by G. K. Parks
“Do you know if the police took the ring into custody?”
“I doubt it. They searched the house for clues to Knox’s whereabouts. But since his home was never deemed an active crime scene, they left everything where they found it.”
“What happened to Knox’s house when he didn’t return?”
“Hang on,” Justin said. A moment later, he came back on the line. “According to property records, his half-sister took over the mortgage payments when the bank notified her of the potential foreclosure. Last year, she had Knox declared dead. All of his property was then transferred to her.”
“Do you have anything on her?”
“Until now, I didn’t know Knox had any family. Lucien never made any mention of it.”
“Can you run a full workup on her?”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
“Thanks, just don’t tell anyone about this.” Almeada would not be happy.
Twelve
I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in Martin’s office. From up here, the city looked peaceful, but I knew the closer I got to ground level, the more chaotic things would be. Instead, I stared straight ahead, enjoying the view of the skyline. Then the phone rang.
It was Justin. “Knox’s half-sister, Emily Kane, moved into his house six months after he disappeared. She took over his mortgage payments since she had co-signed his loan. But I don’t think they were close. I haven’t found any photos on her social media that include Knox, and there’s no mention of her half-brother disappearing.” Renner had said the same thing.
“That’s family.”
“Last year, she had him declared dead. His house is now in her name, along with the rest of his assets.”
“Knox didn’t have any other relatives or a will?”
“No.”
I double-checked Cross’s files, but Emily’s name didn’t show up anywhere. According to Renner, the police had spoken to her, but at the time, she didn’t live locally and had an airtight alibi. “Can you send me the intel you’ve gathered?”
“I’ve already uploaded it to your dropbox.”
I hung up and printed hard copies from Martin’s printer.
Emily was married with two kids, both under the age of four. She had no criminal record. She’d been a corporate lawyer before becoming a stay-at-home mom who did freelance work from home. Her husband was a plumber. Neither of them had exorbitant means, but since Knox’s house was partially paid for, it made sense why they moved in.
On a whim, I gave her a call. The police had already given her the news of her half-brother’s demise. But she didn’t seem particularly distraught.
“You two weren’t close?” I asked.
“No. When Trey’s dad married my mom, we functioned like two separate families. Me and my parents, and Trey and his mom. Aside from the occasional birthday or Christmas card, I rarely heard from Trey. Once every few years, he’d pop up for a visit, but that was it. When I turned twenty-one, he took me to Atlantic City. He thought it’d be a nice, get-to-know-you sibling trip, but he spent the entire time in the casinos.”
“He was a gambler?” I’d come across that in Cross’s notes.
“Sportsbook mostly. That’s why he needed someone to co-sign the loan on his house. Trey made more than enough money, but he had debts due to his sports addiction.” She shook it off. “Who did you say you were?”
“Alexis Parker. I’m investigating Trey’s death.”
“I already told the cops everything when they first told me he disappeared and again when they found his body. Nothing’s changed since yesterday.”
“Do you still live in his house?”
“Yes,” she said slowly.
“Since you’re his only known relative, you inherited his possessions.”
“That’s correct.”
“Do you remember coming across a championship ring?” I shuffled through the pages until I found the description Knox had given when he filed the original police report and read it to her.
“No, I never found anything like that.”
“Are you sure? The police searched Trey’s house after he disappeared and said it was in his desk drawer.”
“They must be mistaken. I would have remembered finding something like that. Frankly, my husband and I would have been thrilled. Trey had credit card debt, which I had to pay off when I took control of his assets.”
“What about Trey’s bank accounts? Didn’t they cover it?”
“Not entirely. Interest rates are sky-high.”
“Do you know if Trey’s gambling ever got out of hand? Did he owe anyone money?”
“Just the credit card companies.”
I thanked her for her time and hung up. Before I could figure out my next course of action, the door opened, and Martin stepped inside.
“I see you made yourself at home behind my desk.”
“I wanted to see what it felt like to be in charge.” I climbed out of his chair. “It sucks.”
“Tell me about it.”
I grabbed the stack of pages. “I should go. I don’t want to get in the way.”
“Nonsense.” He went behind his desk, pulling files out of one of the cabinets before sliding into the chair I just vacated. “You don’t bother me. You can always just sit on my lap or pull up a chair.” He winked before entering his password and clicking through the info on the screen. “We could try sharing power.”
“Neither of us will get anything done that way.”
“Any updates?”
“I just spoke to Knox’s half-sister. It looks like the ring found on the body was the same one Knox hired Cross to recover.”
“Shit. I should get ahead of this before news breaks on his arrest.”
“That’ll probably happen as soon as he’s charged. Moretti’s serving a search warrant tomorrow morning. It’ll happen after that.”
“That gives me a little time, I guess.” He stared into my eyes.
“I won’t be able to get him released before that happens. This is too complicated a case, especially with so many factors working against him.”
“And you’re not entirely convinced he’s innocent.” Martin’s phone rang, and he held up a finger while he spoke to one of the secretaries. After he hung up, he muttered a few expletives.
