Double Fake, Double Murder (A Carlos McCrary, Private Investigator, Mystery Thriller Series Book 2)

by Dallas Gorham

  “That’s all I’ve got.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.” Chuck rang off and stared sightlessly out the window. A few minutes later, he took the elevator down to the garage, completely forgetting that Clint was still in the apartment getting dressed for school.

  Chuck staggered to his minivan. He pulled on the door handle and it didn’t move. He tried it again. Why won’t the door open? Oh yeah, it’s locked. He found that very funny and laughed aloud.

  A passer-by in the garage looked at him strangely and hurried to his own car.

  Chuck pulled a set of keys from his pocket and stared at them, trying to remember which one was for the minivan. It’s not a key; it’s a big clunky thing. He shook his head and grabbed the remote. He punched a button and the minivan’s horn honked rhythmically while the headlights flashed on and off. The panic button. That, too, was funny and Chuck laughed again. Gotta concentrate. He shut off the panic alarm and punched another button. The doors thunked open.

  He climbed into the minivan, shut the door, and breathed deeply for a few moments. He had a real bad feeling about this.

  Chuck left the parking garage and drove without thinking. After a mile, he realized where he was going. He pulled over to the curb and called Kelly Contreras. “Who’s got the Smoot homicide?”

  “It’s not on the news yet. Where’d you hear about it, Chuck?”

  “Snoop called me.”

  “Where’d he hear about it?”

  “I didn’t ask. You know Snoop. He hears everything. Is how he heard it important?”

  “Where are you now, Chuck?”

  He stopped at a stop sign, looked in all directions before proceeding. “I’m on my way to the crime scene.”

  “How’d you know where it is?”

  “Snoop told me it was Smoot’s apartment.”

  Kelly asked, “You know something we don’t?”

  “Yeah. Who’s got the case?”

  “Bigs and me.”

  “You there now?”

  “We are. How far away are you?”

  Chapter 61

  Kelly put away her phone. “Bigs, Chuck McCrary says he knows something about the case. He’s on his way over. I’ll have Casey stop him at the door and I’ll interview him outside.”

  “Good. We don’t want him compromising our crime scene.”

  Patrolman Casey Cassidy was the uniform guarding the door. “Casey, you know Chuck McCrary, don’t you?”

  “Sure, Kelly.”

  “He’s on his way over. He’s a civilian, but he acts like he’s still a detective. Don’t let him into my crime scene. Stop him at the door and come get me.”

  “Will do.”

  #

  Kelly was in Smoot’s bedroom taking pictures when she heard Casey’s voice from the front door. “Hang on a sec, Chuck. Kelly wants to talk to you.”

  Kelly handed the camera to her partner. “Bigs, I’ll take Chuck. Back in a few.”

  Casey and Chuck were waiting in the hall.

  “Hey, Chuck, let’s walk.” Kelly put her hand on Chuck’s shoulder for a second longer than necessary. Then she and Chuck went to the front yard and stood near the apartment entrance.

  She pulled out her notepad. “What you got, Chuck?”

  “Did you know that Ted Smoot had a thriving blackmail business?”

  That’s news to me, Kelly thought. “You gotta be kidding.” What a dumb schmuck to go back to the same crime he went to prison for.

  Chuck shrugged. “Some people never learn. Maybe it’s the only thing he was good at.”

  “How do you know this?”

  Chuck looked nervous. Kelly had never seen him nervous before. I hope to God he’s not going to lie to me, she thought.

  “Remember Smoot’s history with Jorge,” Chuck said. “If he wanted revenge, he was smart enough to frame Jorge for Franco’s murder. When you and Bigs turned Smoot loose, I decided to investigate him myself. That’s when I uncovered the blackmail business.”

  Kelly wrote on her notepad: Chuck discovered Smoot blackmail business. “Bigs and I figured you’d go after Smoot. So what happened?”

  “Smoot was blackmailing several powerful people. People with the money and the motivation to hire a hitman. And I learned the identity of one of his blackmail victims.”

  Kelly asked, “Who’s the victim?”

