The Last Lie She Told

by K. J. McGillick

  “Copy that,” I replied. “My gut told me Fiona doesn’t have the drive, but if she doesn’t, why all the cloak and dagger? And why is she leaving the country?”

  “Well, you’ve got to make contact and get the information. Once Fiona leaves the country, she’s sure as hell out of our jurisdiction. My head’s ready to explode. I don’t like the shady way Benjamin originally got the information under the government’s radar. I’m beginning to think we’ve been had. Who tossed her room and why? I don’t care if you have to confront her; get this done. We have no way of making her give us the drive. This is so goddamn frustrating,” Jackson said.

  “I hear you. We can’t arrest Fiona; well, Belle could. I’m thinking of letting Belle take the lead on this when we confront her. She can flash a badge and see where it goes. I know Fiona damn well won’t talk to me,” I said. Letting Belle take the lead with Fiona didn’t sit well with me, but I had to put my ego aside.

  I had to admit, something about Belle drew me in. She was confident, feisty, and didn’t work for my attention. And why did I like that she fell right into a rhythm with my family like she’d been a part of them for years? I needed to manage my expectations. Once this job was done, I’d probably never see her again.

  I called Belle, looking forward to her picking up the phone. Jesus, was I turning into a sap?

  “Are you and Mary together?” I asked, merging onto the highway headed back to the hotel.

  “Of course. And you’re on speaker,” Belle said.

  “I’m on my way back. You two need to pack your stuff. Mine’s already packed; just grab it from my room. Check out, and be waiting in the lobby for me to pick you up. Mary, call the airlines and get three seats for LA for the next plane out; that will give me enough time to pick you up and get us back to the airport.”

  “Whoa, what? Why LA?” Belle asked.

  “Because that’s where Fiona is heading. For some reason, Fiona called Claire and asked to stay with her for a few days. Apparently, someone tossed her room while we were at dinner. Get the tickets, and we can discuss this later.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “It’s unlikely I’ll get an approval to follow Fiona to LA, so I may need to go home. Boston is one thing, but we aren’t any closer to getting an arrest warrant much less an extradition order,” she said.

  She was right; she wasn’t on an unlimited expense account.

  “It’s Saturday. When’s your next day off?” I asked.

  “I don’t have to be back until Wednesday,” she replied. “Why?”

  “Do you want to follow this through?”

  “Of course, I do! I’m emotionally invested in this at this point, and I want to play it out to the end,” she said.

  “We can front your ticket, hotel room, and meals if we make you an official consultant for our case. You in?” I asked with more hope than I cared to admit.

  The smile in her voice translated over the phone. “I’m in. What’s the plan?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea. I’m going to call Claire and see what Fiona said to her. By the time I get back, I hope I’ll have more information. It’s weird that Fiona called Claire. They didn’t seem close or like they even got along. Maybe she didn’t have any friends to call, and Claire was her last resort. But she sure was stringing a lot of guys along; why not call one of them?” I said, more thinking out loud than needing an answer.

  “Let me get things rolling, and we’ll talk about this when you pick us up. I’ve got this,” Belle said.

  “Thanks. Fiona leaving makes things a lot more complicated. I hate to admit it, but I’m not sure what our next move should be after we get to LA,” I said.

  “That’s because we don’t have enough information. Just get back here, and we can brainstorm,” Belle said.

  I liked brainstorming with Belle, it felt comfortable.

  After I hung up, I called Claire. I asked her to let Fiona stay, and told her we’d be in touch as soon as we landed. Her reaction surprised me a bit. I’d expected her to be apprehensive, or that I’d need to talk her into it. However, she seemed excited by the prospect and was all in.

  As I pulled up to the curb, Mary and Belle put the bags in the trunk, and we were off.

  “There’s a new development; I don’t know what to make of it,” I said as Belle fastened her seatbelt.

  “I have news too, but you go first,” she said.

  “Fiona told Claire she thinks someone is stalking her. Claire said she saw some guy hanging around the complex, possibly someone Fiona knew when she attended school. He definitely wasn’t a student. Claire said he looked like someone from the sex club that had picked Fiona up a few times. Claire reported the guy to security, but since he hadn’t done anything illegal, they just made a report. I suppose I see why Fiona would want to avoid hotels after a break-in,” I said.

  “Gaining access to hotel rooms is easier than most people imagine,” Mary said with an authoritative tone.

  “Do tell,” Belle said, as she turned and smiled at Mary.

  I looked back at Mary in the rearview mirror and could see she was revving up for a long-winded speech. When she had that look, nothing could stop her.

  “First, the perpetrators obtain an ordinary electronic key, even one that’s long expired, discarded, or used to access spaces like a garage. Many keycards use electromagnetic fields known as radio-frequency identification. By holding an RFID reader near a keycard, a hacker can capture the card’s response and then use it later to create a new card with the same properties. Within minutes, the device can generate a master key to the facility. Several companies are working on software to override this defect. But there’s no industry standard,” Mary said. She tried to balance her cup of coffee while putting her head between the two of us.

