Dies Irae

by B. V. Lawson

  Onweller didn’t look at Drayco directly, but over the top of his head. “President Thackeray wants to express his gratitude for your hard work. We both agree with the MPD this case boils down to a troubled girl with mental problems who killed her romantic rival. And then herself after the boy broke off the relationship. A murder-suicide.”

  Drayco had suspected and dreaded this was coming. It didn’t make swallowing the poison pill any easier. “But why send one of those music puzzles to herself?”

  “All part of her mental illness. The girl had bipolar with classic behavioral symptoms from being off her meds. In one of her manic phases, she killed Cailan Jaffray. In a subsequent depressive state, she took her own life. The police found a suicide note tucked away in one of her textbooks.”

  “Dated recently?”

  Onweller flipped over a page and frowned. “Well, no, it was dated a year ago. But it shows she was suicide-prone.”

  “Her car wasn’t found in the lot. That’s a long way to walk from the college or her apartment.”

  “I think Agent Sargosian’s hypothesis is correct here. The Krugh girl had an accomplice. He dropped her off then helped her carry Cailan Jaffray’s body into the gardens.”

  Maybe it was a lost cause to argue, but Drayco didn’t care. “Shannon wasn’t a good student. In fact, she was in danger of losing her scholarship. I can’t see her coming up with those music puzzles.”

  “If Agent Sargosian is correct, the accomplice created those puzzles. That boyfriend of hers, Gary Zabowski, is a perfect candidate. No doubt, he sent you that new ‘sting of death’ thing.”

  Drayco tried hard not to grit his teeth. “Are you willing to bet other lives on that theory? Because that’s what’s at stake if you’re wrong. We finally got a list of names of the other people in Reed Upperman’s project. We should at least warn them.”

  Onweller’s staccato tones were as pleasant as the sound of a piano string breaking. “We won’t require your services anymore, Drayco.”

  He eyed Sarg, “And Agent Sargosian is being reassigned to the Bankton warehouse arson cases. The senator’s lost faith in the ATF to solve the situation and has requested the Bureau’s help. Since Sargosian has worked arson cases in the past, he’s the perfect choice.”

  Sarg remained silent. Like Onweller, he avoided looking at Drayco directly.

  As Drayco stared unflinchingly at Onweller, he caught a brief hint of uncertainty on the man’s face. It was swallowed up in steely resolve as he finally met Drayco’s stare. “Agent Sargosian, I think we’re finished here, and you can return to your office. I’ve sent the arson files there.”

  Onweller jumped up after Sarg left, planting his palms on his desk. “I know how you think, Drayco. Always driven to find some reason for the insane things people do. But no matter how hard you try, sometimes it just is what it is. Like that young punk who ended your piano career. Life is unfair. For every Shannon Krugh or every young thug, there are a dozen more. We have to accept it and move on.”

  Drayco rose from his chair. “Shannon Krugh wrote a paper on reason and determining what’s morally right or wrong. I don’t want that to be her epitaph. Those music puzzles weren’t created by that girl. And I don’t believe they were created by Gary Zabowski. There’s a deeper layer to this. The whole thing’s off-key.”

  Onweller eased back down, but his eyes never left Drayco’s. “You have a keen mind. But forgive me for not wanting to trust a man who’d take the fall for someone else’s mistake.”

  Drayco swallowed hard, biting back a hundred different retorts. He knew Onweller wouldn’t understand his reasons for protecting Sarg, one of the few people he’d been close to for any amount of time. Nor did the Chief understand Drayco as well as he thought he did.

  “I can’t let this go. Those puzzles do mean something more.”

  Onweller tented his fingers together. “Nevertheless, you are not to pursue this further. As far as President Thackeray and Parkhurst College are concerned, the case is in the hands of the MPD, who can tie up any loose ends. I must insist you stay away from Parkhurst students and faculty. Or I can and will have you arrested for obstruction of justice and witness tampering.”

  Drayco headed for the door, but before he left, he pointed to the seal on the wall. “Fidelity - Bravery - Integrity. I hope you haven’t forgotten what those words mean. Because I haven’t.” And then he walked away.

