Daddy's Little Killer (19 page)

Anyone trained in the discipline of
psychology has an unfair advantage.  Our arsenal is filled
with lethal weapons, the most effective of which, I employ at every
opportunity.  Getting information from people who might
otherwise guard their reactions can best be obtained by appearing
to be soft and warm, a dash of friendliness, a little ego stroking
followed by a swift transition into the cobra ready to strike.

Judging the looks on Briscoe and Conall's
faces, I had lulled them into a complete sense of intimate
camaraderie before my hood spread and venom spewed paralytic poison
in their faces.  Conall was wounded.  Briscoe was
downright pissed, red-faced and puffing.

"I'll have you know that the department
would love nothing better than to catch that smarmy creep
committing a crime!" he bellowed. 

I suppressed the grin that threatened, hid
the delight over the bulging neck veins and the big one in the
center of his forehead that started writhing in a serpentine dance
of its own.

"In fact, it wasn't long after that gambling
fiasco took root out on Hennessey Island that we lost a good man
who knew Datello was up to no good!"

"Indeed.  Tell me about that, Detective
Briscoe."  I folded my hands calmly in my lap and sent the
most unflappable, therapeutic stare in the history of clinical
psychology along with the pleasant request for more
information.

He sputtered for a moment.  "I … the
hell with you!  Apologize for that slanderous accusation,
Eriksson, or by God, we are done talking!"  His blunt index
finger punctuated the tantrum.

"I feel no compulsion to apologize for
asking a legitimate question, Detective Briscoe.  I haven't
even been here for 24 hours yet, and the bizarre nature of criminal
investigations by the police department points to the very kind of
interference I implied by my question.  You're telling me that
you are not influenced by the interests of Danny Datello. 
Fine.  In the absence of hard evidence to support my
suggestion, I'll accept your assertion at face value."

"Dammit," he growled and glanced at
Conall.  "She just insulted us again, didn't she?"

"Just a little bit, but
Tony, she has a point.  Think about her first impression of
us.  We're at a crime scene, outside our jurisdiction,
fighting for control.  Not to mention, I'm the alibi witness
for a person of interest in the case.  That fact aside, we're
both friends of Johnny to boot.  What would that look like to
any outsider, not just
any
, but a fed?"

"Paranoid bastards."

I couldn't hold back the grin another
second.  "Paranoia doesn't preclude the possibility that
people are out to get you, Detective Briscoe.  Sometimes
paranoia is simply good common sense."  It was the first
tidbit of Dad's wisdom I shared with anyone.

Incredulous eyes widened in focus on me.

"Come on, Briscoe.  Surely Orion told
you that a couple of private detectives have been watching my every
move since I got here.  Forsythe's crime techs even found
electronic surveillance in my hotel room after someone broke in
this morning.  They stole my laptop computer for God's
sake."

They shared another glance, this one
uneasy.  Conall spoke.

"He told us nothing of the kind, Helen."

"Tell me who you lost because he dared
investigate Danny Datello."

Briscoe snorted.  "It was an assistant
district attorney."

"David Ireland," Conall added.  "Nobody
ever knew what he uncovered, but considering that he was
assassinated and his office was ransacked, everyone concluded that
it was damning enough to put Datello in prison for a very long
time."

"Now that's what I needed to know.  How
long ago did this assassination take place?"  I leaned
forward.

"You think this has something to do with the
Bennett murder?"  Tony shook his head.  "That's
impossible, Helen.  David Ireland was murdered before Brighton
Bennett."

"How long before?"

They shared another look. 

"The Ireland investigation happened around
Christmas, right Tony?"

"He died a week before.  We caught the
guy right after New Year's," Briscoe said.  "And Brighton
Bennett's body was found when, late March, early April?"

"Somewhere in that time frame. Johnny would
know the exact date.  They were both his cases."

"Ireland was mine too," Tony muttered.

"Wait a minute," I interrupted their rough
timeline.  "You were with Central Division when Orion was
there, Briscoe?"

