Gray Area: The Case of the Hellhound Homicide (Gray Gaynes Book 2)

by R. L. Akers

  DeLancy was clearly struggling to keep up. "But if it wasn't Blake, who killed him?"

  The level of whispered noise in the room grew loud, and Gray distinctly heard the word "hellhound" mentioned more than once.

  "No, it wasn't the hellhound!" Gray announced with a smile. "That was all part of Weiss's plan to frame Blake. Partly because he knew Blake was intimately familiar with the hellhound movie that released over the summer. More so because he needed an excuse to splash seven liters of his blood all over the office. He'd hoped the presence of so much blood, identifiable as his, would reinforce the idea that he must surely be dead."

  "But..." someone asked, "how could he survive losing so much blood?"

  "He didn't lose any blood that day in his new office," Gray explained. "He'd actually been collecting and storing it over the course of the last year. That was the whole reason he lobbied for the quarterly blood drive here on the premises. His wife told us that initially, he'd planned to somehow steal back the blood he donated. Later, he realized just how risky that would be, not to mention how little blood they would allow him to donate each time. At a rate of just one pint every three months, it would have taken him two years to collect enough, assuming he stole back every drop. Instead, he started watching carefully each time he donated, then went out and bought the paraphernalia he needed to draw and preserve larger volumes of his own blood with greater frequency."

  Mack spoke up. "And if anyone noticed the track marks on his arms, he just blamed it on the company blood drive."

  Gray nodded, moving on with his explanation. "Mr. Weiss knew Mr. Blake kept his car keys in his desk when he went out of town, and he knew what time Blake's return flight was due to arrive that Sunday. By the time his old boss walked into the office just after noon, he'd already prepared a stack of file boxes, which Blake used when Weiss ordered him to pack up his stuff. Little did Blake realize, the sticky substance he felt on the bottom of those boxes was Weiss's blood — carefully applied and later wiped off again, just enough to leave a DNA signature... and to clearly show Blake's fingerprints in the blood, making it seem Blake had handled the boxes after Weiss's blood was spilled."

  "What about the security logs?" someone asked — one of the security guards, Gray guessed, based on the way the man was dressed. "I thought there was evidence that Blake came in and out of the office that day, even though the timestamps were edited to hide those entries."

  "Some of those entries were Blake," Mack explained. "But at least some of the others were Weiss — he did come in and out of the office after arriving, but he needed to hide that fact, so he changed the employee ID on those records from his to Blake's, then changed the dates on all of them. Because our geeks had to work to find those entries, we didn't immediately question that anything had been altered except the timestamps."

  "As far as we can tell," Gray said, coming to the end of what Mrs. Weiss had confessed, "the Weisses' plan went off without a hitch. When Mr. Blake finally finished carting his boxes down to his car and left, all Weiss had to do was slip down to the parking garage himself, bring back the supply of blood he'd spent the last year stockpiling, and stage the scene we found later that evening — flinging his blood around the office and gouging 'claw marks' in the floor with the knife he'd surreptitiously stolen while Blake was busy packing his other belongings. Then Weiss walked carefully out of the room, careful not to step in any blood, and finally closed the office door."

  There was a long moment of near-silence as everyone considered this.

  "So how did he die?" Miss Cogan asked quietly, almost impatiently. "Who killed him?"

  Gray met the girl's eyes, then shifted his gaze from face to unrecognizable face. He knew it was someone at ATC — after Mrs. Weiss provided them the date and time she received her most recent blackmail demand, they'd gotten a warrant to trace the call, and the results had come back just this morning: the call originated from ATC's main outbound phone number. But who at ATC had made the call? Who had murdered Edgar Weiss, then added insult to injury by blackmailing the man's widow? Gray poured over his mental list of suspects one last time.

  Arnold DeLancy had always seemed the most likely culprit in Gray's mind, but looking at the man now, Gray realized it was because he wanted it to be him. In truth, DeLancy had more to lose from Weiss's death than anyone, had seen his company damaged even further by Blake's arrest, as he'd so frequently lamented. Then again, Gray learned yesterday that DeLancy had spent the months since the murder cozying up to Weiss's widow. Did that make him a greedy blackmailer, or just plain greedy?