  34

  Drayco picked at his burger without much enthusiasm. He’d spent most of the day at home following the drama in Onweller’s office, catching up on paperwork and bills—lots of bills—before coming here. The waitress refilled his cup of coffee, and right after she left, a man slid into the other seat across from Drayco, reached for the salt shaker, and handed it to him.

  Drayco grabbed it. “You must have taken a wrong turn on I-95, because this is a long way from Fredericksburg.”

  “I promised Elaine truffled risotto for dinner this week. One of her faves. You tried buying truffles in Freddyburg? Fugeddabout it.”

  “How’d you know I’d be here?”

  “Figured you’d want to drown your sorrows.” Sarg looked around the table, “Yet I note a decided lack of libations. And I figured of all the places you’d head for, it’d be Tuchmans.”

  “Might have been another bar someplace.”

  “Yeah, but this bar was where Gary and Reed allegedly met the night Cailan was killed. Aren’t giving up on this thing, are you?”

  “No. But I hadn’t expected you to.”

  Sarg stared at the salt shaker. “I know it looks like I got you kicked off the case. By agreeing with Onweller on the suicide-accomplice thing.”

  “Et two, Brute?”

  Sarg rubbed his eyes. “When I married Elaine, I decided the ‘richer or poorer’ thing didn’t matter, because I’d make sure we were always richer. Then the kids came along and I said, okay, so maybe not richer. But it didn’t matter because having a family was worth it. What I hadn’t counted on was what I’d be willing to do for that family. Like ask a friend to take a bullet for me. Not once, but twice.”

  Drayco didn’t say anything right away, the silent seconds ticking by. Sarg lifted his head and seemed surprised to see Drayco smiling at him. “You want to—even need to—believe the suicide angle, because it means Tara is safe. Can’t blame you for that.”

  Sarg ran his finger along the table. “Didn’t think it through clearly until after I left Onweller’s office. But yeah, this solution wraps everything up in a neat and safe little package.”

  Drayco signaled for the waitress to join them. “Whatever the man wants, Heather, add it to my tab. And do you mind repeating to him what you told me?” Drayco pulled out a photo from his wallet. “About this guy?”

  “Other than he’s a real babe and I hope you’ll bring him by sometime?” She winked at Drayco. “Of course, you can bring yourself here anytime you want, and I’ll die happy.”

  She wrote down Sarg’s order as he dictated it. “As I told hottie here, I work most nights. Have been for months. I’d have remembered the guy in that photo. And I’ve never seen him.” She shimmied off to the kitchen.

  Sarg grinned. “She’s kinda young for you, don’t ya think?”

  “Perhaps you didn’t notice when IQ was giving you the eye. Heather’s flirted with all the men in here, because it makes for bigger tips.”

  The trade inside the bar had picked up, so Heather only had time for a smile as she dropped off Sarg’s grilled asiago sandwich. He took a bite. “Not bad,” and then eyed Drayco’s burger wistfully. “Elaine and Tara are on a vegetarian kick, so I said, okay, as long as I get to keep dairy. Vichyssoise ain’t the same with soy milk.”

  Drayco winced as Sarg pronounced it “vishy swah,” with his farm-boy accent, prompting Sarg to grin. “You can say it, I can make it.”

  “Why didn’t you become a chef, Agent Sargosian? Those TV chefs earn a lot more than a humble federal agent.”

  “Doing someth
ing for a living can suck all the fun out of it.”

  Drayco had a fleeting image of himself up on a stage at a piano, the audience indistinguishable from every other audience, night after night. Traveling from one city to another, handed off from one stranger to another, not having the time to see the sights before it was onto the next concert hall.

  Sarg picked up his knife and used it to peer under the bun on Drayco’s burger. “Good God, man. There’s pineapple and mayo and french fries on that thing. Where in hell did you learn to eat such weird combinations?”

  Drayco knocked the knife away and took another bite of burger. “When you’re left to your own devices as a kid, you make do.”

  Sarg grunted in sympathy, but seemed to be enjoying his own meal a lot more, until he winced again and rubbed his cheek.

