Precisely at 4:00 p.m., I spied Annabelle as she pushed her way through the crowd. I hadn’t realized until I saw her that my eyes had been glued to the door, awaiting her arrival. She smiled and signaled she was getting coffee.
“That’s a nice-looking young lady, Lee,” Mary offered and gave a short wave to Belle.
Mary was a busybody, and the best way to cut this obvious matchmaking off was remain silent. But that wasn’t happening. Mary would not be silenced until her point was made.
“You two may have a lot in common. Hard-headed, you both know your way around weapons, and can tolerate the smell of decomp. I think you might want to explore this,” she said, continuing with her unsolicited matchmaking.
I gave her the head signal that Belle was approaching to cut her off. She turned to check I was correct and flashed Belle a broad smile.
“So what’ve you got for me?” I asked before Mary could do something to make me uncomfortable.
“Lee, your mama would be disappointed in you,” Mary said. “We’re cultured people here. Belle, thank you for joining us. That’s how you start a conversation. Then you give her a few moments to settle, and after a bit of small talk, you ease into business. Now, Belle, dear, how are you?”
Belle let out a short laugh, but her smile was bright and aimed at me. “Thank you for asking me, Mary.” Then she turned to me and said, “I’m sorry to say I don’t have much to offer. The judge wouldn’t sign our warrant; he felt we didn’t have probable cause to suspect Fiona had played a part in the murder. He didn’t think we’d placed enough information in our affidavit to convince him Mahir was a personal target. From the scene, he felt it appeared more a crime of opportunity.”
“I disagree,” I said, leaning back and shaking my head.
“How can you disagree? You haven’t even seen the crime scene or the body,” Belle said, leaning forward and making it a point to meet my eyes. “Do you think I missed something in presenting my observations to the judge?”
“In a word, yes.”
She looked startled, and she studied me as I studied her. I noticed her makeup was subtle and her jewelry was minimal. She didn’t wear a wedding band. She tapped her fingers on the table and then leaned forward, engaging my eyes. What I saw in those eyes was spunk and fire. I could tell behind those eyes there was an intelligent woman processing information and drawing conclusions.
“You have a lot of nerve!” she said.
“Settle down, no need to get yourself in a twist. If you’d like to hear my thoughts, I’d be happy to share them,” I said.
I could feel the tension building between us, but it wasn’t unpleasant. I liked the spark in her and her ability to speak her mind unfiltered.
She lobbed a response right back that cut me off at the knees. “You’re not much of a detective if you can’t detect I don’t need an outsider who has no information about the case insinuating I haven’t done a thorough job.” She emphasized the word detect, as if it were disdainful to her, but I pressed forward.
“A stranger murder in that area of the city is unlikely. It has the lowest crime rate in the five boroughs, and the last murder was eight years ago. There hasn’t even been a property crime, except for the occasional auto break-in. In a city this size, that’s peanuts.
“An online article that popped up a half hour ago said the attacker had used a knife. A homicide where a knife is used usually indicates a personal attack.” I could tell she was ready to argue, so I raised my hand to stop her. “The wound placement on the side indicates the killer was someone sitting next to Mahir, engaged in conversation with him. It wasn’t someone who was walking past him and decided, ‘hey, I think I’ll stab this joker for the hell of it.’ And coincidentally, the murder in Seattle was by a knife as well. And, something you may not know, Fiona’s special type of kink was knife play. She knew her way around a blade,” I said, looking over at Mary whose expression was a mix between alarmed and proud.
Belle thought a moment. I thought by the way she crossed her arms she might close herself off and leave. I gave her an incentive to stay.
“If you find any of the perp’s blood, and it’s AB negative, you might want to take a closer look at our Ms. Fiona.” I let that hang, because they might not have run DNA yet, but blood type only took seconds to run.
Belle studied my face. It was clear she wanted to ask how I had that information but didn’t want to give me the satisfaction. So I volunteered it.
“During some knife play at the sex club she belonged to in LA, someone went a little too far, and she had to be rushed to the ER. It was bad enough the doctor asked for a pint of AB negative to be on hand.”
