The Night Watchman

by Mark Mynheir

  The organ started playing a tune I probably should have known but didn't. I was sure Pam did though. She hummed along, confirming my suspicions. The camera continued to bounce until Crevis focused on an attractive blond girl in line in front of him. He must have been staring at her because the video stream remained locked on her curvaceous body for an inordinate amount of time.

  I called him again. “Crevis.”

  “Oui, oui.”

  “Quit staring at the girl and shift around so we can see everyone inside.”

  “Oh,” he said. “You noticed that. She's hot.”

  “Ogle her later.” I regretted my idea to put him in there in the first place. “This is business, so for now, move and look around.”

  “Oui, oui,” he said and hung up.

  I forced a cleansing breath and monitored the screen. He was moving around a bit more now. I got some good closeups of individuals as well as photos of the crowd.

  I turned to Pam. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes… well, maybe not so much.”

  “What's bugging you?” I figured we were getting a little more comfortable with each other. I didn't think she'd mind me probing a bit.

  “My heart just goes out to these girls.” Pam leaned in closer to the screen. “That's what they really are… girls. They seem so pretty yet so lost. Why do they let these men take advantage of them like that?”

  “I wish I had an easy answer for you. All I know is that somewhere in there lies the answer to your brother's, Jamie's, Ashley's, and Trisha's murders. And for what it's worth, I don't understand it either.”

  As the pastor started speaking, a black Honda Accord screeched into the parking lot and raced past our van. The driver hurried into a spot, and a female hopped out. She wore a sleek black dress that clung to her shapely body and a black hat with a veil over her face. She scanned the parking lot before sprinting toward the sanctuary. She stopped at the doors and checked the lot again, then headed in. The best I could tell was that she was tall, slender, and in a hurry.

  “I couldn't get a good look at her,” I told Pam. I called Crevis again.

  “What?” he whispered.

  “A lady in all black came in, and she had a black hat and a veil over her face. Get a shot of her when you can.”

  He hung up without saying anything. The camera slid around as he was twisting. He stood and got a shot of the woman, now sitting in one of the back rows. I zoomed the camera in on her. The veil remained over her face. I didn't like that.

  The pastor's eulogy was about fifteen minutes long. Much about sin, redemption, and everlasting life through Jesus Christ. He touched on Ashley's brief life without ever speaking about her current profession. Classy. I think he even got an amen from Pam.

  After the service, Crevis met us back in the van, and we followed everyone to the grave site, about a ten-minute drive, which was completely taken up with Crevis giving me a blow-by-blow of the sermon and then telling me which of the girls he thought were gorgeous.

  As we arrived at the cemetery, everyone took their places. A middle-aged couple held hands next to the site. They must be Ashley's parents. The sickness in the pit of my stomach overtook me for a moment. To imagine their little girl had been murdered by some scumbag… because she talked to me. If I had any decency, I would meet with them and explain. I didn't think that would happen today. Maybe sometime in the future.

  Chance and Carl stood respectfully on the other side of the grave, a harem of striking young women dutifully surrounding them.

  The mourner in the black dress arrived at the graveside service, although she stood behind everyone else. The service was unremarkable in every way—except in its sadness. After five minutes everyone said their good-byes. The lady in the black dress had kept her veil on the entire time. The veil seemed more of a disguise than an instrument of grief. She hung back away from everyone else and was going out of her way to be inconspicuous, which made her conspicuous to me.

  She hurried to her car and exited with the same speed that she had entered.

  “Follow her,” I said.

  Pam pulled in behind her as she turned onto I-4. She flipped her veil up on her hat. I still couldn't get a good look at her. I had her tag number, but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to run a check on it since I'd been booted from OPD's computer system. Besides, I needed to see her face.

  “Get alongside of her.”

  “I'm trying to get over.” Pam veered into the other lane, but a truck cut us off and forced her back. The driver laid on the horn.

  “We need to get next to her.”

  “I'm trying.” Pam whipped out again and sped up.

  I could see the side of her head but still couldn't get a good shot of her. “Pass her!”

  Pam stepped on it, and we started to pass. I aimed the camera down at the woman through the tinted windows and understood why she had worn a veil.

  Katie Pham's attractive face came clearly into the frame.

  44

  WE FOLLOWED KATIE to her apartment complex just outside of the Orlando city limits. She went inside her first-floor apartment, then returned about fifteen minutes later wearing her blue crime scene jumpsuit. I had to move if I was going to catch up with her.

  “Stay here, out of sight,” I said to Crevis and Pam. They didn't need to be seen with me. I might need them at a later time.

  Negotiating through the parking lot, I hurried to intercept her before she got into her car. “Katie,” I said, as she unlocked her car door.

  “Ray? What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Sergeant Yancey gave orders that none of us are supposed to talk with you. I'm sorry about that. He's really mad at you.”

  “Does Oscar know you used to dance at Club Venus with Jamie DeAngelo and Ashley Vargas?”

  Katie's normally soft, inviting facial features pulled taut, and she worked her car keys in her hand. I had no idea if she really did dance at the clubs, but it made the most sense of why she was at that funeral in disguise.

