Trust No One

by Velvet Vaughn

  Mrs. Fleming led them to a small living room with a well-used fireplace. She shoved cushions in place, stuffing peeking from slits in the fabric. She cleared a plastic fire truck and stuffed tiger from the floor and indicated for them to sit.

  "Mrs. Fleming—"

  "Nadine," she insisted.

  "Nadine," Dorian corrected, "Did your husband discuss any of his cases with you?"

  She shook her head, pausing while she blew her nose and then she dropped her hands in her lap. "No, but he'd been acting differently the last week…secretive. Oh, he never could discuss on-going cases, but this was different…personal." She looked away and bit her quivering lip. "He was getting calls at all hours and then he would take off. The night before he was killed, he got a call. It was from a woman. I checked the number while he dressed. I actually accused him of having an affair, can you believe that? He went straight to work after and I didn't see him again. The last words I spoke to my husband were said in anger."

  Kendall started to rise to comfort her but she held up a hand. "I’m okay." She wiped moisture from her eyes with the well-used Kleenex. "I didn’t trust him. His voice changed when he talked to the woman. There was a familiarity to it, one that he didn’t use when other people called." Nadine twisted her hands together, the soggy tissue holding together by a thread. "The first call came on Tuesday. He'd just come home for dinner but raced off with little more than a good-bye. He was gone most of the night, didn't call. It was so unlike him that I became worried." She paused to dig in her purse for a new tissue. "I arranged for a babysitter on Wednesday in case she called again, and sure enough, she did." She shrugged, "I followed him. I’m not proud of it, but I trailed him to her apartment. When I saw who opened the door, my heart broke." Nadine’s lip quivered again. "The woman was beautiful. Rick dated her in the past, loved her. He kept her picture where he didn’t think I would see it, but I did."

  "Stefani," Kendall said softly.

  Nadine’s head jerked up. "Yes, that’s her." Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know her name?" she accused.

  "She was one of my best friends."

  "Was?"

  Kendall swallowed. "Stefani was murdered yesterday, too."

  Nadine inhaled sharply and jerked back against the chair, her hand covering her heart. "I had no idea."

  "Nadine, we believe Stefani was in trouble and went to Rick for help," Dorian explained.

  "And since she knew him, she trusted him," Kendall continued. "She couldn’t trust anyone else because whatever she stumbled upon involved another cop."

  Nadine covered her mouth with both hands, tears filling her eyes. "Oh my God. I confronted him after I saw them together. H-he promised me it was strictly business. I ordered him to give the case to someone else but he said he couldn’t trust anyone else to take care of it." Her chest began to heave. "I should've believed him." She broke down, sobbing openly. "I-I called his station, demanded that he be removed from the case."

  "Which precinct did Rick work for?" Dorian looked thoughtful when she answered.

  "Do you remember who you spoke with?" Kendall asked.

  Nadine shook her head. "I was so mad and the chief wasn't available, so I just had them transfer me to any available officer. I didn't get a name."

  Dorian gave her a meaningful look and she understood. This woman could very well be indirectly responsible for her husband's murder, as well as Stef, Bridget and Kiki.

  "Did Rick keep a file on the case?"

  She nodded. "He has an office…he keeps his files there. But the one he had for this case—Stefani—he took with him everywhere." Her voice tensed. "I tried to look at it, see what he had in there but he caught me and snatched it away." She cleared her throat. "After his a-accident, the car caught fire and everything inside was destroyed." Shaking her head, she said, "There was nothing else, no trace of their dealings anywhere. Believe me, I looked."

  "Did Rick’s partner…"

  "He didn’t tell him anything," Nadine stated before Dorian could finish the question. "He didn’t tell anyone. He begged me to be patient…" She clamped her lips together to stifle a sob.

  "I think that's all the questions we have," Dorian said, standing. "We'd be honored if you would let us escort you to your mother's house, Nadine."

  Kendall's heart skipped a beat. He tried to act tough, but was a softie inside.

