Hypocrisy (23 page)

Dupree nodded. Her hands began to tremble and she could barely swallow.

Jensen handed Dupree the envelope and her whole body recoiled as if he were handing her a rattlesnake.

“What’s the matter?” Jensen asked She told him about the letter she’d received from her “mother” and what the note inside said.

“There are a lot of sick fucks out there,” Jensen said. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“I had every intention to, but T.J. and I have been running our asses off.”

“Where is the envelope now?”

“I put it in a plastic bag and gave it to the techs in the lab. When they checked it over, they found several different fingerprints, which I pretty much expected.”

“Anything worth pursuing?”

“Unfortunately, not.”

Jensen set down the envelope and scratched the back of his head. “Do you really think this is from Mrs. Crawford?”

“Highly unlikely,” Dupree said. “But I’ll give her a call just to be sure.”

Dupree pulled her cell out of her purse. She had programmed Mrs. Crawford’s phone number in her contact list. It was a brief conversation.

“The letter’s not from her,” Dupree said.

“Let’s have the techies check it out. Hopefully, they’ll pick up a print we can use. And by the way. I’m your fucking boss and I need to know
everything
. Got it?”

“Yes, Captain.” Dupree’s stomach twisted into a knot.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“I told you this place would be quaint and charming,” Maggie Hansen said. She stood at the foot of the bed wearing only a lace bra and skimpy, pink panties.

Lentz couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. He let his eyes wander off her just long enough to look around. The cottage looked like a small log cabin, rustic and cozy. Everything from the cathedral ceilings to the walls to the floors was built with solid wood logs, planks, and beams. On the night stand next to the bed a bottle of Moët was chilling in a silver bucket of ice.

This is going to be a memorable day, Lentz thought.

He lay on the king-size bed stripped to his Jockey shorts. “How did you find a place like this—on Long Island no less?”

“I’m more resourceful than you give me credit for.”

“Well, all I can say is that you never cease to amaze me.”

“The party is just starting,” Maggie said. “Look what I brought.” She held up her hand and jingled a pair of handcuffs. “Maybe I can amaze you even more.”

“Are you feeling naughty?” Jonathan said. “Because I
do
know how to handle naughty little girls.”

“Is that right? I guess we’ll just have to find out.” Maggie reached around behind her, unsnapped her bra, and let it fall to the floor. Jonathan’s eyes opened wide. Her breasts were absolutely perfect. He had seen them many times, but for some reason, today they looked exquisite.

“Like what you see?” Maggie teased.

“I’d like it more if you took off your panties.”

“I’d love to, but I shaved this morning and don’t want to get a chill.”

He could feel himself getting aroused. “Oh, I think I can keep you warm.”

Maggie eased her way onto the bed and straddled Jonathan. “Is Duke ready to come out and play?”

If only she knew. She was obviously looking for trouble and he could surely deliver. “He’s more than ready.”

“Here’s a thought,” Maggie said. “Maybe, just for kicks, we should reverse roles.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, I’m always the one getting punished for being naughty. Maybe it’s time I punish you.” She slipped her hand down his underwear.

After a few minutes of moaning, Jonathan said, “What do you want me to do?”

“I want to handcuff you to the bed and tease Duke until he begs for mercy. And when it’s time for the grand finale…let’s just say that I’ve got a special treat for him.” She licked her lips.

From his past experiences with her, she had been the perfect student. She did exactly what he wanted and learned quickly how he wanted it. Like an explorer, she could navigate his body with skill and surgical precision. She could take him to the edge and bring him back. Over and over. Until he begged for mercy; pleaded to be satisfied. He felt more excited than ever before. Lentz was ready. Oh, so ready.

Maggie, still straddling Jonathan, reached towards the nightstand, opened the drawer, pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and jingled them just above Jonathan’s face.

“Remember these?”

“How could I forget?”

She handcuffed Jonathan to the headboard so that both of his wrists were immobilized. Although excited, Jonathan felt a little apprehension, but quickly dismissed it. She hopped off the bed, snatched the bottle of champagne, and struggled trying to remove the cork. Finally, it popped and sailed across the room. She took a swig right out of the bottle.

“Want some?” she asked.

Jonathan nodded and surveyed her lovely curves. “I want more than some.”

“Patience, my dear.” She stood over him and slowly poured some champagne in his mouth.

“I never drank champagne like that before,” Jonathan said, “but I find it quite erotic.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” Maggie said. She went into the bathroom. When she returned, he could tell that she was hiding something behind her back. “Do you trust me, Jonathan?”

He did. To a point. But knew what she wanted to hear. “Unconditionally.”

“Let’s test that claim. I want you to close your eyes and open your mouth.”

“Now you’re scaring me.”

“If you trust me unconditionally, then there shouldn’t be anything to fear, right?”

Jonathan hesitated, but then squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth.

He could feel Maggie straddling him again.

“Are you ready?”

He nodded, still lying with his mouth open.

“No peeking,” Maggie said. Before he could even imagine what she had planned for him, he felt her stuff a rag or piece of terrycloth deep into his mouth. His eyes opened wide and he tried to fight but Maggie had been too quick. Panic crashed over him.

“You never should have betrayed Dominic Gallo.” Maggie held up the almost full bottle of champagne. “Are you ready to be punished, you naughty boy?”

With the additional information Parisi had shared with Dupree about Tesler’s murder and its connection to Cassano, she was just itching to interrogate Cassano; so much so that she hadn’t even looked at Hansen’s bank statement and cell phone records. And of course, nothing dominated her thoughts more than the second letter she’d received.

Dupree half jogged to lockup with T.J. following behind.

“What’s the rush?” T.J. asked. “Is this a fire drill?”

