The Color of Greed (Raja Williams 1)

by Thompson, Jack

“Joey, we want to figure out how the Hope body got mishandled. Did you call the lab to get the samples rushed back here?”

  “No. You didn’t want me to, did you?”

  “Do you have the samples?”

  “No, they never came back.” Joey pulled out a log. “I always log them right here, like you told me. See, nothing from the lab since before Tuesday,” he said defensively.

  Raja saw no sign he was hiding anything.

  Vinny was working her computer magic while they talked. She stopped typing and stared intensely at Raja like a pointer spotting a pheasant.

  “Yes, Vinny?” he asked.

  “The security footage from the day in question outside this building shows a man taking a package from a courier just outside the entrance.”

  “Any facial ID?”

  “He conveniently avoided facing the cameras.”

  “So someone intercepted the samples,” said Raja.

  “I will confirm with the courier service, but it looks that way,” said Vinny.

  “How did you get the security footage?” asked the doctor.

  “That’s my girl,” said Raja.

  Vinny continued. “I also have two calls from the same phone to this office and the funeral home during the critical time period. The number traces to a local cell phone. I also have a fix on the owner. It’s a building on Franklin Avenue. The lease on file says Jennifer Gowan.”

  “Wow. I am impressed,” said the doctor.

  “Do either of you know a Jennifer Gowan?” asked Raja. Neither reacted, so he didn’t wait for an answer. “Okay, I’ll have the Randy Hope ashes sent over here later. Please do the tests, if you would.”

  “You can count on it,” said the doctor. Her assistant Joey nodded vigorously.

  On the way out Vinny said, “You like her, don’t you?”

  “Who?”

  “Dr. Becker.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I can tell.”

  “She’s an excellent pathologist.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I respect her mind.”

  Vinny punched his arm.

  “Okay. She’s hot,” admitted Raja.

  “Ah-hah. I knew it. She likes you, too, I can tell. You should ask her out.”

  “That’s enough, Vinny.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  Once they got outside, Raja tossed Vinny the keys to the Ferrari. “You drive. Drop me off at Jennifer Gowan’s place in Hollywood. Then I want you to drive to Long Beach and go over Randy Hope’s boat again.”

  “You think the police missed something?”

  “I’m counting on it. So far, we have suspicious activity and what looks like a coverup, but we still have no evidence confirming a murder. We need this case officially opened again. It’s never a good idea to pull on the tail of a large animal unless you are ready to climb on for the ride.”

  Chapter Eight: Loose Ends

  Vinny pulled up at the Franklin Avenue address where she had traced the phone. A large building sat on a grassy rise above the street. It was a six-unit apartment building that had been converted from the 1920’s mansion of a Hollywood celebrity, who Raja didn’t know, not that it mattered. Ancient history. Raja hopped over the side of the convertible and watched as Vinny drove away. He turned and walked up the concrete steps and across the long path to the front door. Ringing the buzzer next to the name Gowan got no response. Raja had tried another two buzzers when a young man came out and cheerfully asked, “Who are you looking for?”

  “Jennifer Gowan.”

  “She lives in 2C, but I don’t think she’s home. I’m next door to her, and haven’t heard anything since day before yesterday.”

  “Do you mind?” Raja said, grabbing the door before it closed. “I’d like to double check.” A dull throb had begun in the back of Raja’s head.

  “No problem. Go ahead. Second floor, last door on the left.” The building was well maintained and the large entry hall had white marble floors and an eighteen-foot ceiling. The interior was little changed from the original design. A curved tiger oak staircase led to the second floor. Raja followed a narrow hall toward the rear of the building and stopped in front of 2C. No one answered his knock. The solid wood door and frame looked too sturdy to kick in. He tried the doorknob. It turned. He pushed the door open, calling out for Jennifer. The rotten smell told him he was going to find something, and he wished it wouldn’t be the girl.

