Blind Retribution

by K. T. Roberts

  “I’m not perfect either, and I’m sure I’ll screw up just like you.” Max said. “It’s refreshing to talk to someone who doesn’t try to weasel out of something he did wrong, or try to place blame on others. I have a lot of respect for that. But in terms of getting to know each other on a higher level, I think we need to wait until this case is solved.”

  He paused, showing disappointment, but then reluctantly nodded his agreement and knew she wasn’t going to give him too many chances to get this right if he wanted to move their relationship forward. “But you won’t put a hold on us having dinner to discuss our progress with the case. Right?”

  “Only if we keep it professional between us.” She knew there was a fat chance of that happening, but so long as she kept her distance, things would be okay.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “I can’t shake this feeling I have about the heart center,” Cory said sitting across from Max the next afternoon in one of the interview rooms.

  “What do you mean?” she asked nonchalantly.

  “Max.” Cory took a quick sharp breath. “I’ve been talking for the last ten minutes and I’m sensing you haven’t heard one word.”

  “I’m sorry. I was distracted. I’ve got a million things going through my brain right now. Please continue.” Cory looked skyward, a little perturbed. “Really, I’m sorry,” she muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed. After a few seconds of silence, she cleared her throat.

  Amused, Riley laughed. “You two act like a married couple.” He’d apparently thought his comment was funny because he chuckled, but neither acknowledged it. He broke the tension by changing the subject. “Were the names of the women you visited at Mount Sinai, or I should say attempted to visit, Valerie Morrison and Melanie Chambers?”

  “Yes. What about them?”

  “The more I think about your suspicions regarding wrongdoing, the more convinced I’ve become that something is amiss, so I’m headed to check these names in the database. We’ll see if what happened to each of them separately is somehow related.”

  An hour later, Riley walked back over to where Max was sitting. “You’re not going to believe what I’ve just found.”

  Max’s eyes widened with anticipation. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What did you find out?” Max asked.

  He read from the screen. “Sharlene Chambers-Inghrams found dead in her vehicle on October twenty-eighth by a security guard in the Global Parking garage on West 40th. Bag from Macy’s Department store on backseat containing child’s skirt. Security attendant, Nate Williams, found body during second security check when he noticed vehicle still running. Victim’s throat slit from ear to ear. Detective of record is Louis Lucio of the 17th Precinct. Case open.”

  “If this turns out to be a relative of Melanie Chambers, then you have a sixth sense,” Max said to Cory. “How about the other one?”

  Riley keyed in the other name. “Sixteen-year-old Candace Morrison. Autopsy report lists death as a result of an overdose of Propofol at NY Presbyterian Hospital. Patient had rhinoplasty surgery. Case open. Detective of record, Lawrence Howe, 22nd Precinct.”

  “Wow,” Max said, making her way over to the small refrigerator. She pulled out three bottles of water, unscrewed the cap on one, and handed it to Cory. “We still don’t know if either of these cases relate to one another, but it’s worth checking with the two detectives.”

  Cory loved the way she multitasked. Seeing her nurturing side shine through was a total surprise to him because she had such a tough outer shell. He doubted many were capable of chipping their way through that rock. God, he was falling for this woman, although he had to admit sometimes her wavering moods were off-putting. Now that he was in his forties, he had little patience for sulkiness. Admittedly, his moods hadn’t been so rosy lately either. They were still getting to know one another’s quirks, and given a little more time, they’d get used to each other.

  “If so,” Cory said, “that would mean two deaths involving relatives of employees who work at Mount Sinai, plus Helen Barrett makes three, and it’s the same place Jeffrey Barrett works,” Cory said. “Are you seeing a pattern here?”

