Cavanaugh Stakeout

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Just that she seems to fit our killer’s ‘type,’” Harley answered. “Dressed up, young, pretty and—” he hesitated before adding the final identifying piece “—stabbed through the heart.” And then he pointed out something different. “Her clothes are all rumpled.”

  Finn nodded as he noticed. “Like she was dressed in a hurry.”

  “Or redressed,” Nik pointed out.

  Ramirez picked up on her tone. “You think someone interrupted him?” he asked, looking from Nik to Finn.

  “Either that or he’s getting sloppy.” Squatting down, Finn looked more closely at the young woman’s face. “She looks as if she was just killed.”

  “Good call,” the medical examiner said, coming up to join them. Finishing a notation, he handed his notebook over to his assistant. “According to the liver temperature I just took, this one has been dead between four to six hours.”

  Nik glanced at her watch and then looked at the dead woman on the ground. Finn had a feeling he knew what she was thinking. That they had been making love around that time. He refused to allow his mind to go there. Last night had been special and that was the only way he was going to look at it.

  “Did she have any ID on her?” Finn asked, looking at the two members of the team who had gotten there ahead of them.

  Ramirez shook his head. “None. Just like the others,” he added. But there was something and he pointed it out to the head detective. “There’s a stamp on her hand. It’s faint, but if you shine this light on it, you can just about make it out.”

  Demonstrating, he aimed the small flashlight he was holding on the dead blonde’s hand. The outline of a club logo became visible.

  “You’re right,” Nik cried, crouching down to get a better look. “She was at Good Times.”

  Finn looked toward Ramirez. The latter nodded, answering the unspoken question. “Already got a call in to the owner,” he told Finn. “He should be coming in at any minute. One piece of good news,” Ramirez volunteered. “The club was robbed eight months ago.”

  Mystified, Nik shook her head. “Just how is that good news?” she asked.

  “Because after that happened, the owner put up a couple of surveillance cameras inside his club as well as out front and in the back,” Ramirez told them. “We get to see the customers up close and personal for once.”

  “Maybe this time we’ll catch a break,” Finn said.

  “It’ll be about time,” Harley said, adding his voice to that of the others as he crossed his fingers and held them up.

  * * *

  Jacob Hollander was a self-made man who made it clear that he did not take kindly to anyone trying to undo what he had managed to do. He arrived looking disgruntled, but once the situation was made clear to him, he seemed more than happy to cooperate with the police and get the killer off the streets.

  Inside the club, he answered all their questions, then added, “I’ll do whatever you want to help you catch this guy. I can’t afford having people stay away because they’re afraid that they—or their dates—are going to be that guy’s next victim.” He looked at the detectives hopefully. “Is there any way this can be hushed up?”

  “These things are never hushed up,” Finn told him in his no-nonsense voice. “But your cooperation will hopefully go a long way in getting this killer off the streets. I hear you have surveillance cameras—”

  “I sure do,” the owner said, interrupting him.

  Finn nodded. “We’re going to need to see those videos and we’re also going to need to go over all of your credit-card receipts from the last twenty-four hours.”

  “There are a lot of receipts,” Hollander warned. He smiled. “Business has been really good lately.”

  “And, with any luck,” Finn said, “we’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Amen to that,” the club owner said with feeling. “Let me just go get those for you,” the man said, beginning to retreat to his office.

  “Harley,” Finn said to the detective closest to him as he pointed toward the owner, “go help him bring those receipts and videos here.”

  Nik waited until after Harley had left with the club owner. “You don’t trust him, do you?” she asked.

  “Right now, I’m not sure I trust anybody,” he answered, then amended with a smile, “Present company excepted, of course.”

  “Of course,” she echoed. “But why don’t you trust the club owner?”

  Finn shrugged. “I get the feeling that he might be trying to shield someone. He just seemed a little too eager to help, that’s all.”

  She granted that the man did seem eager, but there could be another reason for that. “He might be on the level. You know that it’s in his best interest to help catch this guy.”

  “I’m not denying that,” Finn said. “I’m just being skeptical. It’s in my nature.”

  And it was a very confusing nature that he had, she thought. “You, Finley Cavanaugh, are a very complex man,” she told him.

  He flashed her a small smile. “Never said I wasn’t,” he reminded her.

  “That you didn’t,” she agreed, nodding.

  Harley came back, followed by the owner. Both men were carrying large boxes that were overflowing with receipts as well as surveillance videos.

  “Like I said,” Hollander told Finn, “Saturday night is one of my busiest nights. Maybe even my busiest, although it’s neck and neck with Friday night.”

  Finn took the box from the owner. “We’ll find a way to manage,” he said.

  Hollander nodded. “I’m going to need a receipt for all of this,” he told Finn before the latter could take another step toward the front door with the box.

  “Sure thing,” Finn said, temporarily setting down the box he had been holding. “Harley, take that box and put it into my car.” He turned toward the club owner. “You have a release form on you?” he asked. He half expected the owner to stutter and say that he didn’t. Instead, Hollander took out two sheets of paper and placed them in front of Finn.

