by Harry Hoge
Frank made notes before looking at Al. "Let me try out a possibility and see if you agree. The victim knew the killer... Sometime Thursday afternoon, a large quantity of the poison was administered, probably as food or a 'special' narcotic. The victim became ill, thrashed about, vomiting and convulsing for several hours before death. The killer left the body for another six to eight hours, then hung it up somewhere, cleaned the body, painted the face, dressed the dead man in a clown costume and transported it to the parking garage, then dumped it where it would be found early Friday morning."
"That's pretty much the way I see it," Al responded.
"Pretty elaborate plan," Gerry added.
"The murderer is ridiculing both the victim and the police," Frank added. "He's saying that the victim is contemptible, and scorning the police for not being able to figure things out."
"He's left bizarre clues, but hid normal evidence," Gerry snarled. "He's taunting us."
The trio remained silent, each staring into the distance. Frank snapped his notebook shut and stood. "We'll get the son of a bitch." He extended his hand to Shuman. "Thanks, Al. Good work as always."
Al shook Frank's hand and nodded to Gerry. "Nice to have met you, Detective Gardner. I imagine we will be seeing a lot of each other in the future."
Frank and Gerry left and walked to the car in silence. "You drive, Gerry," Frank instructed. "You've earned the right."
When Frank and Gerry reached the Isabella Apartments, they saw a blue-and-white parked near the entrance. Two officers in uniform leaned against the car, smoking, one a redhead that looked like a football guard - a crew cut that was extra short, stocky build, about five foot ten. The other was an Afro-American who must have played on the opposite side of the line: six foot five, muscular and dark complexioned. Neither man gave the impression that they would tolerate being trifled with.
The black man pushed off the side of the car and approached the newly arrived squad car. He broke into a broad smile when he saw Gerry. "Hey, beautiful. You in control already?" He nodded at Frank. The redhead was only a step or two behind his partner.
"Naw, I'm still learning the ropes. Frank, this is Roger Harrington, and the honkey over there is Chad Sherman. Chad shot Gerry the bird and held out his hand to Frank. "We know this guy, G.G. We worked a case with him last year up in the Woodlands. Good to see you, Detective Rivers." Roger murmured a greeting and turned his attention back to Gerry. "Is HCSI on the way?"
"Should be here soon," Frank answered. "We can talk to the office personnel until they get here." He hated to admit it, but he felt slighted, the way the uniformed officers snubbed him and rallied around Gerry. He chided himself and strode towards the Office door. Surely he was not such a prima donna that he needed to be the center of attention. Was he reacting to Sumbitch's assessment that his days of "Super Cop" were over?
Frank was the first to the door, and he watched as a woman looked up from her desk with a beaming smile of anticipation. Young and blonde, her expression looked like hundreds of others he had encountered under similar situations. There must be a school somewhere that taught neophyte agents of apartment management how to greet potential customers. The host was suited in a sleek ensemble of navy slacks and jacket with a white shell top beneath. It appeared to be a uniform, lacking only the company's logo and a tag that said, "Hi, I'm Jill." When the girl registered the nature of the visit, her expression decayed into astonishment with a backdrop of quizzical fear. Frank kept his "Cop" face firmly in place when he showed his identification.
"Oh!" 'Jill,' who turned out to be named Tami, responded. "Homicide?"
"My name is Detective Frank Rivers, and we have a warrant to investigate one of your tenants. Mr. Loa, Hon Cu Loa."
Tami smiled when he mentioned Hon Cu Loa in spite of her apprehension from four stern looking police officers. "That would be Mr. Nguyen." When Tami uttered his name, it sounded like "win." "Nguyen Qui Mang. He's such a funny man. He told us his real name, but asked to be listed as Hon Cu Loa."
Frank raised an eyebrow. "Why's that? Is Mr. Nguyen hiding something?"
Tami actually laughed. "Oh, no." Then she looked confused. "At least I don't think so. He said it was his stage name."
"Stage name?"
"Yes. Listen, Detective, I'm new here. I've never been approached by the police before. Do you mind if I call my supervisor?"
