Authors: Janet Dailey

Triumph (27 page)

BOOK: Triumph

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She looked back through the two-way glass, avoiding the TV screen that transmitted the cool hatred in his eyes.

Konstantin took a chair and slouched in it. His lawyer whispered something that Kelly couldn’t hear and he sat up straight. But he didn’t stand up when Lieutenant Dwight came in with a colleague. The other officer moved outside and stood by the door.

They got right down to business.

“Lieutenant, you’re aware that my client is interested in a plea bargain.”

A weary look came over Dwight’s lean face. “Let’s talk first.” He let the attorney continue.

“We’re looking for a reduced sentence, Lieutenant. I believe my client can help you put more than one killer behind bars.”

“Go on.”

“Konstantin.” The lawyer turned to the huge man, who was slouching again, massive arms folded tightly across his chest. “Can you tell the detective about the shootings at the abandoned building? Three people died.”

“One, I knew. Not the others.” Konstantin looked at the floor. “Pyotr came to this country before I did.”

“Let’s move on,” the lawyer interrupted smoothly.

“No. I will tell him.”

Lieutenant Dwight managed to look encouraging. “Go ahead.”

“I was in that building on an upper floor. I saw the whole thing. All the people.”

Which meant he had seen Deke. And her, Kelly thought.

“Who else was there?” Dwight asked him. He did all the questioning. His colleague seemed to be a listener.

Kelly noticed that the lieutenant kept the focus on details that were directly related to the crime. He didn’t seem interested in Konstantin’s life story, not that the thug was telling it or even looking for sympathy. But she supposed Dwight would get around to that too. Eventually. A lot of seemingly miscellaneous things could become part of a strong case.

“A news team with a camera,” Konstantin said after some thought. “There was a blonde who talked for them.”

“Do you know her name?”

For a fraction of a second Konstantin hesitated. “Kelly Johnson. No. Johns. Kelly Johns.”

“Anyone else?”

“There was another man on the floor below me. He looked like an agent, I thought. Not a policeman.”

A muscle twitched in the lieutenant’s jaw. “Did the man see you?”

“No.”

“Did the news crew see you?”

“No. They ran away. When the shooting stopped, I came down.”

“Where was the agent?”

“In front of the building talking on the phone. He didn’t see me. I found the blonde’s press pass, stuck it in the fence, and shot at it.”

“Why?”

“If she came back for it, she would know to stay away.”

“What happened to the pass?” Dwight asked after a moment of thought. “I don’t remember seeing that on the evidence list.”

The man lifted his massive shoulders. “I don’t know.”

The lawyer harrumphed. “With all due respect, Lieutenant, this pass is not important.”

Meaning, Kelly thought, that it wasn’t information he could trade on behalf of his client.

“If you say so.”

Dwight took a moment to glance at the few notes he’d made on a yellow legal pad. Kelly noticed the lawyer reading them upside down.

The lieutenant looked at Konstantin. “I feel like I missed something. Miss Johns saw you at Natalie Conrad’s home, arguing with her. Exactly what is the connection between you and Natalie Conrad?”

“We know each other a long time. She was the one who—” Konstantin lifted his hands as if he were testing the cuffs.

The lieutenant’s body tensed visibly and his colleague’s hand went to the holster on his belt. With a shrug, the prisoner settled his hands in his lap, concealed by the folds of the baggy jumpsuit.

“Keep your hands where we can see them,” Dwight said. He tapped the metal arch bolted through the table.

The lawyer nodded and the man complied, moving his hands up to his chest. The awkward position made it look like he was praying. Until his hands curled into fists.

“This is a preliminary conversation, Dwight,” the lawyer reminded him. “Not everything is on the table. Konstantin, do not answer further questions about Natalie Conrad unless I tell you to.”

The lieutenant looked at the lawyer with obvious disgust. “Okay. Let’s get back to Kelly Johns. She received a card with pictures of herself. Someone shot those too. Did you do that, Konstantin?”

He shook his head. “I delivered the card. I didn’t know what was in it. Some fool in the lobby let me into the building. There is always one, eh?”

Dwight made a note of the reply. “And later, there was a drive-by shooting in the same neighborhood as the building. Were you involved with that in any way?”

Konstantin only shrugged.

“Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“No,” the prisoner said sullenly. “I heard you. I was not involved.”

Kelly was picking up a rhythm to Konstantin’s answers. Sometimes he lied. Sometimes he told the truth. The idea was to keep the interviewer off balance—and coming back for more.

The officer at the door came in to clear away pizza boxes and soda cans. The men in the room had stopped to eat after two hours. Konstantin was allowed one free hand to eat pizza. The other was cuffed to the table.

The young officer who’d escorted her to the room had brought her a chilled bottle of water during the break and asked if she wanted anything. Kelly was too tense to be hungry.

The second round of the questioning took a different tack, once both of Konstantin’s hands were securely cuffed again. The lieutenant was an expert interviewer, but the thug across the table was tougher.