  “I hate to burst bubbles here, guys, but this is New York.” Max felt her ponytail slipping and pulled the scrunchie off, smoothed her hair back, and reapplied the elastic to pull her hair tighter. “There are three-point-five murders every day.” Addressing their assumption, she offered her opinion. “Just because these two victims have relatives who work at the hospital, one of whom works in the heart center, does not necessarily make them a connection to Helen Barrett’s murder,” she warned. “Trust me, I’d like nothing better than to solve this case based on that information, but we all know that would be way too easy. Once we talk to the other detectives, we’ll have a better idea. If it turns out the way I’m hoping, then we’ll have our confirmation that it’s more than a coincidence.”

  Cory checked his watch. “Geez, don’t you guys ever get hungry? I’m starving. Can we break for lunch and then come back to talk about the next steps?”

  Riley snickered. “You know, we’re so used to skipping meals that it never occurs to us until we’re suddenly so famished we’re ready to eat everything in sight.” Max was nodding in agreement. “I could use a little sustenance,” Riley said. “I’ll call Berg’s Deli. They deliver.”

  “While we’re waiting for the food to arrive,” Max said, “I’ll go out to my desk to call the two detectives and see what I can set up for tomorrow. I’ll bring the food in here when it’s delivered.” She headed for the door.

  “Wait,” Cory said. Leaning to the side, he pulled a money clip from his pocket, peeled off a bill, and handed it to Max. Riley did the same.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The next morning, Riley walked into the office carrying two containers of coffee and a bag. He placed one of the containers down in front of her.

  “Thank you.” She removed the lid and sipped. “You look exhausted. What’s up?” Max asked.

  He released a groan. “We had a shitload of kids at the house last night for a pre-Halloween party, who giggled like hyenas on speed. Geesh! Had my wife told me we were planning to host an overnighter, I might have spent the night in the city. Need I say more about a sleepless night?” Riley removed the cover from his container, added sugar and cream, stirred, and drank. “I’m likely to need lots of this stuff today,” he spoke through his yawn. “In fact, I may not make it through the day.” He opened the bag and offered Max first dibs on a pastry.

  Peeking inside the bag, she saw two orange-frosted donuts with multicolored sprinkles. She frowned.

  “It’s Halloween month, Max.”

  “Ah, how could I forget.” She laughed and reached inside her briefcase for her wallet out and flipped him a twenty-dollar bill. “I hope it’s just kids trick or treating and not the weirdos of the world dressing up in costume.”

  “Yeah, my kids are all revved up about having a weekend sitting around eating candy.”

  “You won’t let them do that, will you?”

  He scrunched his face. “Are you kidding? You think I want to spend my salary on unnecessary dental bills? My wife rations it so that it’s spread out over the next month.” Riley pushed her money back, but she shoved the bill into his jacket pocket anyway.

  “This was to be my treat today.” He protested, but it made no difference, because Max wasn’t giving in. “Thank you,” she said, “but you have a family of five. I don’t even have a cat. Let this be my treat.”

  He sighed, pulled the money from his jacket, and shoved it into his pants pocket.

  “Thank you . . . So listen,” Riley said, “on my way into work this morning, I was going over a few things in my mind, and I’m curious about why you’re still so certain Jack killed Helen, and not Barrett or the senator.”

  “At this point, Riley, I’m not sure who did it. Other than the solid evidence of Jack’s threat that no one at the restaurant has disputed, his sneaky stairway beh
avior and lying, our case doesn’t have much traction. The fact that Barrett’s having an affair with the senator doesn’t prove he killed his wife. True, it’s a strong component, but it isn’t enough to accuse him,” she responded.

  “But what if there’s more to this than you’re looking at?” Riley asked. “The very fact that Cory is so adamant about Jack’s innocence says a lot about the guy. Couple that with the woman at the restaurant who wanted to protect Jack.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, Riley, but remember that Cory and Jack are best friends, and Cory knew nothing about Jack’s financial problems. And he sure as hell didn’t know about Jack leaving his apartment that night, or that he had threatened Helen Barrett. If they’re such good friends, why didn’t Jack share any of that with him? Couple those factors with Jack’s explosives training, and we have a strong case. Add on the fact that we’re now friends with Cory, it makes it muddled. I don’t want that to cloud our judgment. We deal in facts and evidence proving those facts. I need to play devil’s advocate here.”

