Daggers & Steele 1 - Red Hot Steele

by Alex P. Berg

  The secretary humphed and led us down a corridor.

  As it turned out, my threat to kick down doors turned out to be unnecessary. The interior of the suite held as much glass as the exterior lobby, all meticulously cleaned and free of smudges. Part of me longed to wipe a hand across my forehead and trail it along the translucent paneling just for kicks.

  Soon enough, the conference room that held Miss Talent popped into view. Felicity sat with her back to the glass facing another smarmy member of the gray suit brigade—a middle-aged man with a beak nose and salt and pepper hair. Felicity’s ever-present, ravishing friend Gretchen sat at her left, her arm draped around Felicity’s shoulders in a comforting embrace.

  I waved the secretary away and let myself into the meeting room.

  The lawyer looked up from the documents that covered the conference table. “Excuse me, but this is a private consultation. Now if you’ll kindly—”

  “Detective Daggers. Detective Steele.” Felicity turned around in her chair to face us. “What are you doing here?”

  Felicity’s eyes were redder and puffier than they’d been on our last encounter, if such a thing was possible. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in at least two days. Her friend Gretchen, however, looked alert, well-rested, and as radiant as ever. Her bronze-colored hair shone with a glossy sheen, and her rosy cheeks radiated good health. Only her eyes betrayed any hint of distress.

  The lawyer stood. “Ahh. So you’re from the police department. Well then, detectives, I’m sure you’re well aware of the impropriety of your actions in coming here. Not only are you breaking the covenant of our attorney-client relationship, but you’re causing undue distress and emotional turmoil to my client and her family—a point I’ll be sure to make to your superiors in the form of an official, written complaint.”

  “Sit down and shut up, poindexter,” I said. “We didn’t come here to create a headache for the department. We’re here to make an arrest.”

  That perked everyone’s ears.

  “What?” said the lawyer.

  “Huh?” said Felicity.

  Gretchen stared at me, a look of pained confusion on her face.

  “You know,” I said, “on our way here I was discussing an interesting point with Detective Steele. As it turns out, if someone is convicted of murder their entire estate passes to their next of kin, or whoever is listed as the beneficiary in their will if they have one. Isn’t that right, Mr…what’s your name?” I eyeballed the lawyer.

  “Marshall Figs,” he said. “And yes, that’s correct.”

  I turned to Felicity. “Now don’t you find that interesting, Miss Talent? If your father does, in fact, get convicted for the murder of your fiancé, you’d instantly inherit all your family’s wealth. I wonder who that could benefit?”

  Felicity’s eyes widened, a wildness creeping into them from the corners. “Wha… What are you implying? Are you saying you think I murdered my own fiancé, and then I framed my father for the murder so I could access our family’s wealth!? Why…you MONSTER!”

  Felicity jumped out of her chair and whipped an open-handed blow at my face, but years of getting slapped by women who’d been provoked had sharpened my reflexes. I blocked the slap with ease.

  “Word to the wise, Miss Talent,” I said. “Never attempt to strike a police officer. And to answer your question—no, I don’t think you killed your fiancé. I know you loved him, and beyond that I believe he loved you, too. I think he loved you more than anything. More than his career. More than money. And that, actually, is why your friend Gretchen killed him.”

  “What? Gretchen?” Felicity pulled back, turning her puffy eyes on her friend.

  “I…I’m sorry, Detective,” said Gretchen. “I must’ve misheard you. It sounded like you said I killed Reginald.”

  I set my eyes firmly on the bombshell. “That’s exactly what I said.”

  Gretchen scoffed. “And…why would I kill Reginald? What possible reason could I have for murdering my best friend’s fiancé?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Probably because he ruined years’ worth of planning when he fell in love with your mark—the wealthy, single, and before you came along, friendless Felicity Talent.”

  Felicity stepped away from the table, clutching the folds of her blouse near her chest. “What? What are you saying? Gretchen, what’s he talking about?”

  Gretchen looked me in the eyes, color darkening her cheeks. “I have no idea what he’s talking about, Felicity.”