  Judy Fairburn, Blake's former assistant, also invited suspicion. That morning after the murder, she'd been quick to suggest using the security logs to establish a timeline, which on the surface seemed very helpful indeed. Had she known how misleading those logs would prove to be? And what of the significant damage she'd done by spreading rumors among the office staff before Gray had a chance to complete interviews? Was that a deliberate attempt to obstruct his investigation, or was she simply desperate to share the juiciest gossip ATC had known since its founding?

  Boyd, Lloyd, and Dipak Chaudhri knew the security system better than anyone. Had one of them put two and two together, realized Weiss was behind the whole thing, and somehow demanded a share of the life insurance money? Had Weiss refused, prompting them to kill him and make their demand of his wife instead?

  The other vice presidents — Jonas Gadding and Vincent Turrell — were probably as upset as DeLancy about the loss of Weiss and Blake. Probably. After all, they were shareholders in the various shell companies that raked in ATC's true profits, which were apparently now suffering. But they might have motivations of their own for removing two of their colleagues from play. Did the rivalry that existed between Weiss and Blake extend to them as well?

  And then there was Katy Cogan. Gray almost dismissed her out of hand. Dear, sweet Katy wasn't the killer. She didn't have the constitution for murder or blackmail, nor did she have motive. She was weeping at this exact moment, unable to meet Gray's eye as she waited for him to name the killer, but she'd shown before what an emotional individual she could be.

  Gray hesitated.

  Katy Cogan, who had expressed bitterness toward ATC leadership — Weiss included — for growing rich on quasi-legal dealings while the rank and file—Katy included — barely eked by. Katy Cogan, who was graduating this weekend with a second college degree, and was probably drowning in student debt. Katy Cogan, who had claimed to see Ed Weiss on that fateful Sunday, after Blake had supposedly murdered him... then later recanted, explaining very convincingly that it must have been a different day when she glimpsed him through closing elevator doors.

  The silence was growing uncomfortable as the entire room waited on Gray's next words. Katy looked up finally, saw the way the detective was studying her, and recoiled.

  "Miss Cogan knows who the real killer is," Gray said softly.

  The young woman lost control of her emotions then. She began to sob, mouth stretched wide as she struggled to breathe, so overpowering was her grief and guilt.

  Gray needed no other confirmation. "Mr. DeLancy, let's clear the room," he said, voice still soft. Mack was already dialing the uniforms to come up from downstairs, so Gray placed a gentle hand on Katy's shoulder and guided her to a chair near the window.

  By the time the room was emptied of her coworkers, she'd begun to settle down, at least enough that she could talk. Mack — kind soul that he was, despite the way he acted most of the time — had brought her a large paper cup of water, and she sipped from it with shaking hands.

  "Why don't you tell us what happened?" Gray said.

  She swallowed, nodded. "He... called me."

  "Weiss?"

  "Yeah. That Monday, when I left to meet you for lunch." She sniffled. "He'd been listening to our conversation."

  "What?"

  She nodded. "When I told you I saw him that day... it was Sunday, not Friday. I was headed downstairs, going home,
and he was coming back upstairs, carrying a big box — his stockpile of blood, I guess. But he was looking down and didn't see me. He didn't know I'd been in the building at all until he went into the security office to doctor the logs. That's when he realized how close we came to bumping into each other." She fell silent, her eyes distant.

  "And?" Gray prompted softly.

  "And he was afraid that maybe I had seen him, but he couldn't know for sure, so... he installed some sort of listening software on my computer. He'd already done the same thing on Mr. DeLancy's machine and some of the others, so he could listen in when the police came to investigate." She shivered, hugging herself. "He heard a lot of your interviews that next day. People were talking about the hellhound, just like he wanted. No one knew what really happened. And then he heard me say it, that I had seen him... And he panicked. The offices were supposed to be empty on a Sunday afternoon. Me seeing him then, at 2:30... telling you that I'd seen him... it would have messed up his whole deception — it would've proved Blake didn't kill him, since he was still alive after Blake left."

