AC05 - Death Mask (22 page)

She was quickly on her feet. ‘This is ridiculous. I don’t know who you’ve been talking to —’

Ethan remained seated and placed his coffee cup back on the tray. ‘We know there have been at least two incidents in which the police were called by neighbours.’

Looking down, she dismissed him. ‘They were just lovers’ tiffs and the neighbours completely misunderstood. It was all my fault. Pete came home tired, and said something about an attractive reporter and I became jealous. It was petty and I shouldn’t have said anything, but Pete was angry that I even imagined he could be unfaithful. He went to leave and I stood in his way. All he did was move me to the side, then slammed the door. The neighbour must have heard that and called the police.’

She twisted the diamond on her ring finger. ‘The second time, I don’t even remember what it was about. I dropped a
saucepan and burnt my hand. Pete helped me, but the neighbours misunderstood again. I guess they see how big he is and just assume he’s violent.’

‘Unfortunately,’ Anya said, ‘footballers are trained for violence. Sometimes they can bring their work home.’

‘Well, Pete isn’t like that.’ Terri returned to the lounge. ‘He told me all about that woman who accused them of rape. He’s right. She has to be mentally disturbed. He feels sorry for her, but this woman is threatening my family. What are you and Mr Buffet doing about it?’

Ethan glanced at Anya. ‘What exactly did Pete tell you?’

‘That she’s a crazed fan who followed him to his room, where she slept with the others and later cried rape. She isn’t the first, you know. It started in high school, the moment his star began to shine.’

She disappeared into another room and returned with her own large box, the contents of which she upturned onto the rug.

‘This is just a small example of what we have to deal with.’

Anya bent forward and picked up an envelope. Inside were nude photos of a woman, along with her address and phone number.

‘Some of them are obscene, what these women say they will do for Pete. There are DVDs as well, with some fans talking to Pete as they touch themselves. And these are the ones I intercept and protect him from. Fan letters, they call them. I call them filth. We get hundreds every week, from women all around the country. Some are teenagers, others are in their fifties. Others tell him to leave me, say I’m being unfaithful behind his back. This is the trash we have to deal with.’

She bent down and began returning items to the box. ‘Pete is no angel, but I know for sure he would never have to force himself on a woman. There are enough willing to throw themselves at him everywhere he goes.’

A
nya wondered why Terri Janson kept photos and letters propositioning her own husband. Maybe it was to make her feel more secure, knowing he had married her, not one of them. She suspected Terri had been abused by her husband, but there was nothing anyone could do unless it occurred in public, or Terri decided to make a complaint. From what Anya had learnt from Kirsten and Darla, Pete Janson was a dangerous man who had complete disregard for the women he raped. He treated them like objects provided for his entertainment, then discarded them as soon as he had finished.

She pictured the two young girls dressed in matching outfits, growing up with a man who assaulted women with impunity. She only hoped Terri could protect them from witnessing the violence or being victim to it themselves.

On the way back to the hotel Anya stopped at a deli on Lexington and bought her favourite comfort food. In the hotel room she slowly demolished the giant piece of cheesecake, savouring the thick, creamy texture. Her peace was interrupted by a knock on the door.

The clock by the bed glowed 10.30 pm. She wiped her mouth and checked the peephole.

Ethan Rye stood, hands on hips. She opened the door.

‘I need you downstairs. It’s an emergency.’ Seeing the anxiety in his face, she grabbed her room key and bag from the bedside table and slipped on her shoes. Yoga pants and a sweatshirt would have to do.

Ethan was already holding the lift when she arrived. ‘What’s going on and what sort of emergency?’

A Japanese couple entered as the doors closed and he remained silent.

Eleven floors down, he pulled her by her elbow along the corridor and around a corner. A large man stood outside one of the rooms, continuing to knock. ‘Catcher, he still ain’t answering.’

‘Vince. You’re sure he’s in there?’

‘Man, I heard him go inside about an hour ago.’ He bent down for Ethan’s benefit but his whispers were like that of a child. ‘I think he had company, but I heard her go. Then his wife came up, only he didn’t answer.’ Ethan dialled a number, and they could hear the phone ring inside the room. The large man frowned more. ‘He don’t go nowhere without that, it’s got all his numbers.’

