Thrilled to Death v5

by L. J. Sellers

  After a two-hour drive, listening to Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd most of the way, they took the Burnside exit in Portland and started looking for 321 Oak Street. They found it off Third Avenue. The brown brick building had no signage that mentioned an adventure company. The entrance was locked, so they walked down the street to a Denny’s and had breakfast.

  Forty minutes later, they were back and waiting near the front door when a young Asian woman walked up to open it. She looked surprised and a little nervous to see them. “Who are you?” The woman fumbled with an oversized key collection.

  “Detectives Jackson and Schakowski, Eugene Police. We need to speak with Zoran Mircovitch immediately.”

  She pushed open the heavy door. “He doesn’t usually get here until nine.”

  They followed the woman into a small austere lobby.

  “Do you work for him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Call him. Get him down here. We have search warrant, so we’ll get started anyway.” Judge Cranston had limited the warrant to a search of the database for Courtney Durham’s records, and if Mircovitch cooperated they wouldn’t need to exercise it.

  About twenty minutes later, Zoran Mircovitch rushed into his office. Jackson and Schak were still questioning his administrative assistant, who had already told them Courtney was a client, but wouldn’t give any details.

  Mircovitch was in his forties and his sun-loving face was starting to wrinkle, but otherwise he was lean and muscular, a lifetime athlete. After introductions, they all took a seat. Mircovitch pulled his hands togther. “What’s the problem?”

  “One of your clients, Courtney Durham, is dead.” Jackson took the lead. “We’d like to know why.”

  Mircovitch lost a little color. For a moment he was speechless, then finally blurted out, “I’m sorry to hear about her death, but I assure you, this company is not responsible. We operate under the tightest rules for safety and accountability.”

  “Tell us about ThrillSeekers and how you came to think kidnapping people was a good way to make money.”

  Mircovitch made a noise in his throat. “That is a very limited part of our business. Mostly we arrange outdoor adventures like sky diving, parasailing, and wilderness camping.” He gestured at the walls, which were covered with blown-up photos of smiling people engaging in various outdoor activities.

  “Did you arrange for Courtney Durham to be kidnapped?” Jackson kept up the pace.

  “Yes. She asked for the service and signed a contract to that affect.”

  “How much did you charge her?”

  A pause. “Twenty thousand.”

  Schak let out a whistle.

  “Who did the actual kidnapping?”

  Mircovitch turned to his computer and keyed something in. “I’m fairly certain who we contracted with, but I want to be sure.”

  “Someone you’ve used before?”

  “Yes. Seth Valder.”

  Schak spoke up. “I’ve heard the name. I believe he owns a strip club in Eugene.”

  “Mr. Valder is a businessman,” Mircovitch clarified, “and Lucky Numbers is one of his holdings.”

  “How did Valder know where to find Courtney?”

  “She provided us with a list of places she would be over the next few weeks.”

  “Have you spoken to Valder in the last few days?”

  “He called yesterday morning to report he had completed the contract.”

  Jackson was impatient with Mircovitch’s spin. “I want to know every detail about Courtney’s business with you. I want to see her contract. I want to see Seth Valder’s contract. I want to know exactly what Valder said when he called yesterday.”

  “Of course. You have a warrant. You can see all of it.” Mircovitch clicked a few keys, and the printer on a side table started spitting out paper. Mircovitch talked over the noise. “When Seth called, he reported he’d picked up Courtney, held her for twenty-four hours as stipulated, then released her in good health. According to my contract with him, he also made a brief video of Courtney near the end of her adventure to document her safety. He uploaded the file to our FTP site. Would you like to see it?”

  “We would. How much did you pay Valder?”

  “Ten thousand.”

  Jackson scrambled for what to ask next. Most of the deaths he investigated involved men who had killed each other over drugs, money, or ego, and often left some type of evidence. Occasionally, he was handed a stumper case, but this one was strange from every angle.