  "So Weiss called you," Gray nodded his understanding. "To offer you money?"

  Katy nodded, a jerky motion. "He knew what time I was leaving to meet you — he'd heard all that — so he called me right before I left. Offered..." She swallowed. "Offered me a hundred thousand dollars. All I had to do was tell you I was wrong. Confused. And that was easy. I really did have a priority package to send for Mr. DeLancy on Friday, so it was easy to say that was the day I'd seen Mr. Weiss in the elevator."

  Gray sat back heavily in his chair. "So all that talk about ATC's shady business dealings... you made all that up?"

  "No!" Katy insisted. "That was real, all of it. I... I'd been considering blowing the whistle for months, I just... didn't know how. And that morning, when you told me Mr. Weiss was dead, I really was scared. Everything I told you at that restaurant was what I planned to tell you, what I couldn't tell you right outside Mr. DeLancy's office. Just... when Mr. Weiss called, it made me even more scared. Scared he'd kill me if I didn't lie for him."

  "Carrot and stick," Mack chimed in sagely. "His offer would've been hard to say no to. The threat on one hand — even unspoken — and the money on the other. I'd have probably done the same."

  Katy nodded emphatically, gratefully, though Gray knew Mack was just saying what needed to be said to keep the girl talking. At least, he hoped that's what Mack was doing.

  "Besides, no one was actually hurt," she continued. "There was no murder really. I... I realize that by taking his money, lying for him, I would be his accomplice. But it was only fraud, not murder."

  "Except that there had already been a murder," Gray said softly. "The man Weiss chose to be his body double. Probably a homeless man... but you know that now, don't you?"

  Katy's lip began to tremble, and she needed a minute to compose herself. "Yes," she whispered finally. She took a deep breath, a sip of water, and continued. "He... Mr. Weiss... he wanted to meet. In person. He didn't say that at first. He waited until after lunch, after I'd... lied to you. Then he called me with an address, insisted I meet him there immediately. Said he wasn't about to set a hundred grand out where some random person might stumble across it. Said he wanted to put it in my hand."

  "Oh, Katy..." Gray groaned.

  "No way he could have gotten that much cash together so quickly," Mack said, shaking his head.

  "And the risk," Gray said. "I told you not to go anywhere alone!"

  "I was a fool," she agreed, her whole body trembling now. She pulled her feet up into the chair and hugged her knees. "I met him at that abandoned building. The factory, where you... found his body. I followed him all the way inside, because that's where he said the money was. He opened up this barrel and reached inside, and... and..." She couldn't go on. The horror she'd experienced in that moment was still plain to see, even now.

  "And there was no money," Gray said. "Only a body, cut up and floating in chemicals."

  She nodded jerkily again. "I couldn't move," she said, her voice hoarse. "I was so scared. Sick to my stomach. And he just kept talking. He was so eager for someone to know his entire plan. He needed someone to be impressed by his brilliance, and there wasn't anyone else he could tell."

  "Wife probably didn't want to know the details," Mack said with a snort.

  "He was always such a nice man. I thought he was the only good person in charge at ATC, but he was the worst." Katy shook her head, trembling all the more. "He was a monster."

  "And he tried to kill you," Gray said finally.

  "Yes," she whispered. "I begged, pleaded. Tried telling him it would mess up his plan, but he wouldn't listen. Thought if I went missing and they eventually found a young woman's body next to his, it would look all the worse for Blake. The cops would assume I found something out and Blake silenced me too. I'd already told Weiss that Blake was still missing. We didn't know you were arresting him at that very moment."

  "So how did you manage to fight him off?" Mack asked.

