High Risk

by G. K. Parks

  “Check his social media for overlap,” Fennel said as he drove to the next location.

  “How could Kellerman kill someone from hundreds of miles away?” I asked, but I checked anyway. Besides working for Star Cleaners, Guy Kellerman also worked as a janitor at the baseball stadium. He just picked up the gig with Mr. Lee in order to put some money away in case his wife decided to become a stay-at-home mom after their little one was born. “I don’t see anything.”

  Brad rubbed the backs of his fingers against his freshly shaved cheek. “This is a waste.”

  “You said no stone, remember?”

  He growled and reached for the radio. Patrol had already questioned Pamela Aiker, the other current Star Cleaners employee. She also had an airtight alibi, but since she was the delivery driver, she used the code the most. “She could have had someone fill in and told him the code. But she’d never confess to sharing it. She’d lose her job. Then again, Arthur Lee found the body. When the cops arrived, he was inside the shop. He could have done it.”

  “Okay, what’s his motive?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s just something else to consider.”

  “Maybe we need to treat this like a robbery because, right now, that’s what it looks like.” Except I wasn’t sure.

  “Fine, but once we finish up with Star Cleaners’ employees, we move on to Jonathan Gardner. Someone killed him, Liv. And I’m guessing it had more to do with him than the money in the register.”

  Four

  “Who is it?” the third man asked.

  Carter peered through the peephole. “Shit. It’s the cops. They found us. How the hell did they find us?”

  “Easy, man. Just breathe.” Diego put a hand on Carter’s shoulder. “It might not have anything to do with us. Your roomie had a party last night. Three guys are passed out on the bathroom floor. I bet it’s about that. Your neighbors probably called in a noise complaint. That’s probably all it is.”

  “It better be.” The third man grabbed the two duffel bags and peered down the hallway. They couldn’t risk running. The police would catch them on the fire escape. Plus, running would make them look guilty. “Play it cool. Go see what they want. I’ll hide our stash.”

  “What they want?” Carter gawked. “You know what they want. You–”

  The third man slapped his palm over Carter’s mouth. “That’s right. And if you tell them that, so help me, I will put a bullet through you right now. And then they’ll have to investigate two murders. You got it?”

  Diego scowled. “Easy. Carter’s just paranoid.”

  “Paranoid?” Carter put out the joint and spun in a circle, looking for a place to hide it. “This isn’t paranoid.” He pointed emphatically at the door.

  “Don’t freak out.” Diego took the joint from between his fingers. “You’re not thinking straight. All right? Just answer the door and see what they want. Play it cool. Tell them you were with Mike all night. No one’s going to question it. You were there, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but I left after an hour to meet you guys.”

  “No,” the third man insisted, “you were with them the entire time. If the cops ask you something, just say you don’t remember because you were drunk or high. It doesn’t matter what you say, just as long as you keep your mouth shut about what really happened.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do not let them search the house.” He opened the coat closet and tucked the bags inside. “You blow this, and I’ll blow your fucking head off. And don’t try anything stupid. I’ll be listening to every word you say.”

  He opened the first door and entered the room. Two men were passed out on opposite ends of the bed, another one was asleep on the floor. A moment later, Diego joined him.

  “At least we showered and changed,” Diego muttered as he kicked off his shoes and found a spot on the ground to get comfortable.

  “I don’t trust Carter,” the third man said. “He’s too squirrely. You told me he could handle this. But he’s ready to crack. If he does, it’s on you.”

  “He won’t crack.” Diego glanced down at the joint he’d taken from Carter. “He might just need a few more puffs of courage.”

  * * *

  Fennel stopped in front of apartment 602, cocked his head to the side, and glanced at me. “You smell that?”

  “Someone’s having a party.”

  “This ought to be fun.” He knocked on the door again and waited. “Five bucks says no one answers.”

  “You’re on.”