And all the incriminating evidence about his illicit liaisons, Anya thought. ‘He’s probably in the shower,’ she said, adding under her breath, ‘washing off the smell of another woman.’ She couldn’t see the immediate need to panic. Vince’s loyalty seemed over the top, particularly since it meant helping a friend betray his wife. The sexual health lecture obviously hadn’t affected their behaviour.

‘My room’s next door and I’d hear if the shower was on, ma’am.’

It occurred to Anya that the man must be Vince Dorafino. One of the five accused of raping Kirsten. It struck her not only how loyal but how polite he appeared.

Ethan looked around and pulled out a keycard. ‘Don’t ask,’ he urged and opened the door. There was no security lock in place. They entered and saw the unmade bed, pillows discarded on the floor of the suite, along with a set of men’s clothes. Out
of the corner of her eye, Anya saw Janson wedged in the wardrobe, hanging by a belt attached to the hanging rail. His face was swollen, deathly pale with blue lips; his arms hung limply by his side.

He was naked apart from a condom.

She reached for a carotid pulse in his thick neck. The head and hands were cold. Pete Janson had been dead for a while.

Ethan called 911 for an ambulance.

He locked eyes with Anya and seemed to accept there would be no need to attempt resuscitation. Quickly, he slipped the security lock across the door. Anya stepped back and examined the room, looking for anything that might seem out of place. Three trays of empty plates sat on the desk. Using her phone, she photographed the position of the body and the layout of the room. Paramedics were bound to disturb the scene. The fact that a woman had been here made the death potentially suspicious. Without disturbing anything, she checked the bathroom and found containers of unnamed white pills. They would have to be collected by the police for analysis and comparison with toxicology results from the post-mortem.

Ethan stood staring at the body. ‘Someone’s got to tell Buffet.’

Anya would have thought the wife and family were more of a priority. Suddenly, someone began pounding on the door. ‘What the hell’s going on in there?’

Ethan looked to the ceiling. ‘Someone must have called Horan. He’s going to be pretty pissed at losing a meal ticket.’

He opened the door and was pushed back by the agent. He saw the body immediately.

‘For God’s sake, do something!’ He rushed to remove the belt, and Ethan wrestled him back. ‘It’s too late, I’m sorry. Police and an ambulance are on their way.’

Horan’s face contorted as he pulled free of the hold and ran into the bathroom. It sounded as though he was throwing up in there. The paramedics, one male, one female, arrived in time to hear the toilet flush.

‘Someone’s going to have to do crowd control out there.
The corridor’s full.’ The male paramedic looked at the body. ‘Is that Pete Janson, the footballer?’

Anya confirmed it.

‘We’d better go through the protocol,’ he said. ‘If only for the family’s sake.’

Ethan was on the phone to hotel security asking them to clear the corridor and make a service elevator available for the gurney. The mention of media packs and negative publicity for the hotel seemed to achieve his goal.

With gloved hands, the paramedics went to undo the ligature around Janson’s neck. ‘We need to keep that,’ Anya instructed. ‘It could be evidence.’

The female officer raised an eyebrow.

‘I’m a forensic physician.’

‘What are you, psychic?’ She had braces on her teeth and a slight lisp. ‘You usually come later.’

‘I’m staying upstairs and heard there was an emergency.’

Ethan knocked on the bathroom door and Horan appeared, wiping his face with a wet cloth. Anya thought that he had probably put his fingerprints all over the bathroom. So much for maintaining the scene for police.

The female paramedic shook her head as the four of them lowered the massive body to the floor. Horan’s help comprised moving the clothes out of their path.

As the ECG leads were attached to Janson’s chest, Anya scanned his body for bruises or any defence injuries to suggest he had struggled. A blackish purpura on his left bicep caught her attention.

‘He got that in the game,’ Ethan commented. ‘I saw it in the locker room. Thing is, he seemed to have learnt something from your lecture. At least he was wearing a condom.’

The woman with the braces smiled. ‘So much for protection.’ She was at Janson’s head with a breathing mask over his large jaw and nose.

The male officer checked the machine. ‘He’s in asystole. We could shock him in case it’s fine V-Fib.’ He placed two gel pads
on the chest and charged the defibrillator. ‘Move clear,’ he said, and the other three moved back while he shocked Janson. ‘This guy is – was – a legend. One of the best players I’ve ever seen.’ He studied the monitor. ‘Still asystole.’