  “What business is that of yours?” she said. “It's not like it's illegal or anything.”

  “I just want to know if you told Oscar about your ties to two murder victims you processed the crimes scenes on? Under the circumstances, it's not an unreasonable question.”

  Katie paused for a moment. “I needed money for college, to pay off some of my loans and get the classes I needed for this job. The money was good, so I danced for a while and put myself through school. I did what I had to do. That part of my life is behind me now, and I don't like you coming here and throwing it in my face.”

  “If that part of your life is over,” I said, “why did you attend Ashley's funeral today?”

  “I knew her. I felt bad about what happened. Do you know how hard it is to work a crime scene where the victim was a friend and then not be able to tell anyone? I just wanted to pay my respects.”

  “I'm going to guess that you didn't tell Oscar because you didn't put your time at Club Venus on your work history when you applied at the department. That could have caused you some trouble.” I mentioned that for two reasons: it was my best assessment of the situation, and I wanted to encourage her to ignore Oscar's shunning order and talk with me. Katie was a sharp girl and seemed to get it.

  She nodded. “I only worked there part-time and on a mostly cash basis. And, no, I didn't list it on my application.”

  “How well do you know Chance Thompson?”

  “As well as anyone else,” she said. “He was nice to me, let me work when I wanted to, and didn't keep me on the schedule.”

  “You freelanced, then?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” she said.

  “How well did you know Jamie?”

  “Like most of the girls, we crossed paths. We'd talk some in the dressing room, but we didn't hang out. She was kind of private and kept to herself. I hadn't seen her in a while… until I showed up at the scene.”

  “What about
Ashley?”

  “The same,” she said. “I purposefully didn't get too close to Chance or the other girls. Besides, some of the girls did things I didn't even want to know about. I minded my own business and kept to myself. It was a temporary job to get me through a tough time.”

  “Did you ever hear about anything called the Lion's Den?”

  She cocked her head back. “No.”

  “Ever see any important people come into the club?” I said, being intentionally vague. She needed to fill the rest in.

  “Lots of people went there. There was no lack of business.”

  “Do you know who killed Jamie or Ashley?”

  “No.” She looked at her watch. “Anything else? I'm going to be late for my shift.”

  “I need help with my investigation.”

  “From what I'm told, your ‘investigation’ is dead.” Katie worked the keys in her hand. “Sergeant Yancey shut you down.”

  “Not hardly. But you and I could go and discuss this with him, if you'd like. Maybe with your insights on Club Venus, Oscar would be more likely to help me.”

  “And to think I used to try to be nice to you. I felt bad about what happened. Now I know why no one likes you, Ray. You're a bully who'll do whatever it takes to get what you want. No matter who it hurts.”

  “I watched Trisha die, and I've seen the carnage this killer has caused.” I caned closer, invading her personal space. “So you're right. I'll do whatever I have to do to get him. You can help me or get crushed in the middle. I don't really care anymore.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to check the ballistics test on the pistol taken from the Coral Bay murders that you sent off to the FDLE lab, then forward the report to me. And I want you to wear a wire and go undercover into Club Venus to help expose the killer.”

  “I'll get you the report,” she said. “But under no circumstances am I working undercover for you. As a matter of fact, after I get you this report, you better not ever talk to me again. We're finished, and I don't care who you go to about my past.”

  I hesitated long enough to make her squirm. I really wanted her to get inside the club, but that wasn't going to happen. I should have approached her differently, but I was making this part up as I went along. I took out my pen and scribbled down my e-mail address on a notepad and tore it off.

  “E-mail the report to me, then we're finished.”

  She took the paper and opened her car door. “Don't ever come back here again.”

  She slammed the door and revved the engine as her Honda scurried out of sight.

  45

  MY TALK WITH KATIE certainly brought up more questions than answers. I had always assumed Jamie's connections to the police department had to be through a man. Unfortunately in the world we live in, that doesn't necessarily have to be true. Were Jamie and Katie closer than she indicated, or was there an entire set of circumstances I was missing altogether?

  Pam and I dropped Crevis off at my place, so he could get ready for our shift. He'd meet me at the Coral Bay later.

  Then we drove to Outreach Orlando Ministries. I had some questions for Mario the Weeping Felon with regard to the Lion's Den's plans for new adult entertainment sites. I hoped he could pay attention to me long enough before he started bawling again.

  We parked on the street outside the ministry, which looked about as desolate as a derelict ship left wrecked on the shore for everyone to see.

  Mario greeted us, or I should say Pam, at the front door. He hugged her and then merely tipped his head in my direction. It almost hurt my feelings… almost.

  I toted my case file with me and sat in Mario's office. “I've got a few more questions.”

  “I figured.” Mario took a seat, then reclined in his chair.

  “The ministry owns this building, correct?”

  “Yeah, we purchased it about three years ago.”

  “Anyone offer to buy it recently?” I tapped my pen on the pad.

  Mario eased forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Yes. But that's not unusual.”

  “Do you remember who was interested?”

  “A representative for an investment group contacted David and me to set up a meeting.”

