Deadly Enterprise

by Kevin G Chapman

  "Not to worry, Warren. I won't be staying long. I just wanted to let you know that you may want to watch the little Asian girl I was with tonight."

  "Why is that?" Magnan inquired, suddenly more interested.

  "She was asking me a bunch of questions about who I am and what I do, and whether I have any contacts with the police."

  "You think she's looking to turn snitch on us?"

  "It's possible. She was very attentive to me, and it was afterwards that she got inquisitive."

  "Thanks," Magnan said, standing up and hoping that the judge would do the same. "I'll make sure that this is not a problem for you, or for me."

  "See that you do," the judge said as he folded his overcoat across his arm and walked to the door. "I'm relying on your discretion."

  "And I yours," Magnan replied, closing the door. He listened for the buzz from the security door at the end of the hallway that indicated the departure of Judge Snell. He really didn't need this problem. He pulled out his cell phone and punched a speed dial button.

  "Eddie, I need you to pay a visit to Jade up in 313. She was asking a lot of questions to her last appointment and wanted to know if he knew anybody in the police department. She needs an attitude adjustment . . . No, I don't think so, just a refresher course on loyalty. It's a good lesson for the rest of them . . . No, let's not get drastic yet. I want to maintain a lower profile for a while . . . Thanks. I'm going to wrap up, you can give me a report tomorrow."

  Magnan stuffed his laptop into a leather briefcase, turned out the light, and left the room. The hallway reeked of sweat, weed, and beer. He scowled as he walked to the door, cursing himself for ever letting things get to this point, but at the same time vowing that he would end his purgatory soon.

  Ж Ж Ж

  Eddie held up a tiny plastic bag with several blue-green crystals languishing in the bottom. The baggie swung slowly back and forth in his hand. "You ready for your dessert, Jade?"

  "Mmhmm," the woman said, sitting up in the disheveled bed and tossing away a faux-satin sheet. She had an eager, hungry expression in her eyes. The left side of her red lace teddy dropped down over her shoulder, exposing the top half of her shapely breast, but Jade was oblivious. She crawled on all fours across the bed as seductively as she could manage, letting Eddie know that she would do anything – anything – to earn her dessert.

  “Did you take good care of your customer tonight?”

  “Of course I did,” Jade said with a wide smile.

  “That’s good. You know we need to keep the regulars happy.”

  “Mmhmm,” Jade purred, reaching out a slender hand and lightly stroking the crotch of Eddie’s blue jeans, hoping not to get a reaction. She got one, but it wasn’t the one she was expecting.

  Eddie reached down and grabbed Jade’s wrist with his left hand, pulling it away from his pants and twisting as he pulled upwards. Jade lost her balance and spun, falling onto her back on the bed as she cried out in pain. “You think you’re pretty fucking smart, eh?”

  “Wh-what?” Jade squeaked out, whimpering as Eddie continued to twist her arm painfully.

  “Don’t play dumb, bitch!”

  “Owwww!” She contorted her body, trying to relieve the pressure on her elbow. In the process, the red teddy bunched up, exposing her smooth buttocks as her long black hair spilled down onto the sheets. “Get off!”

  “You’d like that, huh?” Eddie growled as he stretched out his right hand, still holding the meth baggie and slapping Jade across the side of her face. “You gotta cut the chatter with the customers. You got that?” Jade could only groan in response. “You talk to him about the police again and I’ll make sure you sleep with the fishes. You get me?”

  “Ahh, okay!” Jade screamed as Eddie increased the pressure on her twisted elbow.

  Eddie gave her arm one last turn, causing Jade to scream even louder. She fell off the bed in a heap as he released her. He held up the bag of blue-green crystals and waved it toward her as she sobbed softly. “You get no juice tonight, sweetheart. You get some when you behave.”

  “No! Please!” Jade pleaded, reaching out with her uninjured arm.

  “You come see me tomorrow. We’ll talk again. Now get that sweet ass down to your room. Tina will be around in a little while to check on you.” Eddie turned and walked out of the room, a satisfied smile on his face.