She opened her mouth, poised to ask a question, but I continued before she had a chance. “Yeah, I know HIPPA prevents that kind of information from being available. Well, she happened to dispute the charge on her bill because they didn’t use the pint. Somehow, that accounting bill found its way into Ms. Abajian’s investigator’s file.”
I could see a thought pass through her mind as she made connections.
“I see. That is useful information,” Belle said. “I’d like to see that file.”
“We can make that happen,” Mary said. “Come by our hotel tomorrow morning, and we’ll share it with you.”
“Or you could just give it to me right now,” she said as she smiled. The way her eyes lit up, I could tell she was anxious to see the file. And I was anxious to see her again, so I’d hold onto the file.
“Not a chance. It’s not mine to give,” I said. “It’s someone else’s work. And before you say warrant, forget it. There’s less probable cause for a judge to sign a warrant to seize the file than there was to pull her phone LUDs. Play nice, and we will too.”
“I could make a case for obstruction,” she said, squinting to target me.
Was she playing with me?
“Look, Detective, I’ve been at this a lot longer than you. We can play this game all day. But I get bored easily, so do you want to meet tomorrow or not, because we’re leaving the next day for Boston.”
Although Annabelle seemed to be a stubborn woman, she realized she had no room to argue and trying to bully me would be useless.
“I’ll be there at eight,” she said, as she stood to leave.
“Don’t you want to know where?” I asked, a little leery we were being set up.
“I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I didn’t already know that,” she said, positioning her bag on her shoulder and sashayed away.
Lee
What a night. Fiona’s face floated through my dreams. I was chasing her down blind alleys, and every time she was within reach, I couldn’t get to her. She evaporated into a matrix of digital codes, reassembled herself, and ran again. How had I gotten to this place of being a glorified bounty hunter? Belle was right; solving the case wasn’t my concern, and I should let it go.
I rolled over on my side, shook the ethereal face of Fiona from my mind, and replaced it with Belle’s. Such a pretty woman and what a spitfire. Every time I was near her, my heart beat quicker, and my breathing was more difficult to control. Whoa, that’s crazy, I thought. I can’t go there. But she was the first woman who had held my interest for longer than a potential sweaty roll in the sheets. I had to shake that shit off! I wasn’t up for a relationship. I wasn’t relationship material anymore; that had died with Debby.
At 7:00 a.m. the phone buzzed, and Jackson’s name came up on my screen.
“Hey, Jax, you’re up early; what’s up?”
“Mary said you got ahold of the PI’s file, and it had great background information. She also said the next Mrs. Stone will be there in two hours. Talk to me.” He chuckled.
“Okay, first, take anything Mary says about my love life with an enormous grain of salt. Second, yes, the file was a well-documented biography of Fiona O’Dell from birth to present. While a page turner, it gave us no information that will bring us any closer to finding her. She has no patterns,” I said, g
etting up to start the coffee machine.
“Well, not necessarily,” he said.
“How’s that?”
“The girl is hooked on kink; it’s her fix. Every state she’s been, there’s a place she gravitates to and attaches herself. For whatever reason, her safe place is anything involving sex she can control. If she’s in Boston, then she might possibly be back with her old ring. What’s your plan when you get up there?” he asked.
“I don’t know, man. She’s a social ghost with no social media digital footprint like other people her age. Mary probably filled you in that she bounced from foster home to foster home. She has no connections, no relationships. Even her roommate, who lived with her almost two years, had limited reliable information. If I had access to her financials, I could track her cards. The best and the only lead is that Belle said Fiona spoke to Mahir two days ago, and it’s my hope she’s still here.
“But she might be on her way to Boston by now. I thought it might help if we talk to the guy, Chuck Evans, she accused of assaulting her in Boston before we have the sugar daddy meetup. I’d like to get a read on him, but I’m not convinced he’ll speak with us. If it were me, I’d want that chick so far in my rearview I might even go for hypnosis to wipe her from my mind.” I poured the steaming coffee into the plain white mug, waiting to take that first hit of caffeine.