It was a toss-up as to who was winning. But Kelly sensed the balance of power shift when Lieutenant Dwight changed the subject abruptly, tired of Konstantin’s evasions.

“What about Gunther Bach?” he asked.

“Who?” The prisoner’s expression barely changed.

“You know who I mean.”

Konstantin gave the lieutenant a sullen look. “He jumped off a building. He died. It was on the news.”

Dwight looked at him steadily.

“Who cares? People would line up to throw rich bastards off buildings if they could,” Konstantin added.

The lawyer shot his client a quelling look, then turned to Lieutenant Dwight. “You know, this maybe enough for one day. I think you have an idea of how Konstantin can help you.”

Dwight shook his head. “Actually, I don’t.”

“But you will. There is more. Of course, you and I both know my client is going to do time. We just don’t want it to be hard time. I’m sure we all understand each other.”

“I have to talk to the DA,” Lieutenant Dwight said levelly. “As you say, this is preliminary. Let me get back to you.”

Kelly was stunned. A young sergeant opened the door and came in, looking through the glass to see everyone standing in the interview room. “Is it over?” she asked, frowning in disappointment. “Darn it. I heard this was going to be good. What’d they say?”

“I can’t repeat a word. Sorry.”

“Oh, well.” The sergeant gave her an odd smile. “Someone said to ask you.”

“Who?” Kelly looked at her, puzzled. Then she suddenly got it. “Did Lieutenant Dwight send you in here?”

“Yes, ma’am. He doesn’t trust anybody.”

The sergeant winked at her and left.

C
HAPTER
20

D
eke and Kelly had turned the unused office at the police station into a temporary conference room on the case. They’d been at it for hours. The bulletin board was covered with sticky notes and photographs and diagrams.

“One more time,” he said. “The balcony railing hadn’t been touched. Gunther Bach did not kill himself.”

Kelly sighed. “Konstantin could lift you over his head and throw you. But there’s still no proof that he or Natalie had anything to do with Bach’s death.”

“Not yet,” he said. “Although the evidence team went back again—I stopped by the lab to talk to the tech.”

“Oh?” Kelly asked with interest. “What’d they find?”

“They missed some prints under the lip of the kitchen counter and a few in the bathroom. Some were Bach’s, some were his housekeeper’s. Her alibi checked out.”

“And the others?”

“There was just one we couldn’t identify. Not in any database.”

“A tantalizing new clue has emerged in the mysterious death of Gunther Bach,” Kelly said in her anchor voice. “An unidentified fingerprint hides a secret. Join us at six for more.”

“Stop it. We don’t know anything solid.”

“Look, it’s not like I want to spin the story,” she said. “Konstantin isn’t going to walk out of jail, and thank God for that, but he didn’t act alone.”

“Kelly. Juries want facts. We have to have physical proof of a crime before we can even arrest her.”

Kelly just looked at him. “How much do you have to know? Dwight keeps telling me that there are three main reasons for homicide: sex and money and control.”

“That’s true. Now apply them to this case,” Deke challenged her.

“Bach was her lover.”

“That was a while ago,” he countered.

“He controlled her money.”

“Not for long.” Deke looked back at the laptop on the metal desk and touched a key to keep the screen from going dark. “There’s a piece of the puzzle that’s missing. I feel like it’s just out of reach.”

“If Konstantin really confesses—” She stopped herself. “I couldn’t believe it when he started to talk about his connection to Natalie. Why? Natalie paid for his lawyer.”

“Interesting question. But a confession is still not evidence. Basically it’s his word against hers.”

Kelly began to pace. “I’m beginning to think that’s what you and I sound like.”

“No. I’m on your side. Konstantin is ready to betray her, for what it’s worth.” Wearily, Deke ran a hand through his dark hair.

She looked at her watch. “It’s getting late. Let’s move this to my place. I’d like to order in and keep going.”

Kelly peeked through the sheers behind the heavy curtains that blocked the light. The morning sky was gray and covered with clouds. She stepped away from the window, walking noiselessly on the thick carpet.

Deke was sacked out on the couch. His arm was thrown over his eyes and the blanket she’d given him had slipped off his chest, revealing the crumpled polo shirt he’d slept in.

Kelly was beyond tired. She hadn’t slept at all.

Before he’d dozed off, Deke had set her up with encrypted passwords to databases she’d never dreamed of being able to get into—and added that the passwords changed every twenty-four hours.

Kelly had made the most of the opportunity.

She shook him awake. Deke sat up, running his hands through his hair.

“Why am I still here?” he asked her.

“You dozed off,” she said. “I want you to look at something. I found interesting stuff on Natalie Conrad while you were sleeping.” She didn’t mean it as a dig, but he seemed to take it that way.

He managed a smile at her reply. “What the hell.”

“I’ll make coffee.”

“Thanks.” He stayed on the couch but he sat up. In a few minutes, Kelly returned with two mugs. Deke drank some of his and set the mug aside.