  Again, I asked myself, Who is this woman? I wasn’t going to ask her how she knew all of this because another long speech would ensue and open up more questions I didn’t need answers to.

  “Well, it begs the question of who would do this, and why?” I said to divert her from a further explanation.

  “The list of suspects is endless,” Mary replied, sitting back. “This woman has been screwing people over for years. She’s a master manipulator who’s probably left a trail of unhappy bodies in her wake. I’d start with someone in Boston who knew her from her past and found out she was back in town. Maybe a former sugar daddy. One of them would have the funds to hire a person to hack the lock and search the room.”

  “But why? What could she possibly have that a previous sugar daddy would want? Jewelry he gave her?” I asked.

  “I don’t know; I’m just spitballing here. For all we know, it was a staff member looking for something to steal. Right now, I’d focus on who was watching Claire and why she felt she had to report it to security,” Mary said. “And like I’ve said from the beginning, the sex club is involved.”

  “God, this case is getting way out of control. I’m not in this to solve not only a murder but a stalking case as well! All I want to know is if she has the goddamn drive. And I’ll say it again, this case should have been turned over to law enforcement. You said you have news?” I said, turning to Belle trying to change the subject. I was getting frustrated.

  “Oh, right. This might dovetail with what you’re saying and might have something to do with the break-in. This information comes from our investigation. Since it’s an ongoing investigation, I can only tell you so much, though. Mahir’s mother had been keeping tabs on Fiona almost to the point of stalking her. We think Fiona caught on and came to New York to confront Mahir and make sure his mother backed off. But remember at this point it’s speculation. So, Mahir’s mother possibly had a hand in the break-in,” Belle said, which prompted Mary to lean forward again.

  “Why would she? What did she imagine she’d find, the murder weapon?” Mary asked.

  Yeah, that didn’t make sense. No one would carry a murder
weapon around. And unless Fiona packed the knife in her check-in luggage, she’d have a hard time getting it on a plane.

  “What if someone was planting something instead of searching for something?” I asked.

  “How would they even know she was there?” Belle asked.

  “That’s an easy one. Lucine’s private investigator has been keeping tabs. Remember he tracked Fiona by phone. Why not follow her in person? Lucine feels like Fiona ruined their lives; her son is dead. Sometimes months pass before an arrest is made,” I said. “Maybe things were progressing too slowly in the investigation, and Lucine wanted to speed it up.”

  “OK, I can buy that, but what’s he going to plant? A knife? That would be crazy. Like you said, why would Fiona carry something like that around? We never recovered the murder weapon, but my guess is she tossed it in the river. And a new one wouldn’t produce valid evidence if it wasn’t the actual weapon. Somewhere in the hilt of the murder weapon we’d find a trace of blood. And the shape of the blade would need to match. I suppose he could plant blood-splattered clothing, but again not likely. He’d need access to Mahir’s blood. The only way to do that would be to get it from Mahir’s clothes or scrape the blood off the sidewalk or bench. But by then it would be dry and useless,” Belle said.

  God, it felt good to interact with someone who thought just like me.

  “How about a souvenir?” Mary asked.

  “What?” Belle replied.

  “I see where she’s going. If the PI found out about Chuck Evans’s death, it’s possible he devised a plan to set Fiona up as a serial killer who takes trophies. I mean what are the odds two people from her past die within days of each other, and she’s in the vicinity? What would it take for his mother to get a lock of Mahir’s hair? She could place the hair in a bag and plant it. Then call in an anonymous tip, and if someone came with a search warrant, they’d find it.” It was a good theory. “But what about Evans, how would Lucine get something of his?”

  “What if someone broke into his place and took something with his DNA? Possibly a watch or ring? I’d need to consider all aspects to determine if this could even be a workable theory,” Mary said.

  Now we were off on a wild goose chase, and I was too tired to participate. I needed to keep my mind focused on more realistic theories.

  “Well, even if that was a viable plan it didn’t work well. Fiona’s gone because she got spooked. Even if someone alerted the Boston PD through an anonymous tip, and if they had probable cause to search, by the time they did, too many people would have had access to her room,” Belle said.

  “OK, what if someone planned to kill Fiona and make it look like a suicide? Or maybe they wanted to make it look like she came in during a robbery and got killed? Strangulation would be quiet,” Mary offered.

  “Fine, but if the guy was lying in wait, why isn’t she dead right now?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Lee. It’s too much speculation. For all I know she never went into the room once she found out her room had been searched. Maybe she left with the clothes on her back,” Mary replied, sitting back.

  “What if someone was after the drive? Like someone who knew she had it, and she planned to sell it?” Belle asked.

  “Now, that’s a more plausible theory. But would Fiona be carrying the drive around with her and risk losing it? It’s more likely she put it somewhere like a safe deposit box,” I mused out loud.

  “What if she’d taken a flight from Seattle to LA and put the drive in a safe deposit box in there and is going back for it? Maybe she’s working with someone. She could have given it to a partner. And what if she fed Claire the stalking story so she could stay under the radar and not have to use her credit cards while she cleaned up loose ends?” Mary said.