  “How did Courtney die?” Mircovitch turned his thirty-inch monitor so Schak and Jackson could view the video.

  “We’re not certain yet.”

  Courtney’s pretty face came on the screen, smiling strangely at the camera in a darkened room. “Hey, it’s Courtney here. I just wanted to say I’m okay and this was all my idea.” She made a kissing gesture with her lips, then laughed seductively. The video file went dark.

  “I want to see the information for the file.” Jackson stood and walked around to Mircovitch’s side of the desk. “Move, please.”

  The business owner stood and pointed at a .mov file labeled DurhamSafetyProof. Jackson grabbed the mouse and left-clicked. An information box popped open and revealed the file had been created at 9:17 p.m., Tuesday, April 7. Courtney had been captive and alive at nine o’clock, then free and dead by midnight.

  “Where were you Tuesday night between 9 p.m. and 2 a.m.?” Jackson demanded.

  “At home in bed with my wife.”

  “Where was this video recorded?”

  “I don’t know. I left that up to Valder. My contract with him only stipulates that the client be kept warm, dry, and safe.”

  “Where was Courtney released?”

  “Again. I don’t know. That’s part of the thrill for the clients, not to know when they’ll be picked up, where they will be held, or where they will be released. Once they sign the contract, which is also videotaped, the adventure is out of their control.”

  Schak spoke up again. “How many of these kidnappings have you done?”

  “Only a few.”

  “Did any of them go badly?”

  “No.” Mircovitch reached for his water bottle.

  He was concealing something. Jackson knew it instinctively. So did Schak, who suddenly leaned forward. “What are you not telling us? Remember, we have a warrant. We could spend all day here looking at files.”

  “No one was hurt, and it has nothing to do with Courtney.”

  “Tell us anyway.” Jackson went back to his chair.

  “We take every precaution to protect our clients and ourselves. Every nonconventional adventure has a safety word the client can use at any time and the whole thing stops immediately.”

  “And?”

  Mircovitch drew in a long breath. “One client panicked during her adventure. She used the safety word, but the contractor didn’t hear her right away. She wasn’t happy with her experience, so we refunded her money. That’s it.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “I don’t have to tell you. I doubt if your warrant gives you permission to search for her in my files.” Mircovitch crossed his arms and leaned back.

  Jackson felt a flash of anger. This man’s kidnapping sideline disgusted him. He wanted to shut it down, but this was not his jurisdiction and ThrillSeekers was not his primary focus. Courtney had been dead for more than thirty-six hours, and their window of opportunity was nearly gone. They had to get back to Eugene and talk to the contract kidnapper.

  “I want Seth Valder’s phone number and address.” Jackson stood, relieved to stretch and take the pressure off his kidneys.

  Mircovitch checked his cell phone, then jotted down a number. “I don’t have his address.”

  “Let’s go. You’re coming with us.”

  “To Eugene? You can’t take me to Eugene. I haven’t done anything wrong and you have no reason to hold me.”

  Jackson pulled handcuffs from his inside jacket pocket. “You are co
ming with us, one way or another.”

  “Oh shit.” Mircovitch glanced around as if he might not see his office again. “I have to make a few phone calls first. I have clients scheduled for this morning.”

  Jackson grabbed the cell phone out of his hands. “Not yet.”

  On the way out, Mircovitch stopped and spoke to his receptionist. “Cancel my appointments for the day, please. Then see if we have Seth Valder’s address.”

  “That’s not necessary. We’ll find it,” Jackson said, tugging on Mircovitch’s arm.

  They dropped Mircovitch at the downtown Portland police headquarters. In a private conversation with the precinct captain, Jackson asked that Mircovitch be held and questioned about his seedy business for at least four hours. The captain wasn’t happy about the unorthodoxy of the arrangement, until Jackson mentioned the investigation involved the death of Courtney Durham, daughter of Dean and Elle Durham who contributed heavily to law enforcement causes and state politicians who saw things their way. Jackson normally wouldn’t allow someone’s money to affect how he did his job, but he needed this favor. Valder was key to finding out what happened to Courtney, and he needed time to get to Valder. He wasn’t about to let the sleazebag slip out of town after a warning phone call from Mircovitch.

