet her jugs would float on the surface."
"Extremely humorous. For your information, we happen to be working a case and Miss Dillon is a witness. It would be very unprofessional of me to get involved."
"Not to mention fun," Goodwin said gloating.
"Seriously. What did you think, Goodwin?"
"We need to question the bartender. Soon as we finish here, let's head to her apartment."
"Yes, but what do you think happened here?"
"It sounds like Miss Robbins picked up someone dangerous who trussed her up on the bed and shot her. I'd be surprised if she's still alive."
"That would be a shame. She's beautiful."
A crime scene tech approached.
"Yes, Miles?" asked Carboni.
"Sir, it appears the victim was a male. We found a couple dark wrist hairs embedded in the flexcuff. The handcuff is Police Department standard issue, but can be obtained on the web. The blood type of the victim was O Positive and we found vaginal discharge on the sheets and on the lounge over t
here. We also found a tiny bit of seminal fluid on the sheets mixed in with the feminine fluid."
"Goodwin, get on the phone with Miss Dillon and ask if she happens to know the blood type of the Robbins woman. Anything else, Miles?"
"Yes, a couple of things. A bottle cap was found on the floor and has the faint distinguishing odor of trichloromethane."
"Chloroform, huh? So, someone was knocked out?"
"I can't speculate on that, sir, but it is a possibility."
"We located two bullets in the wall–9mm, one directly behind the headboard and another about three feet to the right of the bed. The location of the blood and bullet behind the headboard indicate that the gunshot wound was not life threatening. I suspect the victim was shot in the upper left arm below the shoulder." Miles paused. "We also found several sets of fingerprints. We'll have to take them to the lab for comparison and run the ones we don't know."
"Good work, Miles. Let me know if you find anything else."
"Hey, Carboni."
"Yes?"
"I got a hold of Paige. She said she would like to jump your bones."
"Damn-it, Goodwin. Can't you be serious?"
"Sorry, Boss. She said the Robbins chick had an AB something blood type."
"She's sure?"
"Yes, apparently there was a blood drive in their school years ago. Paige's is O negative and they were full up on O and didn't need hers, but they were tickled to get Mallory's, which was fairly rare."
"That means it definitely is someone else's blood."
"That's good. I was just coming to that conclusion myself."
"C'mon, let's go find the bartender. I'll buy you lunch."
"Hold on a sec, Carboni." Goodwin bent down in front of the living room couch and reached under it. He stood holding something by the edges, a business card, "Stevens Investigations, Drew Stevens, Private investigator." Goodwin grinned, "I'll bet he had fun investigating her privates."
Ritchie couldn't help but chuckle. He snatched the card. "Let me see that." After looking at the card he continued, "This could be unrelated to the events that transpired here."
"True. Do you think it's unrelated?"
"No."
"Then we'll hit Stevens' office before you buy me lunch, but first let's call the cell number and see if he answers."
"Great idea, Goodwin. Why didn't I think of that?"
"Shut up, smartass." Carboni dialed the number.
After five rings, voice mail answered. "Hi. I'm Drew Stevens of Stevens Investigations, but I'm not here. Sorry you missed me. Business or pleasure, leave your name and number and I'll get back to you."
Carboni looked at Goodwin, who looked back expectantly. "Like I figured, voice mail. Let's hit his office."
Chapter Eight
Paige knocked on the door to apartment seven.
Kelsey came to the door, a pleasant smile on her face. "Hi, Paige, come in. I just made a fresh pot of coffee."
She glanced around. A ladder stood in front of a half-wallpapered wall. Newsprint and wallpaper tools cluttered the floor. "Ooh, this place is darling."
"Thanks, you're too kind. I'm hoping it'll be darling when I'm finished."
"Oh, it will, I can tell." She inhaled the compelling aroma of fresh coffee. "Umm! Coffee smells dreamy. What flavor is it?"
"Raspberry Chocolate. Let's go in the kitchen. Watch your step."
Seated and her first sip of gourmet coffee savored, she asked, "How come you're fixing up your apartment?"
"Oh, I own this eight-plex." Kelsey explained, "I don't want to be a bartender forever."
Paige raised her eyebrows.
"I know, I don't seem like the landlord type, but in addition to this eight-plex, with the market the way it is I bought a couple of rental homes, too."
Now, she was curious. "What kind of rent are you getting?"
Kelsey laughed. "Oh, that's right. I forgot you sell real estate. If you come across anything that pencils out, keep me in mind. I may not be in a position to do anything but at least I'll know what I'm missing."