  “These are all good working theories, but for now, how about we leave them all on the table and see what Claire has to say when we land? By then, Fiona should have made contact with her. I’m not pussyfooting around anymore. We’ll confront her and get an answer if she has the drive,” I said.

  “So, are you going to beat a confession out of her? Or do you have the unrealistic expectation she’ll say, ‘Yes, I did it’? Not a good plan either way,” Mary said.

  My face heated with embarrassment.

  “I’m still ruminating, Mary.”

  Belle laughed and added, “She’s right, not a good plan, Lee.”

  “You’ve got a better one?” I asked, with an edge to my voice.

  “I’d like to wait and talk to Claire,” she said. “Get a sense of her how she comes across, facial expressions, posture, if she’s nervous, and see if Fiona confided anything in her. And I think we need to look at the sex club members as well.”

  “I’d say that’s the better plan, especially the sex club part. And, Lee, I’d put Belle on point on this. Fiona’s already seen you, and she might bolt if she sees you before you see her.”

  “Mary, Belle and I are at two cross purposes. She’s looking at Fiona for murder. If Belle interviews her and has a reasonable suspicion Fiona committed the murder, she’ll arrest her and take her back to New York. That doesn’t get us any closer to the drive unless she has it on her when she’s arrested. If Belle arrests Fiona, we’re screwed anyway, because they’ll take whatever’s on her as part of her personal effects,” I said. I knew this was the reasonable route; I just wasn’t ready to surrender.

  Belle stiffened, but as I pulled into the rental car bay to deposit the car, we had to put the conversation on hold.

  As we walked toward the departures entrance, I received a text from Jackson. “The drive is in play. It’s up on the web for an auction, and bidding begins three days from now.”

  Lee

  Seriously, was I really back in this hell hole again? I had avoided the entire state of California my whole life, and here I was, back again, within a week.

  As we approached the building complex, I called to let Claire know we were downstairs. She answered on the first ring and said she’d be down and we should wait outside the building. Odd.

  When she arrived, her bloodshot eyes made her look sleep deprived. Her hands trembled slightly—from fear, too much booze, or too much caffeine? I expected her to ask who Belle was and what she was doing there, but she just glanced at her and tilted her head, gesturing toward a semi-secluded area in the back of the building.

  Once seated around a stone table, Claire clasped her hands together, took a deep breath, and looked carefully around the area. What was going on? Something had this girl spooked.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, looking at each of us. “That man I told you about came back this morning, and I snapped a picture of him. Do you want to see it?”

  “Yes, that would be very helpful. Would you email it to me?” I asked.

  Within moments, the image was on my phone, and the three of us huddled to view it.

  “At this point, he’s dangerously close to stalking. Did you call campus security or the police?” I asked.

  “No. The police acted like I was wasting their time before, and I sure as hell am not going through that again,” Claire stated. Her face looked tense, and anger flickered in her eyes.

  “I can run his picture through facial recognition,” Mary said, as if she had that kind of pull. It was highly unlikely.

  “Mary—” I started as I sat back and rubbed my face with my hands.

  “Don’t start with me, Lee. I don’t like to pull this out of my bag of tricks often. But a few years ago, I sued the government in an age discrimination suit and won an obscene amount of money. Anyway, that’s a whole other story,” she said as Belle smiled and leaned in closer. “I have access to the best facial recognition databases available. If you give me permission to send this picture off, I will.”

  “Mary, I don’t know if I can do that,” I said.

  “Not you.” Mary shook her head in disgust. “Claire. She holds the copyright for the photo. She took it in a public place where this clown has no expectat
ion of privacy.”

  Belle laughed out loud.

  “Sure, be my guest,” Claire said, and within seconds Mary had sent it off.

  “Tell me what you know about this guy,” Belle said. “Or sensed about him.”

  “He had a few disturbing tattoos on his forearms, and he had a knife strapped to his belt. The knife was in a leather sheath, and it was long, like you would use for hunting. He was wearing torn jeans, battered motorcycle boots, and different shirts that were the same style each time he came around. His eyes had sort of a sinister appearance, almost snake-like. He seemed so focused. Like the surrounding crowd meant nothing to him; he was waiting for something—”

  Mary’s email dinged, and we waited a moment for her to open the message.

  “Winner, winner, chicken dinner. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Jeremy Stamos. Mr. Stamos is well acquainted with the law and not in a good way. He’s been a resident in three states and arrested in all three for some variation of aggravated assault and battery. Once he was even charged with rape but not convicted,” Mary said. She continued reading silently for a moment; then she looked up at me. “Mr. Stamos apparently had some trouble right here in LA. I’ll give you one guess where.”

  I shrugged, as if I didn’t care.

  “Fire and Ice. A secretive and private sex club. Which if I remember correctly, is the same club that the PI reported our little Miss Fiona belonged to when she was here. Do I need to connect the dots?” she asked.

  “I’ll admit it is a bit of a coincidence,” I said. “OK, put that to the side for one minute. Claire, have you heard anything more from Fiona since she called you last?”