  So much for wishes. Jennifer Gowan was lying face down on the living room couch in a black sports bra and sweat pants. A small white bottle lay overturned on the table next to her. The label read Oxycontin 80 mg. Two of those could kill the uninitiated. The traces of green powder on the table indicated someone had crushed the painkiller tablets. It made for a better rush. At first blush, it appeared to be an overdose. Raja had his doubts. He took time to look through the apartment. The bed was made. Whatever happened, it wasn’t in the bedroom. There were two wine bottles on the kitchen counter, one empty, the other half gone. Raja noted the lack of used glasses anywhere. There was the smell of wine in the sink.

  Raja called the only number he had—Detective Rafferty.

  “Rafferty,” said the monotone voice.

  “It’s Raja Williams.”

  “I don’t suppose you found a more interesting case and decided to leave me alone.”

  “Doesn’t look that way. I’m in an apartment up on Franklin. There’s a dead girl here—name’s Jennifer Gowan. She’s connected to Randall Hope.”

  There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. “You sure she’s dead?”

  “No doubt.”

  “Did you call anyone else?”

  “You are the first.”

  “Don’t I feel special. Okay. What’s the address?”

  “12043 Franklin Avenue, Apartment 2C,” said Raja, reading a piece of mail.

  “Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  Meanwhile, Vinny drove to Long Beach to look for evidence on the boat. She found it still docked at the Alamitos Bay Yacht Club waiting to be claimed. Clarice Hope had not had the stomach to retrieve it yet. Vinny climbed on board and began a methodical search, top to bottom. She found nothing useful until she noticed a shiny metallic object wedged into a drain channel on the lower deck. She pried up what turned out to be a cap for one of those stainless steel Starbucks drink containers. The bottle was nowhere to be found.

  After securing the cap in a plastic bag, Vinny called Raja. He was still in the girl’s apartment waiting for Detective Rafferty.

  “Vinny. I hope you did better than I did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I found the girl. But, someone else found her, too. She’s dead. Looks like an overdose.”

  “Convenient.”

  “That’s my word for the day. I’m waiting for the detectives. So?”

  “I found a cap.”

  “A baseball cap?”

  “No, silly. The screw cap to one of those metal thermos bottles.”

  “I don’t remember any mention of a bottle in the police report.”

  “That’s just it—no bottle on board, no bottle on the evidence list.”

  “How did they miss the cap?”

  “It was wedged tight in a runoff, and looked like it could have been part of the boat. I studied detailed pictures of the boat online before I spotted it. Got it bagged and tagged, as they say.”

  “You are awesome as usual,” said Raja.

  Vinny smiled.

  “Take it straight to Dr. Becker for tests. Rafferty will be here soon. I’ll get a ride with him and meet you later at the police station. Nice work.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, yeah. Can you get me everything you can find on Jennifer Gowan?”

  “Sure.” Vinny’s smile broadened. She loved to help.

  Raja continued to search the dead girl’s room. Besides a rich taste in clothes, there was nothing specific t
hat jumped out. She lived alone, and from the look of the place, probably didn’t spend much time at home. Then he noticed something under her right hand on the rug. It was an unused pack of matches embossed with the letters HCC on a shield. Raja recognized the logo. The Hillcrest Country Club was one of the most exclusive clubs in LA. This girl was not the country club type, unless she was working there. Raja heard someone coming down the hall and stepped away from the dead girl, slipping the matches into his pocket.

  “Raja?”

  “In here.”

  Detective Rafferty shuffled through the doorway into the apartment, followed by two uniformed officers. “Clear the place,” ordered Rafferty. “No offense,” he said to Raja.

  “Standard procedure. None taken.”

  The two officers fanned out to check all the rooms.

  “Definitely dead,” noted Rafferty. “Looks like three or four days. You say there is a connection to Randall Hope?”

  “Yes, there is. Vinny found something on the boat that I’m hoping will confirm Randall Hope’s death was a murder.”

  “And you claim to be my friend.”