  "He... was an old man," she said softly. "I..." She swallowed. "He came at me with the knife, and I finally managed to move, but I tripped... fell into him... we both went down and he lost his grip on the knife..." The young woman began trembling. "I was so scared," she sobbed, her throat so thick with emotion Gray could barely understand her. "We were on the ground together, and he started choking me. I was hitting him, trying to find something to hit him with, and I felt the knife on the ground beside me... I grabbed it, and I just stabbed and stabbed and stabbed until he let go." She had to stop then, just to breathe. "I didn't want to kill him! I wasn't trying to, I just— and then he—"

  She gave up trying to explain. Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed for a good long while. Gray let her, though Mack began to look impatient. Eventually she continued, though she didn't look up.

  "I went home and showered. I still can't believe no one stopped me... I had his blood on me. But it's like no one noticed, even the cabbie..."

  "That's the City for you," Mack said.

  "And then I sat there for hours," she continued, "holding your card." She finally looked up, meeting Gray's eyes, her own swimming. "But I knew I'd be in trouble for lying to you, and I was afraid you wouldn't believe me when I said I killed him in self defense. And the longer I waited, the guiltier I knew I would look. So... I showered again. And then I came in to work on Tuesday. And..." She took a deep breath. "I decided to go through with the rest of his plan."

  "If you were going to be guilty of murder, you might as well make a few bucks off it?" Mack asked. "The money he'd promised you?"

  Katy cringed at the detective's casual summary of the situation, but nodded. "I went back Tuesday night. Bought a hatchet on the way and chopped up his body the way he'd done with the homeless man... then dumped the pieces in a second barrel of chemicals — I realized later it was a barrel he'd prepared for me. I got sick, over and over again, but I didn't worry about DNA. He'd told me all about how the chemicals worked. Afterward, I used the chemicals to clean the hatchet, then wrapped it in a garbage bag and dropped it in a dumpster halfway across town." She shook her head. "I should've used the knife — the way he did on the homeless guy — but the thought of touching it again..."

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The grief and guilt were still there... and yet she looked relieved now as well, just like Mrs. Weiss after her confession yesterday.

  "After that," Gray concluded, "all you needed to do was phone in the anonymous tip, the way Weiss had planned to do. Without that, without his body, it might have been years before he was declared legally dead, which would've meant no insurance money and no blackmail."

  She shrugged.

  "Oh, Katy," Gray said softly, struggling with very real emotion. "I wish you'd called me."

  "I wish I had too," she said in a very small voice.

  "Katy Cogan," Mack said officially, "you're under arrest for the murder of Edgar Weiss, and for conspiracy to
commit fraud. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."

  And that was that. Katy Cogan had murdered Edgar Weiss, amidst a host of mitigating circumstances, to be sure... but it confirmed once and for all that the man who'd drawn a weapon on Gray in the alley that day — right after Gray's lunch with Katy herself — had nothing to do with the Weiss case. Who, then, was he? It would bear further consideration, though Gray's gut continued to insist the man was none other than Rose's killer.

  But for once, the reminder of his wife's case didn't hold Gray's attention. He was still too much in shock over the fact that Katy had murdered Weiss.

  When Mack was done cuffing and reading the young woman her rights, the uniformed officers led her out of the room. She didn't look back, though Gray's eyes followed her until she was out of sight.

  "I hope that doesn't come back to bite us," Mack said, collapsing back into the chair next to Gray.

  "What?"

  "Holding off on her Miranda warning until after she confessed."

  "We never told her she was under arrest. And if we'd reminded her of her rights, she might have clammed up."

  Mack snorted. "That's exactly why we're supposed to warn her. So she knows she's allowed to clam up."

  Gray shrugged nonchalantly, though inside, he really wanted to cry. "We needed that confession."

  "Hmm," Mack grunted, eyeing his partner carefully. "You okay?"

  Gray took a deep breath, let it out heavily. "I... have to admit I had a blind spot where she was concerned. I should have seen it earlier, at least once we learned of the blackmail. When we started reexamining suspects, I should have thought of her immediately — that business of seeing Weiss on Sunday, then deciding she was wrong." Gray shook his head. "She just reminds me so much of Rose..."