  From behind the door, I heard movement and whispers. The light shifted beneath the doorframe, and Fennel and I stepped to the side. The place smelled like marijuana, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have other narcotics inside. And if panicked, people often behaved badly. After a few more whispers, the door creaked open.

  “Michael Tolliver?” I asked. The man in the doorway didn’t look anything like the photo I’d seen when checking his social media account on the way here. Michael Tolliver had dark brown hair and an olive complexion. This guy was bleach blond and pale. His red, glassy eyes looked like they belonged to an albino rabbit.

  “He’s sleeping.” The man looked down at our badges and guns. “What do you want?”

  “And you are?” Fennel asked.

  The man rubbed his forehead before wiping his palm on his pants leg. “Carter Moore, Mike’s roommate.” He stepped back, his gaze darting down the hallway. “If you want to talk to him, I can wake him up.”

  “Do you mind if we come inside?” Fennel asked.

  “No. I mean yes. I mean…what do you want?” Carter rubbed his eyes. A fresh layer of perspiration burst from his pores, giving his skin a slight sheen.

  “We just need to speak to your roommate. It’d be best if we do that inside.” Fennel stared at the man.

  “So this is about Mike?” Carter asked, nearly breathing a sigh of relief. “Did he do something wrong?”

  “We just need to ask him a few questions and find out where he was last night,” I said.

  Fennel narrowed his eyes. “Are you on something, sir?”

  “Me?” Carter shook his head vehemently. “No…uh…just hungover.” He turned to look behind him. After several seconds, he let go of the door. “I guess it’d be okay if you came inside.”

  Fennel and I exchanged a look and cautiously entered the apartment. The smell of pot grew stronger, but I didn’t see a burning joint anywhere in sight. Carter led us into the living room, fidgeting uncontrollably. The man was practically shaking.

  “Is something wrong?” Fennel asked. Obviously, our presence had made him uneasy, probably on account of the pot, but I couldn’t be sure that’s all it was.

  “No, nothing. Just battling a hellacious hangover. You know how those go.” Carter headed for the hallway. “Stay right here. I’ll get Mike for you.” Voices emanated from down the hall, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  I kept watch while Fennel examined every inch of the living room. He found an empty ashtray and a vase that doubled as a bong but no contraband. Fennel stopped in front of the entertainment center and knelt down, examining the lower shelves. When I heard a doorknob turn, I cleared my throat. Fennel stood up and straightened his jacket.

  A moment later, Carter returned. “Mike’s getting dressed. He’ll be right out.” He leaned against the wall. The nervousness had been replaced by an unsettling mellow. Maybe they’d been smoking in the bedrooms. “Want to tell me what this is about, officers?”

  “Was Mike here all night?” I asked.

  Carter stared at me and licked his lips. “Not all night. We spent most of the night at a strip club.” He chuckled. “Bachelor party.” He eyed me again. “None of those women even came close to holding a candle to you. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

  “Thanks,” Fennel said, “I exfoliate.”

  Carter turned to look at my partner. “What?”

  “Who’s getting married?” Fennel asked.

 
“Huh?” Carter grew even more confused.

  “You said you were at a bachelor party. Who’s getting married?” Fennel asked again.

  “Oh, um, my buddy. Well, he’s really Mike’s buddy. Mike got the invite. I just tagged along. Who wouldn’t?” Carter swallowed. “So yeah, that’s where we were until like….” He blinked a few times. “Four. And then we called a car to drive us back.”

  “What strip club?” I asked.

  “Dimples.”

  Another man stumbled down the hallway, using both hands to bounce off one wall and then the other, like a pinball. He got to the end and dropped into a recliner. Even disheveled, this guy looked like his profile pictures.

  “Michael Tolliver?” I asked.

  He forced his eyes open and leaned his head back to look up at me. “Yeah. What can I do for you? Carter said the police were here.” He caught sight of my badge and gun beneath my jacket. “I thought he was lying. I thought you might have been a strippergram. Do they still have those?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Sorry.” He held up his palms. “Is this about last night? We paid our tab. And the girl in the cake, that was supposed to have been taken care of.”

