by A. P. Eisen
“You were asking so many questions before, and now I find you down here, snooping through my things. What’s going on?”
She kicked him again, and Cliff fell back against the lockers, crying out from the pain. He was trapped. Even worse, Paul had no idea where he was.
“You know, don’t you?”
He decided to play dumb, which considering the alternative—arguing with a demented killer—seemed much smarter.
“Know what?” His body ached, and it hurt to draw a breath.
“Cut the bullshit,” she spat in his face, eyes wild. “I’ve seen you hanging out with those detectives, and then you just happen to come by and start questioning me about Jerry? What do you know?” She twisted his wrist painfully, and he gasped.
“I don’t know anything really.”
Something flashed in her hand, and horrified, Cliff caught sight of a small paring knife, like the ones from the bar upstairs. He tried to scramble away, but she had him cut off, pinned between her and the wall of lockers. Her knee rested against his groin, and he trembled, unwilling to face another painful attack.
“Move and I’ll cut you apart. Tell me what you told the cops.”
“Nothing. I swear.” He panicked, and his shaky voice rose while sweat broke out all over his body. “I don’t know anything.”
Still holding the knife, she shifted closer.
“But we do, Amy. You killed Jerry, didn’t you? Let Cliff go now.”
Cliff had never been so happy to see anyone in his life.
But Amy wasn’t done, and she pressed that small knife with its very sharp blade to his neck.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After their conversation with Jade Kennedy, Cliff wasn’t at the bar when they passed by, but the man did have a job managing a big hotel and couldn’t spend his entire workday helping them. He and Rob decided to take a seat in one of the quiet areas at the front of the hotel lobby.
“Well? What do you think?” Rob stretched out in the comfortable club chair the hotel had set up before a fake fireplace.
“I think Amy’s the one. I’d bet my pension on it.”
“Same.” Rob cracked his knuckles.
Paul winced. “Have I ever told you that is a disgusting habit?”
Rob smirked. “It’s a stress reliever. It’s either that or sex.”
“Okay. Moving on. So Jade said that none of the staff is allowed to wear sneakers, no matter the color. Most wear slip-ons or lace-ups. She didn’t know exactly what Amy wore, but did confirm that Amy changed into her uniform when she came to work.”
From the corner of his eye, Paul saw Amy stride through the lobby, then disappear behind the front desk.
“So we need to get into that locker.”
Paul agreed. “And since an employee has no expectation of privacy, we don’t need to ask a judge for a search warrant.”
Rob heaved himself out of the chair. “Let’s do it. I’ll bet you a steak dinner we find sandy, worn-down sneakers that match the footprints found by Jerry’s body.”
“I won’t take that bet because I know you’re right.”
It might have seemed macabre to be betting on a murder investigation, but at this stage, when they could almost taste the final outcome, it put them in the mindset to finish it off and put the killer behind bars.
“Let’s find Cliff and get the locker key,” Rob said, right on his heels.
They had to wait several minutes for the front-desk clerk to finish checking in new arrivals.
“Good afternoon, Detectives. Can I help you?” Marvin King gave them his best smile.
“Can you let Cliff Baxter know we’re on our way to his office? Thanks.” He and Rob only took a few steps before King called out to them.
“Oh, Mr. Baxter isn’t there. He went down to the employees’ locker room.”
“Why the hell would he do that?” Rob asked.
Alarm pinged through Paul. “I have no clue.” He appealed to the desk clerk. “Which way to the locker rooms?”
“Downstairs. Go down the hallway. You can take the stairs or the service elevator down to one.”
Paul patted the desk. “Thanks.” He turned to Rob. “Let’s go.”
He sprinted away with Rob on his heels. An ugly thought entered his head. “A few minutes ago I saw Amy come this way. What if she was tipped off by Cliff’s questioning her? He could be in danger.”
“Guy should leave the investigating to us.”