  “You’ll probably find out anyway, but I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. Anyway, this person hired me to get Smoot off their back.”

  She wrote that down. “Go on.”

  “In the course of my negotiation with Smoot, I went to his office Saturday a week ago.”

  “So? Bigs and I went there when we investigated him too.”

  “Kelly, the CSIs will find my fingerprints all over that office, and, unless Smoot did a good job of cleaning up his office last week, they’ll find some of his blood. I had a fight with him when he pulled a gun on me. I didn’t want you and Bigs to be surprised.”

  Oh, Christ. There’s a motive for murder. “You fought with Smoot?”

  “He pulled a gun on me.”

  This keeps getting better and better—or worse and worse. This poor bastard has just become a suspect. Kelly shook her head and sighed. She took the card from her pocket and read Chuck his Miranda rights. “Do you understand these rights I have read to you?”

  “What the hell is this, Kelly?”

  “Chuck, you’re a friend and all that, but I have to put that aside. Once a person becomes a suspect, you read them their rights. You would’ve done the same thing when you were a detective.”

  Chuck scoffed. “Kelly, this is me. You can’t be serious.”

  “As serious as a funeral.” Her insides were tying in knots.

  “Since I am apparently a suspect, I need to consult my attorney.”

  “Don’t leave town.”

  Chapter 62

  Vicky walked into the conference room looking like two million dollars. “You look like hell, Chuck.”

  “Thanks for noticing, Vicky. You look great as usual.”

  She looked a little irked that Chuck had called and insisted that she cancel an appointment in order to see him. “What’s the big emergency, handsome?”

  “I know you’re not a criminal defense lawyer, but when the shit hit the fan, you were the first person I thought of.”

  “Omigod, did something happen to Smoot?”

  He nodded. “There’s a real possibility that I’ll be arrested for murder in the near future.”

  Her face lost all expression. “What happened to him?”

  “He’s been murdered. They found the body this morning. It’s not in the news yet.”

  “This is bad.”

  “It’s worse than that.”

  “How so?”

  “At our meeting last week, I didn’t tell you that after my fight with Smoot, I took his apartment key. I went straight to his apartment and searched it before he could get loose and come home.”

  Vicky frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Chuck shrugged. “Amnesia. Temporary insanity. Bad judgment. Thought it wasn’t important. Take your pick. No excuse really.”

  “What did you find there?”

  “Nothing. But the CSIs will find my fingerprints all over his apartment.”

  Vicky looked incredulous. “You did a B & E without wearing gloves?”

  “It wasn’t a B & E. I didn’t have to ‘break’ in to ‘enter.’ I had his keys. It never occurred to me to wear gloves because it never occurred to me that the police would ever process that apartment.”

  Vicky looked up at the ceiling. “So young, so naïve, so…so…” She nailed Chuck with the evil eye. “Stupid with a capital S.”

  “Vicky, I could do without the lecture on how to be a better criminal. I promise I’ll wear gloves next time I burgle someone.”

  She shook her head. “Did you tell Kelly you went to the apartment too?”

  “I intended to, but she read me my rights as
soon as I told her about the fight. I clammed up and called you. I need a criminal attorney.”

  She rubbed her chin. “Abe Weisman. I’ll see if he’s available.” She picked up the conference room phone. “Carmen, see if you can get me Abe Weisman.” Her eyes were wet. She wiped them with the back of her hand. “No, the other one. The criminal attorney.”

  She turned back to Chuck, mascara smeared on her cheeks. “You look like you need a hug, baby.”

  Chapter 63

  Abe Weisman ushered Chuck into his office and they touched all the courtesy bases: “Call me Abe,” “Call me Chuck,” and so forth. “Thanks for seeing me on short notice,” “Any friend of Vicky’s…,” and “This is my associate, Diane Toklas.”

  Abe had reached the far side of sixty. Longish, gray hair, thin on top. Yarmulke. Black, pin-striped suit. White shirt, red and blue-striped tie.

  “Compared to Abe, the president of Israel seems like a gentile, but Abe’s the smartest criminal defense attorney in fifty-three states,” Vicky had told Chuck before he left her office.

