by Ronnie Allen
AriellaRose admitted to herself that she had felt calmer much of the day. Her involuntary leg gyrations lessened. She was able to lay still without the constant twisting and turning that had plagued her. At least she was able to get some sleep. It had been three days and her discharge was nowhere in sight. She had to get out. The cravings for her stuff hadn’t decreased much. She only pretended it did when Doctor Tattooman asked her. She was good at pretending. And lying.
Emma said Meredith would be visiting today. She and Rachel were busy holding down the fort. Saturday was their busiest day. AriellaRose had kept their “business” hidden from her parents for three years already, ever since she was fired from Meghan Mason Fashions. Her parents thought she got along on what her dad gave her. That was a pittance compared to what she was making. The dough she had gotten from her parents had gone to Leonardo for her stuff. She’d take it, without a thank you or appreciation. That’s what they expected. That’s what she’d deliver.
She’d been living up to expectations her entire life. Her dot com business was flourishing because of it. She had created the fastest growing underground company for affordable clothing for kids in the hood. Yup, “Aries Fashions: For the Warrior Within” had reached the charts. Fastest growing. Wow. That’s what the reviews had stated.
Who said I couldn’t live up to expectations?
She gave a silent ‘thank you’ up to Aradia that she was able to save enough for her million-dollar brownstone in Park Slope. No one knew about it, except for her girls, her beholden, and she planned to keep it that way. Nor did they know about her Upper East side apartment. They had always met in the office they had rented for the business, but she gave that up when she moved into Park Slope. She loved to reflect on how far she had come. And by next Tuesday, her life would be complete. She had to get out of here.
She let out a deep breath, or as deep as she could get, grabbing her chest. It still hurt. Damn that shrink. Did he have to be right? She heard the heavy thud of his sneakers come into the room. She barely looked up at him. T-shirt and jeans again.
Fuck. Is he a downer. Just when I was thinking of good things.
“How are you doing?”
“When can I get out of here?”
He smiled. “What’s the rush? Got a job to return to?”
She picked up on his sarcasm, looking up at him and trying to keep her face expressionless. “No. You work on weekends?”
“If I have to.” He checked her with the stethoscope. “Still tight. You are not going anywhere yet. And from here, I would like you to consider going straight to rehab.”
“What you’d like me to consider is shit. Not going. I can control it myself. When I want to.”
“We’ll talk more when you’re not in denial.”
“I’m not in denial. I know I use. But I can accomplish things.”
He pulled over the club chair closer to the bed, sat, leaned back with his arms in his lap. “I’m all ears.”
Damn him. I let out a hint and how in the hell am I going to get around it? He’s a shrink and can probably see right through me. Aradia, please make something happen now to distract him. “I can accomplish things.”
“You said that already. What kinds of things?”
“Well, I’m working on a fashion line that kids my age can afford, not like my parents.”
“I would hardly consider you a kid, but tell me more about that.”
“Okay, men and women in my age group who are just starting out and don’t have that much money.”
“Okay, cool. Have a name for the line yet?”
Yes. But you’re never finding out. She paused. “No. It’s still in the thinking stage. My friends and I want to do it.”
Her friend entered the room and stopped at the doorway.
Thank you, Aradia!
“Come in, Merry. Doctor Tattooman is getting on my nerves.”
Merry stared, apparently startled at the introduction.
He looked at AriellaRose with a smile. “Doctor Tattooman? Okay. But for future reference, it’s Doctor Khaos. And you are?”
“Does it matter?” AriellaRose didn’t hide her annoyance. So this guy likes heavy breasted blondes. Of course, he does. And so did every other asshole in that Vegas strip club Merry had worked in until she did what she had to do and I rescued her.
“Just being polite.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been in hospitals before, and doctors don’t ask for an introduction of visitors,” AriellaRose challenged.
“Okay, fair enough. So you’ve been in the middle of a murder investigation before?”
AriellaRose and Merry yelled out a “No!”