They rounded the corner. “Let’s take the stairs.” They entered the stairwell and pounded down the steps. “We asked him to help. We told him to question her.” They reached the bottom step and he stopped. “We put him in the crosshairs of a potential killer. What the fuck were we thinking?” The cold sweat of fear soaked through him at the thought of Cliff in danger.
Rob put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s a smart guy. He can handle himself.”
Paul gave a terse nod, then opened the door. A large empty room greeted them. He pointed at the women’s locker room, and Rob nodded. With years of work between them, he and Rob didn’t need to talk much as they entered. A single path led to the rows of lockers on either side. A long wooden bench bisected the walkway.
Low voices reached them, and Paul strained to make them out, but they were coming from the next row, on the other side. An eerie sense of unease raised the hairs on his neck. Instinct told him something didn’t smell right.
They heard a cry of pain.
“That’s Cliff.”
Fear shot through Paul, and he waved at Rob to follow him. They crept toward the voices, when another cry split the air. When they rounded the corner, Paul’s breath caught. Amy had Cliff on the ground, up against the open locker.
“Cut the bullshit. I’ve seen you hanging out with those detectives, and then you just happen to come by and start questioning me about Jerry? What do you know?” She twisted Cliff’s wrist, and he gasped.
“I don’t know anything really.”
Cliff tried to get away, but Amy had her knee pressed to Cliff’s groin, and Paul couldn’t help but wince, knowing now why Cliff had cried out.
“Move and I’ll cut you apart. Tell me what you told the cops.” Then Paul saw the knife in her hand, and an incredible rage built up within him. He wouldn’t lose another person he cared about to a senseless death.
“Nothing. I swear.” Cliff’s voice rose. “I don’t know anything.”
“But we do, Amy. You killed Jerry, didn’t you? Let Cliff go now.”
A powerful need rushed through Paul to help Cliff, but before he could draw his next breath, Amy pushed the blade against Cliff’s throat.
“Shit,” Rob swore under his breath.
“Amy, put the knife down.”
“Why?” she asked. “So you can shoot me?”
“No one wants to hurt anyone. We want you to get the help you need.”
Cliff’s wide, frightened eyes shifted from him to Rob, and he could see the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
“Amy, please let me go.”
“Shut up.” She pressed the edge closer, and Paul watched as a drop of blood stained the pristine white collar of Cliff’s shirt. “You’re as much to blame as anyone. You knew I needed the money, but it didn’t matter. Did you fuck him too?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cliff’s face turned a sickening shade of gray.
Her lips twisted in an ugly smile, and Paul’s stomach cramped with fear.
“Weekends were my shifts. I made enough money to take care of Mason with the tips I got. Everything was fine until you hired him. Once Jerry came, he took all that away from me. He seduced Jade, and she gave my shifts to him. I lost half my salary.” She jerked her hand, and Cliff hissed.
“Amy, I didn’t know. You should’ve said something.”
“I did. I went to Jade, but she didn’t give a shit. She only cared about Jerry. Whatever that bastard wanted, he got.”
“You should’ve come to me
. We would’ve worked something out.”
But Amy wasn’t listening. “That weekend shift gave me security for Mason. Jerry took that from me. I tried to talk to him. I begged him to let us do one off and one on. But he didn’t care. ‘Not my problem,’ he said. He deserved to die, the selfish prick. I barely made enough to pay the rent. How was I going to help my son?”
The longer she spoke, the more time Paul had to think about how he’d extricate Cliff from the situation.
“Amy, if you kill me, it’s only going to make it worse for Mason.”
Cliff interacting with Amy shocked Paul, and he wanted to tell him to be quiet, but Amy, in her madness, thought to listen.
“How?”
“Maybe if you let me go, you can work out a deal with the police to get Mason help. But if you kill me in cold blood, they’ll lock you up, and what will happen to Mason then? Right, Detectives?”
With his heart in his throat, Paul watched Cliff’s words penetrate Amy’s confused mind. In a strange way, he almost felt sorry for her.
“He’s right. Give me the knife, and we’ll talk.”
“He’s getting to her,” Rob whispered in his ear. “Her hand’s shaking.”
