by G. K. Parks
A number of things, but Mr. Lee could be right. “How many times did this happen?”
“More than I care to count.”
I sighed, not wanting to think how bleak life must be to inhale dry cleaning chemicals for kicks. Frankly, I despised dry cleaning after my best friend Emma had forced me to read studies on the neurotoxins and cancer causing chemicals involved in the process. Sure, some places used safer and more eco-friendly substances, but I still wasn’t convinced it was a good idea, specifically after I learned it didn’t actually do much to penetrate the fabrics and make them any cleaner. And after hearing how frequently Mr. Lee’s employees allegedly huffed them, I had another reason to despise dry cleaning. Not to mention, Jonathan Gardner probably wasn’t a fan either.
“Can I get a copy of this?” I tapped the security contract with my pointer finger. “And a list of your past and current employees with the troublemakers highlighted?”
Mr. Lee opened the top drawer of his desk. “Sure. Do you think one of them broke in here and killed that man?”
“I don’t know.”
He grabbed a highlighter and opened another drawer. “Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Did any of them hold a grudge after you fired them or give you reason to think they might want to harm or steal from you? Have you received any threats?” To hire a night watchman, something must have happened.
“Not that I recall.”
“Okay.” That didn’t help me any. I took in the rest of the office. From what I could tell, it hadn’t been ransacked. “Did you happen to notice if anything’s missing?”
Lee pursed his lips while he rummaged through the drawer. “Like I told the sergeant, the office was locked when I got here. The cash drawer had two hundred and fifty dollars in it. That’s gone. But that’s all I can say for certain. I haven’t had time to inventory the chemicals in the storeroom, but at first glance, everything appears to be there. Unless they filled the jugs with water or something.”
“DeMarco,” Fennel called, “do you have a minute?”
“Hold that thought, Mr. Lee. I’ll be right back.”
Chambliss gave me a look as I came out the door. “The guy’s a little off his rocker, but he’s pretty damn shaken. CSU tested his hands for GSR, but it came back negative. Same with blood. He doesn’t own a gun or have any priors. I don’t think he killed the security guard.”
Lee had given me the same impression, but I’d learned long ago not to be quick to pass judgment, at least at work. “Did he explain to you why he has a night watchman?”
“He got a discount or freebie. It has something to do with the new security system he installed.”
“What did the security company say?”
“Moonlight didn’t have anything to say. The alarm was never tripped. The disarm code was entered around four. Your partner has the details.” Chambliss glanced into the office. “All right, I’ll finish up with Mr. Lee and take him down to the station to fill out a report, unless you need more time to ask questions.”
“I think he’s given us enough for now. We can always follow up.” I poked my head back into the office. “Mr. Lee, is there anything else you wanted to tell me?”
Lee thought for a moment. “No, but if you need dry cleaning, I have a uniform discount. Twenty percent off.”
“Okay.” I kept my face neutral in the professional manner I had practiced in the mirror, “just get us that paperwork as soon as you can. If you need anything or remember anything else, here’s my card. Don’t hesitate.” I placed it on his desk. “Sgt. Chambliss will finish taking your statement.” I passed Chambliss in the doorway and went back into the cavernous dry cleaning area to meet Fennel.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth and stared at the endless row of hanging garments. They were attached to a conveyor belt that circled, making it easier to find a customer’s order for pickup. He glanced back at the office, listening to Chambliss’ voice drift into the hallway.
“The ME’s here. He placed time of death between 3 and 5 a.m. I’d wager it was around 4:12,” Fennel said as he led the way back to the front of the building.
“That’s precise. Are you clairvoyant now?”
“Only when it comes to reading your mind.” He held the curtain to the side so I could walk through. “But the security system logged an entry at 4:12.”
“The alarms never went off,” I said. “That’s when the system was disarmed?”
“Yeah.” Fennel glanced down at Gardner as we carefully maneuvered around the medical examiner and his assistant as they photographed the body. Simmons crouched beside them, gathering evidence and taking more photos as they prepared the slain guard for transport. “Someone knew the disarm code.” He handed me a sheet of paper with a list of names. “Those are Star Cleaners’ employees and previous employees who knew the code.”
“Inside job?”
“It reads like it. I just don’t understand the point. Why break in just to kill a guard and empty a register? Did Lee say anything?”
“He might be crazy, but he’s under the impression drug addicts want to steal the dry cleaning chemicals.”
“That’d be a first.” Fennel exited the shop and took a moment to stare up into the bright morning sky. He took a few deep breaths, the color slowly returning to his face. “Then again, anything’s possible. We should check with narcotics and see if they’ve heard anything about this. It could be the newest craze.”
“Perhaps.”
“This isn’t the safest neighborhood. According to dispatch, they get about a dozen calls a day for the area. Mr. Lee could be on to something. Or the killer broke in just to kill Gardner, and the money was a bonus.”
I didn’t like that theory, but it made the most sense. “No one reported gunfire?”
“Not according to dispatch.”
That didn’t sit right with me.
“It was one shot, Liv. The bastard didn’t miss. He fired point blank. He couldn’t have been any farther from his victim than I am from you.”