  Chapter 32 – Black Tie Affair

  Saturday, March 30

  THAT SATURDAY AT 6:00 p.m., Mike and Michelle arrived in a Lyft car at the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Fifth Avenue. It was bitterly cold and starting to sleet as they arrived. The area in front of the main stairs was cordoned off by police, who were allowing limos and cabs in to drop off passengers. Flood lights bathed the white marble steps, which had a red carpet running up to the Corinthian columns that flanked the main doors. The Hero’s Ball was one of the social events of the season, and a phalanx of photographers and video teams surrounded the drop-off area to get pictures of the arriving celebrities, officials, business tycoons, donors to the Met and to the mayor’s re-election committee, and honored guests.

  Michelle stepped out of the car, allowing her black dress to ride up over her knee and show off a toned thigh, covered in dark nylon. She planted her silver sequined Jimmy Choo sandal on the red carpet at the curb and allowed a tuxedo-clad valet to help her out to a standing position, where her best diamond earrings sparkled in the bright lights. She had her hair styled in an alluring curve around her cheekbones. She was smiling – beaming, really – as she gazed around at the spectacle. She took three steps forward along the red carpet before turning suddenly and looking back for Mike, who was still struggling to climb out of the car. Mike waved off the valet’s offer of assistance and got out. His hair was slicked back and matted down with styling gel, which Michelle had insisted would make him look dignified and would keep his hair in place for all the pictures. In his rented tux, Mike felt like an extra in a bad gangster movie.

  But when Mike saw Michelle’s smiling face and how fabulous she looked in that new black dress, he had to just shrug and tell himself to go with it. He had told Michelle repeatedly that he did not like big public affairs like this. Michelle had insisted that it was a great honor for him to be invited by the mayor to get a medal of honor for his heroism, and besides, she had always wanted to go to one of these big swanky New York City gala events. She was acting like it was the Academy Awards and she was nominated for Best Performance by a Medical Examiner. He had to shake his head and chuckle, looking at her with a valet holding a huge umbrella over her head. He offered her an arm and escorted her up the red-carpeted stairs.

  He really didn’t think he deserved to be recognized as a hero. He had not felt much like one after he nearly got Michelle killed and barely escaped the ordeal with his own life. Not dying was hardly a reason for accolades. But the mayor and the police commissioner had insisted that the city needed it, and they wanted Mike and Jason to get some glory. Jason, as a Black detective, would look great in photos standing next to the mayor. That much Mike understood.

  Inside the monstrous building, they were escorted to a large, open room with a three-story-high ceiling, which had been transformed into a ballroom for the occasion. A string quartet played Mozart in the far corner. The setting looked like a royal mansion in Vienna more than the middle of Manhattan. The place was not yet fully packed with guests, but Mike could immediately see that there were not nearly enough chairs around the small circular tables lining the walls to accommodate even the current population of the room. He was going to be doing a lot of standing.

  Mike looked around for Jason, whose six-foot-three frame normally stood out in crowds. With most of the men wearing tuxedos in the dimly lit space, however, Mike could not find him, assuming he was even there yet. Michelle had wanted to be on the early side so that she could enjoy the whole evening. She glided across the marble floor on Mike’s arm. Mike marveled at her ability to balance herself on the four-inch heels she
was wearing, but he did love the way she looked and didn’t mind the illusion of her being a little taller. They both plucked glasses of champagne from a silver tray being passed around by a waiter. Michelle clinked her glass against his.

  “I’m loving this, Mike,” she said with a dreamy look in her eyes. Mike leaned down and gave her a light kiss, just next to her mouth so as not to smear her lipstick.

  They found a tall, round table covered with a black tablecloth. There was a single votive candle burning in a glass enclosure and casting a pathetically dim glow around the center of the small, otherwise empty space. There were no chairs, but at least the little table gave them a place to put down their glasses. Mike glanced around again, scanning for Jason, his eyes stopping on each couple. The women were dressed in as much glitter, gold leaf trim, and lace as Mike could ever recall seeing in one place. Every woman seemed to be trying to upstage every other woman and garner the center of attention. Mike looked back at Michelle and smiled at her. She looked great. Her dress was tasteful and elegant and not at all flashy. It suited her.

