The Appointment Killer

by Remington Kane

  “Oh,” Erica said. “Did I say the number was ten?”

  “It is ten,” Marx said. “The five perverts, Miranda, and the four poor guys who got killed by the bomb, that’s ten.”

  “You’re forgetting Richard Behan. Everyone was supposed to forget Richard Behan, weren’t they, Jason?”

  Jason’s shoulders slumped as he looked down at the table. Beside him, Heather had begun a soft weeping.

  “I thought Behan was killed by his son-in-law, the guy that shot himself,” Marx said.

  “That was what we were intended to believe, because otherwise, the evidence points squarely at Jason.”

  “Jason killed Behan, why?” Marx asked.

  “He murdered Richard Behan and his supposed killer, the ex-son-in-law Dave Feldman. Years ago, when the accounting firm that Behan owned was charged with embezzlement, it was Jason’s father who took the fall for the theft. Behan and his partner walked away clean, while Jason’s father, Gilbert Duncan, was arrested. He was sentenced to six years but killed himself in his prison cell. Jason was only a boy at the time.”

  “Duncan was the guy’s name?” Marx said. “How did Jason get the name Warwick?”

  “His mother remarried when he was eleven; the marriage lasted two years. The man’s surname was Warwick. Jason’s full name is Jason Duncan Warwick.”

  Jason was shaking his head in denial of Erica’s accusations.

  “Like you just said, I was only a boy when my father went to prison. I had no way of knowing who framed him.”

  “That’s how you’ve always thought of it, isn’t it, that your father was framed? I’ve looked over the files of the case, and I can’t say I disagree. From all accounts, Richard Behan was brutal in his business dealings. He avoided being found responsible for the theft of his clients’ funds by finding a scapegoat. Your father was that scapegoat.”

  “I didn’t kill Richard Behan,” Jason said, “and again, you have no proof.”

  “Are you sure about that, Jason? Do you remember me telling Mr. Marx that we looked into his financial records? Guess who else’s finances we’ve looked into.”

  Those words hit home. Jason balled his hands into fists while hanging his head. All hope of escaping punishment for his crimes had deserted him.

  “That’s right. We know about the stock you shorted. Richard Behan was negotiating to acquire that financial services organization. If the deal had gone through, it would have turned the company around. Just the fact that Behan was meeting with the company’s leadership was enough to make the stock price rise thirty percent. With Behan’s death, the price plummeted to a record low over the last week. Our accountants say that by shorting it, you made nearly half a million dollars.”

  “This was all about money?” Heather whispered. Her cheeks were wet with tears and she was hugging herself.

  “Money, yes,” Erica said. “But there was an element of revenge. By making Behan’s murder look like a copycat killing carried out by the ex-son-in-law, Dave Feldman, Jason was able to murder Craig Rubio and the other men. As for the bomb that killed the police officers and the crime scene techs, that was unintended… not that it matters.”

  “I want a lawyer,” Jason said. “I’m not saying another word.”

  “That’s fine, and you’ll be needing one too.”

  Erica sent a nod at the two police officers who were there to take Jason into custody. They performed their part well and he was soon led from the room in handcuffs.

  “Mr. Marx, Miss Gray, you’re free to go. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Heather looked as if she’d been kicked in the gut. She stood as if she didn’t trust her legs to hold her, then drifted out of the room in a daze.

  Erica leaned over and whispered something to Troy; he nodded and left the room to take care of a chore.

  Marx stood while shaking his head in wonder. “Jason is the whack job killer. Wow, that blows my mind, and I guess I have another scoop.”

  “It looks like you do,” Erica said.

  Marx turned to leave, was halfway to the door, then stopped to walk back to the table and ask a question.

  “What was all that in the beginning, making me look guilty like that?”

  Erica smiled. “That was me having fun at your expense.”

  Marx laughed. “Oh honey, we would have so much fun together. If you ever change your mind, look me up.”

  “I won’t change my mind and my name isn’t—”

  “It’s Erica, I know,” Marx said. “And I’m going to make you a star whether you like it or not. Don’t miss my next video, you’ll love it.”

  “I have one more question for you, which I hope you’ll answer.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When we searched your apartment, we found a room that had been cleaned out, but there was a child-sized bed in it. Why is that?”

  “It’s no big mystery. That’s the room where my niece stays when she visits me.”

  “Your niece is nineteen and a college student. That bed was something a toddler might use.”

  Marx shrugged. “I guess it’s been a while since she visited.”

  Erica thought about pressing the issue, then assumed it would get her nowhere.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Marx.”

  “See you around, Erica.”

  The borough commander from Staten Island was still in the room after Marx left. He smiled at Erica and Owens.

  “Thank you. We’ll be laying Officer Finley and Officer Dixon to rest tomorrow. It’s nice to know I can tell their families that their murderer is behind bars.”

  “I’m only sorry we didn’t catch him sooner,” Erica said.

  The commander told them goodbye and left the room.

  Owens stood with the help of his cane and offered Erica his hand.

  “Let’s go celebrate.”

  “A drink? I thought you were still on painkillers.”

  “I was talking about ice cream. I know your weakness, Erica.”