  "That's not necessary," she insisted. "She just lives a couple of blocks over." Turning, she gripped Kendall's forearms. "I am sorry for the loss of your friend, but you have no idea what your visit today did for me. I would've spent the rest of my life believing my husband to be a two-timing snake. Instead, you have given me back the gift of knowing he was a good, decent man." She pulled Kendall for a hug. "Thank you."

  #

  "Whoever ran Rick off the road, killed Stefani," Kendall deduced as soon as they returned to the Avalanche. It was dark outside, the moon casting a soothing glow to the area. There was a definite chill in the air, from both the wind blowing off Lake Michigan and the autumn weather.

  "Someone found out she confided in him and they killed him." Dorian started the engine. "Fleming worked at the same station as my contact. What are the odds? There are like twenty-five precincts in Chicago."

  "That is coincidental," Kendall agreed.

  "I'll ask him about Fleming. Maybe he knows who Nadine spoke with when the chief wasn't available."

  Dorian's cell phone rang. He answered, listening intently. "Thanks, Pete. You're working late. Get home to your wife." Hanging up, he fished his laptop from the back seat and used the special console built into each COBRA vehicle to boot up.

  "Our tech guru found recently-deleted photos from Stefani's phone." He punched buttons on the keypad and started when it opened. Stunned, he flipped through the rest of the pictures. He spun his laptop around. "Take a look."

  He showed her the first picture and then each successive one. Although they were shot during the day, the photos were dark, having been taken in an alley between tall buildings that filtered the light, but the images were unmistakable. In the first shot, an old man stood next to a dumpster, his hands held high in the universal sign of surrender, his eyes rounded in terror. His mouth hung open, as if he were pleading for his life. Two men approached, both wearing ski masks. One man’s hands were stuffed into the pockets of a long, black trench coat. The other man wore a short black jacket, but his hands were visible. In his right he clutched a large black pistol.

  In the second shot, the two men were closing in, the old man still pleading for his life, pointing at his jacket. In the third shot, the man in the long black coat stood back while the other fisted the old man’s shirt in his hand and pressed the gun to his head. The whites of the old man's eyes stood out like beacons as he focused on the gun pointed at his skull. In the next shot, the man was sprawled on the ground, resting in a pool of his own blood. The assassin was digging something out of the inside right pocket of his jacket. It looked like an envelope of something…pictures maybe. The final shot was the two men staring down on the vic. Dorian figured Kendall’s friend then fled, fearing discovery.

  Kendall's wide eyes met his. "Stefani took pictures of someone’s murder."

  "I’d say that would be enough for them to do anything to get that phone back…including kill—again."

  Kendall peered closer at the screen. "Can you zoom in with this program?"

  "Yeah, hang on. The photos aren't the best quality since they were snapped on a cell." Dorian punched a few buttons and the shot tightened.

  "Focus right here," she said, pointing to the assassin's hand as it gripped the man's jacket.

  Dorian maneuvered the small square box over the spot Kendall indicated. The image zoomed, pixilated and then cleared. "The scar."

  Dorian panned back out. "The time stamp indicates the pictures were taken on Friday…the day Stefani was murdered."

  "And Rick Fleming. So someone, possibly the killer cop, found out about the pictures and killed th
em both."

  "I’m going to take a look at the dead guy so you may want to turn away," he advised.

  Kendall shook her head. "No. I want to see it too."

  Dorian’s admiration of her grew. "Okay, here goes." The shot zipped in to focus on the man’s face, his features forever frozen in a gruesome death mask. His eyes stared wide and unseeing at the night sky, a neat black hole between his eyes. He would've been dead before he hit the ground. Except for the pool of blood surrounding his head, the scene wasn’t too horrific. But Dorian had seen enough head shots to know what lay beneath the man, or more precisely, what didn’t. Flip the vic over and he would be missing a good chunk of his skull. Brain matter would be scattered all over the alleyway…rat food.

  The man was dressed casually, blue jeans, a short brown windbreaker over a t-shirt, Converse sneakers. Dorian panned in to study a logo on the shirt. "It appears to be some kind of advertising," he said, trying for a tighter shot.

  "It looks like the last three letters of one word and the first three of another: t-o-n, m-a-r," Kendall read.