  Diane looked twenty-ish. An associate learning at the feet of the master. Professional pantsuit. Blond hair, eager blue eyes. She could have been Darcy Yankton’s younger sister.

  The two of them sat on one side of the conference table. Chuck sat across from them.

  Abe took the lead. “Okay, Chuck. How bad is it?”

  “Pretty bad. I’m their first suspect.”

  Abe pulled out a legal pad. “Okay. Let’s get it all down.” He and Diane questioned and prodded Chuck for two hours for everything he knew. They filled sheet after sheet with notes.

  Abe steepled his hands. Chuck thought that, unlike Trey Morrison, on Abe the gesture looked intelligent. “Now we can speculate. Who are your suspects?”

  “There were a dozen people in Smoot’s files whom he was either blackmailing or planned to blackmail. At least three of them are wealthy enough to hire a hitman. All three are my clients.”

  Abe gestured. “Let’s hear it.”

  Chuck tapped his first finger. “First is Trey Morrison. He asked me in so many words to murder Smoot.”

  Diane questioned Chuck until she had dredged up every bit of information on Morrison that Chuck could remember.

  Chuck ticked his middle finger. “Second is Hank Hickham—”

  Diane interrupted. “Hank’s Bar & Grill & Bodacious Ribs?”

  Chuck smiled. “The same.”

  “I love his ribs.”

  Abe looked at her. “Aren’t they pork ribs, Diane?”

  Diane waved a hand. “You know I don’t keep kosher. Especially when it comes to Hank’s ribs.”

  “Humph,” replied Abe. He turned to Chuck. “Go on.”

  “Hank gave me a thousand-dollar retainer for general advice. Then he asked me to kill Smoot too. And he offered me $50,000.” Chuck gave them the details of his conversation with Hank.

  “We’d better hope he doesn’t mail a check to your office. The police are sure to get a search warrant. Go on.”

  Chuck ticked his ring finger. “Third is Allison Morrison, Trey’s wife.”

  Diane suppressed a smile. “Is she a suspect too?”

  Chuck shrugged. “She’s rich, smart, and motivated. I have seldom met anyone as competitive. If she did decide to take matters into her own hands, she has the balls to either kill Smoot herself or to find and hire a hitman.”

  Abe turned to a fresh sheet. “Names of the others.”

  Chuck gave him a couple more from memory. “I’ll have to refer to the files to give you the rest.”

  “Those are the files you, uh, liberated from his office?”

  “Liberated, schmiberated. I stole them.” No point mincing words, he thought.

  “Where are those files now?”

  “In my home office in the condo, bottom file drawer laying flat in the back of the drawer.”

  “Give Diane your keys to everything you own but the car you came here in. She’ll fetch those files. The police will no doubt obtain a search warrant for your home, office, and boat, as well as both your vehicles. I don’t want them to find those files in your home. What else don’t we want them to find?”

  Chuck raised a hand. “Aren’t we concealing evidence, Abe?”

  He and Diane looked at each other and laughed. “We’re not concealing evidence, boychick. We’re gathering evidence for your defense. Big difference.” He and Diane laughed again. He turned back to Chuck. “Now what else did you, ah, liberate from Smoot?”

  Abe made a list. “Diane, bring that stack of files that have no names on the tabs. And remember the stick drives in each folder. Make sure those don’t fall out. Take sealable bags and bag each folder separately.”

  He waved at Chuck. “Boychick, write down the names of all your clients that have anything to do with this case, no matter how remote.”

  “There are only three. Jorge and both Morrisons.”

  “What about Hickham?”

  “No file. At the time he became a client, it was more of a joke than anything else. He called the thousand dollars a fee for therapy because I had listened to him tell his story. I didn’t really think of him as a client.”

  “Where do you keep client files?”

  “Top two file drawers in my office office.”

  Abe glanced at his notes. “That would be McCrary Investigations on Bayfront Boulevard.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you make a note in Trey Morrison’s file about him soliciting you to murder Smoot?”

  “No.”