  Erica laughed, then patted her stomach. “No thanks. I need to cut back, and now that the case is over, my stress levels have gone down.”

  “Then how about a coffee? I’m buying.”

  “That sounds good, partner, and it’s great to see you up and about again.”

  “We were both lucky to survive that bomb, and I have to admit, out of all our suspects, Jason seemed the least likely to be guilty.”

  “That’s how he wanted it to look. And poor Heather, I think she was falling in love with Jason.”

  “It’s sad. You really have to be careful who you give your heart to these days.”

  “Yes,” Erica said, as she wondered once again if Angel was cheating on her.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  NEW YORK CITY, TUESDAY, JULY 23rd

  Troy called Erica around seven p.m. and reported in. She had given him an assignment to follow someone. When Erica heard what was happening, she traveled to the site and joined Troy in the car.

  “What should we do?” Troy asked, as he stared across 10th Avenue at his subject. It was Heather.

  After spending hours inside her apartment, she had ventured out and walked aimlessly in a soft rain that ended, leaving a clear sky behind. Then, for nearly an hour, Heather had been standing outside a bar, as a battle waged within her. Jason’s guilt, along with the revelation that he had intended to frame her were testing the strength of Heather’s sobriety.

  “I’ll approach her if I have to, but I’m sure I’m not someone she wants to see,” Erica said. She made a call and asked for help.

  “Will you come here?”

  “Yes, give us ten minutes.”

  “Thank you, and please hurry.”

  A cab pulled up in front of the bar minutes later. It arrived just as Heather was reaching out to open the door to enter the bar.

  “Heather! Hey, how are you, honey?”

  It was Donna Davis, and with her was Ruth Thomas. Heather turned and looked at them as she removed her hand fr
om the door.

  Ruth pointed at the bar. “You weren’t headed in there, were you?”

  Heather began crying. “I hurt so much… it’s Jason.”

  Donna Davis placed an arm around Heather’s shoulders. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “I… toast, I had toast for breakfast.”

  “C’mon,” Ruth said. “We’ll all get a bite to eat and you can tell us what happened.”

  Heather wiped at her eyes, then sent pleading looks at the two women.

  “Do you hate me? Did you ever hate me?”

  Ruth took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You were never a bad person, Heather; you just had a lot of pain and lashed out at people instead of dealing with it. Put the past behind you, okay? That’s what Donna and I have done, and we’ll help you.”

  Heather released Ruth’s hand and hugged her. “Thank you, I could really use a friend right now.”

  “You’ve got two of them,” Donna said.

  Erica and Troy had been too far away to overhear the conversation, but they smiled when they saw its result. As Heather, Donna, and Ruth were walking away from the bar, Donna looked over her shoulder, hoping to spot Erica. Troy flashed the headlights once, and Donna sent them a wave and a smile.

  “Hopefully, that’s one less victim Jason’s actions will claim. Thank you for doing this, Troy.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Erica checked the time by looking at the dashboard. “Brad’s flight just left.”

  “Our flight doesn’t leave until nearly noon. Maybe I’ll go back to the hotel and watch a movie tonight.”

  Erica opened her door and stepped out. “I have a better idea, leave the car and follow me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’re going to ride a real New York City subway.”

  “Oh yeah, with everything that’s happened, I almost forgot.”

  There was a subway entrance a block away. As they walked down a set of concrete stairs to reach the subway station, the smile on Troy’s face faded as he sniffed the air.

  “It stinks down here, just like DC’s subways. I thought it would be nicer.”

  “It’s all part of the ambience,” Erica said.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  WASHINGTON, DC, WEDNESDAY, JULY 24th

  Erica returned home in the afternoon. Angel, who often worked evenings, had traded with another waiter so he could work the morning and afternoon shift at the restaurant. That way, he and Erica could spend the evening together. He was due to arrive at Erica’s apartment at five.

  Erica was nervous. She didn’t know what had been going on with Angel, but she felt certain that he had been up to something of late; that something might have been a someone named Felicia Downing.

  She’d been trained to detect lies, and while Angel hadn’t been lying outright, he had seemed deceptive over the phone. She felt her eyes grow moist at the thought of losing Angel, then told herself to calm down. There was no sense in getting upset until she was certain something was wrong.

  Angel was smiling when Erica opened the door. He had a box in his hands that was gift-wrapped in decorative pink foil and had a red ribbon on top. He set the box down inside, then took Erica in his arms as he kicked the door closed behind them.

  “Damn but I’ve missed you, baby.”

  Erica hugged him back; her fear and misgivings melting before the warmth of Angel’s enthusiasm at seeing her.

  “I’ve missed you too,” she said. As the embrace ended, they kissed.

  They settled on her sofa. Erica had steeled herself to have a serious discussion about their relationship. Probing questions about what Angel had been up to were on the tip of her tongue, but she found she couldn’t voice them. He appeared overjoyed to be with her again. Would that be the case if he were cheating on her?

  They were leaning back together with Angel’s arms around her. He told her how worried he was about her after she’d been caught in the bomb blast.

  “I almost flew up to New York City twice, but I knew you’d be working and that I’d just be in the way.”

