Random Revenge

by William Michaels

  He considered checking the windows and back door for signs of forced entry, but didn’t want to scare Gigi if she was at home, she was skittish enough. If Upton had been assaulted here instead of across town, she would probably have cleaned up any evidence. He’d check anyway when he came back. And call around to window repair shops and locksmiths. Upton, of course, could have let the guy in.

  Winter took one last look around. The faint aroma of the garden couldn’t cover the sickly sense that this might have been the location of a sexual assault.

  Winter was up at dawn, anxious to get moving, a lot to do today, yet too early to see either the Lakeview groundskeepers or the security footage. He pulled on a pair of shorts, took a fast walk, twenty minutes, just to get his blood flowing. His was a working neighborhood, plenty of people already up, walking dogs, throwing out the trash.

  He ate, had two cups of coffee. Almost eight. He would get going, call the Lakeview office from the car, and if it wasn’t open yet would detour to the station. Just as he was leaving the phone rang, not the cell, the house number.

  Andie, the crime tech. “Just saving you the need to call me about the Gruse DNA.”

  “I haven’t called.”

  “You were thinking about it. Still not the final take to court ready report, but I thought you’d want to know that there’s no match—no Gruse DNA shows up in the Upton SAFE kit.” When Winter didn’t reply, Andie said, “Is that good news or bad news?”

  “Rules out one possibility, which is good. I think I know who that foreign DNA is from, but run it through CODIS anyway.”

  “I suspected you’d be wanting that, so I am now.”

  “Thanks. Let me know.” The DNA would be Tazik’s, but Winter wanted to rule out Woodson, whose DNA would be in the system since he had a felony conviction. But Gruse appeared to be off the hook. One link in the connection map snapped, that of Upton killing Gruse because he had assaulted her. Unless . . . Gruse could have assaulted her a different night. But why would Upton wait to report it? And choose a night where Tazik could place her elsewhere?

  That left Woodson and Ayers.

  A few minutes after eight. From the car Winter tried the Lakeview office, it was still closed. He called Ryder, got him on his cell, brought him up to speed. “Can you track down Woodson’s lawyer?”

  “Shouldn’t we wait for the CODIS results?”

  “I don’t think they’ll be a match for that night. But it would be good to hear what he offers up. Tell him we’re running the test, if he has something to tell us about a possible rape, the usual.” To make it more palatable for Ryder, Winter added, “Woodson had the drug priors, he still could have killed Gruse, maybe Upton put them together. You can also see if he has an alibi for the night Gruse was killed.”

  “That’s the most reasonable theory you’ve had yet. The drugs, I mean. We got the lab work back on the capsules Gruse had in his pocket. Roofies, specifically Rohypnol and MDMA. Gruse was probably looking to score or find a source.”

  Winter said bye before Ryder had a chance to change his mind.

  Winter was in the middle of the city, just passing the Hilton, which made him think of Ayers. He punched up Cindy on his cell phone.

  “Anything yet on Gruse’s internet storage, or whatever you call it?”

  “Cloud storage. We just got access, I’m pulling it up now. Looks like tons of photos. What am I looking for?”

  “Photos that aren’t duplicates of what you found on the memory cards. Specifically, any photos of Jason Ayers, especially with Suzanne Mance.”

  “Okay. Dan is working on a program to compare the file names, look for mismatches based on file properties.”

  Winter had no idea what she was talking about. “Sounds great.”

  He caught the long light at the ramp to the bypass road, giving him a few minutes to think. If Upton was with Tazik, then why did she claim she got assaulted at her apartment? And if she didn’t get assaulted, where did she get the idea from? Just from being with Tazik, a hazy memory of having sex, leveraged into a story about Ayers designed to give her publicity?

  Or had she heard about a real assault? Winter was about to dial Cindy back to see if there were any sexual assaults Upton may have heard about on the national news. There weren’t any in Marburg around that time, Winter would have remembered. In his mind he replayed Upton’s movements, from Marlborough back to Marburg, either to her apartment or the Lakeview.

  Lakeview. Upton had been at Lakeview when she had called 911. Prompted, according to Ryder’s notes, by her conversation with Gigi, convincing Melanie to report the assault.