  “You may end up thanking me.”

  “That I’d like to see.”

  “After talking to the coroner I traced two calls from Jennifer Gowan’s phone to the coroner’s office and the lab. And I’ll bet the authorization faxed in to release the body came from that machine as well.” Raja pointed to a portable fax machine sitting on the desk in the corner.

  Rafferty walked over and picked up a cell phone from the desk. “This phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Looks like a drugstore burner. Why would she keep a burner phone that we could trace right to her?”

  “I think someone hired her to make the calls, and then told her to keep the phone so they could reach her. Maybe for a final payment for her services. Instead, they used it to track her and then kill her. Nice and neat. Someone is trying to cut off any investigation before it starts.”

  “That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”

  “It would be, Tommy, except, and I may have forgotten to mention this before, someone cut the brakes on my car right after I hit town.”

  “No shit?”

  “None at all. I almost bought it Friday night up on Mulholland Drive.”

  “What were you doing up there?”

  “Beating the bushes at the governor’s private party. I am thinking there is a connection. The whole thing has the feel of PR damage control. For what, I don’t know. Now there are two dead bodies. I’m thinking we ought to find out why.”

  “Okay, I’m interested. But we don’t yet have proof of one murder, much less two.”

  “We will as soon as Dr. Becker gets here.”

  “Where is she?” asked Rafferty. “She should be here by now.”

  “I sent Vinny over to her office with the new evidence from Hope’s boat. She may be doing tests.”

  “What about this one?” Rafferty pointed to the dead girl.

  “There are two bottles of wine in the kitchen, but no glasses. You should find evidence of her being forced to drink the wine. The rest was poured into the sink. The scene was staged to look like an overdose.”

  Detective Rafferty marveled at Raja’s intuitive confidence. “How could you know all that?”

  “It’s a gift. I call it connect the dots. Something I’ve always been able to do. I’m a big fan of Ockham’s razor.”

  “I use a Norelco tripleheader myself.”

  “Ockham’s razor is a method of philosophic logic.”

  “Yawn.”

  “If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck …” Raja paused.

  “I see. Why didn’t you just say so?”

  Raja’s phone rang. It was Vinny. “I’m at the lab. Dr. Becker didn’t want to take a chance on losing the sample, so she had me hand deliver it and wait for results. We got what we needed,” Vinny said triumphantly. “Hope was murdered. The tox panel showed a potent compound on the cap that could easily have killed Randall Hope. The doc can tell you more about it. She’s on the way to you now.”

  “Good work, Vinny. Why don’t you go back to Studio City. I’ll meet you there later.” Raja ended the call.

  “It’s official,” he said to Detective Rafferty. “That was Vinny at the lab. They found a drug that killed Randall Hope. He was murdered.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Rafferty.

  “Yes, he’s sure,” said a confident female voice.

  Both men turned to see Dr. Becker walking through the apartment door.

  “I told Vinny to call you with the news. After all, she was the one who found the evidence at the crime scene.” Dr. Becker gave Rafferty a disapproving look. “The compound contains tyramine, which in large enough dose causes an adrenergic storm.”

  “A what?” asked Rafferty.

  “It spikes blood pressure and heart rate. Tyramine has been used to temporarily increase blood pressure in emergency blood-loss patients. The amount Randall Hope ingested would kill a healthy man, yet look like a stroke from an aneurism.”

  “Sharon, good work,” said Raja. “I think we have another related murder here.” He pointed to the girl’s body.

  “Could we at least let the doc decide?” asked Rafferty.

  Dr. Becker examined the body. “The pills on the table and smell of alcohol would make toxic overdose the obvious COD.” She looked at the back of the girl’s arms and inside her mouth. “However, there is perimortem bruising evident in several places. This girl was in a physical struggle with someone right before she died. Based on my preliminary observation, I think you can assume foul play.”

  “Now we’ve got two murders, Tommy,” said Raja.

  “Don’t sound so damn happy,” said Rafferty.