  Drayco fingered the picture of Gary he’d shown the waitress. Either she was mistaken, or both Gary and Reed lied. “I’ve never turned my back on a case.”

  “And you’re not about to start now, yeah, I got that. You know you won’t be paid. And you won’t have any official backup. And if Onweller gets wind of it, he’s liable to do something drastic.”

  Drayco chewed some more of the burger, but it wasn’t firing any of his taste buds. Might as well be eating the small wooden board the burger was served on. “If I were still at the Bureau, maybe I could help more.”

  Sarg stopped taking tiny bites of the sandwich and put it down. He pushed the plate around, then said with a nervous laugh, “What, you mean like me, newly assigned to that high mucky-muck arson case?”

  “Maybe I should seriously consider that corporate security job.”

  “A terrible waste of brain.”

  Drayco sat for several moments, not eating, not talking, observing the other patrons. Anything to avoid eye contact. Sarg appeared happy to do the same.

  “Those paralysis dreams I’ve been having. They started after you showed up at my townhome. The dreams are all the same. The warehouse, the shooting.”

  Sarg nodded.

  “I agreed to take the fall for you, but not just because of your family. I also didn’t want to lose another partner.”

  Sarg gaped at him. “Yet you did, didn’t you? I’m not dead, but still gone. Now you’re the one who doesn’t have anyone to watch your back.”

  “Better than watching someone shoot yours. Again.”

  “We don’t go out in the field much at the BAU, you know that. Besides you made it into the quarter-inch club. Reynolds didn’t call you ‘dead-eye Drayco’ for nothing. Must be those magic piano hands make you shoot like that. The Rangers would have loved you.”

  Drayco smiled. “Too independent for them.”

  “You were never comfortable with the idea of having to shoot someone. But I knew you’d come through when the chips were down. Always trusted you to do the right thing.”

  Sarg picked at a fingernail, then tapped it on the table as if shaking out invisible dirt. “I’ve obsessed about that day. Forgot my training, let my guard down and a good man got killed. And yeah, I was worried about my family. I was selfish.”

  “Selfish?”

  “I’m pretty good at what I do, but you … you’re a natural at figuring out connections, looking at problems from unique angles. I knew you’d land on your feet. Thrive, even.”

  Drayco forced a slight smile. “I’ve done okay.”

  “Maybe you’d do better if you stopped going to such great lengths so people won’t suffer from their own mistakes.” Sarg motioned for Heather to bring the check.

  Drayco pushed his plate away. The hamburger had sounded good when he ordered it. Sarg clucked his tongue, pointing at the uneaten hamburger. “You’re never going to be big and strong that way. It’ll stunt your growth.” He reached over and cut off a portion and popped it in his mouth, a blissful expression on his face.

  Sarg wiped off the grease. “So where do we go from here?”

  “We?” Drayco grinned. “You’ve got an arson case.”

  Sarg tugged on his ear. “That’s another suck-up case. I hate suck-up cases. I don’t like you going it alone. And if you’re right and this isn’t a murder-suicide, my daughter may still be in danger. Whatever you need, I’m good for it.”

  Drayco grabbed the check the waitress brought. “Your official access to databases could come in handy.”

  “Done.”

  “Although those databases won’t help with the music codes, my newfound obsession. They just don’t fit the vibe of the murders. More an afterthought.”

  “I’m a simple polka boy. You evil classical musicians are a different animal altogether.”

  In reply, Drayco reached over and dropped the remainder of his burger in Sarg’s coffee.

  35

  “Do not fear to be eccentric in opinion. For every opinion now accepted was once eccentric.” One of Drayco’s favorite Bertrand Russell quotations. Quite apt, in the here and now. He was restless and drove around after parting ways with Sarg. No particular destination in mind, weaving through a steady rain past the monuments as the floodlights set them off, one by one.

  They were modern stone temples with their statues of demigods posing for eternity. Statues of marble and bronze that hid feet of clay. Drayco shoved his own foot down on the accelerator to avoid side-swiping a car whose driver was glued to a cellphone.

