“Whoever it is must not be very bright. If they had any sense at all they would have realized that we wouldn’t be fooled by an altered letter.”
“We need to find out who wanted the victim dead. Although this murder isn’t technically connected to our case, they may know something that could help us.”
Erica thumped a fist against her thigh as something occurred to her. “Ted Marx is partially to blame for this. If he hadn’t made that video giving out the victims’ names and details about the envelopes, whoever did this wouldn’t have had a reason to break into Heskett’s apartment.”
“You have a point, but right now we need to know who might have wanted Richard Behan dead.”
Erica agreed, but she still felt that Ted Marx was becoming a problem, or was he carrying out a plan? Angel had wondered if Marx was the killer, now Erica was beginning to suspect him as well. If anyone had gained by the murders, it was Ted Marx.
After leaving the scene, Erica and Owens headed back to the New York City office to work. They needed to look into Richard Behan’s life and find out who had a motive to kill him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Richard Behan hadn’t had very many friends. A workaholic, most of his interactions were with business acquaintances or employees. His recent trip to Kentucky for a golf tournament wasn’t solely recreational. He had been attempting to make the acquaintance of a woman who owned a company he was interested in acquiring. Behan had been a successful man, in business; his personal life was a different story and there were those who had a reason to hate him.
Owens uncovered the fact that the divorce of Behan’s only daughter involved charges of domestic abuse.
“Get this,” Owens said to Erica, as they sat at borrowed desks looking over documents. “Behan’s ex-son-in-law, a man named Dave Feldman, later claimed that Behan had deliberately forced him out of business as revenge.”
“What sort of business did Feldman have?”
Owens answered with a smile. “He’s an auto mechanic.”
“Ah, a mechanic would know how to rig that car to accelerate the way it did.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“How did Behan ruin his business, by badmouthing him to his customers?”
“He was more creative than that. Feldman complained that Behan was behind the 50% off sale that his competitor ran for months. It killed Feldman’s auto repair shop while his competitor raked in all the business. Feldman contended that Behan wrote a check to the other business owner to make up the difference.”
“That had to be one fat check. Could the man have hated his son-in-law that much?”
Owens looked up from the file he was reading. “Dave Feldman was a wife beater. If I knew I could ruin a man who had hurt my daughter that way by simply writing a check, I’d do it.”
“What is Feldman doing now?”
“He’s working for the competitor; the one that ran the sale that put him out of business. That must be humiliating.”
“I would put him at the top of the list right now, but let’s dig deeper before we make a judgement. There could be other people who have a greater motive.”
A short time later, Erica came across something that made her sit up straighter.
“Now this is interesting. There’s a connection between Richard Behan and Ted Marx.”
“What is it?”
“Behan once owned an accounting firm in California. There was a scandal eighteen years ago when some of the clients’ money went missing. One of those clients was, and I quote, ‘The teen idol and singing sensation Ted Marx.’”
“That is interesting. What happened after the allegations were made?”
“Behan denied involvement. He later stated that the theft was committed by an employee who worked at a satellite office here in New York City. The employee, Gilbert Duncan, was arrested for the crime; this story doesn’t say if he was found guilty.”
“Maybe we should interview Marx again.”
“Definitely, although this doesn’t sound like a motive for committing a murder all these years later. Still, I would welcome an opportunity to make Marx sweat inside an interrogation room.”
Not far away, Ted Marx was returning to his apartment after being questioned in Tarrytown. Jason dropped him off in front of the building, then drove away. As Marx was walking toward the entrance, Heather Gray left the alcove of a store and called to him from down the street.
“Ted!”
Marx initially looked shocked at seeing her outside his apartment house, then he grinned and waited for her to walk over to him.
“What did you say to Jason, Ted?”
“I asked him how you two met; he told me that you were old friends.”
“You didn’t tell him about us?”
“How badly do you want to know?”
“Don’t play games; I’m serious.”
Marx moved closer to Heather and placed a hand on her cheek. “I remember the games we used to play, don’t you?”
Jason had driven around the block after realizing that Ted Marx had left the stabilizer for his camera in the car. He was double-parking in front of the building when he saw Marx and Heather together, touching. When the two of them entered the building’s lobby, Jason hung his head. He drove off seconds later, as old feelings of insecurity resurfaced. He just wasn’t good enough, and he never had been.
He left the city and headed north. After a two-hour drive, he came to a railway station in Rhinecliff, near Kingston, New York. Someone Jason loved had ended her life by stepping in front of a moving train.
Jason parked his car in the parking lot, got out, and walked along the tracks to the spot where Lila Martin had ended her life.
“It’s me again, Lila. I hope wherever you are that it’s a nicer place than here.” Jason paused to look down the tracks. A chill swept through him as he imagined stepping into the path of an oncoming train. “Heather looked me up, Lila. I still don’t know why, but she’s no different. She’s just found a different way to stick the knife in.”