  “There you go,” the owner said. “This is for the first box, this is for the second.”

  Finn signed his name to each sheet, quickly glancing at them before he signed. When he finished signing his name to the second paper, he handed both over to the owner. He eyed the man knowingly.

  “Something tells me you’ve been through this before,” Finn told him.

  “Not me. A cousin of mine was, though. He wound up losing his property. Taught me to be extra careful with what I handed over to anyone. When can I have the receipts and videos back?” he asked.

  “You’ll get them as soon as we’re finished with them, Mr. Hollander,” Finn told him crisply. He glanced at Nik. “Ready to go?”

  “You have no idea how ready I am,” she told him. There was something about the owner that made her feel uncomfortable, although she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why.

  Maybe she just needed distance from the man to figure out the reason.

  Chapter 22

  “You know, I am strongly considering billing the Aurora Police Department for a pair of glasses because I’m definitely going to need them,” Nik told Finn almost twelve hours later. She looked away from the viewing screen and blinked several times, trying to get her eyes back into focus. “I think that I’m beginning to see double.”

  “Nobody’s twisting your arm to do this,” Finn reminded her. He had been doing his own viewing just as long today. “You volunteered.”

  She sighed, knowing that she had been the one to offer to help. Finn was right, but that wasn’t the point, she thought.

  “The least you could do is be sympathetic,” she said.

  “I am being sympathetic,” he told her. “I’m telling you that you don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t want to.”

  Nik frowned. “You know I’m not about to stop.”<
br />
  He raised one inquisitive eyebrow as he spared her a look. “Doing it, or complaining about it?”

  “Very funny,” she murmured as she went back to flipping through the various camera videos. All the people’s faces were beginning to meld together.

  “Hey, maybe you guys would rather be looking through this pile of credit-card receipts,” Ramirez said, raising his voice so that Finn and Nik could hear him from where he and Harley sat.

  “Hey, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the one complaining,” Finn pointed out.

  Harley grumbled under his breath as he continued plowing through his share of the credit-card receipts. “I thought this was supposed to be a paperless society,” he complained.

  “That’s the rumor,” Finn told the other detective as he watched another set of surveillance videos whirl by in fast-forward mode.

  “So why am I wading through a ton of paper?” Harley asked.

  Nik looked up at the three detectives. “Rumor has it that rumors aren’t always true,” she quipped.

  “Was that a joke?” Ramirez asked, his dark eyes looking at Finn, then over toward Nik. “Did your volunteer over there just make a joke?”

  Finn kept a straight face as he glanced toward Nik. “Did you, Kowalski?”

  “Maybe,” she responded with a shrug. “At this point I’m too tired and punchy to know.” She leaned back in her chair, stretching. Even her eyelids hurt. “Why don’t we take a break and send out for dinner?” she suggested, watching Finn hopefully.

  “Sounds good to me,” Finn said. “Since this is your idea, what’s your preference?” he asked Nik.

  Nik suddenly sat up. “Hold it!” she cried, her eyes widening.

  Finn exchanged looks with the other two men in the room. “I haven’t picked up the phone yet,” he told Nik.

  “No, not the phone,” she insisted, still not taking her eyes off the screen in front of her. “Look!” She jabbed her finger at one of the frozen images on the monitor.

  Getting up, Finn walked around her desk and stood behind her. The images appeared fuzzy to him. “Okay, what am I looking at?” he asked, keeping his expectations low.

  They had all been at this for hours now without any viable results. So far, the searches had been no different from all the other ones they had conducted involving the mysterious killer.

  “Don’t you see it?” she demanded. “That’s her,” Nik cried.

  “Who? The victim?” Finn asked, leaning in for a closer look at the monitor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw both Harley and Ramirez stop what they were doing. They were waiting for some sort of a response from Nik. They were all looking for a breakthrough in this frustrating case.

  “No, it’s Marilyn,” Nik told Finn. She looked at him over her shoulder. “My friend’s daughter. The woman I was looking for when I first met you,” she clarified in case he wasn’t following her.

  “I remember who Marilyn is,” he said. He squinted, looking more closely at the frozen images, trying to make out their features. “Rewind that,” he told her.

  The images came to life. Marilyn was dancing with someone, or at least she was doing something that he thought passed for dancing.

  “Again,” Finn told her. He leaned in ever closer, staring hard at the images. “Is that—?”

  Nik anticipated his question and nodded. “I think she’s dancing with that doctor,” she said. She paused before saying his name. “Dr. Garrett.”

  Finn didn’t want to get ahead of himself. They were beyond tired at this point.

  “Well, there really is no law against that,” Finn said, moving back to his desk again.

  But Nik hardly heard him. Something else had caught her attention. Or rather, someone else. This time, she rewound the video before she said anything. And then she rewound it again.

  The repetitious sound caught Finn’s attention, as did the expression on her face when he looked up at her. Without a word he got up again and came up behind her.

  “What did you find?” he asked.

  She raised her eyes to his. “I think I just found our latest vic,” she told him, her voice trembling.