  “How long was this before David's murder?”

  “Couple of months maybe.”

  “What was the outcome of the meeting?”

  “They made a more-than-generous offer for the building.” Mario wiped the sweat from his shiny brow. “Much more than I thought it was worth.”

  “But David didn't take it?”

  “He wasn't interested,” Mario said. “He said the location here in this district was more important than money. He believed the money to support the ministry would come, but there were needs to be met right here.”

  “I take it you didn't agree?”

  “It was a lot of money. We could have taken that and purchased a whole new building and equipment and still had some left over. David should have considered it, but he wasn't going to budge.”

  “Have you heard from these people since David's murder?”

  Mario worked his gaze toward Pam, then shifted back and crossed his arms. “They called last week to set up another meeting.”

  “You can't be seriously considering this,” Pam said. “David's dreams were all here. This is where he wanted to serve. You just can't give up on that.”

  “I'm not giving up, Pam. But sometimes changes have to be made. The ministry is dying here. If we sell the building, we can move into a smaller facility and have more than enough left over to cover expenses for a couple of years. That will keep us afloat for some time until more donations come in. A change of location might… shake the reputation we have right now too. It could be the best decision for the ministry.”

  “You can't do this to his life's work,” she said.

  “Unless some miracle happens, Pam, we won't have any choice.”

  Pam lowered her head and turned away. I don't think she wanted me to see her crying.

  I turned back to Mario. “Does the name J & M Corporation sound familiar?”

  Mario shook his head.

  I perused the printouts. “Does the Relk Corporation sound familiar?”

  “Yeah, I think that's it.”

  I shouldn't have been surprised. If J & M Corporation had holdings in all the areas listed in the ordinance, it could have piqued someone's interest. They appeared to be spreading the properties out to different subsidiaries. Very shrewd. Someone put a lot of time and thought into this.

  I showed Mario the Orlando Sentinel photo of the Lion's Den Four, as I chose to call them. “Are any of these guys the person you dealt with?”

  “No. No one in this picture.”

  I showed him a photo of Gordon Kurfis.

  “Yeah. That's him.” Mario tapped the picture with his fingertip. “He met with David and me before. And he's the one who contacted me again. Do these people have anything to do with David's death?”

  “I don't know,” I said, not wanting to be definitive with him. Pam gave me the look, knowing that I wasn't telling Mario what I really felt. I couldn't help that I didn't trust him, and now he was ready to make a profit on ministry property. His true motivations were as much a mystery as anything else in this case.

  “These people who want to buy the building intend to turn it into a strip club,” Pam said. “Cancel the meeting with them and pray that God keeps this place going.”

  Mario hissed and caught his head in his hands. “I'm doing everything I know how, Pam. But it seems at every turn I'm messing everything up. I don't think I'm the one God wants to lead this ministry.”

  For once, Mario and I agreed on something. While I'd never met David, and still didn't have much use for his religion, at least I could see by his conversations and actions with Jamie that he had really believed what he was preaching. He extended himself to a woman needing help—a woman most people would have judged as unworthy of help, including me. With Mario's
record, I didn't think he was cut from the same cloth as David.

  “Mario,” Pam said, “I don't care if we have to get a loan or something. We can't just quit David's dream.”

  “Nobody's quitting,” he said. “We're just running out of options.”

  “When is your meeting with Kurfis?” I said.

  “Next week. He's supposed to call me Monday and let me know the time.”

  “When he calls, I want you to let me know.”

  “I will.” He wiped his eyes, the waterworks flowing again.

  46

  I MANNED MY POST at Coral Bay Condos and sent Crevis on an errand (a legitimate one this time). I had him go to the store on his lunch break and get us more supplies. I needed printer paper, an ink cartridge, a memory card, and a sub sandwich in a bad kind of way.

  I downloaded the photos of the scene at Ashley's apartment from my phone to my laptop. I was glad Oscar didn't pick up that my cell phone had a camera in it. I had to snap those photos. It's not like I didn't care; I just needed to catch the person responsible for her death. While it seemed callous, it had to be done. She was no longer Ashley Vargas; she was a valuable piece of evidence. At least that's what the cop in me was supposed to think. I still felt dirty for doing it, though.

  On every crime scene I'd ever worked, I could distance myself from the victim and keep my emotions out of it. Ashley was different. Whoever killed her did it because of me. I sat at her kitchen table and talked with her. She said I was “nice.” But in truth, I wasn't being nice to her, any more than I was being mean with Chance in his interview. I evaluated them quickly and formulated an approach that would give me the most success. It was good police strategy, but I've been doing it so long that sometimes I forget which person I'm supposed to be.

  Ashley's pictures booted up, and one of her fully clothed body on the bed came into frame. The pink belt was wrapped around her neck, from behind, apparently. The murder definitely wasn't a sex crime, and nothing obvious had been stolen from the scene. The belt appeared to have been from her closet, because there were several others similar to it still hanging there. I figured the killer used a different method to throw off the investigators. Since he had my notes, this guy had to know that I was a pariah among my peers. Nothing I said could be trusted in law enforcement circles.