“So why’d Gardner let some asshole with a gun get that close to him?” I tried to think, but it was too early in the morning for this. I hadn’t even had my coffee yet. “It reads almost like a mugging gone wrong.”
“Maybe it was.” Fennel scanned the perimeter, following the crime scene tape that blocked off the front of the dry cleaner’s from the rest of the sidewalk. “Gardner could have gone to grab lunch or take a smoke break. He stepped outside, met the killer, and promised to hand over his wallet and the register in exchange for his life. At least, that’s what the sergeant thinks might have happened.”
“It’s a possibility.” I called to the nearest uniformed officer, “We’re going to need copies of the surveillance footage. Everything Star Cleaners caught and whatever we can get from nearby shops. I was told Chambliss sent officers to perform a canvass.”
“We’re already on it, Detective DeMarco.”
“All right, good.”
Fennel quietly snickered. “You know, I took care of that while you were inside chatting with Mr. Lee.”
“How would I know that?”
“Because you know me.”
“Yeah, well, I also thought you were going to blow chunks all over Gardner. Maybe I really don’t know you that well.” I nudged his shoulder. “How about Ellie? Does she know you better than I do?”
“Are you trying to ask me something?”
“You know what I’m asking.”
Fennel gave me the evil eye. “Let’s check out back. That’s where the disarm code had been entered. I want to see the setup. Chambliss thinks the killer might have come in from the back and left through the front. Ellie found several sets of footprints near the rear gate. It could lead to something.”
“Muggers don’t usually lie in wait.”
“Maybe it was a slow night.”
We went through the alley, which opened behind the building and crossed to the remote-controlled gate. Two security camera
s stood watch over the back of the building. One was posted on the wall, perpendicular to the gate, and the other covered the two double doors that led into the back of Star Cleaners. A patrol officer monitored the back while another crime scene tech dusted for prints and collected trace evidence.
“Have you pulled security footage yet?” Fennel pushed his jacket aside to expose his badge to the unfamiliar officer.
“Yeah, but I doubt you’ll get much. The cameras have been sprayed with some kind of oil,” the officer said.
The CSU tech didn’t even bother looking in our direction before chiming in, “My guess is the perp used cooking spray. It’s cheap, easy to find, and did a hell of a number on the lens.”
“What else did you find?” Fennel asked.
While they went over the rest of the details, I studied the tight walls, barely spread far enough to accommodate the delivery van. Frankly, being back here was making me claustrophobic. So instead, I focused my attention on the conversation, but something didn’t make sense. “Do you think the killer came in through the back?”
“That’s what the cameras would suggest,” the tech said. “He probably followed the guard inside after he entered the code.”
“And that’s the panel where the disarm code was entered.” Fennel jerked his chin toward the number pad beside the double doors. “Did you print it?”
“It’s smudged too badly. We didn’t get anything usable.”
“But if the killer came in through the back, who broke the front door?” I asked.
“Maybe he went out that way,” the uniformed officer suggested, parroting the sergeant’s theory.
Fennel chewed on the inside of his lip. “Most of the glass landed on the inside. That means he broke the glass door from outside the shop. We could be dealing with more than one attacker.”
“Gardner could have been in on it and got double-crossed. Or something else went down, and he got caught in the crossfire.” I stared at the keypad. “We need to determine who used that panel to enter the disarm code.”
Fennel reached for the folded sheet of paper. “Well, we got a list.”
Three
Five names were on the list. Four, if we excluded Arthur Lee. “This can’t be everyone.”
“It isn’t,” Brad said as he drove toward the first person’s home address. “Moonlight Security installed the system. They must have the disarm codes too. And who knows how many people that might include.”
“Great.” I flipped down the visor and checked to make sure my ponytail was smooth.
“And it doesn’t include the people these people told. We might have to spend the entire day hunting down the person who entered the code, and it could be for nothing. We don’t even know if that’s how the killer got inside.”
I gave my partner a look. “Why are you causing trouble? Can’t some things be easy?”
“Me?” He let out a snort. “You started it. I’m just doing my job. I don’t want Jonathan Gardner’s killer to get away with murder. So we’re going to find this guy or girl or team. Whoever they may be.”
“Okay.” I rubbed a hand down my face and studied the list of employees, current and former. “This is a lot of turnover for a dry cleaner’s. Half of these people don’t work for Star Cleaners anymore.”
“Red flag?” Brad asked.
“Possibly.”
A yellow coupe pulled out of a space a few spots away, and Brad parked in the now empty space. “Perfect timing.”
I looked at the clock on the dash. “Not really. The world’s on its way to work and school.” I hated early mornings.
“Can’t we at least celebrate the little things? This job’s hard enough. You don’t have to be so cynical about everything.” He winked at me and climbed out of the car.
I followed him down the sidewalk and up the steps to a fourth floor walkup. He knocked on the door and waited. Thirty seconds later, the front door opened a few inches, the chain holding it in place.
“Ms. Rivera?” Brad asked.
“Yes? May I help you?”
“We’re the police, ma’am. I’m Detective Fennel, and this is Detective DeMarco. We just have a few questions. May we come inside?”