  “You did what?” Ramirez asked, stunned.

  He pushed his chair back so hard, it nearly fell over. He hardly noticed as he came over to take a look at Nik’s screen. Harley was quick to join Ramirez, as well as Finn, who was still standing there. All three detectives hovered over Nik, jockeying for position to get a closer look at the video Nik had found.

  “You sure that’s the doctor with Marilyn?” Finn asked her. No matter how he concentrated, the image on the monitor was really difficult to make out.

  Rather than say anything, Nik took out her cell phone. She flipped through the photographs she had stored on it until she found the one she was looking for. Once she did, she held up her phone for Finn and the other detectives to look at.

  “This is Dr. James Garrett,” she announced. “I found his photograph on his hospital’s website, along with a lot of glowing words. Seems that Dr. Garrett has quite the following.” She looked at Finn. “Apparently a lot of his patients are crazy about him.”

  Finn appeared dubious about the testimonials, but that still didn’t mean the man was guilty of anything other than being a very handsome man. “Even if he hoodwinked all those patients, that still doesn’t qualify as a crime.”

  “No,” she agreed, putting away her phone, “but being with Marilyn and our latest victim is definitely a reason to really start looking for the man, if only to question him more closely. It’s just too much of a coincidence that he’s Marilyn’s doctor as well as the doctor for that young woman who was killed last week.” She had a feeling that the list of the doctor’s patients didn’t end there.

  “No argument,” Finn agreed. “Harley, find out the make and model of the good doctor’s car—or cars.” He had a feeling that the doctor was vain enough to have more than just one fast car to feed his ego. “Ramirez, get me the doctor’s home address. And, if for some reason, he turns out not to have been there for a few days, I want an APB put out on this guy as soon as possible.”

  As the two detectives scattered to fulfill their assignments, Finn turned toward Nik.

  “Good work,” he told her. But rather than smile at the compliment, she seemed rather preoccupied. Something was off, he thought. “For someone who just might have tracked down a cold-blooded killer, you don’t look very happy.”

  “Well, I am glad that Marilyn’s still alive,” she told Finn. “But the fact that she was there last night with the dead girl raises a whole bunch of questions,” she confessed, “and I’ve got this uneasy feeling that I won’t like the answers.”

  It didn’t take a genius to know what was bothering her, Finn thought. “You think she’s involved with the murders in some way.”

  “Well, what else can I think?” Nik asked.

  Because of the evening they had spent together, he saw her in a completely different light now. His heart went out to her. She really looked distressed, he thought. He actually agreed with Nik’s take on it, but for her sake he tried to come up with something that she could hold on to until the verdict was in.

  “Well, there’s a chance she might be doing this against her will,” Finn pointed out. “The killer might have threatened her.”

  Nik looked at him, surprised that Finn would come up with a possible alternative to what seemed like a pretty straightforward scenario. “Who are you and what have you done with Finn?” she asked him.

  Finn shrugged. “Maybe I’m just giving your friend’s daughter the benefit of the doubt,” he told her. “It is possible,” he pointed out.

  “Like I said, who are you and what have you done with Finn?” she repeated, a sad smile playing on her lips. “Because that doesn’t sound like you.”

  Finn laughed quietly in response to her tak
e on the situation. “I’ll let you know when I have an answer to that.”

  “I’ve got the doctor’s address, boss,” Ramirez said, coming back into the small room. “Get this,” he said by way of preparing Finn for the bombshell he was about to drop on him. “Seems our suspect likes to move around a lot. According to what I found, the man doesn’t stay at any one address for more than a few months or so. Once the time is up, he clears out.”

  Finn frowned, looking at the sheet Ramirez brought to him. “Wonder why that is,” Finn said.

  “Maybe he’s afraid there might be evidence on the premises that could convict him so he wants to distance himself from it,” Ramirez said. “Seeing the type of property it is, the landlord would be quick to have the place cleaned up and prepped for the next tenant. He wouldn’t want to lose any money,” the detective said with conviction.

  “It was a rhetorical question, Ramirez,” Finn told the other detective. He looked down at the sheet. A low whistle escaped from his lips. “This his latest address?” he asked, pointing to it.

  Ramirez glanced down at what Finn was pointing to, then nodded. “Yes, provided that he hasn’t moved yet,” he qualified.

  Harley walked in just then. “I’ve got the make and model of those cars you wanted—you were right, the doctor does have more than one.” He came over to Finn and laid the paper down in front of him. “Did you know that your cousin’s working in the computer lab today? Doesn’t she ever go home?” the blond-haired detective asked, curious.

  “On occasion,” Finn answered, then added, “But to my knowledge, not very often.” He made a mental note of the two license plate numbers as well as the types of vehicles they belonged to. “Have that APB put out on both these two cars—no telling which one he’ll be driving.” He turned toward Nik. “You feel up to taking a little road trip?” he asked.

  “To Dr. Garrett’s latest residence?” She guessed at their destination.

  Finn nodded. “Who knows, we might even get lucky and find him in.”