  Why would Melanie not call in the assault when it was fresh in her mind, at her own apartment? Why wait until she reached Gigi’s? So far, there was no evidence to support Melanie’s assertion of a break-in or an assault at her apartment. On the other hand . . .

  Could it have been Gigi who was assaulted? That would certainly explain why Gigi was so nervous. Gigi tells Melanie, they call 911, Melanie blames it on Ayers for publicity.

  Or because Ayers had actually done it.

  Winter hit his siren switch, pulled a u-turn in the middle of the intersection, horns blaring, and roared back toward the Hilton.

  Winter didn’t know this desk clerk, but one look at Winter’s demeanor stopped any possible argument about giving him an elevator key card. As he stepped out onto the Executive Floor his phone rang. He was about to silence it, saw that it was Ryder, picked up.

  “Your man Woodson was in overnight lockup on a DUI in Framingham the night that Gruse was killed,” said Ryder. “And he didn’t match on CODIS. He’s off the hook for both the assault and the Gruse murder.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “One less asshole to think about. I’ve got a better possibility.” Winter gave Ryder the short version. “So I think it could be the sister who got assaulted, not Melanie. She just borrowed the story.”

  “If it’s true, that’s cold.”

  “Depends. You saw Gigi, she’s scared shitless of even talking to the cops, afraid she’ll get fired for lying. Can you imagine what a rape trial would do to her?”

  “So Melanie is helping her out?”

  “Maybe. Ayers still could be our guy. He breaks in to Gigi’s apartment, thinking he’s at Melanie’s. Melanie tells Ayers she’ll claim he assaulted Gigi unless he helps her career. He refuses, so she goes semi-public, putting pressure on him.”

  “I don’t buy it. Gigi knows Ayers. Why didn’t she just tell us?”

  “Maybe the part about her being out of it is true, she can’t remember.”

  “So there’s no Gruse connection.”

  “There might be if photos of Mance and Ayers show up on Gruse’s cloud storage.” Winter had another thought, spurred by his visit to the alley behind Gigi’s apartment and the anonymous note about a prowler. The timeline was off, but could that have been a resident spotting Gruse stalking Upton? “Gruse might even have a photo of Ayers going in—or breaking in—to the Lakeview. Got to go, I’m at the Hilton.”

  Winter knocked on Ayers’s door, got no answer, pounded. A very sleepy Ayers pulled the door open. “Shit, what time is it?”

  Winter pushed his way in. “Time for you to come clean. Last chance. When were you last in Gigi Doyle’s apartment?”

  Ayers looked confused. “In? As in inside? Never. I don’t even know where she lives.”

  Winter prodded, “We’re checking the security tapes now.” Winter didn’t tell Ayers that the tapes wouldn’t show the front door of the apartment. “If we find your DNA in her apartment . . .”

  Ayers was already shaking his head. “I haven’t seen Gigi in years, since way back. Ask her.”

  Ayers looked believably blank, but he was an actor. Winter decided to hit him with it. “So you’re claiming you didn’t know Gigi lived at Lakeview.”

  “What? No, in the same complex? What’s Gigi got to do with this?”

  Winter didn’t answer, th
is was the time when the guilty ones started protesting their innocence or claiming it was all consensual.

  Ayers said, “It doesn’t matter. You know I wasn’t anywhere near the Lakeview the night Melanie says she was assaulted. I was with Suzanne Mance.”

  Winter wasn’t going to let slip his suspicion Ayers might have assaulted Gigi, not yet. “Unless it was another night.”

  “What night?”

  “You tell me. Did Melanie try to get you to help her career?”

  “Shit, haven’t you been listening? That’s what Melanie does. Of course she tried to use me, that’s the whole point of her story about me assaulting her. If you can’t help Melanie, she’s not interested in you.”

  “And you wouldn’t help her?”