“Parisi charged my battery, so I can’t wait to double-team our number one suspect.”

Dupree told T.J. about the second envelope.

“Are you shitting me?”

“Wish I was.”

“I’m sorry, Amaris, I really am.”

“Hey, it comes with the territory. Wouldn’t be the first time some asshole threatened me. And it won’t be the last.”

“Yeah, but using your mother’s name…”

Without saying a word to Cassano, who was yelling expletives, Dupree asked the on-duty policeman to unlock the jail cell and cuff the suspect. Dupree tightly gripped Cassano’s arm and hustled him to an interview room. When they entered the room, Cassano and T.J. sat down at the table, but Dupree paced the floor with her arms folded.

“I talked to a public defender,” Cassano yelled, “and you two assholes have violated my rights. You haven’t arrested me, haven’t read me my rights—”

“Let’s take care of business right now,” Dupree said. “You’re under arrest for the murders of Dr. Lauren Crawford and Ivan Tesler. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights I have just read to you?”

“The only thing I understand is that you two pigs are in deep shit. You got nothing on me, and I ain’t saying anything without my attorney.”

“Not a problem,” Dupree said. “I still have to know if you understand your rights.”

“All right, already, I
do
understand,” Cassano yelled. “Now get me a fucking lawyer! And not some snotty-nosed kid right out of college.”

“T.J., would you mind contacting Shawn Williamson and asking him to get down here right away?”

T.J. looked puzzled, but left the room without comment.

“Who the hell is Shawn Williamson?” Cassano asked.

“He’s a public defender.”

“Is he any good?”

“I guess you’ll find out when you’re standing in front of a judge and jury.”

Cassano and Dupree engaged in a staring contest.

“You don’t mind if I wait here with you until your attorney arrives, do you?” Dupree said.

“Do whatever the fuck you want, but I ain’t answering no questions.”

Dupree found it difficult to maintain her composure but forced herself to remain polite. “Mind if I sit down? It’s been a long day.”

“Do you think it’s been a party for me, locked up in a rat trap like an animal?

“It must be a real drag pacing the floor of a twelve by twelve jail cell, knowing you’re going to spend the rest of your life behind bars. But there’s something even worse than life in prison.”

“And what might that be?”

“Dying by lethal injection.”

“Are you trying to scare me, cuz my knees are shaking.”

“I wouldn’t try to scare you, Oscar. You’re a real tough guy.”

“You’re not supposed to be questioning me.”

“I thought we were just having a conversation.”

Cassano focused his eyes on the handcuffs.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of Al Fiorino, former New York State senator,” Dupree said. “Well, his daughter, Isabella, is the District Attorney. She’s really made a name for herself. Has more murder one convictions than any DA in the country. And she also holds the record for most executions.”

“Gee, thanks for the little history lesson. Do you offer math classes too?”

Oh, how she wanted to yank him by the shirt collar and smack him. “One thing interesting about Fiorino is that she refuses to prosecute for the death penalty without rock solid evidence because she hates to lose. Got an ego as big as the Goodyear blimp. You know what I mean, don’t you Mr. Cassano? She looks for evidence like a DNA match of blood samples, a sworn testimony from a reliable witness, a videotape of the actual crime scene showing a unique birthmark, or fingerprints at the scene of the crime.”

Suddenly, Cassano didn’t look so smug.

“But Fiorino likes to play the game, too. She’s a born deal-maker and enjoys negotiating with criminals who cooperate and finger their accomplices. But here’s the best part: She can take a poor sap facing two murder one counts and life in prison, or execution by lethal injection, and cut a plea bargain deal that gets them out of prison on good behavior in twenty-five years.
Twenty-five years for
two murders
! Now, for a guy under thirty-five, a deal like that is a hell of a bargain, don’t you think?”

It seemed to Dupree that Cassano had run out of smart-ass remarks. Either that or she’d gotten his attention. Clearly, he was deep in thought. It was time to drop the hammer.

“I read a fascinating article in
Newsweek
magazine a few months ago. It was titled, “Execution by Injection far from Painless.” Apparently, a group of researchers from Florida conducted a thorough investigation into lethal injection. After extensive research, they concluded that since the Supreme Court approved capital punishment in 1976, 788 people have been put to death by injection in the United States, and as many as 90% felt pain, and 40% were conscious throughout the procedure. Now I have no idea how much you know about lethal injection, but it’s a three step process. First, a technician injects a solution that induces anesthesia. Then, a second injection is introduced that paralyzes the body. Third, an injection of potassium chloride stops the heart. It takes several minutes before the anesthesia numbs the entire body, so when the technician injects the paralytic solution, parts of the body are still very much awake. Sadly, the paralytic solution they use is like injecting lava into your veins. So, any body part that hasn’t yet been anesthetized, feels like it’s literally on fire. Here’s the thing. The subject, no matter how much in pain, can’t move, can’t even twitch a finger. So, no one knows how much agony the convict endures, but by all accounts, it’s likely excruciating. I would guess that it’s even more painful than slicing someone’s body and pouring salt and vinegar in their wounds.”

Dupree saw his eye twitch. “Oh, and one more thing: We know that you drive a Chevy pickup truck, license plate number QZZ-6851.”

“So, what if I do?”

“We also know that your truck was parked in front of Ivan Tesler’s house the night he was brutally murdered.”

“Who says so?”

“Ivan’s neighbor. He saw you leaving the scene about thirty minutes before Ivan called 911. Isn’t that an interesting coincidence?”

T.J. walked in the interview room and closed the door. “Williamson should be here in about an hour.”

“You can wait here or in your cell,” Dupree said. “It’s up to you.”