Frank already knew he had intimidated the employee. He did not want to delay the investigation of the apartment. He decided to lighten up and try to convince Tami she did not need backup. "It's really a routine process, Tami. I'll leave a copy of the warrant, then all you have to do is lead us to apartment 40IB, then you can return to your duties. We'll take it from there." He failed to mention that the forensic team would be disturbing her quiet Saturday inside the hour, and that they would no doubt render Apartment 40IB a chaotic unusable mess for who knew how long.
Tami looked longingly at the telephone on her desk and chewed her lip. "Well, okay, if it's only routine." She looked up at Frank and the others. "Has Mr. Nguyen done something wrong?"
"I'd rather not say at this time. Not until after we have a look at his apartment."
"Nguyen works nights. He often sleeps in. Maybe I should call and warn him we're on the way."
"Please, don't do that," Frank responded. "It isn't necessary." Tami blinked.
"Could I... er... please see the warrant?"
Frank handed it to her. She looked it over carefully, her eyes widening. When she reached the intent of the warrant, she gasped an animal-like sound and covered her mouth with her left hand. The paper quivered in her right. "Oh, no. Mr. Nguyen is dead? Murdered?"
"We're not certain, but it appears that way. Now, are you ready to help us try to find his killer?"
"Yes. Yes of course." She opened the center desk drawer and retrieved a ring of keys. "This way, please." She headed for a sliding glass door directly away from the front door, Frank, Gerry and the two uniforms filing behind her. They followed a long concrete walk past a small swimming pool, a bank of vending machines, and near a building housing coin-operated washing machines and dryers. The multi-story apartment complex was arranged among groves of welled, live oak trees and clusters of ligustrum bushes. The buildings had large letters painted on the ends. At Building "B," Tami ascended a back and forth column of stairs to the fourth level, and stopped in front of a door with 401 marked above a peephole. She knocked on the door and called out Nguyen's name.
"No one's home, Tami," Frank stated.
"I know, but it's procedure." She flashed a brief smile. Although she still looked shaken, she'd regained her professional composure. She knocked again, and immediately inserted the key into the lock. When the door opened, she stood aside, expecting all four police officers to enter. Only Frank and Gerry walked in. Chad and Roger stayed outside, frowning.
A short hall ran directly into a living area. On the wall opposite the door, where anyone would see it immediately, was a life-sized poster of the deceased, dressed in a fashionable black silk tuxedo, backed by red and gold drapes. He had a huge smile on his face and a microphone in his hand. Bold black letters spelled out LAS VEGAS above his head. Under his feet they read: Hon Cu Loa - Appearing Nightly at Harrah's, beginning November 1st.
Chapter 5
"I hope Harrah's has a back up act."
Tami's voice brought Gerry and Frank out of their state of shock at encountering the image of Hon Cu Loa as a living person, animated and vibrant rather than a gray cadaver on a morgue slab. "Keep her out of here," he ordered the uniformed officers.
"Gotcha," Roger Harrington answered.
Frank walked into the apartment and placed his briefcase on the counter near the kitchen. It was a one-bedroom layout with a sitting room as a continuation of the hall. A sliding door led to a small balcony off a dining room, kitchen wing. The counter separated the kitchen from the sitting room. Frank opened the briefcase and took out two pairs of latex gloves. He turned to offer Gerry
a pair before he noticed she was already wearing gloves and had moved to the poster for a closer look. He put one set of gloves back in the case and pulled on the other as he glanced around.
Everything was neat beyond normal. There were sparse furnishings: two bar stools with wicker seats sat in front of the counter, a futon served as a chair and probably the bed at night. A plastic egg crate sat beside the futon with a lamp, a copy of Variety and the TV remote. A small 13-inch TV with built-in DVD sat on a second egg crate in front of the chair. The poster was the only decoration in the room. Nguyen evidently took his meals at the counter. The only item in the dining nook was an exercise bike.