  “What about Allison? Anything incriminating in her file?”

  “No.”

  Abe rubbed his hands together. “Okay. We’re not going to touch your office. Let them find the normal stuff there. What about your cellphones?”

  “I have three smart phones, two on me and one in my office desk. That reminds me. I have all Smoot’s stuff in my desk at home. I have his laptop in my bottom desk drawer on the left. And I have his tablet from his apartment and his cellphones. Same desk. He’s had a week to replace those, so the homicide detectives may not know that they’re missing.”

  “You heard that, Diane? Bring those too. Take Mel with you to help carry everything.”

  Chapter 64

  By 11:00 a.m. the ME’s office had sent someone to pick up Smoot’s body. The technician zipped the body bag and turned to Kelly. “We’re a little backed up, detective. The ME said she’ll try to get to this tomorrow. She asked me to tell you.”

  Kelly frowned. “Oh, great.”

  Bigs shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “You keep processing,” she said. “I’ll go interview the manager.”

  She went to the manager’s apartment. “Tell me how you found the body.”

  The guy looked her up and down twice before deciding to look her straight in the boobs. Maybe I should start thinking of it as a compliment, she thought. Naah. It’ll just make me want to kick him in the balls.

  The manager lit a cigarette without asking or apologizing. “Why don’t you have a seat, doll? This may take a while.”

  “My name is Detective Contreras.” She handed him her business card, then sat as far across the room as she could.

  “Right. Detective.” The manager put the card in his shirt and patted the pocket. He shifted his gaze to Kelly’s crotch.

  She placed her notepad on her thigh and put her legs together. “How did you find the body?”

  “About eight o’clock this morning, one of Smoot’s employees come to me and asks me to let him into Ted’s apartment. He tells me that he’s supposed to meet Ted at seven thirty. Says he’s been knocking on the door for a freakin’ half hour and no one answers.” He took a drag and blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth.

  Kelly crossed her legs and the guy decided to study her boobs again.

  “Then the guy says he checked the garage and Ted’s van is there so he knows he’s gotta be home. Says he’s worried about him.”

&nb
sp; Kelly wrote that down.

  “Funny thing, though. I let Ted into his apartment a week ago last Saturday night. Said he’d been mugged and the mugger took his keys and his wallet. You think there could be any connection?”

  She shrugged and wrote that down. “Had you seen him since?”

  “Nah. He comes and goes. He’s just a tenant. It’s not like we was best buds or nothing. Hey. You wanna cup of coffee or something?”

  “No, thanks. How did he look after the mugging?”

  “He looked like hell if you wanna know. Yeah, looked like hell. Said the mugger beat him up for no reason when he didn’t even hafta. I asked him if he needed me to make him a new key. I got a slick new key-making machine in the shop back there.” He gestured over his shoulder. “You wanna see it?”

  “Did you make him a new key?”

  “Nah. Ted said he kept a spare set in his apartment.”

  “How bad did he look?”

  The manager thought for a minute. “He was bruised real bad on his cheek, right here. And he was already getting two black eyes, the kind you get when you’ve been smacked right on the nose pretty good. Oh yeah, and he had red marks around his wrists and his right hand was bandaged.”

  “Like he’d been tied up?”

  “I dunno. Them marks was real narrow, not wide like a rope.”

  Kelly thanked him, then went looking for the guy who’d found the body. She felt the manager’s gaze burn her butt as she walked out.

  The apartments had a tiny entrance lobby with two cracked plastic couches crammed against a wall. Smoot’s employee had been waiting there while Kelly interviewed the manager.

  They each tried to make themselves comfortable on the broken-down couches.

  The guy struck Kelly as someone who would lie for the fun of it. He gave off a “bad guy” vibe like he had been hired to be Smoot’s muscle. He said he hadn’t talked to Smoot since Saturday afternoon. Smoot looked okay when he’d left him at the Everglades Mall office.

  “So how did you know to meet the victim at his apartment this morning?”

  “He told me Saturday afternoon that he had this, ah, errand for me and that I should come see him at home this morning early.”