"No, he started out at Downey.  After
the perp was caught on the Ireland case, they promoted Johnny and
moved him to central."

"Tell me more about the ADA's murder."

Briscoe tugged at the goatee again. 
"Week before Christmas, and Ireland was leaving his office at the
district courthouse.  It was late evening, eight-ish. 
Our assassin shot him in the back of the head in the parking garage
that the district court shares with central."

"Whoa.  Wait. 
The murder happened in the parking garage
at
Central Division?"

"Yeah," Briscoe nodded.

"Then how did Downey end up taking the
case?"

"Chief McNamara assigned it to Downey."

"Right," Conall said.  "I forgot about
Harry McNamara.  Wow, that seems like about a million years
ago."

"Almost sixteen," Briscoe said. 
"Anyway, Johnny and I landed the case.  We extradited our
primary suspect from Jersey City, got him out here and –"

"Jersey City, as in New Jersey?" I
interrupted.  This was the link I'd been looking for all
along.  "Who was this guy?  What was the result of the
prosecution?  Is he in prison right now?"

"His name was Mitch Southerby, and no, he's
not in prison because there was no prosecution."

"Son of a bitch!  How did Datello
weasel Southerby out of prosecution?  If this is another case
of evidence tampering, I'm going to start questioning both of your
sanity."

"Southerby keeled over dead in the
interrogation room right after he confessed to killing Ireland,"
Briscoe's ruddy complexion faded to ashen as he spoke. 
"Damnedest thing I ever saw in my life."

"Was he old?"

"Thirty-seven," Briscoe said.  "Our
medical examiner said that he died of natural causes, a massive
heart attack.  Johnny wanted more tests."

"And what did they show?"  I had
unconsciously perched on the edge of my chair.  "Was it
poison?  Something else?"

"We never found out," Briscoe shook his head
and sighed.  "It's no wonder Johnny burned out so fast. 
He couldn't accept not getting answers."

"How did you
not
find out?  Did
the medical examiner –"

"He wouldn't do the tests Johnny requested,
said there was no need.  He rubber-stamped the cause of death
as cardiac failure and was ready to move on.  Johnny went to
court to force him to do the additional testing and won the
motion.  But then the body was gone."

My eyes narrowed.  "That shouldn't have
mattered.  The ME collects fluid and tissue samples –"

"All gone," Briscoe said.  "So the
chief in all his wisdom threw Johnny a bone, praised him for
closing the case, solving the murder, bumped his grade from three
to one and welcomed him to the fold at Central Division."

"This was which chief?  Weber? 
McNamara?"

Crevan snorted.  "By the time all the
court battles were concluded, it was newly appointed Chief
Lowe."

"What happened to McNamara?"

"That one was legit," Tony said. 
"McNamara was close to sixty in a high stress job."

"Let me guess.  He died of a massive
heart attack too?"

"Well, it wasn't all that strange," Tony
frowned.  "I guess old Riley Storm might've missed his
calling.  He was awfully good at finding heart attacks."

"How long has Dr. Storm been out of the
picture?"

Conall blinked rapidly.  "I thought you
knew."

"I'm here asking questions
because of the things I
don't
know, Detective Conall.  How long has Riley
Storm been out of the medical examiner's office?  Please don't
tell me that he's someone still working for Dr.
Winslow."

"No ma'am, he surely is not," Briscoe
said.  "In fact, Dr. Winslow was hired to replace Riley."

"Six months? 
Six months
?  This
was the guy who did the autopsy on Brighton Bennett, the one who
hobbled the forensic aspect of the best evidence there was in the
murder investigation, wasn't he?"

Briscoe nodded.  "I think you got the
picture now, Helen."

"I have only a few more questions,
gentlemen.  First, where are Danny Datello's offices
located?  Which division?"

"Central," Tony said.

"And the officers in charge of the detective
units outside Central Division, what are they like?"

"All you gotta do to answer that question is
look at our solve rates," Tony said.  "I don't know the other
lieutenants all that well, so I can't speak to that.  What I
can tell you is that Shelly Finkelstein, our lieutenant, is above
reproach."