“You have a lot going on. I’m gonna go so you can work without the distraction.”
“I do enjoy the distraction. I just wish it didn’t involve your boss and my business partner being behind bars.”
“If you have any sway, maybe you should call his dad or convince Cross to do it himself.”
“Do I know his dad?”
“Cross’s father is the police commissioner.”
“Oh.” He thought about it for a moment. “It makes sense, I guess. They have the same last name. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
“I just found out. There are a million Crosses in this city. How was I supposed to know the man hell-bent on thumbing his nose at the cops and proving he could do their jobs better and more efficiently was the commissioner’s son?”
“Well, you are an investigator, and Cross has a giant chip on his shoulder. He gets that from living in his father’s shadow. I can relate.” He snickered. “At least we know you don’t have daddy issues, like the rest of us.”
“No, I just have abandonment issues and a blind spot when it comes to the men who employ me.” I leaned down and kissed him gently. “Do whatever is best for your company. Wait, don’t wait, it’s up to you. Cross might not have killed Knox, but he’s not innocent. People in my line of work have blood on their hands.” In Cross’s case, it might be Russian blood.
* * *
SSA Mark Jablonsky opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of scotch. “Did you find anything new in the police report that you didn’t already know about?”
“No.”
Jablonsky had gotten the files pertaining to Knox. Renner’s notes r
ead more like a narrative, but the facts remained the same. The official reports were inconclusive, but they provided one thing I didn’t have before—a list of cops involved in the case. Aside from Moretti and Renner, I didn’t know any of the officers and detectives who worked the original investigation. But I’d make it a point to get to know them, starting with Officer Joe Gallo.
“Detective Heathcliff wouldn’t let you see it?” Jablonsky poured a hefty splash into a coffee mug and slid it toward me before grabbing a second cup from the top of his filing cabinet.
“Heathcliff does his best to follow the rules.”
“Tough to do around you.”
“I’ve warned him about that.” I picked up the scotch and took a sip, enjoying the warming sensation as it slid down my throat and spread through my chest. Flipping the report around, I pointed to the section which addressed Vasili Petrov’s connection to the storage unit. “Did you see this?”
“Uh-huh.” He knocked back the scotch and poured himself another, his eyes never leaving my face. “Interfering with organized crime never ends well.”
“No kidding.”
“At least you finally learned your lesson.”
“That’s why I need your opinion. The risk appears minimal, but if it’s not, I’ll have to drop the case. I won’t risk pissing off another crime boss.”
“What did Moretti have to say?”
“Every cop I’ve spoken to says the same thing. The Russians didn’t kill Knox.”
“But you’re afraid they have it wrong.”
I didn’t want to think about how close I’d come to losing Martin and my ability to look my reflection in the eye after pissing off a mobster, and thinking about the casualties would only trigger a panic attack. “Heathcliff lost someone because of me and that stupid decision. He wouldn’t tell me the Russians weren’t involved if he didn’t believe it. I just have to be sure.”
“He doesn’t blame you for Gwen.”
“I blame me.”
“I know. It’s why you sacrificed your career.” He shook his head. “We’re not getting into this. The point is, you know better than to fuck with organized crime. Italians, Russians, punks on street corners, it doesn’t matter. You stay the fuck away. End of story.”
I sucked in a shaky breath. “Yep, but the cops also said Cross killed Knox. And I don’t buy that, not after this.” I nodded down at the threat I received.
He slowly sipped from his mug. “You’ve lost sight of the obvious. This is Cross’s problem. Let him deal with it.”
“It’s not that simple. I’ve signed a contract with his attorney.”
“Break it. Marty knows good lawyers, and no contract is enforceable if it requires you to violate the law.”
“I’m not sure it does.”
“It puts you in danger.” He placed his index finger on top of the threatening note. “Here’s your proof.”
“It’s not about the contract,” I admitted.
“No shit.” Mark sighed. “This is about your misguided need to save everyone.”
“I wonder where I learned that.”
“It couldn’t have been from me. I trained you to keep your head down and do what you’re told. We all know how well you listened to those lessons.”
“But what if Cross didn’t kill Knox? What if this is a frame-up? Doesn’t he deserve the benefit of the doubt?”
“This morning, you thought he killed someone.”
“I still think that. I just don’t think it was Knox.”
“You think Cross had something to do with Vasili Petrov’s murder.”
“Knox alluded to the possibility on the recording.”
“That could have meant anything. Honestly, Alex, I don’t think Cross has the balls to do something like that.” He moved the keyboard over and entered a few things. “According to official accounts, Vasili Petrov was killed by the KXDs when he failed to deliver the drugs he promised. That led to the Russians retaliating and taking out several bangers. The cops stepped in and put a stop to it.”
“And everyone was under surveillance and it had nothing to do with Knox or Cross.”
“Bingo.”
“So what do you think happened?”