“I’m Meredith, Meredith Cummings. So, Doctor Khaos, when is my friend being released?” Meredith let the words slip off her tongue seductively as she unbuttoned the top button of her floral print cardigan to reveal some cleavage.
Tattooman must have gotten the message and so did AriellaRose. He laughed and shook his head. She seethed and flushed.
“Okay, Meredith. Just to set the record straight, I am trying to detox your friend. You want her to be healthy, right?”
Meredith gave him a meek nod.
“Good. Very good. So I sincerely hope you did not come over to give her some of her ‘stuff’ as she calls it.”
“Oh my God, Doctor Khaos, no, definitely not. I’ve been clean over three years, and I’m constantly on her to do it, too. She’s my BFF,” Meredith said, putting her hands up to her heart. “And it hurts me so to see her so depressed all the time, but I don’t know what to do. I’m nagging her every day, aren’t I, Arie?” She looked for a brief moment at her friend. “Yes, I am.”
Enough with the overkill, Merry. He can see through the bullshit. AriellaRose winced. “Yes. She’s on me all the time.”
He put his lips together and stared at them, alternating glares between AriellaRose and Meredith. “Okay. So I am going to have the mean police officer out there step inside and monitor your visit. It’s for AriellaRose’s protection.”
Merry stepped up to him and looked way up. “Doctor Khaos, we need some privacy.”
“That so?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t help you with that. The police officer comes in or you leave.”
“He can come in, certainly, but all he’s going to hear is girl talk. You see? I just broke up with my boyfriend and I’m all upset, and Arie always knocks some sense into me.”
Oh God, what a freaking jerk. Come on, Arie, think fast! “Good. I’m glad you finally listened to me. That guy’s a jackass.”
“Doctor Khaos. What kind of a doctor are you?”
“He’s a shrink!”
“Perfect. Then maybe you can help me, Doctor, and listen to my story?”
“I don’t do relationship counseling. Sorry.”
“Yeah. He can’t control his own...relationships. Speaking about that, how was she?”
“Excuse me?”
“That detective. Samantha.”
He gave her a thin lip smirk.
“You didn’t yet, did you? Well, what the fuck are you waiting for?” AriellaRose hadn’t been this serious in her life. She surprised herself.
“On that note, good bye, ladies.” He turned, walked out of the room, and signaled to the cop at the door to enter.
***
Yeah, what the fuck am I waiting for?
That comment sang through Frank’s brain the entire trip to the precinct. Withers had called a Sunday meeting for the three of them to review some forensic reports that had come in on both murders. Frank was appreciative that at least Loo had assigned Sam to review Jen’s case.
He had postponed his training class at the gym until later that afternoon. Dale made the calls to the guys, but Frank was sure they’d be pissed. He rarely had to reschedule on a weekend, but the guys knew they had to be flexible. His contract with NYPD wasn’t. No leeway whatsoever. He was on call twenty-four seven, three hundred sixty five days a year. And Jen had
been totally cool with it. She knew private practice wasn’t for him. Her parents would have wanted that, though. He craved the action, just like in Iraq. He needed to move, not sit behind a desk. As it was, profiling at the precinct at times was too stagnant for him. He did whatever he had to, to convince them to let him go to the crime scenes. Too bad he had missed these two.
He knocked on the door to Withers’s office.
“Come in.”
Withers sounded annoyed already. Frank opened the door and saw Sam, Nick, and Withers sitting around the conference table. “The gang’s all here.” Sam smiled as he took the seat next to her, as if they had left that seat open for him. They were ganging up on him, too. “What have we got?” he asked.
“Interviews from pedestrians. Thirty-five to be exact. One, I said one, saw the shooter.” All of their eyes lit up. “Don’t get too excited. The description doesn’t fit the type.”
Frank studied Withers. “Descriptions could be of disguises. Who gave it?”