  Chapter Nine: Loose Lips

  After Rafferty dropped Raja at the Studio City building, Raja stepped into the elevator and used his key to unlock and activate the 4th floor button. That took him to the private suite that covered the top floor. The entire floor had been gutted and redone with an open floor plan and raw brick, much like the factory lofts so popular in many cities. The place looked like an art gallery, with paintings and sculptures everywhere. Raja loved surrealistic art, and several of the pieces were expensive Matisse and Dali originals. Vinny sat in front of a large glass screen featuring the latest tech in computing interfaces. There was a keyboard, but most of the action could be controlled directly through the touch screen. Vinny looked like a symphony conductor.

  “You having fun?” asked Raja.

  “Of course. But you do know I don’t need all this equipment. Not with my cloud computing program.”

  “Yes, you explained that to me. Virtual computing, right?”

  “Basically. It’s the reason I can do so much with so little on the fly.”

  “I just thought you might like the new toys I had installed.”

  “I appreciate the effort. It is great stuff, thanks,” she added, after noticing Raja’s disappointment.

  Raja smiled. “We found enough evidence to call the girl’s death a murder, as well. So, Detective Rafferty is now fully on board.”

  Raja called Clarice Hope to tell her the news. “Clarice. Raja Williams. Thought you would like to know. You were right. Randy was murdered. We found some sort of poison.”

  “I knew it.”

  “I know it’s no consolation for your loss, but I am going to find out who did it and why. For now, I’d like you to stay at your ranch in Santa Barbara until I know more. You settled in okay?”

  “I’m doing more horseback riding at the ranch than I have in years. I feel good, other than the sore ass I’ve got. I feel like I’ve been dating the USC football team.”

  “I won’t ask how you know what that feels like.”

  “It’s a figure of speech, Mr. Williams. The riding keeps me occupied, at least.”

  “Good girl. Just lie low for now. Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will. D
o me a favor. Be careful.”

  “Thanks.” He thought about her words. Being careful was not something Raja often considered. He made a career out of taking chances. Being smart, on the other hand, was a firm policy. And right now the smart thing for him to do was get some rest. “I’m going to get some sleep, Vinny. Wake me at seven, okay?”

  “As you wish.”

  Raja didn’t bother to tell Vinny to get some rest. Vinny had the rare ability to get by on less than three hours of sleep a night. Raja knew she would work late and still be up at dawn ready to go, looking better than he did with a full night’s rest. She was an amazing and sometimes challenging person to work with.

  Raja slept soundly and woke up at nine, feeling refreshed and ready to go. He pulled on a pair of jeans, a polo shirt and his favorite Rockport loafers. He found Vinny at the computer. “Why didn’t you wake me when I asked?”

  “You were still sleeping.”

  “That is understood in the phrase ‘wake me up’ don’t you think?”

  “No doubt. But, you looked tired.”

  Vinny’s straightforward logic could be exasperating. But she never equivocated, and that Raja loved about her. “I suppose I was. Now I’m hungry. Is that sausage I smell?”

  “And eggs. They should still be warm.” She pointed to a plate on the counter.

  Raja didn’t care and wolfed down every bit. He thought about Randy Hope and Jennifer Gowan. Two lives he could not save. Never regret yesterday. Life is in you today. He had to move forward. He studied the computer screen while Vinny collected and organized information on the case.

  At ten Raja got a phone call.

  “Mr. Williams?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Ramona Griggsby. I thought of something you might want to know. Something I told Randy about a phone call I overheard. The judge was on the phone in the library. He started yelling at someone. I don’t think he realized the door was open. I couldn’t hear everything, but I heard enough.”

  Raja listened intently until she was done. “Who was he talking to? ... All right, I understand. Where are you? ... Stay put and I’ll be right over.”

  Raja turned to Vinny. “That was Ramona Griggsby. She remembered something from a conversation she overheard. She sounded scared. I’m going to see her.”