Frank removed a packet of small, magenta colored adhesive dots from the briefcase and went to the bedroom. Although it was arranged in an order as neat as the outer room, it was crammed with furniture and paraphernalia. A make-up table sat near the far wall and a there was a computer workstation where the bed was meant to be. A series of cinder block and plank bookcases lined a third wall. A few paperback books were stacked on the lower shelf, and the rest were filled with VHS tapes and DVD cases. Frank made a mental note that Nguyen was visual rather than print oriented. A closet occupied the last wall.
Frank went to the make-up table first, and examined the jars and bottles there. He pulled magenta dots from the waxed paper and placed one on each of the bottles, numbering them sequentially. Pictures and memos on yellow post-its surrounded the mirror. Frank stuck numbered dots to these, except for one snapshot of Nguyen. He slipped that into his pocket and then turned to the computer. He leafed through an address book before he put it in his pocket. Likewise, he went through a checkbook and a basket filled with bills. He pasted numbered dots on them and left them on the desk.
When he opened the closet, he wasn't surprised to find everything neatly arranged. A long vinyl shoe bag separated street clothes to the left, mostly jeans and tee shirts, and costumes to the right. The black tux Nguyen wore in the poster was hanging with the costumes. The upper shelf contained baseball caps, neatly folded socks, and underwear. On the floor were four plastic, open-at-the-top file cabinets in a row. Frank placed stickers on everything in the closet and spent several minutes flipping through the tabs on the folders. They were organized around Nguyen's past and future career as a comedian. He pulled one folder from a file at random; it was filled with material Nguyen used when seeking a job. The folder contained photos of Nguyen, newspaper clips and a CD in a jewel case with a picture of a stage, with 'The Ha Ha House' in bold letters on a velvet curtain. Frank slipped the CD into his pocket.
Satisfied that he had seen everything that was exposed, he began a meticulous search for the unseeable. He checked the baseboards for hollow compartments or places where the carpet had been tampered with, looked and felt along the blinds that covered the windows, and scanned the walls and ceiling with a reflecting flashlight to detect any repair to the original plaster. When he had finished examining the makeup table and the computer desk for hollow legs or false drawers, he heard voices coming from the outer room. The forensic team had arrived.
He pushed the file box back in place and went to talk to them. He found Gerry on hands and knees in the middle of the sitting room, sniffing the carpet. He watched as she used a roll of duct-tape to outline a block of the rag.
"We need at least this much extracted and analyzed," she instructed one of the lab techs. The man grunted in agreement.
"Did you search the kitchen, Gerry?" Frank asked.
"Yeah, and the bathroom. I tagged everything I want transported." She turned back to the lab tech. "If you can manage it, I'd like to have the bathtub drain siphoned." Another affirmative grunt.
Frank saw a woman he recognized from other cases and knew was in charge. "Ms. Aguilla isn't it? Phyllis Aguilla?"
"That's right, Detective Rivers. I'm flattered that you remember me."
"I always remember someone who does good work. My partner and I are going to get out of your way. We've left labels on all the items we want transported and I'm taking these." He held out the photo, address book and CD. "They came from the bedroom."
Aguilla took a digital picture of Frank holding the items and made a note in a thin spiral ringed pad. "All right, Detective. Any other special requests?"
"Yes, two things. The make-up in the bedroom needs to go to Al Shuman so he can compare it to that found on the victim's face." He waited as Aguilla made notes. "Number two, there was a bag of heroin recovered when we found the body. Check carefully for possible stashes."
"Will do," Phyllis assured him. Frank turned to Gerry. "Do you have any special requests for the techs?"
"I already told that fellow over there," she nodded her head to a man kneeling on the floor near where she had placed the gray tape. "I want that carpet, and the bathroom drain siphoned."
Aguilla made more notes.
"Gerry and I are going down to interview the administrative people and any neighbors we can find. We won't leave until you're finished here."
Gerry and Frank found Tami leaning against the outside wall of the office and looking pensive, her gaze not focused on the present, but shading a thoughtful inner self. An older woman stood beside her, rigid, arms crossed, one foot slightly in front of the other. The older woman was dressed in stonewashed jeans and a gray sweatshirt that read "BERKLEY" in bold, dark green letters.