  “That’s not why we’re here.” I glanced at Fennel. It’d be best if we split up. “May we speak in the kitchen, Mr. Tolliver?”

  Michael hauled himself out of the chair. “Yeah. I need coffee. And water. And aspirin.”

  I followed him into the kitchen while Fennel continued to drill Carter about the bachelor party and details on their whereabouts.

  “I’m sorry to bother you so early in the morning. But you work for Star Cleaners, right?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” Mr. Tolliver opened a cabinet and grabbed a box of instant coffee. Then he reached for a mug. “Would you like some?”

  I would love some. But something about this place and these men left me uneasy. “No, thanks.”

  He nodded before filling a mug with tap water and placing it inside the microwave. “Did something happen at work?”

  “There was a break-in. Mr. Lee said you had the access code.” I watched Tolliver’s expression carefully, but his surprise was genuine.

  “I didn’t do it. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Shit.” He took the mug out and stirred the coffee crystals into it. “Look, whatever you need, Detective…?”

  “DeMarco,” I said. “I’ll need names of the people who can vouch for you, what time you left the strip club, all of that.”

  He clung to the counter as he made his way toward an abandoned smart phone. He tapped on the screen a few times, blinking in an attempt to focus what must have been blurry double-vision. “Here’s the receipt from my rideshare.” He held out the device. “And Gary saw me. Hell, everyone did. There were like a million of us there. If you check the photo roll, there are probably pictures. I’m not sure if there’s a timestamp or whatever.”

  I read the receipt. Carter was right. They didn’t leave until four, when the club closed. After copying down all the pertinent information, I checked Tolliver’s recent photos. “I thought strip clubs didn’t allow flash photography.”

  “Not of the girls on stage, but Gary’s brother rented out the entire place. We were the only ones there. So it shouldn’t have been a problem.”

  “What happened with the girl in the cake?” I asked.

  He blushed. “Nothing. She was great. Delicious. No, Tasty.” He turned a deeper shade of crimson. “That was her stage name. Apparently, she cost extra. Or the cake did. I don’t know, but Bart’s credit card got declined. I think Willie or Kevin picked up the tab.”

  He came over and pointed to the screen. “That’s Willie. That’s Gary. The one with the bra on his head, that’s Kevin.”

  I thumbed back through the photographs, finding more shots of the group outside the club. Twenty-three men had gone to the bachelor party. I handed Tolliver my notepad. “I need names and whatever numbers you have, just in case. Where did you go after the club?”

  “Several of us came back here for the after party.” Tolliver gulped down some coffee. “Half of them are passed out on my bedroom floor, if you want to ask them any questions.”

  “Liv,” Fennel called, stepping into the kitchen, “you almost through in here?”

  “Do you know Jonathan Gardner?” I asked.

  Tolliver blew on the rising steam and took a sip. “He’s the night watchman. Why? Did he say I did this?”

  “No, sir,” Fennel said. “He’s dead.”

  “Dead?” Tolliver sputtered, choking on coffee. “No way. I just saw him yesterday. What happened?”

  “He was shot inside Star Cleaners.” Fennel glanced back into the living room, but Carter appeared to be in a daze. “Do you own a gun?”

  “A shotgun. I keep it at my parent’s hunting cabin.” He paled, looking like he might be sick. “Do I need a lawyer?”

  “No, sir. We just have to figure out what happened. Do you remember any problems arising at work? Did you see or hear anything suspicious? Did Mr. Gardner mention any threats or problems with anyone?”

  “No, nothing like that. I just do my job and go home. It’s hi and bye. Nothing more. Mr. Lee doesn’t exactly let us talk much. It’s just about doing the work.” Tolliver dropped into a chair. “I can’t believe this. This is insane. When did it happen?”

  “Last night,” I said.

  Tolliver appeared lost in thought. “God.”

  “Half the party’s passed out in the back bedrooms.” I looked at my partner, surprised he had said so much. We didn’t mention any of this to Catelyn Rivera.

