You Can't Hide (12 page)

Aidan cleared his throat. “Dr. Ciccotelli’s testified in forty-six cases. Yesterday I requested Records run the list. I picked it up on my way in here.” He tossed the printout to the center of the table.

“How many convictions, Aidan?” Spinnelli asked.

“Thirty-one of the forty-six.”

Murphy let his head fall back against his chair. “Oh, my God.”

Patrick grabbed the printout, his face grim. “Thirty-one possible appeals. Do you know how long that wil tie up my staff?”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Spinnelli said. “So let’s clear Tess and let your staff focus on convicting all the new assholes. What do we have other than her prints in Adams’s apartment?”

“Her voice on Adams’s voice mail,” Aidan answered.

“I sent the tape to the electronics department to have a voice print made,” Jack said. Patrick shook his head. “Not admissible.”

“But we can exclude her if the prints are different,” Jack argued. “Our guy is good, Pat. It’s worth the time.”

“Do it then,” Patrick agreed.

“Then we’l need Dr. Ciccotelli to come in and give them a live voice sample for comparison.”

Aidan jotted it down. “She’s being very cooperative, so I don’t think she’l have a problem with that. What about the gun with the gift tag?”

“Wiped clean for prints. Serial number was sanded down, but I think I can raise it.” Jack looked at Spinnelli. “I assume we’re bumping the priority to high?”

“You assume right. What else?”

“We’re tracking down the lilies,” Murphy said. “So far we have three stores that made big lily sales on Saturday. We’l visit them this afternoon. First we want to visit Adams’s office. Somebody hated that woman enough to want her dead. We know she had many sexual partners and that she probably gave a few of them a nasty little parting gift. Maybe one of those somebodies hated her enough to want her dead.”

Aidan looked at the list of trials in which Ciccotelli had testified, remembering her sitting alone in Interview the day before.
Why use me?
she’d asked. Maybe they had it backward. “Or maybe Cynthia Adams was just the pawn. Maybe somebody really wanted an appeal.”

Patrick’s brows lifted in surprise. “Seems there are easier ways.”

“Too many maybes,” Spinnelli said. “Let’s get some definites. What about the e-mails with the attachments? Have we traced them?”

“Request is in to Electronics. Again, I’l bump it up.” Jack frowned and opened the paper again. “This picture was taken right after this woman landed. I mean
right
after. Thirty seconds maybe. One minute, tops.”

Aidan leaned closer. “How do you know?”

“Look at the concrete next to her head. No pool of blood yet.”

Aidan’s pulse quickened. “Ciccotelli said she got an anonymous call saying Adams was about to jump at 12:06. The teenaged witnesses said Adams jumped at 12:05.”

“Specific,” Patrick commented, but his eyes had also grown bright.

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You Can't Hide

“They were late for curfew. The girl said she had to be home by midnight and that she’d just looked at her watch, afraid she’d be in trouble with her parents.” Aidan looked over at Murphy.

“Ciccotelli said the call sounded like a cell phone.”

Murphy narrowed his eyes. “The cal er was there, watching her fall. Sonofabitch.”

“Ciccotelli also said the caller was a woman claiming to be Adams’s neighbor and-”

“Carmichael lives in Adams’s building,” Murphy finished. “Wouldn’t be the first time a reporter made their own news.” He shrugged. “It’s worth putting on the list.”

“Certainly worth seeing if she took any other pictures,” Jack added. “If your perp was there, maybe Carmichael saw him. Or her.”

Aidan sat back in his chair. “So our suspects right now are thirty-one potential prisoners seeking appeal, any number of sleazebag sex addicts with an STD, one young camera-happy reporter, and, unfortunately, still Tess Ciccotelli.”

Patrick stood up. “Rule Tess out before you do anything else. I do not want to have to deal with appeals.”

“Understood,” Spinnelli said. “Gentlemen.” He pointed to the door. “Go get me some definites. Today. I still want that ‘anonymous source.’ Get to work.”

Murphy gave a salute. “We’re off to check the flower shops. You in any present, past, or future hot water with your wife, Marc? We could pick you up some flowers. Small carrying charge. Wives like flowers.”

Spinnelli’s mouth tipped up. “I’m always in hot water with my wife. Unfortunately her tastes run more to big shiny rocks. Go.”

