by Andrew Hess
“Already on it.” Rodney fired off a salute to punctuate his remark. “I starred the ones I already started on.”
“Great, maybe we can bang this out before lunch.” I took the list to my computer and typed in the first name into the system. A stupid circle appeared on the screen and spun around for a minute telling me I had to wait for it to spit out the info I wanted. I wasn’t in the mood to wait and was about to kick the hard drive. I opted to slap the monitor instead.
“What the hell’s gotten into you,” Rodney asked.
“Nothing, just a couple of bad nights that’s all.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.” The tone in my voice gave away the seriousness of the situations. Rodney raised an eyebrow at me and I knew he would drag it out of me. “I mean I do, but there’s stuff I can’t talk about especially, here at the station.”
“You wanna run these last few names and go for coffee somewhere? We can talk in the car or wherever before tracking these people down.”
Before I could answer him, my phone rang. I was hoping Matthew was calling me back about the flowers, but saw Thornton’s name appear instead. I held up a finger, telling Rodney I needed a moment.
“Ryan here,” I answered.
“Hey Ali,” James said in a sweet relieved tone. “I just wanted to make sure you got to the station okay.”
“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. You don’t need to check up on me.” I hated when men thought they needed to show their masculinity by showing how protective they were of the women in their lives. I never needed someone to watch over me. Twelve years on the force, I think I took care of myself pretty well.
“I know you can. I just figured after everything that happened last night and this morning that...I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure we were good.”
“Yeah we’re good. As for everything else, we’ll keep that between us for now.” Rodney’s head leaned closer to my desk to get a better vantage position. “I’m going out for coffee with Rodney in a bit. When are you coming out to the station?”
“I have a few things to check on here, but I should be out there in about an hour or so.”
“Okay good; we have a few names to look into. They were the last ones to check into the gym. The more of us working this case the better.”
“Okay, I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
I hung up and found Rodney gawking at me. “You mind telling me what that was about?”
“No, not really.”
Rodney typed another name into his computer and waited for it to print out the info for him. “Once this is done printing, we’re going for that coffee break and you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll ask Amanda and get her give me all the juicy details.”
Damn blabbermouth would give up the goods. “Fine, be ready to go in ten minutes.”
Rodney and I sat in one of the squad cars in the parking lot. There was too much work to be done and we couldn’t afford to go on an actual coffee break somewhere. I decided to tell him everything including what happened between James and me last night.
Rodney tried to hold back his laughter, but the toothily smile told me he was about to crack. “He’s a good guy,” he finally said with a chuckle.
“Nice? How can you say he’s a nice guy? He handcuffed me to the bed and left me there all night.”
“He’s a nice guy because I would’ve left you there all night, the next day, maybe take some blackmail pictures.”
“You would, but I doubt your pregnant wife would be happy about that. How is the little mama?”
His eyes dragged the worrisome look across the dashboard. The smile quickly faded. “The doctors told her she needed to stay off her feet until the baby comes. They said she’s a high risk pregnancy. Any additional stress could cause her to lose the baby and put her life in jeopardy too.”
“Damn, I didn’t know.” I reached for his arm and placed a hand on his shoulder instead. “I talked to the Lieutenant. He put me in charge of both investigations. He’s giving me leeway to put whoever I want on the team and put in as much time as we need to solve the case.”
Rodney gave a half smile. “Thanks partner.” He looked up as a silver Audi barreled into the parking lot. “Looks like your boyfriend’s here. Should I leave you two alone for a while?”
I shoved him hard. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but you’re not opposed to it either.” I wanted nothing more than to knock that smug look off of Rodney’s face. “I know you too well Ali. You should give him a chance.”
“I can’t,” I replied. “I need to figure this whole thing out with Matthew first. Even then I don’t know if I’d be ready to start something with him.”
“You worry about what you want and who you want. But if Matthew breaks your heart again, I’m gonna pay him a visit and break his legs.” Nothing could make me wish something like that on him no matter how much I was hurting inside. I loved him. I still did, nothing was going to change that.
James stepped out of his car and started walking up towards the station doors. His pants were wrinkled, his shirt was untucked and looked like he had missed a few buttons. He appeared so out of it, like he was the one who was out partying all night instead of me. But damn he still looked fine as hell.
“Hey Thornton,” Rodney shouted from the rolled down driver’s side window. “We’re over here.” He waved his massive arm grabbing the attention of the debonair detective.
James stopped abruptly. His jogging pace slowed to the suave strut over to the squad car. “What are you guys doing out here?”
“We needed a breather,” I lied. “I guess the break’s over. Let’s get back inside before we catch the Lieutenant’s wrath.”
The station seemed to have quieted down in our absence. Everyone seemed to be on edge or heading back to the streets. No one dared glance up or look us in the eyes. I didn’t know what happened in the half hour to hour we were gone for, but the station definitely had an unsettling feeling to it.
“What’s with the…” James asked.
“I held a finger to my lips and hushed him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I suggest we get the background checks and get the hell out of here.”