  “So I heard.” Fennel turned to find Carter still leaning against the wall. “The groom-to-be wandered out in search of the bathroom, and I asked him about his night. I think we’re done here.”

  “I just have one last question, Mr. Tolliver. By chance, did you tell anyone how to disarm Star Cleaners’ security system?”

  “No, I wouldn’t do something like that.”

  I nodded to him. “Get some sleep. We’re sorry to have bothered you.”

  Carter walked us to the door. He stared at me with those bloodshot eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he swallowed, “y’know, that I couldn’t be more helpful.”

  Five

  “Did you find anything in the MDT?” Fennel asked as he drove to the address we pulled off the victim’s license.

  “Jonathan Gardner doesn’t have a record. I don’t think he’s ever even had a parking ticket.” I stopped tapping on the mobile data terminal and pulled out my phone. “Let me see if I can find anything else on social media.”

  “We’re going to have to make the notification.” Fennel chewed on his bottom lip. Every cop hated this part of the job. Most were lucky enough to avoid having to do it. But we weren’t so lucky. “I didn’t see a ring on his finger. Do you think he’s married?”

  “No.”

  My partner let out a sigh. “Okay. What about kids?”

  “Just give me a second.”

  “I hope he doesn’t have kids.”

  “Me too.”

  “According to his license, he’s twenty-eight. He could have kids. Then again, I’m a little older than he is and I don’t have any kids. So I guess that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Are you sure about that, Brown Eyes? It’s not like you’d necessarily know if you did.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Are you sure?” I teased.

  “Stop that, Liv. I would know. I’m not that kind of guy.”

  “Does Ellie have kids? Oh hey, wasn’t she out on maternity leave these last few months?”

  “You’re not funny.” Fennel intentionally hit a pothole just to rattle me.

  “I’m hilarious. You just don’t appreciate my wit.” I tapped on my phone, scrolling through the photos on Gardner’s social media page. It appeared he had lots of friends but no steady girlfriend, at least not anymore. “I don’t thi
nk Gardner has kids. No wife. No girlfriend.”

  “Boyfriend?” Fennel asked.

  “According to this, he’s into women.”

  “Are you looking at his dating profile?” Fennel’s lip quirked in the corner. “You know, you could try one of those dating sites.”

  “To search for our victim?”

  “No, to search for someone to share your wit with.”

  “Is that what you shared with Ellie?”

  “For the record, we never went out. We’re friendly. You know me. I’m a considerate guy, who doesn’t have a problem showing his appreciation for our hard-working support teams, so whenever I need a favor, she makes sure our evidence gets processed ahead of schedule. No harm, no foul.”

  “I always knew you were good for something. I should pimp you out more often. But I don’t trust you not to break hearts left and right.”

  “Do I look like Jake Voletek to you?”

  “You might if you didn’t shave for a week.” Voletek was another homicide detective we worked with. He hit on anything that moved, including me until I set him straight, but despite that, my gut said he was a good cop, dedicated and with a lot to prove, kind of like me. Thankfully, my partner rarely hit on anyone, but that didn’t stop most of the women from shamelessly flirting with him. And Fennel and I had been partners long enough for me to know he wasn’t exactly a choir boy either. He was just more subtle about it.

  “Regardless, you can’t pimp me out, Liv. We don’t work vice.”

  “But we could. You might like it better than homicide.” I tried to hide the concern from my eyes. Fennel never wanted to work homicide, but he transferred because it’s what I wanted. He could have stayed in intelligence, but he wouldn’t leave me. He made it clear we were in this together, even if it meant starting some days with his head in a barf bag.

  He pulled into a space and cut the engine. “Let me see that.” He took the phone from my hand and scanned Jonathan Gardner’s page. But there was nothing damning on it. No one had posted any threats. “What are we doing?” He glanced around, but he didn’t spot any patrol cars. “The sergeant said he called for a search warrant. But it doesn’t look like the paper’s here yet.”