  “I told you I was fine; Brad’s the one who was injured.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s healing, but he’ll be out for a few weeks yet.”

  “Did you see Ted Marx’s newest video about the case? He made you sound like a female Sherlock Holmes. I think he has the hots for you.”

  “Ted Marx has the hots for every female.”

  Angel reached for the box. “I’ve brought you a gift.”

  “It’s not my birthday.”

  “Do I need a reason?”

  “No,” Erica said, “I guess not.”

  “Open it. I can’t wait to see your face.”

  Erica unwrapped the package carefully, as if she wanted to preserve the wrapping paper. Angel let out a sigh of exasperation.

  “Just rip it open; the paper’s not important.”

  “You unwrap gifts your way and I’ll unwrap them mine.”

  Angel wet his lips nervously as Erica was about to open the box.

  “I hope you don’t think I was stupid to get this for you.”

  Erica was speaking as she opened the box. “Why would I think you were stupid to—oh my God.”

  Inside the box was the doll that Erica had seen in the window of the antiques store, the Lulu doll.

  “It’s a Lulu doll! How did you get this? Is this the same one we saw a couple of weeks ago?”

  Angel was grinning at her reaction. “That’s the doll. I went back to the store and gave the clerk there twenty bucks to let me know who bought it. He said the woman was coming back to pick up the doll the next day. I sat across the street from the shop for hours until she finally showed, then I asked her if she’d be willing to let me buy the doll from her.”

  “How much did you spend on this?”

  “It didn’t cost me a dime. She didn’t want to sell it, and when I pressed her for a price, she wanted double what she had just paid for it. I don’t have that kind of money saved up, but when I asked her if she needed any carpentry done around her house, she showed interest and we made a deal.”

  “That’s where you’ve been working, the secluded place you told me about?”

  “Yeah, and that’s one tough lady when it comes to bargaining. I bet she got three thousand dollars’ worth of work out of me, but I didn’t care. I was determined to get that doll for you. Please tell me you really wanted it as much as I thought you did.”

  Erica kissed Angel. “Yes, I want it, and I’ll treasure it even more knowing what you did to get it. Thank you, Angel, you… you don’t know what it means to know you care this much about me.”

  Angel took her face in his hands as he stared into her eyes.

  “I’m in love with you, Erica. Baby, don’t you know that?”

  Tears of joy flowed down Erica’s cheeks as she felt dual emotions within her. Love, she felt so much love for Angel, but it was mixed with shame for doubting his faithfulness.

  “I love you too, and I have for a while.”

  They embraced, kissed, then stretched out side by side atop the sofa. Angel was at Erica’s back, holding her in his arms. Erica held the doll, and as she examined it, she made a startling discovery.

  The shop owner said that he had discounted the much sought-after doll because it wasn’t in pristine condition. He had mentioned that it had a mark on the bottom of its left foot, a flaw. It wasn’t a mark, it was initials, the initials were Erica’s, E.N. They had been placed there by her father to distinguish the doll from the one gifted to her sister, Cassie, on her own birthday. This wasn’t just a Lulu doll, it was Erica’s Lulu doll, the one she’d thought she’d never see again, the final gift given to her by her father.

  “Oh my God, Angel. This is my doll. Look, here on the foot, those are my initials; my Dad wrote those there when I was eight. You got my doll back for me.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, this is mine.
”

  Angel kissed her on the cheek. “Make sure you hold on to it this time.”

  Erica placed the doll on the coffee table, then turned until she was facing Angel.

  “I’m going to hold on to you too; you’re a keeper, Mr. Alvarez.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, and there’s no one else I’d rather be with.”

  “I love you, Angel,” Erica said, and knew for certain that she was loved in return.

  Epilogue

  Erica found herself back in New York City in mid-August to attend Jason Warwick’s sentencing. As more than ninety percent of defendants do, Jason accepted a plea bargain deal. By doing so, he escaped a life sentence. It was little consolation to him, as he was to serve sixty years without the possibility of parole. If he lived to see freedom, he would be eighty-seven when it happened.

  Additional evidence of Jason’s guilt had surfaced in the previous weeks. The video he had taken of the vintage train in Howesburg was proven to have been recorded on a different day than originally stated. Jason had filmed scenes around town on a prior visit while researching Luis Cantrell and planning his murder.

  A woman called that fact to the attention of the authorities when she came across Ted Marx’s video. Her five-year-old son was in the clip, riding the train, and she remembered that day well. She and her son had been in the area visiting relatives and returned home the next day. On the day Jason had claimed to film the train, the woman and her little boy were back home in Michigan. The home movie she’d made proved her assertion.

  As a condition of the plea agreement, Jason had to admit to his crimes. He did so under questioning and in detail. He had known about Craig Rubio’s fear of drowning. As it turned out, Rubio’s near-drowning as a child and his fear of doing so again were a matter of public record.

  Rubio had not taken a plea agreement and a trial had been held for him. Had DNA testing been prevalent at the time, Rubio’s rape of a young Lila Martin would have been easy to prove. That was not an option then, although two witnesses had caught Rubio in the act, after hearing the child’s screams.