  Mike told Michelle to guard their table while he made an assault on the appetizer tables along the far side of the massive room. When he returned with one plate of finger food and one plate piled high with veggies and fruit, he saw that a small crowd had gathered around Michelle. He immediately recognized the back of Jason’s head, sprouting up from his tuxedo jacket. Next to Jason, Mike saw the backside of a tall woman in a deep purple gown, her black hair piled up on top of her head in an elaborate arrangement. The dress had a plunging open back that exposed her dark skin and the outline of her spine down to a dangerously low point.

  Mike set his plates down proudly on the table, just as Jason noticed him. “Hey, Mike,” Jason said with a broad smile, showing off his perfect, white teeth. “You know Rachel Robinson, don’t you?”

  “Sure I do,” Mike said, taking her hand and stretching up on his toes to give her a kiss on the cheek. She really was tall, and probably wearing heels to boot. Jason didn’t tower over her like he did with most women. “I’m guessing your father was a baseball fan.”

  Rachel giggled softly, causing her sequined dress to shimmer all around her well-curved body. “Yes, well, it was more my grandfather, who was a die-hard Brooklyn Dodgers fan. He made my father promise that if he ever had a son, he’d name him Jack. Well, he had me and had to settle for Rachel. Oh!” Rachel exclaimed, reaching for a sequined clutch purse that closely matched the color of her dress. “Wait, I need to get a selfie with you.”

  Rachel pulled out her cell phone and put an arm around Mike, stretching her long arm out in front of them and posing for a photo. “I have to get a shot with the big hero.”

  “I can assure you, Jason is more of a hero than I am,” Mike said.

  “Oh, yes!” Rachel squealed. “Jason, Jason – come here!” She pulled Jason towards her and made him pose with her and Mike for another picture. Rachel was radiating happiness. She then gathered Michelle into the group for one more shot before Michelle reached out and pulled Mike away.

  Michelle directed Mike to a group of guests standing around the other side of their little table. She immediately grabbed the arm of the man standing next to her.

  “Oh, Mister Zemeckis, this is Mike.” Then, turning, she grabbed Mike’s arm and pulled him toward the man. She was glowing. Zemeckis had a jovially round face featuring round, wire-rimmed glasses. He was about Mike’s height and looked to be in his late sixties, with graying hair swept back from his forehead. His tuxedo looked a little worn and was obviously not a rental. He flashed a practiced smile and thrust out his hand toward Mike. As they shook, Michelle made the introduction. “Mike, this is Robert Zemeckis, the film director and producer.”

  Mike did a double-take, muttering, “I’m glad to meet you,” as he struggled to remember what movies he could associate with the familiar name.

  “We were just watching Who Framed Roger Rabbit last week, Mr. Zemeckis. It’s one of Mike’s favorite films, right Mike?” Michelle nudged him with her elbow.

  “Yeah, oh, yeah,” Mike stumbled, disengaging his handshake with the director.

  “Good to meet you, Detective Stoneman,” Zemeckis said. “A friend of mine tells me that he’s working on a project involving your last big case. Are you consulting on that?”

  “No,” Mike said quickly, “I’m not involved.”

  “Well, that’s too bad, Detective. It’s a Hell of a story. It’d be a shame if they get it wrong.”

  “I’m sure they’d get it wrong even if I were consulting,” Mike replied, making eye contact with Jason.

  Jason turned to Rachel and Mike got his first good look at the front of the purple dress. The neckline in the front did not plunge as far as the back. Mike found himself staring at her chest and quickly looked up at her face. She was made up with a bit too much color for Mike’s liking, but he had to admit that it matched her gown remarkably well.

  Mike was not keen on jumping back into the conversation between Michelle and Robert Zemeckis, nor did he want to do anything to keep her from enjoying the moment with a celebrity. He popped a cheesy puffed pastry into his mouth and looked out over the expanse of guests without really focusing on anyone in particular. Then, a shrill voice caught his attention.