  "Boston Marathon, Ashton Market, lots of possibilities," Dorian remarked.

  "So it doesn’t help us at all," she grumbled.

  "Not necessarily." Shrinking the screen, he pulled up another program. In a box, he typed the letters and waited while the computer compiled results. When they came back he manipulated the findings until it left only one name: Ferrington Marina.

  Kendall stared at him, slack jawed. "How'd you do that?"

  One side of Dorian’s mouth kicked up. "Look closely at the jacket."

  She did. "I still don’t get it."

  "There on the left side—tell me what you see."

  She squinted at the screen. "A ball of string."

  Dorian’s smile flashed full. "It’s called a lure. I’d say the victim worked or fished at the marina and tied his own lures."

  Kendall looked at him in wonder. "You're brilliant."

  He couldn’t help the smug grin that crossed his face. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a small, thin printer, attached it to the laptop and hit print. "It's pretty late but what do you say we take a drive to Ferrington Marina?"

  Before she could answer, Dorian's phone buzzed again. "Demarchis. Daph…wait, slow down. I can’t understand you." He pushed the phone closer to his ear and stuck his finger in the other to block out ancillary noise. "Don’t touch anything," he ordered. "Go downstairs right now. I mean it. Bolt the doors and set the alarm. Do you hear me? Go now, while I’m on the phone." Pause. "Good. Now set the alarm. No, don’t wake Mom. Let me handle this. I’ll be there in ten."

  Snapping the phone closed, he started the engine, surprised to find his hand shaking.

  "What’s wrong?"

  "A friend of the family was murdered."

  Kendall gasped.

  "Daphne found his body."

  "Oh my…is she okay?"

  "She’s tough," he said with unmistakable pride, "but scared." He paused and looked her directly in the eyes. "The man was in the guest apartment, sleeping in the same bed you were in last night."

  All the breath left Kendall's body and she slumped against the bucket seat. "They were looking for me. That poor man was killed because of me."

  Dorian grabbed her hands. "Look at me."

  Kendall’s head moved in slow motion until their eyes met. "I need you strong." He shook their entwined hands. "You can’t fall apart on me now."

  The determination in his tone fortified her. Nodding, she promised, "I won’t."

  "Besides, we don't know that the same people killed him. It could be a random crime." He dropped her hands and shifted into drive. "I need to find a safe place to drop you off."

  "Absolutely not. I'm coming with you."

  "Kendall—"

  "Don’t argue, Dorian, we’re wasting time."

  He looked like he wanted to quarrel, but instead he nodded once and pressed the gas. "Let’s go."

  #

  Daphne paced back and forth, chewing her last fingernail down to the quick. It was a terrible habit, but one she couldn’t seem to break, even with the black polish coating her nails.

  She'd never seen a dead body before, except for Auntie Theo, who wasn’t really her aunt. When her dad passed, he'd wanted a private, family-only ceremony so there was no casket viewing for which she was thankful. She wanted to forever remember him as the vibrant, loving father he'd been alive.

  She couldn’t even remember Auntie Theo’s real name, except that it was Greek and had a thousand letters in it…Theophania, Theophillia, something like that. It'd been the one and only time Daphne visited a funeral home and two things stood out in her memory: the overpowering, sickly-sweet stench of flowers, and the fear that Auntie Theo’s eyes were going to pop open any minute as she rested on a white cushion of silk.

  But seeing Auntie Theo’s dead body had been completely different than seeing Mr. Rigatos. Auntie Theo had been dressed up with nice clothes, jewelry, make-up and styled hair. She looked better dead than she had alive—or at least peaceful. She would never get the look of pure fear on Mr. Rigatos’ face from her memory. His features had been frozen in a macabre mask of shock, his body covered in blood. So much blood. She shivered. She knew she wouldn’t find a pulse, even as she touched his still warm neck.

  Most people would call the police when they stumbled upon the scene, and for a split-second, she did think of calling Alex. But then, not many people had a brother like hers. Dorian would know exactly what to do in any situation.

  "Daphne, darling, what are you doing?"

  Daphne gasped and spun around. "Mama, why are you up? You should be asleep."