Jason stayed there for several more minutes, then drove back toward Manhattan, while vowing to never let his guard down again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
WASHINGTON, DC, MONDAY, JULY 15th
Nikki Varona lived on the top floor of a townhouse in Georgetown. The home was worth over two million dollars.
“She can afford to rent a room here?” Troy asked.
“Let’s go talk to the owner,” Colleen said.
The home’s owner was an elderly widow named Emily Tulane. She was in her seventies, suffered from arthritis, and walked with a cane. The warrant only allowed a search of Nikki’s living quarters. Mrs. Tulane insisted that the police search the entire house.
Colleen and Troy sat with Mrs. Tulane in a well-appointed living room that allowed light in through a large picture window. Several photos of Nikki Varona were set on the fireplace mantel. Troy studied them, admiring the beauty of the young woman who was their suspect.
“I’ve known Nikki Varona since the day that child was born,” Emily Tulane said. “She is not a thief and anyone who says so is a liar.”
“There’s video indicating otherwise, ma’am,” Colleen said.
“I still don’t believe it.”
“What’s your relationship to Miss Varona?”
“Nikki grew up here. Her grandmother Amelia was my live-in cook and housekeeper, and a good friend. Nikki’s mother died when the child was only six and Amelia raised her afterward. This is Nikki’s home, and she takes care of me.”
“As a cook and housekeeper?”
“No, I have someone else for that. Nikki is meant for finer things. I wanted her to go to college right away, but she insisted on taking a year off to travel. She recently returned from a trip to Europe with her friend, Darcy. She’s already begun working so she’ll have some money for school. She’ll let me pay for her education, but she insists on working to pay for everything else.”
“Are you two related?” Troy asked. It seemed odd to him that Mrs. Tulane would pay to educate a servant’s granddaughter.
“We are not blood-related, no, but we are family. Nikki is like the granddaughter I never had.”
“Have you heard from her?”
“Yes, and she insists that she didn’t take anything from that office.”
“As I said before, there’s video evidence that says differently,” Colleen said. “What time did she call you?”
“Less than an hour ago. If there is video showing her stealing, then it must be doctored somehow; my Nikki is not a criminal.”
“Are you aware that she’s involved with Damon Webb?”
“Involved? She works at one of the man’s restaurants, nothing more.”
“Have they met?”
“Yes, she said that Mr. Webb welcomed her onto the staff during her training. From what I understand he does that with all new employees.”
“And what about Mr. Webb’s son, Hakeem?”
“The one running for congress?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe Nikki’s met him, but she did mention that she and Darcy might volunteer at his campaign headquarters. Where she’ll find the time I don’t know, she already volunteers at a nursing home on the weekends, but that girl is always on the run.”
“She’s on the run from the law right now, and the longer she is the worse it will be for her. If she makes contact again, have her call me.”
Colleen passed a card over to Mrs. Tulane. The old woman took it with a liver-spotted hand, then asked a question.
“Are you really investigating this, or is your mind already made up?”
“We’re investigating, but we have to go where the evidence takes us.”
“I’ve got nineteen years of knowing Nikki as my evidence, and I’m telling you, she’s innocent.”
Colleen smiled kindly at the old woman and said that they would keep her informed if anything developed.
As they left the home to begin interviewing the neighbors, Troy stated that he didn’t think Nikki was guilty.
“Is that your brain coming up with that belief or some other part of your anatomy? I saw you salivating over the girl’s pictures.”
“She’s hot, yeah, but I’m taking this case seriously too. A woman who lives in a house like that doesn’t strike me as someone who would risk going to jail for a little easy money.”
“It’s more than a little money, Troy. That hard drive contains thousands of names, addresses, bank account and brokerage account numbers and their passwords. I would guess it would bring in significant cash on the black market.”
“It still doesn’t make sense. Mrs. Tulane treats Nikki like family. If she wanted money, she’d only have to ask for it.”
“Then how do you explain that video?”
“I don’t know. I do want to look at everything that went on with that safe prior to the theft. Maybe there’s another explanation.”
“If so, then why hasn’t she come forward?”
“I don’t know.”
“We do know something. She took the items from the safe and now she’s avoiding talking to us and the police. I’d say those are reasons to assume she’s guilty.”
Troy said nothing more, but in his gut, he felt Nikki Varona was innocent.
Chapter Twenty-Three
NEW YORK CITY, MONDAY, JULY 15th
After digging into Richard Behan’s past and coming up with a short list of possible suspects in his death, Erica and Owens decided that the ex-son-in-law was the most promising.
The address they had listed for Dave Feldman was old and they wasted time going to it. When they acquired his current residence, they were almost certain that he had killed Behan. Dave Feldman lived less than a mile away from Victim #2, Michael Heskett.
It would have been a simple thing for Feldman to walk or drive down the street, take the elevator up several flights, and break into Heskett’s apartment to steal the black envelope. He must have thought that he was being clever, but his ruse was easily detected.