Aidan gave Murphy a sideways look as they left the conference room. “You been married, Murphy?”

“Was. Not anymore. What’s the first florist on your list?”

It was obvious the topic had been changed. “Josie’s Posies. She sold some lilies on Saturday.”

Aidan studied the list of Ciccotelli’s trials as he walked. “You drive. I want to look through these names. Some of these prisoners have been released.” He glanced at his watch. “Before we hit Adams’s brokerage house, let’s stop by the Health Department and see if Adams and Tess Ciccotelli pissed off any of the same people.”

Monday, March 13, 10:30 A.M.

A middle-aged woman, Miss Tuttle frowned up at them from a large wooden desk. “Any information we get from our clients is confidential, Detectives. You know this.”

“We’re investigating a murder, ma’am,” Murphy returned mildly. “One of your clients is dead. Her privacy is no longer at issue.”

“But the privacy of her partners
is
. I can’t help you.”

Aidan pul ed a picture from his notebook. “This is Cynthia Adams, ma’am. After she fell twenty-two stories.”

Miss Tuttle looked at the picture, then looked away, her eyes clenched shut, the color drained from her thin face. “Go away, Detectives. I can’t, nor will I, help you.”

“Somebody made her fall, ma’am,” Aidan said quietly and having made his point, put the picture away. “That somebody could have been one of her partners. Somebody with a grudge. Would you remember anyone who threatened Miss Adams when they were notified of possible infection?”

“Detective,” she began, directly meeting his eyes. “If I revealed anything about our clients, nobody would come here. My job is to protect the public. Just your being here is making that difficult. If I told you what you want to know, my job would be impossible.”

“We don’t want to keep you from doing your job. Truly we don’t.” Aidan gave her what he hoped was his most persuasive look. He hadn’t thought this would be easy. Tuttle actually was being more helpful than he had expected. “Her doctor’s records list you as Miss Adams’s contact. Can you tell us if you at least remember her?” He pul ed another photo of Cynthia from his

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notebook, this one taken from her drivers license. “She looked like this. She would have come in about six weeks ago.”

Tuttle bit her lip. “I remember her. Yes.”

“Can you tel us if any of her partners expressed any kind of threat, any kind of anger when they were notified? No names, just tell us if we’re going in the right direction.”

“No names, Detective?”

Aidan shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

She drew a breath. “One. He was livid. He threatened to make her pay.”

Aidan took a step back. “Thank you, Miss Tuttle. We’l leave now.”

Murphy waited until they were outside on the street before pul ing a stick of cinnamon gum from his pocket. “You didn’t get a list of names.”

“Didn’t expect one.” Aidan slid into the passenger seat of Murphy’s car and waited for his partner to take the wheel. “But now we know that it’s worth the trouble of getting a subpoena, which is all I really expected.”

Murphy pul ed into traffic. “Then you did good, kid. Let’s grab some lunch then head over to the brokerage house where Adams worked. Then Josie’s Posies.”

Chapter 6

Monday, March 13, 3:15 P.M.

Amy closed the door to Tess’s office. “It could have been worse, Tess.”

Tess slumped in her chair. Her meeting with Dr. Fenwick, the head of the state licensing board, had not gone well. “It could have been better.”

“They didn’t pul any sanction shit. You still have a practice.”

“Because I didn’t do anything wrong, dammit,” Tess snapped, then rubbed her forehead where a migraine brewed. “I’m sorry. Thanks for coming. It took the edge off, having you here.”

Tess suspected Dr. Fenwick would have done more than “disapprove” had her attorney not been present. But disapprove he had. The board, he’d declared, did not find accusations against their members acceptable. The board did not appreciate not having their calls returned while she finished her rounds. The board would be watching the investigation and her. When she was cleared by the authorities, she was to present an affidavit to the board stating same. “Fuck the board,” she muttered.

“I don’t think it will come down to that,” Amy teased lightly. “I don’t think most of them can anymore, not without a healthy dose of Viagra.”

Tess shot her a scathing look. “Not funny. This is my career here.”

Amy sat down on the arm of the sofa and crossed her arms over her chest, sobering. “So what are you going to do about this, Tess?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you can’t let this accusation slide unchecked. It could ruin your career.”

“Duh.”

“Tess, I’m very serious.”