  “Yeah,” Riley said, “but during our search of Jack’s residence, we didn’t find any bombs or the material to make one. I didn’t find anything in his storage unit either, and the rest of what we have is circumstantial—except for his threat to kill Helen Barrett.”

  “In a court of law, it doesn’t matter what Jack’s comment was. All that matters to a jury is witness testimony. And since we have three who will testify to what they heard”—she stretched her arms straight out—“Jack’s guilt is a slam dunk.”

  “Yes, Max, but then Jeffrey Barrett gets away with murder.”

  “May I remind you we didn’t find any bomb-related material in the Barrett house either,” she pointed out and tilted her head to the side. “If these new homicides show me they are somehow related to Helen’s murder, we’ll pursue every new lead with a vengeance. It’s not like I’m hell-bent on putting Jack away. I couldn’t do that if I didn’t think he was guilty.”

  Riley chose what he wanted from the bag, and then Max pulled out the remaining scone. “Although I’m thrilled to work with you, Riley,” she announced with an eye roll, “I have to say, you have a sweet tooth, and getting into these pants this morning was a bit of a chore.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said with a twist of his mouth. He muffled a yawn with his hand, and she yawned in return.

  “Geez,” Riley said. “We’re a good pair this morning.”

  She grabbed a napkin from the bag, placed the scone on top, and broke off a piece, placing it into her mouth.

  They both looked up when Lieutenant Wallace stopped to talk.

  “Hey, good morning,” Max said. “Riley and I will be meeting with Detectives Lou Lucio from the 17th and Larry Howe from the 22nd today. They’re handling the two open cases I mentioned to you yesterday. We need to find out what evidence they have,” Max said.

  “What makes that a logical move?”

  Max responded, “If what we suspect about these two victims is true, that they’re related to the administrator and heart transplant coordinator who work at Mount Sinai, then sitting down to put our heads together might prove worthwhile. Maybe they’ve found things we haven’t that will point us in another direction, and then maybe not, but it’s worth a shot.”

  “I agree,” Wallace said. “All right, we’ll catch up later.” He turned and walked over to Bensonhurst and Santini’s area.

  Detective Louis Lucio was just finishing up an interview with a suspect when the team entered his precinct’s main office area.

  “I’ll be ready in a minute,” he said, holding up his finger.

  Detective Lucio was a nice-looking, clean-cut man with a few pockmarks from teenage acne, short dark brown hair, and dark eyes. He was neatly dressed. Max noticed his jaw muscles flicker, a sure sign he was stressed, but that was the nature of the job. She and Riley were escorted to an interview room by one of the clerks. It wasn’t long before Lucio walked into the room with a tall, thin man whose face was lined with deep insets from what appeared to be a chronic scowl. Max figured him to be Detective Howe. He placed his file folder down on the conference table. After introductions were made, Max led the discussion about Helen’s death and detailed the evidence they had, passing her paperwork and photographs around the table for everyone to see.

  “Christ,” Lucio said, “it sounds to me like you’ve got your guy, so why the prolonged investigation?”

  “Look, guys,” Riley said, “our field manuals clearly state that our first question in any case should be Is this related to anything else? Either the answer to that question is a resounding no or there’s a killer who thinks he’s outsmarted us by picking victims and locations in different precincts so we’ll never suspect they are related. I don’t know which of those is true, or why those two victims were chosen, but that’s why this meeting is so important to us.”

  Max glanced over at Howe, who might have read Riley as a smartass. Riley must have picked up on it too and nodded for Max to continue.

  “So this is what we have so far on our case,” Max said and continued sharing the pertinent information. Howe listened with a deep frown on his face. Despite his frown, Max ignored him and continued. “Mount Sinai is where our victim’s husband works. He’s well-known for his skill in heart transplants. You may have heard of him, Dr. Jeffrey Barrett. He was recently in the newspaper and I believe on the cover of Time magazine when he performed a transplant on Senator Stansbury’s daughter.” The men agreed with a nod.