“Let me take a look.” Mark reached for the stack of files I’d placed on his desk. Despite what he might have wanted me to believe, he already had a theory and knew just as much as I did about what was going on, possibly more since he had the FBI databases to consult. “If I had to guess, I’d say Cross found the storage unit, ran down the name on the rental, and found the connection to Petrov. Since Cross has several ins with the police department, he heard about Petrov’s demise and decided to tell Knox the Russians would no longer be a problem. His client probably saw the headline in the paper and jumped to the wrong conclusion. Cross must be regretting that now, along with the threat he made on tape. Now that was fucking stupid.”
“People say things like that all the time. It doesn’t mean anything. I threaten to kill Martin on an hourly basis, but I’d never actually do it.”
“This is different. Knox is dead. Cross is in custody. It looks like he made good on his threat.”
“Why haven’t the police charged him yet?”
“Do I need to remind you about my stance regarding police incompetence?”
“Moretti’s your friend.”
“Still, he’s not the brightest crayon in the box. Case in point, he likes you.”
“You like me too.”
“You’re more like family. I have to like you.” He leaned back, gingerly stretching. I stared at his flat stomach, a side effect of nearly dying due to another of my screwups. Mark caught my gaze, rocked forward in the chair, and let out a grunt. “I’m fine. Better than fine.”
“So you’re going to help me help him?”
“Maybe.” He grabbed another file out of the drawer. “The police haven’t charged him yet because they are hoping to find the murder weapon. If they can’t, the next best thing would be to determine the exact time of Knox’s death. They want to find out when he got back to town. They won’t risk charging Cross with murder unless they know the case is airtight. Right now, it still has holes, but they’re running out of time.”
Which meant I was too. “I have to go,” I said.
“Alex, it’s noble to want to help. I know Lucien Cross has saved your life a time or two, but, keep in mind, your life wouldn’t have needed saving if he hadn’t put you in that position in the first place. You don’t owe him anything.”
“Maybe not. But if he goes down, Cross Security does too.” A lot of the investigators were former law enforcement officers who’d messed up. I often referred to us as broken toys. Cross gave us jobs, purpose, and a paycheck that did a decent job compensating for the hazards we faced. “This will impact Martin Technologies because they partnered together on that biotextiles R&D thing. I don’t want to think about what the ramifications will be for the people I care about if Cross is convicted of murder.”
“Cross made his bed. That has nothing to do with you. That was his decision. His mistake.”
“I’ve made plenty of my own.” I lost track of how many second and third chances I’d been given.
Mark blew out a breath and pointed a finger in my face. “Fine. You want to work this, we’ll work it. But I’m calling the shots. And for once in your life, you are going to do everything I tell you, when I tell you, and how I tell you. Do you understand?”
I nodded, resisting the urge to say something sarcastic or inappropriate. Now was not the time for jokes.
“I don’t like that some weirdo in a jumpsuit left a threat on your car, so we’re going to pull everything the Bureau has on Vasili Petrov, get the head of OCU in here, and perform a threat assessment. We need to know who’s in charge of the Russians now, if they’re loyal to Petrov, and if they’ve made any noise about getting revenge. If this has even the slightest hint of caviar or vodka about it, you’re walking. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.
”
He pointed to the tiny couch pressed against the wall in his cramped office. “Sit down and get comfortable. We’ll probably be here all night.”
Thirteen
The hours went by while we researched and reviewed. The vast FBI files and dossiers on the Russian mafia left little to the imagination. By the time we were finished, I knew all the major players, their wives, their kids, their mistresses, and the hired muscle. I knew what clubs they went to, what crimes they were suspected of committing, and what time they walked their dogs.
One thing was clear. They had no interest in Lucien Cross, which meant either Cross had nothing to do with Vasili Petrov’s murder or the Russians had been too busy focusing on the rival gang who shot their comrade to waste their time on some corporate gumshoe.
“It’s not the Russians. They didn’t kill Knox,” Mark said, watching as I crossed a few points off my list.
“The police had access to Knox’s home. The ring had been there, but according to Emily Kane, Knox’s half-sister, there was no ring.”
“Of course not. It’s on the dead guy’s finger.”
“Yeah.” I waited for Mark to reach the same conclusion I had.
Sighing, he let out a low whistle. “Someone could have stolen it. Knox’s house had been burglarized once before. The news of his disappearance was widespread. The thieves could have returned for a second pass, or someone else figured it’d be an easy score. Knox was an avid collector. According to Cross’s files, a lot of people knew that. Any one of them could have taken it.”
“The killer might have taken it to lure Knox back to town.”
“Or Knox went back to his house to get it. Either way, you have to figure out who his enemies are.”
“That’s the thing. No one knows. Cross insists Knox was involved in smuggling, but he doesn’t have any details.”
“Smuggling what specifically?”
I shrugged.
“Find out.” Mark jotted something down and stuck the sticky note to the corner of his monitor. “I’ll do some digging. We’ll discuss it tomorrow at lunch.”
“We’re having lunch?”