Rodney nodded and made the mad dash to our desks, retrieved the paperwork and made it back to us unscathed. I turned and checked behind us one more time, expecting the Lieutenant to slam the door open ready to blast us with insults and anger. Thankfully we made it back outside before he reared his ugly head.
“There’s a lot of people here,” James said.
“What’s the matter Thornton, too much for you to handle?” My mocking was reminiscent of grade school bullying and not a very good attempt at it either.
“No, but I just think it’ll take us a long time to get through the list.”
“Suuuurrrrrreeeee it will.”
“He’s right Ali,” Rodney said while trying to restore the maturity level back to at least high school standards. “If we go together it’ll take us all night to interview them. If we split this up, maybe we can be done by dinner.”
We agreed and divvied up the list of possible suspects between the three of us. I was fortunate enough to get the old lady, a lifeguard and the doctor.
**************************************************************
The first on my list was the old lady, Gretchen Stevens. She may have been elderly, but damn, she looked like she could kick my ass. Gretchen was a seventy year old woman with short gray hair. She answered the door with her body glistening with sweat and pounding down a protein shake like a man. My eyes traveled down to her shoulders and could see the bulging muscles in her arms. She could’ve easily dragged Ambrose’s body and hoisted him onto the rails of the Mid-Hudson Bridge. In my mind, she could easily be a suspect. Then I showed her the picture of Tyson Lee.
“Oh I’ve known him for years. Such a nice youn
g man.” There was a genuine sweetness to her voice. “I used to workout with him all the time when I first started back at the gym. He showed me how to use those machines without hurting myself. He still checked on me from time to time and would even let me give me a free session just for the heck of it.”
The chance of Gretchen Stevens being Tyson Lee’s killer went from likely to nearly a snowball’s chance in hell. When I approached her about possibly knowing Ambrose, she told me she only knew the name because of the news coverage. I decided to ask more questions placing the emphasis on her relationship with Tyson and what she saw at the gym.
“Did Mr. Lee have any enemies or did any of the guests have an issue with him?” I was fishing for anything other than the saint-like image Gretchen Stevens made our victim out to be.
“Oh no, everyone I knew liked him. He was well liked at the gym; never even heard him raise his voice to anyone or saw anyone yell at him.’
Gretchen was nice and answered all of my questions. Unfortunately, she gave me nothing to work with. I was thankful for her time and handed her my card hoping she would remember something later that could be of some use to us.
My second person of interest was a lifeguard by the name of Glenn Michaels. He worked at a public pool in Poughkeepsie and also at the water park. I opted to take the public pool listing first. The thought of being surrounded by hundreds of kids and their parents who just let them run rampant was not my idea of fun. After badging my way in and asking a few people where I could find Mr. Michaels, I found him strutting around the pool in his red shorts and white tank top trying to pick up the younger mom’s that were working on their tans.
“Glenn Michaels,” I asked while holding up my badge. He barely turned his head to the side before muttering a “yeah” in response. “I’m Detective Ali Ryan. I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He dipped his shade down the bridge of his nose while he undressed me with his eyes. “Is there someplace we can talk?”
“Baby, we can go wherever you’d like.”
“I’ll ask for you to address me as ma’am or detective.”
He sucked in his bottom lip trying to hide the smirk on his face. “Sure thing detective; right this way.” His left hand gestured towards the building I walked through to get to the pool. I started to head back at his request and then felt another hand pressing up against my lower back with a finger resting below my belt.
Great, I got the asshole. Why do I always get the assholes? I swatted his hand away. “Mr. Michaels, I’ll advise you to keep your hands to yourself.”
“Sorry Detective,” he said slyly. Somehow I doubted he was sincere in his apology. He opened the door for me and ushered me into a tiny office. “So what can I help you with Detective?”
“As I understand, you frequent the Highland Fitness gym.”
“Yeah, I go there to work these bad boys out.” He flexed his muscles in a blatant attempt at seducing me with his fit physique.
“And you were there Monday night?” He nodded apparently unsure as to why he was being questioned. “What time did you leave that night?”
“I don’t know. I tend to lose track of time when getting my swell on.” He flexed again admiring himself more than paying attention to my questions. “I mean, this kind of body doesn’t happen overnight.”
I was getting annoyed by the narcissistic replies. I slammed my hand on the desk. “Cut the shit and be serious for a minute! We know you were there the night Tyson Lee was murdered.”
“Whoa, whoa I didn’t kill nobody.” The arrogant prick persona was replaced by a more fearful wuss.
“You were there. You checked in at the gym a few hours before he was found dead in the steam room. So if you wanna get off my list of suspects, you better start talking and telling me everything you know about that night!”
“Okay, I got to the gym sometime between eight and nine. I really wasn’t paying too much attention to the clock. I threw on my headphones and blasted my music before hitting the treadmill and then the weights. I was gone by eleven the latest.”
“Did you know the victim?” I slammed one of the pictures on the desk allowing Michaels to get a look at Tyson Lee.