“May not be so reliable. A woman running for the Express Bus. When she saw Meghan fall, she recognized her and didn’t get on the bus. She looked right at three women behind her. She smelled what she said was ‘something burning,’ from the one in the middle. Could be gunpowder. Her description was fairly generic for the area. About five ten, short chin-length blonde hair, hazel eyes. Expensive black leather jacket, with the collar up, navy wide-legged pants, what do you call those things?”
“Palazzo,” Sam chimed in.
Withers check the file. “Yeah, rookie, that’s right. Also had a big black tote bag. The woman said her makeup was heavy. Don’t know what in the hell that means. She mentioned it ’cause she guessed the woman was mid-twenties. And didn’t know why someone so young would need that much makeup. The three of them just walked around Meghan and continued away.”
“Okay. Stop right there. Mrs. Larcon has a makeup line for women who want to cover up facial scares, even freckles. What was this woman’s name?”
“Susan Miller. Call her. 212-555-1979. But she’s coming in to give the graphic artist a run.”
Sam jotted it down on her pad. “After we get the drawing, I want to call in the thirty-five others. See if I can spark a memory. What else came in?”
“Interviews with her daughters. Sweet kids. Thirteen and fifteen. Dad has been in Italy at a gold and jewelry show for two weeks. He’s on his way back. The girls opted to live with their grandparents and they already went to family court. Grandparents don’t want Dad anywhere near the girls. Understandable. When we get the visual of the shooter, we’ll put it out to the media. Ms. Miller so was so shocked that she couldn’t describe the other two. Okay, rookie, now what?”
“Um, I like to hear what Frank has to say. He’s the profiler.”
He leaned back in his seat. “Thought you’d never ask. Otherwise, I’m wasting my time here.” He paused for a moment. “Though it’s out of profile for a serial killer, I tend to agree with you, Sam. Definitely women. Changing my mind on that one. Okay, three of them. When you speak with Ms. Miller, ask her if she noticed a white band on any of their wrists, which would link the two murders. These were deeply rooted in anger. The cuts, obviously. I wonder if the killer was a cutter, herself. Probably. Symbolic. She’d be cutting to create physical pain that covers her emotional pain. Getting even with Larcon for something. She’d have open wounds that could transfer DNA. Got to find the clean up evidence. Look for a bandage that could have come off her. Killers who have experience, and I use that term loosely, would hide evidence far away. Look on the East side. The River has always become a big dump. Actually, any body of water. All of them around the city. Between the scenes in the parking lot and park, they had to carry a lot away. Look for those big black garbage bags. Off the pier, too, from the strip club. Cutters usually take Oxycodone to mask their pain.”
Sam jolted her head up.
“Yeah, back to Arie.”
Withers looked in the file after Frank’s last sentence.
Sam laughed. “Arie?”
“AriellaRose. Her friends call her that, but I wouldn’t. Oh, and she nicknamed me, Doctor Tattooman.”
Nick laughed. “Well if the shoe fits...”
Withers glared. “Cute. Back to profiling, Doc.”
Frank swallowed. Damn, Withers is all business today. “The Mason murder also anger. The killer dressed up to the level of the neighborhood, so I doubt if they’re from that socioeconomic group. Anger about that. One or more of them has a knowledge of forensics, clean up, weapons, bullets. Could get all that info online. Even how to commit the perfect murder. Interesting that they chose a hollow point. They knew that the bullet wouldn’t leave the body and hurt any bystanders. That’s substantial. Definitely not a gang killing. They wouldn’t care. This was calculated and planned. Also, not their first hit. They were very casual about it. Both went smoothly for them. Doubt if the Mob would hire a female for an execution. Male pride thing. That white band is key. Get the IT guys on this. Tell them to do a search on gang attire. Some of the guys come into the gym with special bandanas that they had made, which go straight into their lockers. I’ll ask some of the ones who’s trust I’ve gained. They are very secretive about their sources, even about where they get their clothing. It’s like a secret society. Wait a minute! That’s it. A secret society. Three women who kill and one who controls them. That fourth woman is the key. They’re doing the murders for her, carrying through on her agenda, or his. What is the worst hold someone could have on another?”