“Okay, show me.”

Kelly brought over her laptop and set it between them on the middle cushion of the sofa, tapping keys to open different files on the screen.

“Check this out. And this. And that.”

Deke’s eyes widened as he gave a slight shake of his head. “You’re a kid in a candy store. I hope you confined your research to Natalie Conrad.”

“Of course,” she said indignantly.

He seemed dubious on that score. But he read through everything she showed him. Kelly kept tapping the arrow keys, her coffee mug in her other hand.

Deke didn’t seem impressed. “I don’t see anything incriminating.”

“Natalie is desperate for a reason. She’s almost broke, Deke.”

“So?”

“She was the sole trustee of the museum money. Where is it? She zeroed out all these accounts.”

He looked at the relevant file again. “They’re in the US. Did you find anything from foreign banks? I know she has offshore accounts in the Caribbean and Switzerland.”

“I’ll find them.”

“Just so you know, Kelly, being broke is not a crime.”

“No, but it could be a motive.”

Deke shook his head.

She wasn’t going to quit. He didn’t know that she’d saved the best for last. Kelly opened another window. A credit card statement appeared.

“Here we go. One of many,” Kelly said. “Natalie has a lot of credit cards. But this one seems to be set aside for her car, airplane tickets, stuff like that.”

“I got it.” He yawned. “Transportation and travel.”

“Exactly,” Kelly said. “It looked routine. Except for one little thing.”

Deke glanced at the file again and his eyes narrowed. He lost his bored look and leaned toward the laptop. He scanned the statement twice just to be sure.

“A limo company in Atlanta billed her on the day Gunther Bach died,” Kelly said. “She was supposed to be in Dallas.”

“Yeah. I spotted that.”

Kelly sat back, looking very satisfied with herself. “Does that answer a big question?”

“Maybe,” Deke admitted. “But we’d have to track down the driver for that car and that time period, and confirm that it was Natalie Conrad in the car, and about a thousand other things. Interesting lead, though. Good work.”

“I’m sure you would have found it eventually,” Kelly said. “Now what?”

“We do all of the above. Give me a few days.” He looked up when she bounced to her feet. “Calm down. If that was her in the limo, all she did was look. That’s not the same as being at the crime scene in Bach’s apartment.”

Kelly sighed with exasperation. “But we might be able to put her near it at the right time. Deke, I could write the prosecution’s opening statement using just this.”

“Don’t.”

She lowered her tone. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Natalie Conrad returned that night for only one reason. To find out if Gunther Bach was dead.”

“Guess what, Kelly. You aren’t going to try this case on the six o’clock news.”

Kelly glared at him. “I wasn’t planning to. But I don’t understand why you’re not excited.”

“Solving this case is going to take months. You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Deke said.

“As usual,” Kelly retorted. “That’s how I get things done.”

“Dial it down, okay? Natalie Conrad is still in the clear, legally speaking. One little thing like that isn’t going to put her behind bars.”

“Thank you for that brutally honest opinion,” she said acidly.

“Sorry. I know it’s early for a reality check. But you didn’t find the magic key.”

“At least I looked.”

Deke ignored the childish dig. Kelly was ashamed of making it, but she was too tired to apologize.

“We have more work to do. A lot more if Konstantin decides to shut up. Dwight is going to have a tough time breaking him as it is. He might not ever be able to do it.”

“I know that, but—”

“You have to have something concrete to get an arrest warrant. Meaning evidence that places her in Bach’s apartment before he was found dead.”

“I didn’t want to ask Frankie at the team dinner, but I guess she never saw anything,” Kelly said. “You never did say.”

“No. On stakeouts, either you get lucky or you don’t.”

“Got it.”

Deke waved at the credit card statement on the screen. “Without other evidence, without a prior warrant, a judge would be likely to call this an unreasonable search and seizure, in clear violation of the subject’s constitutional rights.”

“Thanks for the civics lecture.” Kelly got up and moved to the kitchen counter with her empty cup. “Too bad. I’m impatient, I admit it. Wouldn’t it be great if
she
would confess? Just saying.”

Deke got up and stretched. “Lunatics do it all the time. She could take responsibility for every crime in Atlanta for the last ten years and it wouldn’t matter without corroborating evidence.”

He went over to the window and pulled the curtains open. The sky was lighter, but not by much. Kelly stared out the window, as if the answers were out there floating around like clouds.

“What if there were some way I could get her fingerprints?”

Deke chuckled. “How? Pretend to be a manicurist? She might figure out who you are.”

Kelly scowled at him.

“Collecting evidence is not your job.”

His unequivocal answer hung in the air between them. Kelly didn’t meet his gaze as she shut down her laptop, staring into the screen until it went black.

“You and I still make a good team, Kelly. But we can’t work the same side of the street.”

Kelly didn’t answer. She closed the laptop with a decisive snap.

BOOK: Triumph

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