“Could you find out who else Mr. Leeden met with in person? If you could email that to me…” Jordan handed her a card. “That’s all for now, thank you Ms. Vaughn. We’ll be in touch.”
“Will we?” Derek asked when they were back in the car. “It’s interesting for sure, but highly circumstantial. I’m not sure there’s enough.”
“You’ve been reading Kate’s books? I have a feeling. Something is going to happen. And I think I might want to talk to Torres and have her ask Hank about Leeden. Meanwhile…” She stopped when her cell phone rang.
Chucky Mulveney wanted to talk.
Chapter Seventeen
April had come through and given her the address. Joan Dempsey, the woman who had thought she’d finally found her daughter, agreed to meet Ellie.
She quickly went to see Maria Doss to explain the situation. To her relief, Maria didn’t comment, just promised to call her if necessary.
Ellie went on her way, hoping to get closer to solving a mystery. Her drive took her about half an hour out of the city to a residential neighborhood. The door of the split-level house was opened to her the moment her finger was on the doorbell. Natalie’s other likely victim was eager to talk.
“Ms. Dempsey, thank you for meeting me.”
“It’s no problem. I never imagined I’d hear anything about this ever again…let alone from someone who was fooled like I was.”
Ellie wasn’t sure she liked that interpretation, but she didn’t have much of an alternative one. She followed Dempsey into an open concept living area, where the woman gestured for her to sit.
“I made coffee if you’d like one? This situation certainly calls for something stronger, but I suppose you’re still on the clock.”
“I’d love a coffee. Thank you.” She was technically right, even though Natalie’s case didn’t have anything to do with Homicide. At least that’s what they all thought.
Ms. Dempsey brought two steaming mugs to the coffee table where she’d already put milk and sugar. She sat down in an armchair across from Ellie.
“So, that woman has resurfaced again. Are you any closer to catching her?”
“We are following different leads at the moment.” That was better, being the one in control, in charge. Not the naïve victim who had fallen for the sob story. But she had. Fallen. Ellie cleared her throat. “You said she left you a letter as well?”
“Oh yes. Can you imagine? What is wrong with people?” She handed Ellie a piece of paper that looked exactly like the one Natalie had left her. Reading the few lines, she recognized the style and some familiar content. I wish I actually was your daughter.
Did Natalie steal identities because she lacked a sense of her own?
“It was so bizarre,” Dempsey remembered. “She knew that I had been trying to find my daughter, and what it meant to me. It was like she reveled in giving me that gift and then snatching it away again.”
That was exactly Ellie’s impression.
“Did she take money?”
“Some. She protested when I wanted to pay for the vacation, I insisted, she eventually accepted it. And she used one of my credit cards for a short time—without asking. She left with a necklace that was fairly expensive, but it never turned up in the pawn shops, or anywhere else, for that matter. Detective, can you tell me what this was really about?”
“I wish I could. My parents died in a car accident, years ago. Natalie, that’s what she called herself, told me she was my sister, from a previous relationship my father had…” God, I should have known. “She had a picture. It’s most likely been fabricated, like the rest of the story.”
“I’m really sorry,” Dempsey said, and, startled, Ellie realized there were tears in her eyes. Not now. It had become her mantra over the past few days. If she kept repeating it, the urge would go away. It had to.
“This time, you will find her, right?”
“Yes. We will.”
There could be no doubt.
“You know, there is something else,” Ms. Dempsey said. “I hadn’t written a will before. I’ve been by myself for some time, and I didn’t see the need, though when Liane came along, I thought about it. I talked about it with her, and like with the trip, she said no at first, but then agreed. I guess I’m lucky?”
Ellie wished there could have been something she knew for sure about Nathalie. Thalia. Liane. At least she knew this for sure—they wouldn’t stop until they had all the answers.
“I’ll let you know when we find her,” she said.
* * * *
Jordan barely refrained from checking on Ellie once more. Marjorie Vaughn had come through and sent a list of names, prospective tenants Leeden had met with in person. Most of them were unfamiliar, but some stood out: Owens, Robertson’s bodyguard, Oswald and the man who had been guarding the hotel room. Two of them were now dead. Someone had obviously tried to tie up lose ends.
If there was anything else Owens knew this fact might help them get to the bottom of it.
First, they met with Mulveney who nervously ushered them through the back entrance of Rigley’s. They had once busted him for illegal gambling, and he had other entries on his rap sheet, but he’d been behaving for a few months—and how, he apparently had something to tell them.
“Please tell me we didn’t come here for nothing,” she said to him.
“Oh, you won’t say this is nothing,” Mulveney uttered. He had the appearance of someone who hadn’t slept much in the past few days, and was fighting the urge to look over his shoulder.
There was a wall behind him.
“First of all, I swear I had no idea all this bad shit was going on in this neighborhood.”
“That’s a surprise. We thought you know the neighborhood pretty well.”
“I used to. We used to do our own thing here, but this…Those guys who were killed came from out of town, to do business for some big shot trafficker.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not news to us,” Jordan reminded him. “Focus?”