“Being witness to a murder.” Sam’s voice escalated in pitch.
“Right. These three have murdered before. Fourth person could be a guy. Technically, as far as a definition, they are a gang. Three or more members.”
Sam looked confused. “Thought you said it wasn’t a gang hit?”
“Yeah, I did. Referring to traditional inner-city gangs. Gangs don’t plan so carefully, nor do they worry about clean up. But they may not know the specifics of gang psychology and want us to think it was gang initiated. Would have been a good detour, but they haven’t pulled it off.”
Sam looked up at him as if a light bulb went on.
“What?”
“I still have to go through the files, but what if, what if Jen’s murder wasn’t gang related, either? Even though all the evidence leads to it? What if the killer wants us to think it was a gang and did everything gang-like? It would make sense, since that’s the demographic surrounding you.”
Withers stretched and let out what looked to be a sigh of exasperation. “One case at a time, rookie.”
Frank didn’t appreciate Withers’s dismissal. “Well, Withers, if you had been more thorough, maybe--”
“No maybe about it, Khaos. We were thorough. Now if this rookie and Loo want another go around, let them knock themselves out. But not on my time. As per Loo, I’m not to be involved unless it’s absolutely necessary and you need me to explain things. He’s demanding fresh eyes.”
Sam sent Withers a disdainful glare. “Don’t worry about it, Withers. I’m definitely the fresh eyes.”
Frank chuckled at her snide retort while Withers’s expression became distant. Frank was content that Sam was on his side. He had needed an advocate all along. Yeah. Mommy sent her down from heaven for a few reasons.
He continued, but his thoughts were on Jen. “Okay, previous murders. Obviously cold cases by now. I don’t know if I agree with you--” He looked at Sam. “--about AriellaRose. So unmotivated. To do anything. Not in any physical condition to do anything strenuous. Pretends to let whatever her parents say roll off her, but she’s a deeply wounded woman. It’s those deep wounds that could cause something like this. Angers have to manifest. Her parents pushed her to the side and only hired Adam and Valerie. Angry enough to kill Daddy? When he’s supporting her? She had to know all of her part of the trust now goes to her mother’s discretion. Why would she want that? Could go either way in my mind, at this point.”
“Ha
ven’t a clue yet, either,” Sam answered, knowing his questions were rhetorical.
Frank shrugged. “Hey, I’m open to anything. When it comes up. When are Adam and Calinda coming in?”
Nick checked the calendar. “Later this afternoon. Around three.”
Damn! He’d have to cancel his training class, again. Hide your anger, Frank. “Okay. Fine. I’ll have Dale cover my class.”
“Hold on,” Withers said. “Here’s something. A blue oxycodone was found on a leaf next to Larcon’s body. Could have slipped out of the cutter’s possession. Gives credence to what you said, Frank. They will investigate to find the manufacturer and then if there are any matches to any other bust confiscations.”
Frank sat pensively with his fingers over his lips. The others waited. “She mentioned a clothing line to me. Need to find out if it exists.”
CHAPTER 17
Frank leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “Okay. I want to be a part of both interviews, so this is what’s going down.” Nick glared at him. “Forget where you are, pal?”
Frank wouldn’t accept the offhanded remark. “What do you mean?”
“What’s going down?”
Sam laughed. “Oh you don’t know by now, Nick?”
Nick looked puzzled. “What?”
“When Khaos is in the house, he rules.”
Nick laughed. “That’s what he told you?”
“Very clearly.”
“Nah. With his gang crew, yeah. But here?” Frank sent him a look that could kill. “Okay, here, when he’s called in. How to you want to proceed?”
“Much better. Okay, seriously. Have to get to know this Calinda. Think she’d relate better to you, Sam, and I’d love a crack at Adam if you don’t mind, Nick. He could deal with the both of us.”
Sam bounced in her seat. “How about making Adam wait? He hates that, so he might let out some things in anger, and you could observe me and Calinda. I don’t care how long it takes. Then, I’ll watch you two and type in contradictory things to question.”