  The frenzied Power City was light years away from the laid-back lifestyle fifty miles across the Chesapeake, where the Eastern Shore only recently got broadband. He had a sudden craving to hear the voice of Nelia Tyler. Nelia was one of the few people other than Sarg who’d understand his reasons for not dropping this case.

  Drayco hadn’t planned on it but realized he’d turned onto the road that led to Cailan’s apartment. He parked the Starfire in front. A beacon of light shining through her window beckoned him upstairs as rain bombed his windshield with loud “thwacks.”

  The door to Cailan’s apartment was ajar, so he pushed on past into the living area. He startled two men, one sitting on the sofa, the other bent over several cardboard boxes piled in the room. It was an unlikely pairing.

  The man dipping his hands into a box straightened up and faced Drayco. “What are you doing here?”

  “Saw the light on. Wanted to make sure no one was in here who shouldn’t be. It appears I caught you packing Cailan’s things.”

  Troy Jaffray picked up more books and papers and tossed them into the box. “I heard from Andrew Gilbow the FBI was off the case. Shannon Krugh killed Cailan and herself. End of story. Guess I should be relieved.”

  “You’re not?”

  From the couch, the other man piped up, “We can’t believe it’s over, that’s all. And I thought when they nailed the monster, I’d feel better.”

  Drayco confronted Liam Futino. “I’m surprised to find the two of you together.”

  Jaffray grabbed a tape gun and ripped off a long piece of tape to cover the box top, then sank onto the arm of the sofa. “I wanted to hate Liam. I really tried. After talking to him on the phone, it was clear he’s every bit as devastated as I am.”

  Drayco examined the photo Liam held in his hand. “A memento?”

  Liam stared down at the photo of himself and Cailan, both of them smiling, his arm around her shoulders. “I expected her to throw out all the photos of me. Of us. A friend took this one. I had him print out a copy for us. And she kept it.”

  Drayco hadn’t spied any photos of Troy Jaffray when they first searched the apartment, and he didn’t see any around now to be packed up. Had she thrown those out?

  Liam still had his coat on, a very dry coat. And the only indentations in the plush throw rug in front of the sofa were a set of shoe prints as if he’d been sitting there for sometime. Drayco asked Jaffray, “Did you arrange to meet Liam here or did you find him here?”

  Jaffray cast a quick glance over at his companion. “I would have arranged it. If he’d asked.”

  Liam reached into his pocket and took out a key h
e held out to Jaffray. “Cailan gave it to me when we started dating. After she broke up with me, she wanted it back. I just never got around to it. Wasn’t going to steal anything. I hoped … ” He slumped into the sofa.

  Drayco asked, “You came here looking for something in particular?”

  Liam cradled the photo in his hand. “When Cailan first told me she was pregnant, I could tell she wasn’t happy. I urged her to get a sonogram, hoping it would help her bond with the baby. Don’t know if she did, but I thought … maybe she kept a copy of the sonogram. Of our baby.”

  None of the three men spoke for a few moments. Any notions Drayco entertained over Liam Futino pursuing Cailan as a potential money tree had long flown off his mental radar. Now, he was convinced. Both men were pictures of the kind of grief that cauterizes open wounds in memory and turns them into black scars.

  Jaffray broke the silence. “You’re wondering if we collaborated. Wreaking vengeance by killing Shannon and framing it as a suicide.”

  “It crossed my mind. The police might think so, too.”

  “I got the impression the police were following the FBI’s lead, which begs the question—what are you doing here, Drayco?”

  Drayco walked to a table holding a portable digital device, the same model other students carried at the music school. How many times had he listened to his own practice sessions, to catch the weak spots in his playing, head off slips in technique?

  The device had a built-in external speaker, and he pressed the PLAY button. Cailan’s clear, rich voice even sounded good singing scales in compressed mono. He let it continue playing for a few moments, then switched it off.

  As both Jaffray and Liam sat still with tears in their eyes, Drayco said, “Scales are mathematical marvels built on ratios and semitones. When the ear hears an interval as consonant, the brain relaxes. When the ear hears dissonance, the brain instinctively wants to resolve it. Everything about the murders of Cailan and Shannon is dissonant.”