  “Oh, really?” I said. “So I don’t suppose there’s anything in these legal documents Miss Talent’s been signing that would transfer any of her wealth over to you in the event of her father’s imprisonment, would there?”

  I snatched a stack of papers from the conference table. The lawyer tried to snatch them back.

  “Hey! Put those down,” Figs said. “Those are private documents between my client and her legal team. You need a warrant to look at them.”

  “Not so. I happened to see evidence of coercion in this document right on top. That makes the whole stack admissible evidence.”

  That was a lie of course. I had no idea what the legal documents contained—I’m not much of a speed reader—but I suspected if I looked closely, I’d find documents signed by Miss Talent that had nothing to do with her father’s case. Documents that likely cut Gretchen Winters into a substantial share of her family’s fortune.

  I made a show of flipping through the papers before stuffing them into my interior coat pocket where they could keep Daisy company.

  The lawyer blustered and tossed around threats and insults in legalese. Gretchen sat there, gritting her teeth and staring at me. I could see the daggers forming in her irises.

  “Gretchen Winters,” I said. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Reginald Powers, as well as multiple counts of forgery, impersonation, trespassing, and felony blackmail. Stand up and put your hands behind your back.”

  Like the good girl she wasn’t, Gretchen obeyed orders. The lawyer tried to interfere, but his gentlemanly protection of Miss Winters quickly turned to panicked self-preservation when I told Shay to cuff him for conspiracy to commit fraud. While Shay bent Mr. Figs over the table, I slipped a pair of cold steel shackles over Gretchen’s slender wrists.

  As I did so, Gretchen turned on the charm. She batted her eyelashes at me. “Really, Detective? Handcuffs? You can’t possibly see me as a threat, can you?”

  “Sweetheart,” I said, “yesterday, I would’ve fallen head over heels for your damsel-in-distress routine. But I’ve already got a mistress, and her name’s Lady Justice. Good luck trumping her.”

  And with that, I led my captive out the door and on a journey toward my mistress’s cold embrace.

  52

  Shay accompanied me from the interrogation room back to our desks. Despite what they say about beauty and brains being an either-or proposition in the fairer sex, Gretchen Winters was no dummy. She kept her mouth shut for the most part, but the evidence spoke for itself. The documents I’d seized at the law offices contained a few outliers—notably a form signed by Miss Talent that gave Gretchen power of attorney over Talent’s entire estate. In addition, our forensics team had revisited the blackmail documents we’d found in Charles Talent’s safe.

  They’d found Gretchen’s prints on more than one page.

  “I still don’t see why you needed to give Gretchen a thorough pat down,” said Shay as we walked down the hallway. “That seemed unnecessary.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” I said. “You never know what sorts of concealed weapons she might’ve had on her, or what evidence she might’ve hidden on her person.”

  “Under pants as tight as hers? Right…” Shay rolled her eyes.

  “Come on, you know I’m a one woman man.” I patted the pocket that held Daisy.

  “One at a time maybe…”

  I smiled in response.

  We found Rodgers and Quinto loitering near our desks. I’d t
asked them with interviewing the gray suit.

  “You guys are done already?” I said. “Get anything out of that Figs character?”

  “Not much,” said Rodgers. “Claimed he’s madly in love with Gretchen. Thought she was ‘the one.’ Went so far as to allege a ‘fog of love’ kept him from seeing and thinking clearly. Claimed he had no idea the extent of the documents he’d asked Miss Talent to sign.”

  “Right. I’m sure,” I said. “And how long have he and Miss Winters been an item?”

  “A week or so,” said Quinto. “Said Gretchen came on to him hard, and he responded in kind.”

  “Heh, well, at least part of him responded in kind.” Rodgers sniggered. Quinto joined in the mirth. As long as men walked the earth, dick jokes would never get old.

  “To be fair, though, Daggers,” said Quinto. “I’d probably be foggy, too, if I’d been doing the dirty deed as often as Figs said he and Gretchen were.”