The disconnect was at central. 
Datello's headquarters were in central's jurisdiction.  It
didn't tell me who exerted control over Hardy and Weber, possibly
even Jerry Lowe, but it pointed in one specific direction.

"Then again, since you ain't got hard
evidence provin' that we don't work for Datello, I expect my word
don't mean squat," Briscoe continued.

"Calm down, Tony," I said.  "I asked
the question because I had to be sure I could trust you."

"And are you sure, Dr. Eriksson?"

I met his angry gaze.  "As sure as I've
ever been of anything."

"And what about Johnny?" Crevan asked.

"I'm still working that one out."

"Actually, I wouldn't have it any other
way," Orion's voice chimed in from the doorway.

"How long have you been listening?"

"Since Tony lost his cool," Orion grinned at
his old friend.  The mentorship was a little clearer
now.  "If you guys don't mind, I'd like to have a word with
Doc in private now."

I thanked the detectives before they
shuffled out of Orion's office and waited patiently for him to
return.  I didn't have to wait long.  Orion poured a
sloppy glass of scotch and slumped onto the sofa.

"So."

"Indeed," I said.  "You've got quite
the history with the police department, Orion.  I wasn't aware
you were so susceptible to bribery."

"Don't even start that bullshit with me,
Doc.  I'm not the same guy Tony remembers."

"Really?"

"I don't bait as easily as I did when I was
a new detective."

"Yet you haven't learned patience.  At
all."

He stretched his legs out and crossed the
still bare feet at the ankles.  Sprawled as he was, the shirt
gaped open to reveal rock hard abs, an impressive six-pack for a
man over forty. 

"I can be as patient as the circumstances
require, Doc, but your suspicion of me is really unwarranted in
this situation.  Surely you've figured out that I became the
scapegoat for evidence tampering because I wouldn't play ball like
the other detectives at central."

"Question is, who asked you to join the
game?"

"There was never a direct invitation beyond
being brought into the fold of Darkwater Bay's most elite
squad.  Central Division was once what every detective in the
city aspired to join.  Then again, that was during the
McNamara years."

"Hmm.  I wondered about that.  You
owe me some answers, Orion."

"Call me Johnny and I'll give you the
world."

"That reminds me of Satan
tempting Christ. 
All this can be
yours, if you bow down and serve me.
"

"Thought you weren't religious."

"I'm not.  I am, however,
literate."

Orion chuckled and drained his glass. 
"You want a drink?"

"I'm good, thanks."

He poured another and stared at the prism
created by the light hitting the crystal and amber liquid.  "I
loved Gwen," he said.  "Sisterly sort of way, before you start
throwing out accusations.  You really handled Briscoe," he
shook his head and laughed.  "Tony's not used to strong women
who understand men."

"And you think I'm a strong woman who
understands men?"

"Oh yeah.  You don't like us much, but
you know exactly which buttons to push, don't you Doc?"

"I'll let you in on a little secret.  I
understand people.  Psychology.  That's my thing,
remember?"

"And you already admitted that you love a
good head game."

"Tell me who you think hired the PI's to
follow me."

"Why do you think Masconi was the wrong guy
in my murder investigation?"

"I can't tell you that.  It's an open
case.  You know the rules, Orion."

"And you know that I'm not obligated to
share anything with you."

"So much for your character references
tonight.  Your friends think you're a real stand up guy, that
you'd do anything in your power to protect people."

"I did protect you.  More than
once.  My guy at the hotel called while you were at
central.  The second sweep turned up three more devices. 
Before you accuse me of having Paul plant them, you should know
that the only person who entered your room since he started
guarding the door was housekeeping."

"So now the maid did it."

"She had access."

"Did Haverston send someone to talk to
her?"

Orion shrugged.  "I don't have the
right to ask that question, do I Doc?  I presume he did,
however, based on the fact that Paul said the place was crawling
with police who quickly looked very frustrated."

"Either she's in the wind or she doesn't
really work for the hotel."