Cliff’s gaze met his, and Paul tried to convey his encouragement to continue with a nod.
“Who will be there to take care of him if you’re not? Mason depends on you.”
“He’s such a good boy. I did it for him. So I could take care of him. No one else wanted to help me.”
The knife began to shake, and Paul inched forward, hoping to get within grabbing distance.
“You are the best mother,” Cliff said in a soothing, almost singsong voice. Like he was a parent comforting a child. “Mason loves you.”
“He’s all I have. The only good thing in my life.” She sniffled and raised her arm to wipe at her eyes.
Using the opportunity to catch her off-balance, Paul jumped forward and grabbed her wrist. He wrenched it behind her, screaming at Cliff, “Get away, get down.” The knife clattered to the floor, and he kicked it away. He pulled out the handcuffs and pushed her hard, face forward, into the locker, trapping her with his body. Prepared for a struggle, Paul held her tight, but he needn’t have worried. A shudder ran through her, after which Amy remained motionless, almost docile. He turned her around, and she stared out into space, her eyes glazed.
Once Amy was handcuffed, hands behind her back, and seated on the bench, Rob pulled out a thin pair of gloves from his jacket pocket and took possession of the knife.
Paul looked for Cliff and found him still sitting on the floor. Having been in similar situations, Paul understood Cliff’s trauma and crouched next to him.
“Hey. How’re you doing?”
Cliff continued studying the floor. “I’ll be okay. It’s going to hurt to walk for a while.” Deep lines scored his brow. “Was she right? Maybe if I’d paid better attention to the staff, I would’ve known she needed those weekend shifts. She should’ve said something. I wish—”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You couldn’t know she’d react this way. It’s not normal. You’re right. She should’ve come to you. Not murder Jerry. Yes, it could’ve been prevented, but on her end. Now show me your neck. Is it still bleeding?” He turned Cliff’s jaw, sliding his hand to cup the sharp angle of his face.
“No. It was only a surface cut. Nothing deep.”
“Good.”
“Paul?”
At the sound of Rob’s voice, he dropped his hand and rose to his feet, but he didn’t miss the curious expression on his partner’s face.
“Yeah? Cliff’s okay. He said the cut isn’t deep.” As if to prove his point, Cliff stood, but to Paul, he looked too pale, and he winced when he took a few steps.
“I called it in, and they’re sending a car over now. We should get her upstairs.” Still wearing the gloves, Rob lifted the black sneakers out of Amy’s locker and set them on the bench. The outside heels were worn down. “Maybe we can get a bag to carry them in?”
“Let me go to storage. Hold on a sec.” Cliff walked slowly to a room in the back and disappeared through the door. He reappeared moments later with a garbage bag. “Here you go,” he said, holding it out.
“Thanks.” Rob slid the sneakers inside, wrapped the bag tightly around them, and tied it. “Let’s get out of here. The car will be here any minute.”
“Can we take the back way? Please?” Cliff asked them both. “We’ve already had a murder, a damaged car, and a brawl at the hotel. The last thing I need is for someone to be paraded in handcuffs through a crowded lobby.”
Rob shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.” He touched Amy’s shoulder. “We’re ready to go, Ms. Parsons.” She rose to her feet, and he took her by the arm.
With Cliff in the lead, Rob and Amy in the middle, and Paul bringing up the rear, they walked up the staircase Cliff pointed out. The door opened directly to the outside parking area. Tilting his head, Paul heard the wail of sirens in the distance.
“We can meet the patrol car up front and catch them before they go inside. Some people will see, and that can’t be helped, but hopefully there will be minimal disruption.”
“Thanks.” Cliff didn’t look at him, hadn’t really since he got away from Amy.
The sound of sirens grew closer, and Paul and Rob walked to the entrance with Amy in the middle. The car drew up, and at that point, Amy began to struggle.
“Settle down, Ms. Parsons.”
“Who’ll take care of Mason? He won’t know what happened to me.” Her plaintive voice rose in the air as two officers exited the car.