“I’ve run into him a few times. He seemed like a cool guy, always surrounding himself with the ladies though.”
“So you’d say he was a lady’s man?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“How’d that make you feel?”
“What the fuck? Am I in a therapy session or something?”
“Answer the damn question.”
“I didn’t care. Most of the chicks there are older broads.”
“It looked like you were trying to score some older broads of your own a few minutes ago. What’s the difference between them and the ones at the gym?”
Michaels sat back in his chair with a smile on his face. “The ones at the gym are more like older moms. They’re either in their forties or just about to hit forty. I’m more interested in the ones out here that are in their late twenties and early thirties. Plus, they’re a lot better to look at when they’re wearing practically nothing.”
I was completely disgusted by his remarks. My skin crawled with every word he spoke. I wanted out of there, but decided to throw a few more questions at Mr. Michaels. “Did you see Mr. Lee there that night?”
“Yeah, he’s there every night.”
“Was he with anyone, a client, an employee, or a woman perhaps?”
Michaels thought about it for a few moments. “Now that you mention it, I saw some tall chick with long black hair getting real close with him. I didn’t get a good look at her, but she looked like a knockout from across the room.”
I held up another picture and showed him the one of Blake Ambrose. He shrugged and had no clue who the man was. Thankfully that solidified the end of my time with Glenn Michaels, but not before he had a few more choice words for me.
As we stood up from our respective chairs, he allowed me to take the lead to the door. “Now that we’re done playing twenty questions, how about you and me get a room and have fun with some of our own interrogation techniques?”
Now that the pressure was off, Michaels was back to being a little creep again. I plastered a fake smile on my face. He took that as an opportunity to cop a feel. “Here, let me get us started.” In one quick motion, I spun on my heel and jammed my knee into his groin, toppling him to the floor leaving him there in a heap. “I told you, never put your hands on me again.”
Chapter 31-Claire
Fear of the unknown can easily cause people to make rash decisions. Even the most intelligent people fall victim to fear. Claire Cain was no exception. Her fear resided in knowing Ron DeMarco was gunning for her. She was his conquest that he had a taste of once before and desperately wanted again. Claire’s anger was reaching the purest form of hatred. It took everything in her to not to act out against him. She wanted him dead for what he did to her and for what he took from her. But thoughts of the fallout haunted her with every waking moment. If she pulled it off, there would be an investigation with the hospital and all its employees would be heavily scrutinized. By being a top contender to take his spot, Claire would be the most likely suspect. Once they focused on her, they would find her gym membership, linking her to Highland Fitness and Tyson Lee. They would pry into her life and eventually uncover all of her dirty secrets. Then her professional and personal reputation would be tarnished beyond repair, but she wasn’t about to let DeMarco get away with everything either. She booked a roundtrip ticket out of the country days ago. With her passport in hand, the only items left on her list were to pack her bags and get her revenge.
Claire rushed into her room like a hurricane. Suitcases were ripped from her closet. Clothes were flung from her dressers until they were strewn across the floor and bed. Next came the shoes. Dozens of heels, flats and sandals soared through the air, finding their place beside the clothes. Claire turned and faced the disaster her room became and began piling everything into t
wo suitcases. She was in a zone where survival and her escape were the only things that mattered. The only thing that could deter her was…Ding Dong; the doorbell.
Terror filled her mind with thoughts of the police finding evidence to link her to the murders. Were they there to arrest her? Did she still have time to run? Hesitantly, Claire moved towards the front of her house. Her hands trembled as they reached for the handle. She inched forward until her eye pressed up against the peephole. A sigh of relief escaped her slightly parted lips. She gripped the handle and yanked the door open.
Becky stood in the basking glow of the sunlight in a long pencil skirt and solid navy blue blouse. “Well it’s about time you opened the door,” she snapped. She entered her friend’s home and kicked off her four inch heels immediately.
“Please, why don’t you make yourself at home,” Claire said with sarcasm ringing in her voice.
“Thanks, my feet have been killing me all day.” Rebecca became suddenly silent. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
Claire disregarded the comments and continued pacing the house in search of items to pack. “You know your feet wouldn’t hurt as much if you didn’t wear such a high heel.”
Rebecca cradled one of the shoes in her hands while holding it to her face. “But I love them. They’re my babies.”
Claire laughed. “You want something to drink?” She entered the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator.
“Nah, I’m good.”
Claire returned with a beer in her hand. “So what brings you to my neck of the woods?”
“I wanted to check on you; see how you were doing since the whole, you know, killing thing.”
Claire shifted her eyes from side to side nervously. She told Rebecca about what happened with Blake Ambrose, but she didn’t mention a word about her being the one who killed Tyson Lee or that she was planning one more murder before skipping town.
“I’m uh fine. I’m just keeping myself busy.” Claire made a move towards her bedroom, hoping to shut the door before Becky found the evidence of Claire’s impending plans. But Rebecca was right behind her yammering on about her day at the court house and how her firm lost a case defending a wife accused of murdering her husband.