"She called her boss," Gerry reported.
"So I see," Frank nodded. He decided Tami was no airhead. She knew the limits of her authority. He walked directly to the woman with her arms crossed and showed her his badge. "One of your tenants was found murdered yesterday. We're conducting a detailed search for evidence which we hope will lead to finding the killer."
"I'm well aware of what you're doing."
"My name's Detective Rivers and this is my partner, Detective Gardner. And you are?"
"Marcia Kline. I'm the manager of Isabella Apartments."
"Did you see the search warrant?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any questions?"
"I have many questions, Detective. For one, how long do you intend to be here frightening our renters?"
"That's difficult to say. We'll be here as long as needed to complete a thorough investigation and question anyone who might have known the murder victim."
"You intend to question people?"
"Yes. Starting with you," He turned to Tami, who had abandoned her bout with introspection and was looking at him like he was a piranha in a goldfish bowl. "And your employees."
"All my employees?"
"Of course."
"Well, that isn't possible. Ms. Ambruster is the only employee on the premises today."
"Surely you have a security team on the property and maintenance workers on standby?"
Marcia looked defensive for the first time. "Our maintenance crew is on standby, but they aren't on the premises."
"And security?"
"We employee the services of BPS Inc. They monitor our electronic security system and are only moments away."
"Well, it isn't the best way to insure safety, but we'll need a list of all your employees, including those terminated since Mr. Nguyen signed his lease." Frank knew he didn't have to tell Marcia his intentions, her expression told him she'd figured it out, but he said it anyway to maintain his edge in the conversation. "We'll interview each of them at their home."
Before Marcia could respond, Gerry stepped forward and took her by the elbow. "Come with me Ms. Kline. I'll talk to you and Tami while Detective Rivers checks with Mr. Nguyen's neighbors." Marcia seemed relieved to be rid of Frank's relentless stare and let Gerry lead her into the office. Tami followed, her arms crossed and her eyes focused on the ground.
It was two o'clock in the afternoon by the time the CSI crew had finished their work and explained to Marcia the meaning of the seal on Nguyen's apartment. Frank and Gerry loaded the crates of physical evidence into the squad car and signed the chain of custody forms. Frank drove while Gerry sc
anned through the notes she'd gotten from Phyllis Aguilla.
"No prints at all. Wiped clean as a whistle," she commented. "It'll take time for technical analysis."
"I can't wait to sort through what we do have. Let's grab a sack of burgers and go back to the office."
"That's good for me," Gerry agreed. "I didn't get much from Marcia and Tami. You had them disarmed and they seemed cooperative, but they didn't know much about Nguyen."
"Same from the neighbors. He worked nights, slept during the day. Kept to himself and didn't bother anybody. Nobody remembers seeing any visitors the day he was killed."
"He did tell Tami that he planned to attend a celebration of his new job on Thursday. That's where she thought he was all day."
"Ah, and the party was being held where?"
"The Ha Ha House. That's where he worked. It's on West Gray."
Frank reached into his pocket and withdrew the address book. "Take a look at this. I think his family is listed here along with other friends and associates."
"You're right," Gerry nodded. "We can get good background from this little book. Want me to do that?"
Frank looked at her, showing relief and appreciation. "After we have a chance to look at the physical evidence and plan out other steps we'll want to take, you can follow up on the book and I'll have a crack at the Ha Ha House."
When they had checked all the evidence into the office, Frank scanned Nguyen's picture into the computer and enhanced the photo to be used in his investigation. When he was satisfied, he printed the final product and made several copies. He gave a couple to Gerry, put two in his pocket and filed the remainder.
"Let's look at this CD-Demo," he suggested.
Gerry inserted the CD into a player, and they both sat back to watch. The screen lit up and the young man whom they had come to know, appeared.
"Hi. My name is Nguyen Qui Mang. My stage name is Hon Cu Loa. The demo you are about to see was made at the Ha Ha House comedy club in Houston. I hope you will consider having me appear at your club. Thanks for watching."