  Ayers shook his head again, this time more in sadness than denial. “You know, if she had come to me, asked nicely, I would have done what I could. Not gone out on a limb for her, she’s got this—mean streak in her. Introduce her to a few people? Sure. But instead of being a normal person—even normal in this fucked up business—she tries to manipulate me, manipulate everyone. Let me ask you this. Have you found even one close friend she has? Or anyone who has a single good thing to say about her? I’m telling you, she’s just in it for herself.”

  “What about her sister?”

  “She’d be the only one. Although if she could get something out of Gigi, Melanie wouldn’t give it a second thought.”

  “You could give us your DNA, clear this up right away.”

  “I’d be willing to do that, but I’ve heard a lot of stories about DNA getting mixed up. I’d need to talk to my lawyer.”

  “Do that.”

  It had been so long since the assault it would be a nightmare to match Ayers’s DNA to anything in Gigi’s apartment. But it was worth having Ayers worried about it, maybe he’d change his story.

  Or not. Winter had just got back in his car when his phone rang; Ryder again. “Susan Mance is here, as in here at the station. She took the red eye. And she has red eyes, she’s crying like a baby, swearing up and down Ayers is innocent.”

  “I just left Ayers, he didn’t mention her being in town.”

  “Maybe he’s not taking her calls. She says she’s on her way to the Hilton, now that she’s convinced me that Ayers is innocent.”

  “Her crying eyes do that for you?”

  “She does do a good cry, but I’ve seen plenty of movies, these actresses can turn on the waterworks at will. What convinced me was the copy of her Amex bill, showing her room charge for the B&B that night. That, and a conversation I just had with the manager, after Mance gave her the okay to talk. The manager not only swears that Mance and Ayers were at the inn, but that Ayers didn’t leave until morning, because the manager saw Ayers get into his Range Rover.”

  “I have a new idea,” said Winter.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Say Ayers did assault Melanie. Or Gigi. It didn’t have to happen that night. Melanie could have just used the story. Ayers just told me that Melanie is just out for herself, she’s a manipulator. I can believe it.”

  “I’ll give you that. If Ayers assaulted her on a different night, her story is going to fall apart with Ayers’s alibi.”

  “It still might be Gigi. I’m going to the Lakeview, ask around, see if Ayers or Gruse were there.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Winter was surprised, that was the first time Ryder had offered to help. He didn’t mention it; he sensed this was an apology of sorts from Ryder, or at least a grudging acceptance. “Can you check to see how long it will take Cindy to find out if there are any photos of Ayers in Gruse’s cloud storage?”

  “Sure. I can help look through images.”

  “Thanks. I’ll call from the Lakeview.”

  The Lakeview was much busier than it had been the night before, a steady line of cars exiting the lot, off to work. Winter spotted the two groundskeepers before he reached the business office. They were less wary this time, leaning on their shovels as Winter walked over.

  He started by showing them a different photo of Ayers, a candid, and got only headshakes. Then Gruse. The guy who had done most of the talking last time said, “I don’t think so.”

  The other one asked something in Spanish. Winter caught the word carro, which was in his limited Spanish vocabulary. “A Cadillac,” Winter suggested. “Older, 1990 something, I think. I don’t have a picture.”

  More Spanish. The guy who had identified Woodson’s bike pulled out a cell phone and was typing away. Within seconds he had pulled up images of Cadillacs.

  Winter pointed to one. “Like this, but cream colored. Off white.”

  “Yes. Here.” The first words in English Winter had heard him speak. The groundskeeper pointed back toward the entrance. “There.”

  Another round of Spanish, then the more fluent English speaker said, “He says he saw the car a few times, not in the lot, but out on the road before the entrance. Does this help you?”

  So Gruse had been at Gigi’s after all.

  CHAPTER 42

  Winter got in his car, started the engine, but couldn’t quite decide where to go. He now had proof—okay, not take to the jury proof, but he believed it—that Gruse had been at the Lakeview apartments. Gruse had been following Upton around, taking photos, no doubt he’d seen her here; Upton hadn’t exactly been keeping it a secret.

  It still could be possible that was the end of it, a semi celebrity photographer stalker. Or Gruse could have assaulted Melanie, not necessarily on June 12th, but some other night, and Melanie had conveniently turned that into a story about Jason.