Anya kept quiet. She could hear a commotion in the corridor outside.

‘Increased the joule count. Clear.’ The body bucked but the ECG remained a flat line as they repeated the process.

‘I need to see my husband!’ came a voice from outside the door.

Horan moved to the door and opened it. Janson’s wife caught sight of her husband’s lifeless body and screamed. Horan clutched her to his chest, stopping her from interfering with the work of the paramedics. She collapsed onto the floor in tears. Horan sank with her and held her tightly.

Two uniformed police arrived.

Anya and Ethan stepped outside to speak quietly with them. Coach Ingram and a number of the players were already outside being kept at a distance by hotel security.

Ingram shouted, ‘Rye. What the hell is going on?’ Ethan signalled for the coach to be allowed closer. He thudded along, adjusting his cap. ‘If he’s that sick, why aren’t they on their way to hospital already? Where the hell is Rosseter?’

The older police officer had a notebook out. His name badge read
Bilson
. ‘Sir, please let’s start with some facts.’

Ethan explained why there was nothing Rosseter or anyone else could have done, making sure no one further down the corridor could hear.

‘You mean Pistol Pete Janson?’ Bilson removed his cap. ‘I met him once, he was real nice to my boy.’

It was clear how effective the team’s PR machine had been. If it hadn’t given Janson such a clean-cut image, Kirsten Byrne might have been more wary that night at the Rainier Hotel.

Coach Ingram slumped against the wall. ‘Does his wife know?’

‘She’s inside with his agent right now.’

‘For the record,’ Ethan stressed, ‘as far as anyone else is
concerned, he’s in a critical condition after a collapse. No need for the media wolves to find out until we’ve talked to Buffet. I trust, officers, you can keep this from leaking out until Pete’s family can be told. He’s got parents, brothers and sisters, as well as his kids. The last thing you want is for them to hear it on the news or from some damn reporter.’

The representatives of the NYPD nodded. ‘We can arrange an escort to hospital.’ Bilson called for the hotel manager, who was waiting with the other players. ‘We need a plan to get Janson out so nobody sees him.’

‘Of course, we’ll do anything possible to help, officer. The staff and hotel facilities are at your disposal.’

Bilson sneered, ‘Hotel staff leak like a sieve. The fewer people involved the better, especially since the press would pay anything for a story or photos. We don’t want that. You got that?’

‘Yes, officer. Leave it to me,’ the manager said.

A second ambulance crew arrived, along with two more police officers and a pair of detectives. Keeping this a secret had to be impossible, Anya thought.

Within minutes the group had devised a plan. A headscarf and a hat appeared, and the corridor was cleared of onlookers. The hotel manager lay on the second gurney, scarf and hat hiding his face, his body covered with a sheet to his chin. He was to be taken out the front door to the first ambulance. The second ambulance, which would be parked at the loading dock in the underground carpark, would carry Janson, still being worked on by the paramedics. Ethan phoned Gavin Rosseter and instructed him to meet the ambulance at the hospital.

With the plan under way, Ethan and Anya were no longer needed. ‘One of us will need to talk to you and get statements,’ Bilson said. ‘Where will you be after we check out the room?’

‘At the bar downstairs,’ Ethan answered for both of them.

‘That sounds reasonable.’

Anya opted to go to her room first to change. Around the corner from Janson’s room a large crowd had gathered, kept at bay by hotel security. As they pushed through, Anya tripped
on someone’s foot, falling heavily to the floor. The contents of her bag spilt everywhere. Someone helped her up, and Ethan gathered up her things. She had hurt her wrist, and perhaps her dignity, but was otherwise fine.

Ethan fussed over her until they were back upstairs at her room. She invited him inside because she suspected he did not want to be alone. That reaction was not surprising. It wasn’t every day a civilian found the body of someone he knew, strung up and naked in a hotel room. Ethan’s calm resolve during the last half-hour was admirable. She respected the way he had done everything possible to minimise damage and scandal for the family and, by default, everyone associated with the team. She was surprised, though, that even in what was most likely his death, people were protecting Pete Janson.