  I glanced at Shay. “Poor Wally. He’s going to be heartbroken. Losing his job and his girlfriend in the same fell blow.”

  My partner shrugged. “Such is life.”

  Rodgers and Quinto eyed us with a certain level of curiosity. They still hadn’t been filled in on everything.

  “So,” said Rodgers as he sat on the corner of my desk, “is it true? Was it the Talent girl’s friend the whole time? How’d you figure it out?”

  “Yes, oh wise sage,” said Quinto, crossing his arms. “Regale us with a tale of your deductive wisdom.”

  The boys knew me well. I secretly itched to crow about how I’d deftly unraveled the case, but they fluffed my ego nonetheless.

  I sat in my chair. “Well, the key was the marriage between Reginald and Felicity. Detective Steele made a good point about the prenuptial agreement. It didn’t make sense that Reginald would’ve considered eloping with Felicity if he was after her money. So their marriage had to have been based in mutual love. But at the same time, I couldn’t accept the marriage was proceeding for all the right reasons.”

  “Probably because you’re old and jaded and have a lump of coal for a heart,” said Shay.

  I poked the air with my finger. “I prefer the alternative explanation that I have experience with people and their motives, and you don’t. Don’t worry, we’ll take your training wheels off once you’ve learned how to steer.”

  Shay grinned. “And there’s the Daggers I know. Praising me for a good point one moment, throwing me under the carriage the next.”

  I gave Shay the old single eyebrow raise. She smirked back at me.

  “Are you going to get on with it?” said Rodgers.

  “Right,” I said. “Anyway, we were at Wally’s place when Shay had one of her out-of-body experiences, and this time her insight actually proved to be useful.”

  “This time?” said Shay incredulously. “It’s been useful every time!”

  “But this time it was particularly useful because it helped me solve the case. Detective Steele saw evidence of Wally’s girlfriend. A stunner by all accounts.”

  “That guy was dating someone?” said Rodgers.

  “That was my reaction,” I said. “I couldn’t make sense of it, either. Wally? With an attractive girl? That’s when I put the pieces together. The girl had to be Gretchen, and she and Reginald had to be partners. They were running two separate undercover lover cons.”

  Rodgers and Quinto made noises of agreement and nodded their heads.

  Shay cast a confused look my way. “An undercover lover con?”

  “A classic gambit,” I said. “The undercover lover con is where one member of a team goes in and seduces someone on the inside of an operation in order to gain access for another member. In this case, Reginald and Gretchen pulled two slightly different variations of the same con.

  “In the first case, Gretchen seduced Walter Fry and used her influence to get Reginald a position at Drury Arms, despite the fact that he had no experience acquiring and negotiating contracts. While Reginald worked his con to steal illicit arms from the Drurys, Gretchen continued to work her angle on Wally. Why? Because she needed access to his office key so she could doctor the Drury Arms shipping invoices. She must’ve borrowed the key at night while Wally slept and returned it before he realized anything was amiss.

  “Then, while Gretchen and Reginald were working their first con, one of them came into contact with Felicity and saw the opportunity to swindle her. So they pulled another iteration of the same con. In this case, Gretchen befriended the lonely Felicity and got to know everything she could about her so Reginald could come in and seduce her. And it worked. The only problem was, Reginald actually fell for Felicity. It’s the only thing that explains his willingness to sign the prenuptial agreement.

  “Of course, Gretchen must’ve found out about Reginald’s true feelings for Felicity. Angry over it, she must’ve threatened him. That’s why Reginald wanted to elope. He wanted to leave Gretchen and his old life behind and run off with Felicity.

  “Unfortunately for him, Gretchen figured out a way to finish the con without his assistance. She killed Reginald and framed Charles Talent for his murder, knowing that once convicted Mr. Talent’s wealth would pass on to Felicity. Given that Felicity was overcome with grief from her fiancé’s murder and her father’s imprisonment, Gretchen figured she could coerce Felicity into making some rather dubious financial decisions—which is exactly what we found.