“The lease for Rigley’s is up. I had some lawyer type come over and tell me not to renew it. I thought nothing about it, you know? When I took over earlier this year, the bar’d been here for over a decade, so I don’t think I’m going anywhere, right? That’s what I told him. Last night, they sent another guy. Told me I have twenty-four hours to vacate the premises.” Mulveney lifted up his shirt.
Jordan saw Derek wince at the angry bruise that ran almost the length of his torso.
“Protect and serve, that’s your job, right? I’d appreciate it right about now.”
“Okay, we’ll figure something out. Who are these people?”
“We rented from the family who owned the building at first, but they sold to one of those huge developers years ago.”
“Would that be LHS?” Jordan asked. It would almost be too good to be true—if they could prove that LHS had been sheltering illegal activities under their roofs, they would go down. And this kind of business practices sounded much like taking care of loose ends.
“No, Cartwright Properties,” he said to Jordan’s disappointment. “I called them already and yelled—they deny having sent someone, but they still want me out. They’re also going to raise the rent. So what are you going to do about this mess?”
“They’re going to come back to see if you upheld your end of the bargain. We’ll be there. Don’t worry.”
“Never thought I’d hear that from a cop,” Mulveney said. “I really want to believe you, but I’m not sure I do.”
Jordan ignored the jibe. “Since we’re already here, I’d like you to look at some pictures, see if you recognize anyone.”
“Yeah, sure, glad to be of service.”
Regardless of the sarcastic tone, he watched the slideshow, stopping on Leeden.
“That’s the big boss of Cartwright,” he said. “I’ve never met him in person, but I know it’s him.”
“Thanks, Chucky. Now let’s see how we can properly welcome them.”
>
* * * *
Ellie was grateful for a busy day that involved more research on Cartwright Properties and eventually, a meeting with A.D.A. Esposito.
The company had started out as a family business twenty years ago, but had been bought out by its competitor LHS seven years ago. In the meantime, LHS had acquired more and more property in the area, including the buildings on Johnson Street and Newton, and the one that housed Rigley’s. Areas with higher crime rates seemed to be their specialty—in the time they owned the buildings, rent had gone up, though it didn’t seem like they had done much in terms of renovations. The crime statistics had changed slightly in accordance with the general trend, but it seemed like they were overcharging. The people who could pay were those who made money on the side—like Mulveney, or Oswald and Dinkins.
Another couple of searches turned up the fact that Owens had rented an apartment not far from Rigley’s, in addition to the living space his job as Robertson’s bodyguard had bought him. Lastly, Cartwright also owned a building housing several businesses, including a hairdresser, a Laundromat, and a pub.
She also looked deeper into the LHS scandal, and put everything together to hopefully convince Esposito that they needed to take a hard look at the company’s finances.
Before she went to see her, Ellie took a moment to reflect on her conversation with Ms. Dempsey. She couldn’t help wondering how many more there were, who had opened their doors to Natalie. How many more it would take for her to stop, and what would be the catalyst to make her. Ellie shook her head. It didn’t matter. They’d find her first, and she’d have a lot to answer for.
* * * *
After they had set up everything to welcome the goons Leeden had apparently sent, Jordan went back to the department where she inadvertently crashed Ellie’s meeting with A.D.A. Esposito.
Whatever challenges they had to face together and individually, she couldn’t help the moment of pride at seeing proof that Ellie was well coming into her own in the job she’d always wanted. Ellie, of course, had many other things on her mind today, but Valerie saw through her. Perhaps it wasn’t all that hard, because she wore her heart on her sleeve when it came to Ellie.
“Detective Carpenter, did you need anything, or did you just come here to watch us?”
Ellie didn’t say anything, but she seemed a bit flustered.
“A good day to you too, counselor. Where are we on those warrants?”
“Still a bit thin what you have, but I see where you’re going with this. It’s coming together.”
“Good. These people bought up properties all over town. There’s no way they had no clue what was going on in any of them.”
“There are too many dead bodies for it to be a coincidence,” Ellie agreed. “Owens’ name came up again, too.”
“Interesting.” Jordan picked up one of the sheets Ellie had brought, a list of buildings owned by LHS/Cartwright. Outside the ones she already knew, another caught her eye, the place where Kim Geller, also a tenant on Newton where Dinkins and Oswald had been killed, worked as a hairdresser. She had led them to Rigley’s and Mulveney in another case. “Definitely too many connections. Keep digging—and we’ll see what the folks who roughed up Mulveney will tell us...” She checked her watch. “Well, later tonight.”
“You need me for that?”
“No, you keep doing what you’re doing.” She wanted to ask how Ellie’s encounter with Natalie’s other victim had gone, but not in front of Valerie. Since that case was of a highly private nature, she was going to wait until they were home—which could be a while. “Thanks. I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Could have done that on the phone.”
Valerie had definitely meant for her to hear those words. Jordan didn’t think she needed to comment on them.
* * * *
She would go home to shower and change, and then come back to meet Derek at Rigley’s. When she was ready to leave, Ellie still sat at her desk with piles of printouts and files.
“You’ll be okay?” she asked.