  If Gruse didn’t do it, that left Ayers as the only other possibility, alibi or not. Too impatient to wait, Winter called Cindy.

  “Anything?”

  “Hard to tell. Every file on the camera cards is on the cloud, but not vice versa. But so far, every folder that is only on the cloud is dated months ago. We’re going through them now, just in case, but none of the shots appear local.”

  “What’s in the other photos?”

  “More of the same. Women, and more women. No shots of Jason Ayers.”

  “Where’s Ryder?”

  “He’s helping. You want him?”

  “Not right now. Let me know if anything pops. Just focus on men, look for Ayers.”

  Winter hung up, not expecting them to find anything. The Jason Ayers idea was probably a dead end. Ayers had what would probably be a good alibi, and the one reason Winter could think of that would make him kill Gruse—a photo of Ayers—didn’t appear to exist.

  If Ayers didn’t assault Gigi, then there would be no catalyst for Melanie to pretend she was assaulted. Winter couldn’t dismiss the idea that Melanie made it all up; she certainly was a good enough actress. Even if Gigi knew of Melanie’s plan, would that by itself make Gigi nervous talking about the deception?

  Winter stared at Gigi’s front door. No, not from here, that’s not where Gruse had been parked. Winter pulled out of the lot, did a tight u-turn, and found a spot along the entrance road. Not perfect, but he could see Gigi’s door from an angle.

  What would Gruse have thought if he had followed Melanie here? He’d see her go into that apartment.

  Gruse, who had fought with Melanie twice in public. Saying she owed him. Winter thought that meant money from a blackmail, but it could have been something else. Maybe she had promised him a date in exchange for taking photographs, just as she had with Tazik. Maybe Gruse had conned her, told her he had big connections in Hollywood.

  Melanie blows him off, and Gruse is pissed. He gets drunk at a bar, gets beat up. For some reason he blames Melanie. He drives here, maybe parks in this very spot. He walks down the service road, just as Winter had done. He breaks in, expecting to find Melanie. Only it’s Gigi. Gruse assaults her. Gigi stoned from the pills, like she said, she doesn’t know who it is. She calls her sister, who comes over and co-opts the entire story, either to use it for her own end
s or to protect her sister. Or both.

  Gigi could have let Gruse in, not remembering. She’s out of it on the sleeping pills, Gruse takes out his frustration on her. Stoned . . .

  Roofies. They’d found roofies in Gruse’s pocket. Gruse wasn’t selling roofies, he was using them to spike the drinks of unsuspecting women.

  Which would make him a rapist.

  The drugs could also explain why Gigi had been so out of it during the assault, maybe Gruse had found a way to slip them to Gigi, or had forced her to take them. Melanie had used that part of the story as well. Later, Gigi remembers it was Gruse, or knew all along. Yet if Gigi killed Gruse in retribution, she was an even better actress than her sister. Winter never said never, but the way Gigi had shrunk away from him didn’t exactly give off a killer vibe.

  If not Gigi . . .

  Melanie.

  Gigi confides in Melanie, or perhaps from bits and pieces she picks up from Gigi, Melanie finds out that Gruse did it, and it’s Melanie, not Gigi, who kills Gruse. Winter had no doubt that Melanie could lure a warm blooded male anywhere, even an out of the way hotel in Greenhill.

  The convoluted array of strings in Winter’s mental map simplified into a series of straight lines. Gruse to Melanie to Gigi back to Gruse.

  There was nothing random about revenge.

  Winter was on the move, heading back to the station. There was nothing there he needed that couldn’t be done over the phone, but he was at the worst kind of standstill, convinced he had it all figured out but no way to prove it. Confronting Upton without proof would be a waste of time, if she was guilty she’d run rings around him.

  At the municipal building he went in the back way, the split level putting him on the floor where the evidence room and labs were. Andie was in front of her computer.

  “Did you do DNA collection from Gruse’s car?”

  “Yes and no. There was too much—he hadn’t vacuumed those carpets in forever. So we collected, but outside the blood the only specific tests we’ve run have been on the hair samples from the front seat area and floor that didn’t have dust on them. There were no hits in CODIS.”