Feldman hadn’t shown up for work, nor had he called in sick, so they went to the apartment house in White Plains. When Erica saw Ted Marx and Jason Warwick standing in front of the building, she almost couldn’t believe it.
“What is Marx doing here?”
“I don’t know, but he’s on camera.”
Marx was broadcasting live from the scene. An email had been sent to him by the daughter of Richard Behan’s housekeeper. The message told Marx about Behan’s hatred for his ex-son-in-law and stated that it was mutual. It also provided contact information for Feldman.
THIS MIGHT MAKE A GREAT FOLLOW-UP STORY, MR. MARX. MOM OVERHEARD THE POLICE TALKING, AND THEY SAID THAT THE MURDER LOOKED LIKE A COPYCAT KILLING.
When Marx realized that Feldman lived within spitting distance of the second victim, he was certain that Feldman was involved in some way. He grabbed his phone and told Jason to come back and pick him up outside his apartment house.
As Erica approached Marx, she heard him say Dave Feldman’s name while insinuating that the man was involved in Behan’s murder.
“Put that phone away,” Erica said, “or I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”
Marx smiled at her, then saw the serious expression on her face. He looked into the camera, said, “More later, people,” and shut off the phone.
“How did you learn about Dave Feldman, Marx?” Owens asked.
“Fans, I got fans, and they tell me things all the time. One of them sent me an email telling me about how this Dave Feldman hated his ex-wife’s father.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here; how did you know to come here?”
“The address was in the email.”
“You were told to forward all emails having to do with the case to us, or have you forgotten that?” Erica said.
“I haven’t forgotten, honey, but this doesn’t really have anything to do with The Appointment Killer, does it? It’s a copycat killing.”
“Did you say that on the internet?” Owens asked.
“Yeah, and it’s true, isn’t it?”
Erica’s face reddened from the anger she was feeling toward Marx. The man might have just tipped off their suspect.
A police car parked in front of the building with its lights off. The cops were there to back up Erica and Owens. A homicide detective had ridden along with the cops.
Erica asked one of the officers to detain Marx while the other one accompanied her and Owens up to Feldman’s apartment. The homicide detective was headed to the rear of the building where there was another exit. He found the door unlocked and met Erica, Owens, and the officer outside Feldman’s apartment.
Dave Feldman wasn’t answering the doorbell, so Erica summoned the building’s superintendent. He was an older man who moved slowly. Owens took the master key from the old man and used it to unlock Feldman’s door. They then entered with their guns drawn.
“David Feldman, this is the police and the FBI!” Owens shouted.
The apartment opened into a small foyer, beyond which was the living room. As soon as they moved past the foyer, they found Dave Feldman.
Feldman was dead. A single bullet had entered his skull from the right and left a mess as it exited on the left.
“A damn suicide,” the homicide detective whispered, and Erica thought she agreed.
Her opinion wavered when the coroner appeared and stated that the time of death was likely several hours earlier, before Marx announced that Feldman was a suspect.
“Could you be more specific than several hours, Doctor?” Owens asked.
“Not really, I might know more after the autopsy, but I doubt it.”
“The victim in Tarrytown died around nine-thirty a.m., could you say if Feldman died before or after that time?”
“No, but it was likely about the same time. I’m sorry, but that’s as accurate as I can get.”
They thanked the co
roner and went back down to the street. Marx was sitting on the curb and smoking a cigarette. When he saw Erica, he tossed the butt away and leapt up.
“What happened up there, honey, is he dead?”
“Why would you say that?”
Marx pointed at the entrance to the alley. “The meat wagon drove back there; I’m guessing it was for a pickup.”
“Guessing, or did you have some foreknowledge?”
“What’s that mean?”
“I want you and your assistant to follow us back to Manhattan. I want to interview you about this murder and the others.”
“Why don’t we interview each other? I wasn’t kidding when I said I could make you a star.”
Erica stepped closer. “And I could place you under arrest. Are you going to cooperate and follow us into the city, or do I cuff you and throw you in the back of the car?”
Marx sighed as he looked Erica over. “I was just imagining you with a pair of handcuffs, and nothing else.”
Erica reached into her purse and removed a set of cuffs. Marx stepped back and raised up his hands. “All right, no problem, we’ll follow you. Damn, woman, I was just kidding with you.”
“I’m not in a joking mood. Five people are dead, and you seem to be in the middle of it.”
“I haven’t done a thing. I can’t help it if some whack job makes contact with me.”
“You like profiting by it though, don’t you?”
Marx shrugged. “It’s the same for you, honey, isn’t it? If these crazies weren’t running around killing people, you wouldn’t have a job.”
“My job is to stop them, Mr. Marx, and this killer will be caught. Now, get back in your vehicle and follow us.”
Marx smiled. “Damn but you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
Erica stifled a nasty reply, turned on her heels, and stomped off.
The Appointment Killer Page 10