“Yes. It’s moving along. I’ll let you know if we find something.”
“All right then. I’ll see you sometime later tonight—or in the morning, depending on how it goes.”
“Yeah. Be careful.”
“Always am.”
Given that they were almost alone, Jordan dared a quick kiss and reluctantly turned to leave.
“Come here for a second?” Ellie asked, resigned. When Jordan perched on the edge of her desk, she sighed. “This,” she said, indicating the papers, “is good for me. It keeps me from thinking about this whole mess every moment of the day. I’ll be okay, but right now I’m not sure I am. I am so pissed. How could this happen to me? How could I let her trick me?”
“She’s a pro,” Jordan reminded her. “It appears that she has done this many times, and people like that…They find a weakness and zoom in on it.”
“Yeah. I hate that I was such an easy target.”
“Everyone believed her. And if it makes you feel better—that’s how Darby worked, and he got away with it for too long.” Even dead, the man was a shadow never too far behind. He had been too eager offering solutions when Jordan’s life was a mess. Natalie had figured out what Ellie wished for, and she had a good story ready.
“No, that doesn’t make me feel better. You think she might have killed anyone?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell at this point.”
“Right. You have to go.”
“Yes. Hang in there. We’ll talk later.”
Chapter Eighteen
Driving to Rigley’s forty-five minutes later, Jordan acknowledged she was deeply unsettled by all those loose ends—some unconnected, but they all bothered her. Natalie, or whatever her real name was. They needed to find her before she could mess with someone else’s life, or, worse, put some sort of bigger plan in motion. She had been in their home. Perhaps she shouldn’t have linked her to Darby—she was freaking herself out.
While they might be getting closer to finding out who had killed Dinkins, Oswald, and the man on Johnson Street, Isabel Combs remained missing. Nina Torres had been right, she thought. That was what mattered, to give closure to the families, bring down the perpetrators. But in this case, the ones who killed the traffickers could be just as bad. They couldn’t stand back and pretend these murders had never happened.
Officers Casey Lyons and Wes Martin were guarding Rigley’s at this moment. It was early for the goons to show up, the twenty-four hours not up yet—but maybe they would return earlier if they found that Mulveney made no effort to move. It might be that the episode with Natalie had made her paranoid, but she had a bad feeling, the setup reminiscent of the situation at the safe house in which Kate’s fiancé Jensen Baker had been killed. An ambush orchestrated by a man who was now serving a life sentence, her own biological father.
It was ironic that Ellie had been vulnerable because she wished to have family by blood in her life.
It was the complete opposite for Jordan—hers made everything infinitely more complicated.
* * * *
When the email from April appeared in her inbox, Ellie wasn’t sure if she should be excited or upset. No matter how much leeway Jordan, or anyone else for that matter, was willing to give her—she felt like she had failed. Her parents, Madeline, her mother’s friend who had doubted Natalie from the start, and herself. She hadn’t even known how much she’d wanted that connection, something Natalie had tapped into and exploited to her advantage—but what advantage, really? A bit of money spent and the satisfaction of fooling the people around her? What was the endgame?
She opened the mail to find a couple of photos attached.
I doubt that this is her mother, April wrote. That lady is a picture from a stock photo site. Very well made though.
Just more proof at how she’d failed to pay attention. Natalie had created her persona well enough to pass a basic background check, but she had left traces. Ellie wr
ote a quick thank you, and then surveyed the files still on her desk. She could return to them tomorrow…but the house would be empty for at least a few more hours. Ellie went to get herself a coffee from the break room and went back to work.
* * * *
“So, Kate and I were talking…” Derek began. They had settled in, ready to spend the next few hours waiting.
“Talking is good.”
“Yeah. We were thinking about a weekend in Vegas, and wondering if you and Ellie wanted to join us.”
Inside Rigley’s, Mulveney had closed for the evening. They were watching the back, another pair of detectives at the front entrance. Jordan nearly dropped her paper cup with the coffee in it.
“Say that again. No, wait. Now?”
“Why not? It’s been a pretty rough case. As for Ellie’s pretend sister, there is no news. I’m sure you guys could use some time away. Just a weekend.”
“A weekend is enough time to get into trouble,” Jordan mused. “Do I sense ulterior motives?” She was intrigued, and a bit alarmed at the same time. Kate and Derek had broken up, and then got back together not long ago. She wondered whose idea this trip was. Kate, after all, had revealed that she would prefer to keep things casual.
“The motive is to play a little blackjack and have some drinks in a bar where it’s unlikely we run into a supervisor. Come on. It’ll be fun.”
This looked more and more like a cover story. Jordan could count the occasions when she’d seen Carroll at the Code 7 or the Night Shift, on one hand.
“You bought a ring. Are you sure this is the right—”
“Carpenter, you don’t know everything. There is no ring.”
“If you say so.” Jordan had received the message that this was not a subject to continue. “All right, sure, it would be fun, though I’m not entirely sure about the timing. I think Ellie is going to need some time to absorb everything that happened.”
“She can take all the time she needs. Friday to Sunday. That’s all.”
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