“Questions?”
“About Star Cleaners,” Fennel said. “Please, it’ll only take a few minutes.”
“Okay.” Catelyn Rivera closed the door, removed the chain, and pushed the door wide to allow us to enter. Her studio apartment didn’t hide any secrets. “I don’t work for Mr. Lee anymore. I quit three days ago.”
“May I ask why?” I watched her cross the room and pour a cup of coffee while placing a frozen waffle in the toaster. My stomach growled, surprising me. After visiting the crime scene, I thought I had lost my appetite.
“Mr. Lee’s an asshole.” She opened the fridge and pulled out some jam. When the waffle popped, she flipped it over and pushed it back into the toaster. “He pays minimum wage. No benefits. No nothing. But he acts like he’s doing me some huge favor by letting me work there. Like it’s a privilege instead of one step above slave labor. I told him I couldn’t work Tuesdays or Thursdays. I have class those days, but he didn’t care. He thought my work schedule should take priority over my class schedule. So I told him what he could do with the job.”
“How long did you work there?” I asked.
Fennel wandered toward the kitchen table and scanned the stack of textbooks.
“I got the job right after finals and worked through the break, so a few weeks. He knew when he hired me I was working on my bachelor’s. I’m a senior.”
“European history?” Fennel held up one of the textbooks.
“No, economics. But I failed history my freshman year, and I’ve been putting off retaking it. Now I don’t have a choice.”
“And you can’t afford to fail again,” I said.
She gave me a determined look. “I won’t. Nothing’s going to stop me this time.”
“Where were you between the hours of three and five this morning?” Fennel asked.
“I was still at the library at three. Then I came back here to get some sleep before my eight a.m. class.” She gave me a bewildered look, and I noted the dark circles beneath her eyes. “Why? What happened? Did something happen to Mr. Lee?”
“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?” Fennel asked.
She blinked a few times. “No, I was here by myself. I was sleeping.”
“Do you know Jonathan Gardner?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“According to Mr. Lee, you know how to disarm Star Cleaners’ security system,” I said. “Have you ever done that? Or have you shared the disarm code with anyone else?”
Her waffle popped, and she reached for it, slathering butter and jam on it before taking a bite. “No,” she said while she chewed, “I wouldn’t give out the code. I only used it twice, those two days he had me open for him.” She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “Honestly, I probably wouldn’t even remember it if it didn’t spell out STAR.”
“What?” Fennel asked.
“You know, like on the telephone. The numbers coordinate with the letters.” She looked embarrassed. “On the keypad, each number has letters above it. So I just hit the digits to make the word. It was easy enough.”
“And the code spells out STAR.” That didn’t make the security system seem particularly secure, but I wasn’t sure how many people would think to do that. Then again, after trying the street number and 1-2-3-4, that would probably be the next logical guess.
“For the record, you never told anyone that?” Fennel asked.
“Why would I? It’s not like I had someone picking up my shifts at the dry cleaner’s. Twelve hour days in the steamy back with those stinky chemicals and stinkier clothing.” She crinkled her nose. “No one I know is desperate enough to work in a place like that for a miser like Mr. Lee.” She gulped down some coffee. “I have to get ready.”
“Do you own a gun?” Fennel asked.
; “No.” She shifted her gaze from my partner to me. “Is Mr. Lee okay? I might not have liked him as a boss, but he’s still a person.”
“He’s fine,” I said. “Do you mind if we look around?”
“Help yourself, just make it quick. I can’t be late for class.”
“Sure thing.” Fennel and I checked the apartment, but we didn’t find a gun, bloody clothing, or broken glass. Nothing indicated Ms. Rivera had been anywhere near Star Cleaners. “Thanks for your time. We may be back to follow up.”
“Follow up on what?” she asked as we made our way to the door. “You still haven’t told me what happened.”
I glanced at my partner. He wanted to play this close to the vest. “Don’t worry about it.” I jerked my chin at her textbooks. “You have more important things to think about. Good luck.”
She smiled, but her eyes held a question. “Uh, thanks.”
Brad and I didn’t speak until we were inside the cruiser. “I don’t think she did it,” he said. “And given the security code, anyone could have guessed it.”
“Still, according to the security logs, the code was only entered once. That’s a lucky first guess.” But I didn’t think she was responsible either. “Let’s move on to the next name on the list.”
“Roger that.” Brad turned the key in the ignition.
Sgt. Chambliss had patrol officers checking the same things we were checking, but since patrol had to conduct a canvass and probably grab coffee, I had a feeling we’d get through the entire list before they did.
The next name on the list was Guy Kellerman. He still worked at Star Cleaners but hadn’t been scheduled to work the rest of the week. When we knocked on his door, no one answered. After some quick checking and a few calls, we discovered Mr. Kellerman had gone on vacation and flew out yesterday afternoon.
We spoke to him on the phone, but he claimed he never gave out the security code. When asked if he knew Jonathan Gardner, he told me he did not. Since he wasn’t in town, had no priors, and a pregnant wife, I decided his alibi was airtight.