“How are you going to find this guy in Boston? He might have moved away,” he said.
“The guy’s in the PI’s file. There’s a last known address in Newton, and unless he moved in the last eight months, it’s a valid address. The phone number he had isn’t working. But this guy’s all over social media, so I should be able to get a fix on him after Belle leaves. One thing I’ve learned is these schools are skilled at keeping unpleasant information tight. It’s terrible the way they handle things by relying on the school to investigate the incident and leave law enforcement out of the loop. If Fiona hadn’t gone to the hospital in such bad shape in LA, there’s no way there would’ve been a record. The school would have investigated and dispensed their punishment.
“I’d like to know what it was about these two guys that drew Fiona to them as her fall guys. Mahir’s family has money for a shakedown written all over them, but I don’t get the feeling this other guy comes from money. I’ll touch base with you before we leave for Boston,” I said, stretching. “Jax, my gut says she doesn’t have the missing drive. If she did, why not sell it, and then disappear? Why drive all the way to New York to extract some crazy-ass revenge when you can collect your millions and go?”
“Lee, we don’t understand how this girl’s mind works. We’re just assuming she killed Mahir, but from what Mary says, the police disagree. Benjamin said the Seattle police aren’t being aggressive with pursuing Fiona as a missing person. They’re treating it more like she rolled out of town. From what they gathered, she lived in a month-to-month furnished apartment, and when they searched it, her clothes and personal items were gone. They didn’t have enough probable cause to dig into her financials or put a BOLO out on her. So the only way we can find Fiona is with old-fashioned investigating.
“You’ve only been on this a few days, and she had just a small window before we were on it. If she’s there and heading to Boston, that’s great for us. Will she show in Boston, or is she playing a game; I don’t know. The PI’s file gave you all the background information it might have taken you weeks to get. Count that as a win.
“Talk to your police contact, and we’ll chat again soon. And, Lee, I’m not kidding, Mary said Belle is the next Mrs. Stone. Word to the wise, don’t let Mary get too far into your business.”
I about choked on my coffee. “Jax, Mary doesn’t know what she’s talking about; leave it at that.”
After an unusually long shower, I studied my appearance before I left the bathroom, and noted I needed a haircut. Should I shave before I go? I checked my watch. Whoa, eight o’clock! There was no time, and yet I cared. What the hell?
Two minutes later, I knocked on Mary’s door. My stomach flipped and not in a good way when Belle opened the door, pastry in hand. It was clear she’d been there a while, judging from the little amount of breakfast left on the large tray.
“Ladies, what did I miss?” I stuttered. Mary chuckled, and Belle outright laughed.
“Mary was sharing some of her adventures with me. She has lived a rich life.”
This wasn’t good. They’d bonded.
“So, has this been a social breakfast or a working breakfast? And how long have you been here?” I asked Belle.
“Mary texted me this morning at about three, but I was up working the case, so I came over about six to get a jump on things,” she said. I followed the gooey pastry she was eating to her lips and found it impossible to tear my eyes away from the way they parted.
Regaining my composure, I sat next to Belle. I refreshed her and Mary’s cups of coffee, then poured my own.
“I see. Anything you ladies need to share with me?”
“Belle received a call from Lucine last evening. Lucine told her she’d gotten a call from an anonymous source telling her Fiona is leaving for Boston tomorrow,” Mary said.
“Aren’t you concerned about this tip coming from an anonymous source?” I asked Belle.
“Be real. Her PI is the source; she just didn’t want to rat him out. I put Fiona on the board as a person of interest, and that will allow us to bring her in for an interview, if she’s still here. Lucine is a high-profile lawyer, and my captain doesn’t want her calling him night and day. So we’ve been tasked to track Fiona down,” she said.
“Why is she just now a POI? You already knew she was in the vicinity before you had this information,” I said.
“Patience, Lee, patience,” Mary said, patting my hand.