Tess stood up and began packing her briefcase. “I’m going to work with the police to find out who really did this.”

Amy leaned forward, her brows lifted, her expression sarcastic. “News bul etin, kid. The police think
you
did this.”

Tess studied the contents of a folder, then tossed it in the briefcase with the others. “I don’t think they do.”

“Todd Murphy might not, but that Detective Reagan sure as hell does.”

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You Can't Hide

Tess thought about Reagan, about the way he’d asked his questions that morning. “No, I don’t think he does either. Regardless, they won’t be able to charge me because I haven’t
done
anything.”

Amy’s laugh wasn’t pretty. “Like that will stop them. Wake up and smell the damn coffee. I defend people every day that think they won’t be charged because they haven’t
done
anything. What makes you think you’re different?”

Tess slammed the lid of her briefcase down, a cold shaft of fear shooting her pulse like a rocket. “Because I’m
innocent,
that’s what.”

Hurt flashed through Amy’s eyes. “I don’t represent people I think are guilty, Tess.”

Tess’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She laid her hand on Amy’s arm, felt her friend tense. “I know your ethics are just as important to you as mine are to me.” Amy’s nod was tight. “It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. It was plain to see. Nevertheless, Amy squared her shoulders. “Look, I think you should attack this head on. Call the newspaper and give them your side. Make Bremin look foolish for jumping the gun.”

Tess had considered a similar plan throughout the day. “All right. Do you have a contact at any of the papers? Somebody you trust to be fair?”

“Yeah, I do. Let me take care of making the arrangements. I’l let you know who and when.”

Amy pointed a warning finger. “Don’t talk to anybody else except for the interview I set up. Promise me.”

“All right.” She looked at her clock with a frown. “I had a three o’clock session scheduled. Who was that with?” She bit her lip, then remembered. Mr. Winslow. Such a sad man. His story nearly broke her heart. “Amy, I have to see this patient. I’l call you at your office when I’m finished.”

Amy was buttoning her coat when a soft knock sounded at the door. Denise stuck her head in. “Doctor, I’ve got about twenty messages for you. Mostly from reporters, a half dozen from patients.” She frowned. “Three canceled their sessions for tomorrow.”

Tess sighed and took the stack of messages Denise offered and scanned each one. “I suppose some attrition is to be expected.”

“A Detective Reagan called twice. He asked you to call him as soon as you were free. It’s urgent. He left his cell number. Oh, and you have a call on line one. It’s about Mr. Winslow. Somebody claiming to be Mr. Winslow’s neighbor. She insisted on talking to you. Wouldn’t leave a message.”

Tess’s head whipped up, the word “neighbor” sending her heart plunging to her gut. “What?”

“A neighbor of Mr. Wins-”

Tess leaped to the phone. “Shit. Oh, shit.” Tess ran to the phone at her desk and picked up, her hands shaking. “Hel o?”

“Dr. Ciccotelli?”

It wasn’t the same woman. This woman sounded older than the woman who’d claimed to be Cynthia Adams’s neighbor.
Dammit.
She waved Denise and Amy to silence. Took a deep breath and willed her voice to be steady. “This is Dr. Ciccotelli. What seems to be the problem?”

“I’m a neighbor of one of your patients, Avery Winslow. I’m worried about Avery. He’s been in his apartment all day, crying. I knocked on his door to check on him but he told me to go away. He… he had a gun in his hand, Doctor.”

Oh, God.
“Did you call the police?”

“No, just you. Oh, dear, I suppose I should have called 911. I’ll do that now.”

“No. I’ll do it. Thank you, Miss-?” The phone clicked in her ear. “Shit.” Hands shaking, she sorted the messages until she found Reagan’s. “Shit. Goddammit. Denise, call 911. Have the police go to Mr. Winslow’s apartment. Tell them he’s suicidal. Then get me his address. I’l call you to get it when I get down to my car.
Move, Denise.
” White-faced, Denise disappeared to do as she was told. “Dammit, where’s my cell phone?”

Amy reached into Tess’s jacket pocket. “Right here. Calm down, Tess.”

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Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

“I can’t calm down.” A terrified sob rose in her throat and she pushed it back as she dialed Reagan’s number. She’d grabbed her coat and was out the office door when he answered.

“Reagan.”

“Detective Reagan, this is Tess Ciccotelli.”