Paul wanted to snap at her—That was the choice you made when you took another life—but he couldn’t. “We’ll notify social services that it’s an emergency. He’ll be looked after.”
“By strangers. What are they going to say? What’s going to happen to my son?” Finally out of her fog, she began to cry.
The officers joined them, and Rob gave them their directives.
In a gentle voice, he said, “We’ll make sure your son is taken care of.” He shut the door and leaned over to the officer in the passenger seat, a woman in her thirties, who he knew had several children of her own.
“Trish, please make sure to call Child Welfare and see that someone takes care of Ms. Parsons’s son. He’s special needs and will require emergency placement. There are no other family members to help that we know of.”
“Of course, Paul. I’ll call it in on the way back to the station.”
“Thanks.”
The patrol car drove away. Curious onlookers had gathered, and Paul heard the excited chatter behind him.
“That was the bartender. I always knew there was something strange about her.”
“Oh my God, is she the killer? She served me a drink. What if it was poisoned?”
“Maury, you idiot. That was an hour ago. You’d be dead already.”
Paul put on his sunglasses. “We’d better follow them and make our report.” A curious detachment stole over him. Normally when they solved a case, he could barely contain his elation. He shot a glance over at Cliff, who stood rigid.
Rob was still holding the bag with the shoes. He’d put the small plastic bag with the knife in his jacket pocket. “Yeah. I think Cliff’ll need to come with us to give a statement and tell us exactly what happened.”
At the sound of his name, Cliff blinked and focused on them. “What? I’m sorry. Come with you where?”
Shock. It had to be. A perfectly normal reaction to having a murderer hold a knife to his neck. What wasn’t normal was the surge of emotion running through Paul, the overwhelming need to protect Cliff.
“The precinct,” Paul said as gently as he could, but remembering the knife at Cliff’s neck and seeing the dried blood on his shirt, he turned a bit stern. “We still don’t know why you were down there yourself, taking matters into your own hands.”
Cliff flushed. “I talked to her, and she mentioned the sneakers. I g
uess I got excited and wanted to help you guys out, so I got the master key and went downstairs. She must’ve figured out why I was questioning her about Jerry, and the playground, and the sneakers…” He shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t believe it. I still…”
“Let’s go. You can tell it to us in detail when we get to the precinct.”
“I’ll go get the car,” Rob said. “You wait here with Cliff. He shouldn’t be alone.”
Paul waited until Rob disappeared into the parking garage before addressing Cliff. “I’ve never been more scared than when I saw you with a knife to your neck.”
“Wasn’t exactly a picnic for me either.”
Cliff might joke, but Paul didn’t like his shallow breathing and too-pale face.
“Do you want a doctor to check you out?”
“No,” Cliff gritted out. “I said I’m fine.”
Not wishing to press the issue at the moment, Paul accepted Cliff’s refusal. Within a minute, Rob’s sedan pulled up in front, and they were off.
A local television truck waited outside the precinct, and when the three of them walked toward the building, a cameraman and a reporter rushed them.
“Is it true? Did you catch the murderer?”
“No comment.” Former college football player Rob pushed through them.
Once inside, Paul could see their lieutenant waiting with a big smile. Lieutenant Henry Kraft was a former Marine and still looked the part with his straight, stiff posture. Every time Paul saw him, he half expected the man to tell him to drop and give him fifty push-ups.
“Paul, Rob. Congratulations. She made a full confession after we read her Miranda rights. The District Attorney is with her now.”
Recalling the promise he made, Paul asked, “Did someone call about her son? He’s the one who’s going to suffer the most.”
“Yes. They’re going to have him placed with an emergency foster family and see if they can try and locate the boy’s father.”
“Okay, good. This is Cliff Baxter, manager of the Starrywood Hotel. He was the one who led us to Ms. Parsons.”
Lieutenant Kraft beamed and stuck out his hand to Cliff. “Thank you, Mr. Baxter. We appreciate your service to the community and help to law enforcement.”