“Lucine also received a call last evening about eight from an unidentified woman. But the content clearly was something Fiona would say. Lucine paraphrased it as, ‘I haven’t forgotten what happened. I was denied justice; now everyone will pay,’” Belle said, pouring a dollop of cream in her cup. “And before you ask, we traced the call to a burner phone.”
“Busy phone last night. How do you know it wasn’t Lucine or someone associated with her making the call to get the NYPD jazzed up?” I had a hard time thinking Fiona would be so obvious and announce her plans. “The call to Mahir was from a phone registered to her, why switch to a burner now? If she killed him, I’d think she’d be long gone—”
“Unless she has unfinished business,” Belle interrupted.
“Yes, there’s that, but this feels wrong. Anyway, that’s your case to clear. Our task is to find the drive, and if Fiona has it, our job is done. If not, we regroup. Solving a homicide isn’t on our agenda,” I said.
Something that looked like disappointment flashed across Belle’s face.
“Lee, don’t be crazy. If we can help, then we should,” Mary said.
I saw a glimmer in Mary’s eye that was trouble, and I wanted no part.
“Look, Mary, we already have a plan. Fiona, or someone posing as her, is meeting Mr. Sugar Daddy in Boston. That’s our best lead. If Lucine is playing a game to get the NYPD on Fiona’s tail, then we’ll lose valuable time waiting to see what unfolds.” I sat back, crossed my arms over my chest, and stared Mary down.
“But what if we can work with Belle and catch Fiona here before she heads to Boston?” Mary tapped her index finger on the table and leaned forward, as if that would persuade me. “She’s a psychopath, and if she killed Mahir and is going after his mother next, shouldn’t we stop it?”
“First, we have no idea whether or not she murdered Mahir; although, my money is on yes. Second, I’m not buying that phone call. It sounds too convenient. It got Fiona on the board for Belle to work, but as for us, we need to stay single-focused. And that means following the money. We know Fiona probably needs money, and in the past, this was her way to earn it. Boston was a good revenue source for her in the past, so that’s where
we’re going.”
Unless Jackson changed the plan, that was the one I was sticking to.
“Did you get what you wanted from our file, or do we need to go through it with you?” I asked Belle.
“Lucine arranged for me to receive the entire file on a flash drive from the PI. That’s what kept me up all night,” she said with a bit of arrogance, as if she was one step ahead of me.
What game is this woman playing?
“Then why the hell were you here at the butt crack of dawn,” I asked, angry at her for wasting our time.
“No need to be rude, Lee,” she said with a scolding voice. “I wanted to discuss things with Mary. Collaborate with her, so our efforts didn’t overlap. She’s the lead on your case, right?”
There it was; she was trying to outplay me. I could feel my scalp buzzing, and my breathing picked up. I could not let this woman get to me.
A mischievous smile tickled the corners of her lips.
“I’ll have my team stay on Lucine in New York and make sure she’s safe while they track down Fiona, if she is here. Me? I’m packing a bag and heading to Boston with you.”
Mary clapped in sheer joy. After I tried to stare her down, she mouthed the two words she knew would throw me off my game: “Mrs. Stone.”
Lee
The hour flight from LaGuardia to Logan was smooth, unlike this case we were working. The airplane touching down brought me back to where I’d started my life. The section of Boston where I’d spent my childhood wasn’t an easy place to stake your claim in the world. Southie had vastly changed over the years. In my time, it was more a working-class population, filled with noise and lots of action. It was definitely a place that had its own set of rules, and if you weren’t aware of them, there would be trouble. It was common knowledge that after a snowstorm, if you shoveled a parking space, by God, that area belonged to you for the duration. Try to park where someone else had shoveled, and see what happened. You might have a shell of a car when you returned, but nothing more. If you didn’t know the Southie rules, things went bad fast. Now professionals and young families populated Southie, and street fights, once encouraged, now resulted in arrests. One thing never changed, if you came back home from wherever you’d moved, the family got together. I’d quickly put some plans into motion so it would be my eight family members and my two guests for dinner tonight. But before that, though, I had work to do.
The Last Lie She Told (Lies and Misdirection Book 1) Page 6