  “Oh, my gaawd! I can’t believe it!” the voice exclaimed in a distinctive New Jersey accent. “There he is! Allan, you have to – Allan!” she yelled out, scoldingly, as if admonishing a young child to keep up in the mall. The woman wore a red dress wrapped in horizontal pleats around her shapely body. The fabric shimmered in the dim light. At its strapless top, the dress encased the woman’s enormous breasts from both sides, pressing them together into twin mountains of cleavage that mesmerized Mike momentarily. When he looked up at her face, below a bee-hive of blonde curls, his mind sparked a hint of recognition that he could not quite tap into fully. She had blue eyes surrounded by so much shadow and mascara and such huge false eyelashes that it was hard to focus on her actual pupils. She was dripping in diamonds on her ears and around her neck. The skin on her face was stretched tight and covered with a glossy sheet of makeup, and her lips were plastered with a thick coat of lipstick that exactly matched the color of her dress. She wobbled up to the little table as if having trouble balancing on her high heels, but then Mike saw that the bottom half of the red dress was wrapped so tightly around her thighs that she could barely move her legs to walk. She held out a hand toward Mike, palm down. Mike immediately saw the large diamond protruding from her ring finger – so big it belonged behind a glass case at the Museum of Natural History.

  Mike took the offered hand and pantomimed a kiss without actually allowing his lips to touch her skin, still puzzling over who she was and why she seemed familiar. A pace or two behind the woman came a man in a tuxedo. His shirt collar was a little too tight, causing the fatty skin of his neck to bulge out over the edges. He was short – much shorter than the woman, even allowing for some extra heel-height, with thinning black hair combed over his scalp and slicked down with oil of some kind. He had a haggard look about his round face, which was otherwise pleasant enough if not very memorable, with dark eyes and a distinctly well-fed appearance. His bow tie was askew and Mike immediately sensed that, like himself, this man really didn’t want to be here. The man was totally unfamiliar to Mike, so he turned his attention back to the hand of the woman, which he was still holding. He dropped his own arm down, releasing her hand in the process, and decided to drop all pretenses and just ask her.

  “That’s a lovely dress,” Mike began, hoping to segue into an introduction. But he never got the chance.

  “Thanks, Detective Stoneman. Oh, yeah, I remember it’s Detective. I never forget a face, you know. I have a photogenic memory.”

  Mike raised an eyebrow, but didn’t try to correct the woman, who was clearly a rolling freight train that would not be stopped.

  “And I know I called your partner ‘officer’ and he made sure to correct me. I r
emember. Allan!” she called out impatiently, looking behind her and holding out her other hand, even as she kept talking. “Allan – I met these two detectives after my scumbag ex-husband was killed. The best thing that ever happened to me.” Then she turned to Mike again. “Detective, I want you to meet my new husband, Mr. Allan Rosen, who I will say is far more financially secure than that scum-sucking worm Nick DiVito, who I know you never actually met, until he was dead, I mean, but I told you what an asshole he was so it’s almost like you knew him. But look at me now!” she said as her voice went up even higher. She raised one arm above her head in a kind of Marilyn Monroe pose as she turned to the side. “I found a man who really appreciates me.” She looked down at the still uncomfortable-looking man and motioned for him to step forward. “Allan! Say hello to one of the honorees of tonight’s ball, Detective Mike Stoneman, the man who took out the Righteous Assassin.”

  The man took a step forward and offered Mike a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Detective. Helene has told me about how she helped you with your investigation.”

  Mike smiled and said, “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, Mister Rosen.” By the time Mrs. Rosen had finished talking, his memory was fully refreshed. The woman was previously married to Nick DiVito, the first victim of Ronald Randall the prior April. Jason and Mike had interviewed her in August as they began their investigation into what turned out to be six related murders. The former Mrs. DiVito had made it abundantly clear to the two detectives that she was not at all disappointed that her husband was dead, although she was quite upset that she had not inherited much money out of the deal.

  Before Mike could plan a strategy for extraction from the conversation, the woman turned her attention to Jason and loudly announced to the group, “And I remember you, too, Detective Jason Dickson!” She stepped past Rachel without so much as a “pardon me” and extended her bejeweled hand toward Jason, who took it lightly in his fingers and just gave it a small squeeze before releasing. “I want you all to know that it was this man who was in charge of that investigation. He was the one who figured out that my ex had been the first victim. He was the one asking all the questions last summer. I know he didn’t kill the bastard, but he was just as responsible, don’t you think?” She pointed at Jason proudly, as if she were the first person to solve a mystery.