"Here's my card. I'll definitely keep you in mind. Listen Kelsey, I've something very serious to discuss with you."
"What's that?" Kelsey sipped her coffee.
"Mallory has disappeared. I'm worried sick something awful might have happened."
"Oow!" Kelsey yelled.
Paige turned to see what was wrong.
Kelsey jumped up, brushing off the front of her clothes. She'd spilled coffee down the front of her tee shirt and jeans. "Oh shit, I'm sorry." She tried to blot it up with a paper towel. Finally giving up, she stripped off her wet top. "Damn, I just bought this shirt."
Paige stared nonplused by Kelsey's braless breasts bared before her. She watched Kelsey's bare back and tight jean pockets undulate away from her as her shoulder length hair bounced across her shoulders. When the woman disappeared into what she assumed was her bedroom, it suddenly struck her, Geez, my favorite bartender is cute.
"We can continue talking in here while I change, if you want," Kelsey shouted from the other room.
She thought about it. "That's okay, I'll just drink my delicious coffee. Take your time."
Seconds later, Kelsey walked through the door wearing a full-length black and blue print silk peignoir and matching blue slippers.
Paige thought she looked lovely. "I'm glad you told me about Robbie cheating. I suspected something was up with him when he kept trying to get me to ask Mallory about a threesome with us. At least I know somebody cares enough to tell me."
"A ménage huh?" Kelsey sat and took her hands. "I do care for you Paige. That's why I told you. As much as it hurts now, it would be much worse if, God forbid, you got married and found out he was unfaithful. Now tell me what happened at Mallory's and start at the beginning."
She took a sip of the tasty coffee. Remembering her friend, tears welled up in her eyes. "She's missing. I called her this morning to see how it went last night and the police answered."
"The police were there? Why?"
Paige whimpered, "They said someone reported gunshots. That's why they were there so soon. There were lots of policemen and that yellow tape they spread around was all over. People were standing outside. A news van pulled up just as they started to take me back."
Kelsey sat and put her arm around her. "Now, now, just let it out, that's what friends are for."
Paige bubbled over with tears. "Kelsey, it was awful. I ran into the bedroom and…" She sniffled. "There was a handcuff and…blood." She felt spent. "I'm so worried about her. You've been nice to me and very comforting, but the reason I came here was to gather information about what happened to Mallory after Robbie and I went in the grill. I saw her talking to a great looking guy, then she took his hand and led him to a booth. I need to know what you know."
"Oh! The Card Guy. I know what happened all right and she didn't take him to a booth."
~* *~
Stevens Investigations turned out to be a one-room office in a rundown Executive Suite on Coldwater Canyon in North Hollywood.
After showing his badge, Goodwin addressed the receptionist. "Stevens Investigations, have you seen him today."
The receptionist, a mildly attractive, but overweight valley girl, continued chewing her gum and blowing bubbles. "Mr. Stevens rarely comes in. Too bad, too. He's a real looker for an older guy."
A nod passed between the detectives which translated into bingo.
"Just how old is Mr. Stevens?"
"I can't be sure, but I'll bet he's pushing thirty."
That time the detective's nod translated to ditz.
At thirty-three, Carboni never realized how elderly he was. "I don't suppose you have a way of getting a hold of Mr. Stevens."
"Only his cell phone. Have you tried that?"
"Yes. How about a picture of Mr. Stevens?"
"I wish I did. I'd blow it up, make a poster of it and hang it up in my bedroom."
"That good looking, huh?"
&n
bsp; She nodded. "He's the whole package. Wait a minute. I just remembered. There should be photo in his rental file, maybe his home phone number too. Wait here."
After a couple minutes wait, she returned, passing a grainy photo to Carboni. "I guess it's all right to give you this since you're here on police business." She picked up a ballpoint and wrote something on a scratch pad. "Here's his address and phone number, too."
Goodwin and he looked the photo over for a few seconds before putting it in his jacket pocket. He handed the slip of paper to Goodwin. "Your turn. See if you can get him on your cellular." He looked back at her, "Thanks. This will help, but we'll still be asking you for an in depth description later. Now, can we have the key to his office?"
Goodwin announced, "Voicemail again."
She shrugged. "I would give you the key, but aren't you supposed to have a search warrant or something?"
Once again, a nod passed between them, which translated that time into not as ditzy as we thought.
Goodwin took a turn. "Miss…What's your name?"
"Connie. Just think. If Mr. Stevens were to marry me, I would become Mrs. Connie Stevens."
"You mean like the Connie Stevens? Isn't she before your time? Do you even know who she is?"