  “He’s also the head of the transplant center. Because the names of your victims match two of the women who work there, we think these cases might be linked somehow,” Max said. “Why don’t you tell us about your cases? We might have the hub of a wheel with many spokes, and it would make all our lives easier if we found out we’re working on the same case.”

  “Okay,” Lucio said. “Here’s a copy of my report on Sharlene Chambers-Inghrams’s homicide,” Lucio said, giving his head a slow shake. “This is a very sad story. The young woman was out shopping at Macy’s during one of those Moonlight Madness sales that let the shoppers get a head start on the holidays. You know, one of those all-nighters where hordes of shoppers wait outside in the bitter cold for the doors to open at midnight?”

  “We talked to her friend Dianne Orofino, who was the last person she’d spoken to, and Ms. Orofino confirmed that our victim called her at about two-twenty in the morning—even woke her up out of a sound sleep, but she said they were like sisters and she didn’t mind. But the reason she’d called was to complain about a confrontation she’d had with another customer. We also learned from this friend that Sharlene’s mother was supposed to go with her, but was tired and decided to stay home at the last minute, and watch the granddaughter instead.”

  “Do you have the mother’s name?”

  “I do.” He slid his finger down the report and stopped. “Yes, her mother’s name is Melanie Chambers.”

  “Oh boy,” Max said. “If she’s the Melanie Chambers in our case, she’s the organ and procurement coordinator for heart transplants at Mount Sinai.” Max smiled at Riley, knowing there was a connection. “Okay, please continue. Those sales bring out the worst in people. Do you know what the confrontation was about?” she asked.

  “It was over an item of clothing.” Lucio rubbed his cheek with his shoulder and continued to talk. “The store security also verified the incident. It seems like a tug-of-war commenced between our victim and a Carlos Perez. Store security intervened and escorted Mr. Perez out to the parking lot, but when we spoke to him, his alibi checked out.

  “During the course of the two friends’ chat, Ms. Orofino said there was a sudden stop in the conversation when the victim released a bloodcurdling scream, then a gurgling sound, a loud thud, and a final deafening silence. The events were so horrifying, she started screaming and ran to her house phone to dial 911.

  “Uniforms tracked Sharlene down by her cell phone.” Lucio pulled photographs of the cri
me scene out of an envelope and placed them down in the center of the table for them to view.

  “By the time our guys got there, the attendant had already realized something was wrong, because he’d made his second round of patrol and realized her motor was still running. He was standing by the car when our guys arrived. He told them he knew something was wrong when she didn’t respond to a tap on the driver’s side window.

  “Flashing his light inside and seeing the blood, he called 911 as well.” Lucio’s report held everyone captive. “When I arrived on the scene and opened the door, it wasn’t locked. The killer apparently wanted out of there in a hurry. The distinct odor of acrid blood hit me in the face. I could see this woman’s head leaning back against the seat. Checking a little closer, her head was barely hanging on by a thread. This was the work of someone very angry. We’re definitely ruling this a homicide.”

  Lucio took a slug of water to moisten his dry mouth. “It was apparent she’d put up a struggle because her body was in an awkward position, and there was blood all over the place, including massive spattering on the windshield. Two of her fingers on the right hand were severed and found on the carpeted floor, indicating she’d fought hard. Her cell phone was on the passenger’s side floor. Her purse was nowhere to be found, so we had no idea who she was. We did find the registration in the glove compartment, and we checked the plates as well. The car is registered to a Melanie Chambers. It was much later that Sharlene’s purse was found in a trash can down on the second tier of the garage. Everything was intact. Money and credit cards still in the wallet.”

  “And where was she parked?”

  “On the fourth tier.” Lucio pointed to the photograph of her neck. “This guy is no amateur. Look at this clean cut across the neck.” He pointed to the picture with the ruler. “It’s six inches in length and two inches below her jaw, which severed the carotid artery and other vessels that caused the hemorrhage.” Max and Riley were nodding in agreement.