  "I could not tonight," she said. Though they had both grown used to the noise drifting from the restaurant downstairs, sometimes, the laughter, the soft music and heavenly scents were distracting. Her mother used to work late into the night but had been gradually turning over duties to her loyal, capable employees.

  "Plug in the iPod I got you," Daphne instructed, gently urging her mother back to her room. "That'll mute the noise."

  "Yes, I will. That’s a good idea," she said. "Night, darling."

  "Good night, Mama."

  Daphne breathed a sigh of relief once her mother’s door closed. She heard a noise in the hall and rushed to the peephole, knowing her brother would try to slip on by. If he had Kendall with him, she wouldn't move as cat-like as Dorian. Sure enough, they were quietly making their way up the stairs. She eased the door open and slipped into the hallway.

  Dorian stopped and glared down at her. "Go back inside, now."

  She ignored him. She found Mr. Rigatos, she felt responsible. She needed to know what had happened. "I need to come," she simply said.

  Dorian gave her a brief nod. "Tell me what happened. Why did you go in the apartment?"

  "I was in my dark room," she explained. "I heard a noise…like a scream before it could be muffled. Then a light pop. It didn’t sound like gunfire, but it wasn’t a normal sound either."

  "A silencer," Dorian guessed. "Go on."

  "I heard heavy footsteps on the fire escape on the side of the building. Someone was like, literally running down the steps. Then a car gunned the engine and drove away. I peeked in the hall and when it was clear, I knocked and called out for Mr. Rigatos, but he didn’t answer. I went downstairs and got the spare key. When I opened the door, I felt a cool draft. The window to the fire escape was open. I tiptoed down the hall, calling out, but there was no answer. I stepped into the bedroom…" She gulped heavily.

  Dorian tugged her into the secure embrace of his strong arms. "It’s okay, Daph. I’m here now. I’ll take care of it." She clung to him for dear life. She never thought much about feeling safe, even living in a big city like Chicago. But when Dorian was around, she felt protected. She missed her big brother so much. She idolized him. Why couldn't he live closer?

  "You okay?" he asked, pulling back so he could look down at her.

  She nodde
d. "I want to go up with you…I need to."

  Dorian stared at her for a moment and then nodded. Kendall smiled at her. They climbed the stairs and she inserted the key.

  "Don’t touch anything, don’t move anything," Dorian instructed.

  The stench of death filled the apartment. She didn’t know if her stomach would hold out a second time. But taking her strength from her older brother and the woman clinging to his hand, she steeled her resolve and followed. When Kendall offered her other hand, Daphne eagerly clasped it.

  "Hell," Dorian muttered, turning to block the view of the body from both women. She noticed a white substance that she hadn’t noticed the first time.

  "Why are there feathers everywhere?"

  "He used a pillow to silence the shot. Daph, take Kendall downstairs, lock the door and set the alarm. Don’t tell anyone what you saw. I mean it," he ordered. "No one." He punched numbers in his cell phone and motioned for her to go.

  For once, she didn’t mind taking orders from her bossy older brother. Tugging Kendall’s hand, she guided her out of the apartment to the safety of her home.

  #

  Dorian waited until Daphne and Kendall left to make a call. He needed to phone Alex, get the police here, but Mr. Rigatos would still be dead in five minutes. He had something important to take care of first. This one hit too close to home. He needed people guarding his mother and sister. They weren’t safe anymore and he couldn’t be effective trying to protect both Kendall and worry about his family. He'd love to send them away, maybe on a trip to Greece, but he knew his mother would never leave her restaurant.

  Logan Bradley picked up on the first ring. Dorian explained the situation to his boss and even though they were currently short-handed, Bradley immediately agreed to send two additional agents. Hillary Billings just wrapped up an assignment and was available. Logan put Dorian on hold while he made another call. When he came back on the line, Dorian sighed with relief. Though he was one of their best agents and one of his best friends, Dante Costa didn't usually work cases that took him away from home for long periods of time. He was a single father to an eight-year old son. But when Bradley explained the situation, he readily agreed to help, saying he would call his parents to stay with Kai.