  “As if that wasn’t a sure enough thing, it appears Gretchen decided to double down by bedding one of the lawyers, too. It wouldn’t surprise me if she planned to work multiple legal angles. Gretchen probably thought she could scuttle Mr. Talent’s case from the inside to ensure his conviction.”

  Rodgers rubbed his chin. “So…I guess it’s a done deal, isn’t it?”

  “Pretty much,” I said. “We’re sending a sample of Gretchen’s penmanship to the handwriting expert to confirm she’s the one who wrote the blackmail letters, but with all the other evidence we’ve got, this case is as good as closed. Which reminds me—” I glanced at my partner. “I never finished showing you how to fill out the post-case paperwork, did I?”

  Shay shook her head.

  “Alright,” I said. “Let’s get it done before it gets too late. Rodgers, Quinto. You guys mind releasing Mr. Drury and Mr. Talent? I’d rather not face the latter. Not that I think he’s liable to turn me into a crisp for setting him free and figuring out who framed him, but still…”

  Quinto gave me a knowing nod. “No worries, Daggers. We’ll take care of it.”

  53

  While we filled out and filed the proper forms, the heavens opened up and unleashed the full force of their fury on our fair city. Raindrops battered the police building, but the deluge only lasted a half hour or so. As we finished our work, the rain abruptly stopped. From through the windows that lined the Captain’s office, I could see the clouds begin to part.

  It was late. The sun had already set, but its rays still curved over the horizon to light portions of the sky. Gaps between clouds shone with the choicest colors of an artist’s arsenal—bright oranges, pale yellows, and deep purples.

  Shay cleared and stored the corkboard while I gazed at the skies.

  Rodgers and Quinto sometimes give me crap for not possessing an artistically discerning bone in my body—which is true. I can’t stand art. But I can appreciate the beauty of nature, and not just certain aspects of nature that walk around wearing tight skirts.

  As I stared into the mixed palate of colors that blossomed above the buildings, I couldn’t help but think about cycles. Cycles of heat and cold that gathered moisture from the earth and brought it crashing back down in sheets of rain. Cycles of life and death and decay that sprouted saplings from the bodies of the dead. And cycles of human nature, like those where old, grizzled partners got replaced by fresh-faced new ones.

  Would I be like Griggs one day? Would I hang up my badge and vanish into the night, leaving a partner to scramble in my wake, never having
uncovered the hopes and dreams and feelings that churned underneath my hard exterior? Or could I finally take down the walls I’d erected, the ones I’d forged out of humor and indifference to protect me when someone I cared about rejected or left me? And could the person to help me through that monumental task possibly be my new slender, half-elf partner?

  “Something on your mind, Daggers?” Shay had returned and was gathering her things.

  “Huh? Me? Nah. Just glad I won’t have to walk to Jjade’s in the rain.”

  “You really like that place, huh?”

  “What can I say. I don’t cook much.”

  Shay gave her head a slight shake and smiled.

  “You leaving?” I asked. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Shay didn’t explicitly sanction my gentlemanly gesture, but neither did she put up a stink.

  We walked to the front and out the precinct’s wide, double doors. I took a deep breath of the cool evening air, cherishing the clean, moist smell. While I never fancied getting spat on by the gods, I did appreciate the rain’s ability to wash away the scents of garbage and urine that usually infused the city streets.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about our case,” said Shay, pausing on the station’s front steps.

  “Yeah? What about it?” I said.

  “Knowing what we now know, do you think Gretchen killed Reginald just to keep their con alive?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, think about it,” said Shay. “Gretchen and Reginald worked together, but what was their relationship like? Were they partners in crime, or partners in life? What if, unbeknownst to Reginald, Gretchen was madly in love with him, and when she found out that Reginald had fallen for Felicity, she lost it and killed him.”

  I scratched my chin. “Huh. You know, that theory makes a lot of sense—a lover’s con ruined by a lover’s triangle. It’s poetic, in a murderous, twisted sort of way.” I shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know for sure, though. Not unless Gretchen decides to open up her heart to the judicial system, and I don’t think the chances of that are particularly good.”