  As soon as they were in the car headed home, Jackson called Lara Evans and asked her to run a background check on Seth Valder. Next he called Ed McCray. “Schak and I just left Portland. I need you to find Seth Valder and bring him in for questioning. He’s the owner of Lucky Numbers. Evans is running a background check so she should have his address in a moment.”

  “Is Valder considered dangerous?”

  “He filled a contract to kidnap Courtney Durham, so he could be. Don’t move on him alone. Take Evans with you. Schak and I will be there in an hour or so.”

  Schak, who was driving, gave him a look. Making that kind of time meant hitting eighty or more all the way.

  In ten minutes, Evans called back. “Valder is forty-one and hasn’t been arrested in the last twelve years. Before that he had a few drug charges and one fraud conviction. He currently owns Lucky Numbers and another business called Valder Enterprises, which we don’t know much about. He resides at 27851 Fleck Road, which is outside of Veneta, and owns a rental property at 2597 Royal Avenue.”

  “Go with McCray to Veneta to bring Valder in, then talk to Michael Quince and see what he knows about him.” Detective Quince currently handled most of the sex-related crimes that came into the unit.

  “I’m on it.”

  An hour later, as they sped past the town of Coburg, ten minutes outside of Eugene, McCray called back. “We’ve got a situation here.”

  Chapter 16

  They pulled up in front of Valder’s two-story mini-mansion deep in the trees and parked next to a nearly identical city-issued car. McCray said he’d called for backup, but it obviously hadn’t arrived yet. Jackson and Schak hustled to the front door. The tall windows on either side revealed two people standing in the room beyond the foyer. Jackson knocked loudly, then pushed right in.

  McCray and Evans stood watch over a man seated on a low beige couch. Valder looked at least six-foot-three, even sitting down. Jackson guessed his weight at two-forty, with most of it concentrated from the waist up. What Valder had lost in hair, he made up for with light blue eyes and tight, tanned skin. The tan seemed unusual, considering the circumstances. Jackson wondered if there was a tanning bed in the house somewhere.

  Valder looked up at Jackson. “You can take these cuffs off. I don’t bite.” He grinned and flashed perfectly capped teeth. “There are four of you here now. With guns. As I told the guy in corduroy, I’m agoraphobic, so I’m not going to run.”

  Evans spoke up. “He refused to come with us, and we didn’t want to drag him out, so that’s the situation here.”

  This was a first for Jackson. “How do we know you’re not bullshitting us?”

  “Call my manager at Lucky Numbers. Ask him when he saw me last.”

  “How long have you been agoraphobic?”

  “I haven’t left the house in a year. It came on gradually before that. I’m willing to talk here,” Valder said, with slight edge of pleading. “I’m a legitimate businessman with nothing to hide.”

  Jackson motioned for McCray to remove the cuffs. Not that he trusted Valder, but if the big man relaxed, he would open up more. “Then you won’t mind if we look around while we’re here?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Jackson turned to Schak. “Would you pull up those other chairs next to the couch? We’ll interview him here.” Jackson headed down the main hall in search of a bathroom.

  When he returned, Schak and McCray were seated across from Valder, but Evans remained standing. They’d left Jackson the chair directly in front of the suspect. Jackson sat, thinking he’d never been in an interrogation situation like this one. It was unusual to have the whole team present, but at the moment he had no leads to send anyone out on. Brett Fenton was still a possibility, but so far they had no motive for him to kill Courtney.

  Jackson pulled out his tape recorder and set it on the coffee table. “You don’t mind if I record.” It was not offered as a question.

  Valder shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

  “How much did ThrillSeekers pay you to kidnap Courtney Durham?”

  “Technically, I contracted to help her act out her fantasy. For that, I was paid ten thousand dollars.”

  Valder was unfazed by the line of questioning, and Jackson felt a little less certain. “How do you know Zoran Mircovitch?”

  “We’ve done some business together over the years. We met at a gym in Portland a long time ago.”

  “What kind of business do you do with Mircovitch?”

  “It’s mostly referrals. I send potential clients to him and he gives me a nice contract every once in a while. Why do you want to know?”

  Jackson ignored the question. “Tell me about Courtney’s contract. If you don’t leave the house, how did you fulfill it?”

  “I hired Eddie Lucas. He has little business called Dirty Jobs.”

  “At least he’s honest in his advertising. Where can we find Eddie?”

  “He’s in the yellow pages.”

  “I’m doing you a favor by not dragging your ass into the department for questioning,” Jackson snapped. “Just tell me how you contacted him.”

  Valder looked offended. “I’d heard his name before, so I looked him up in the phone book. Really.”

  Jackson turned to McCray. “Let’s find Eddie Lucas and bring him in. Evans, go with him, please.”

  The two detectives trotted out of the house.

  Jackson turned back to Valder. “When and where did Eddie pick up Courtney?”

  “Monday night as she came out of Diego’s. He waited in front, then grabbed her and stuck her in the van.” Valder shrugged, seeming unconcerned.

  “Did she struggle? Did Lucas use force or restraint? I want details.” Jackson’s voice got loud again.

  “I wasn’t there. All I know is she was cuffed, gagged, and blindfolded. She wanted it to be real, and she was fine when she got here.”

  “When did Courtney arrive?”

  “Little after midnight.”

  “How long was she here?”

  “About twenty-four hours. That’s what the contract said.”

  “Who videotaped her when she was here?”

  “I did.” Valder jerked forward. “What happened? Did the little rich girl change her mind and sign a complaint? Or is her mother making a stink about it?”

  Did Valder really not know Courtney was dead? “You didn’t see the news this morning?” Jackson assumed Sophie’s story had been in the newspaper, but he’d left the house before his arrived.

  “I spend my mornings on E-Trade. What happened? What’s this all about?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. Right now I need a few more answers. Where did you keep Courtney for the duration of her confi
nement?”

  “Here. In a room in the basement.” Valder kept his face impassive.

  “What happened when her confinement was over?”

  “Eddie picked her up.”

  “Did you arrange a time in advance?”

  A slight hesitation. “Yes.”

  Jackson noticed the pause. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Schak react too. “What happened to the arranged time?”

  “Nothing. Eddie came back a little early, that’s all.”

  “Where did he take her to be released?”

  “To Autzen Stadium, out near the back by the bike path. You must know all this. What’s going on?”

  “Who decided where to drop her off?”

  “I did. Eddie was just the leg man.”

  “Why that spot?”

  Valder shrugged. “It’s a secluded area, yet right in the middle of town. Creepy, but easy for someone to get to.”

  “What kind of shape was Courtney in when she left your house?”

  “She was fine. I have a video to prove it.”

  “She’s dead now. Any idea why?”

  Valder blinked his eyes and let his mouth fall open. “Courtney’s dead? Oh shit. That’s terrible.”

  Jackson wasn’t buying it. “I think you knew already. Did Eddie call after the drop and tell you what happened?”

  “Eddie called to say the job was done and everything was fine.” Valder clenched his teeth. “What happened to Courtney? How did she die?”

  Jackson stood. “Let’s go take a look at where Courtney stayed while she was here.”

  Valder sat for a long moment. “I don’t have to show you.”

  “We can have a search warrant within an hour. I’ve got at least another hour’s worth of questions.”

  “Fine, I’ll show you.” Valder stood and was taller than Jackson had guessed. “As I said, I have nothing to hide. I helped a young woman act out her fantasy. That’s it.” Valder moved toward the center of the house, his arms at his sides, not swinging like most people’s did when they walked.

  As they headed down the wide hall, Schak turned to Valder. “Who else lives here?”