Читать книгу Black Silk - Metsy Hingle - Страница 9

Four

While she and Vince waited for the electronics tech to key up the security tapes from the Mill House Apartments, Charlie scanned the visitors’ log. Noting the number of people who had visited Francesca Hill on the day she was killed, she nearly groaned. It would take days to interview them all. “I’m surprised she didn’t install a revolving door.”

“According to the kid at the front desk, our vic was very popular,” Vince said.

“I’ll say. Wait until you see the tape,” the whiz-kid tech named Rich replied.

“We are waiting,” Charlie pointed out. They had been racing from Stratton’s home to the station when the call came saying someone of interest had popped up on the security tapes. She had spent years searching for a lead on Emily’s killer and at last she had one—even if it had come through another tragedy. And she wanted to move on that lead now.

“Here we go,” Rich said as a view of the elevator door and hallway to Francesca Hill’s apartment came onto the screen. A tall blonde in a black leather skirt, sweater and thigh-high boots exited the elevator carrying a gift bag with a frilly ribbon.

“That must be the hot chick the kid at the desk told me about before the manager showed up and put a muzzle on him,” Vince remarked as the woman strutted toward the apartment. “The kid said her name’s Danielle. She’s a dealer at the casino where our vic worked before she hit the engagement lottery.”

Danielle Marceau, Charlie noted, locating the name in the guest log.

On screen Francesca peeked inside the gift bag, then ushered the woman inside her apartment. After several moments spent staring at the closed door, Charlie asked, “Can you speed it up?”

“Your wish is my command, Detective.”

She rolled her eyes. The boy wonder with peach fuzz on his chin had joined the department six months ago. Despite his weird sense of humor and even weirder fashion style, he was a walking, talking, electronics genius. He could make anything electronic sing. A few taps of his fingers and Danielle zipped down the hall in fast-forward motion. The time lapsed on the tape was thirty minutes.

“And here’s our next guest,” Rich said as he slowed the tape again.

“The intended bridegroom,” Charlie remarked when J. P. Stratton stepped out of the elevator. He was greeted at the door with a kiss, before disappearing into the apartment. Fast-forwarding had him leaving again less than twenty minutes later.

“I guess he’s not big on foreplay,” Rich joked.

“Skip the commentary and just run the film,” Charlie said dryly.

Aaron Stratton arrived next, carrying a briefcase, and stayed for fifteen minutes. “You remember sonny boy mentioning a visit to his stepmother-to-be?” Vince asked.

“No,” Charlie replied and made a note to question Aaron Stratton about his visit. The film was fast-forwarded and when it was slowed again, an older gentleman wearing a gray overcoat, hat and carrying a bible went to the apartment. “Reverend Homer Lawrence,” she read the name in the visitors’ log. “I wonder what the minister wanted at that time of night?”

“I’ll get Mackenzie to find out what church he’s affiliated with and we’ll ask him,” Vince said as he scribbled in his notepad.

“Wait! Slow it down,” Charlie instructed. She sat forward, studying the newest arrival. The man was tall, probably six foot three or better, two hundred pounds, early to mid-thirties, she guessed. He had an arresting face with a strong jawline, a sensual mouth and cheekbones sharp enough to cut ice. His hair was thick, straight and looked in need of a trim. Dark brows rested above knowing eyes that stared directly into the camera. Despite the grainy film, the man made an impact. “He looks familiar.”

“He should. He’s Cole Stratton, the owner of CS Securities, one of the fastest-growing companies in the South. The Times-Picayune ran a profile on him in the paper’s business section a few months ago.”

“What’s his relationship to J.P. Stratton?” she asked.

“His firstborn, courtesy of the first Mrs. Stratton. The story is that she was some kind of heiress and it was her money and connections that J.P. used to get started.”

“Divorced?” she asked.

“Dead. Cancer,” Vince explained. “Apparently J.P. did a real number on her before she died. Cole Stratton was just a kid at the time, but word is he never forgave the old man and as soon as he was old enough, he walked out. Turned his back on a virtual fortune and struck out on his own. According to the grapevine, lots of bad blood there.”

“With all that bad blood, one has to wonder why he was visiting his father’s fiancée,” Charlie pointed out and decided to find out what she could about Cole Stratton.

They sped through more surveillance tape and watched as a young woman approached the apartment. Judging by her clothes and the long, straight hair, Charlie pegged her to be in her early to mid-twenties. She didn’t stay long and when she left, she was swiping at her eyes as though crying. Charlie checked the visitors’ book, but there were no further guest entries to the Hill apartment. “Whoever she is, she didn’t sign in.”

“I’ll take another shot at the desk clerk to see if he recognizes her and find out why she didn’t sign in,” Vince offered.

Rich fast-forwarded through more film and when the light glowed on the elevator, he slowed to real time again. A man wearing sunglasses and a hat with a brim exited. The collar of his jacket was turned up, shielding the lower half of his face, which he kept angled away from the camera. “Hold it there,” Charlie instructed and glanced at Vince. “Do you think wearing sunglasses indoors at night is some kind of new fashion trend? Or do you get the feeling our visitor knew about the security camera and didn’t want to be identified?”

“My guess is number two,” he said. “Can you get a close-up of our shy guy?”

“Give me a sec.” Rich tapped at the keys, formed a frame around the face, then magnified it. “That’s about the best I can do,” he said after several attempts at enlarging the image failed to yield a clearer view. “I’ll see if I can get a better angle of him leaving.”

But that view proved no better. Disappointed and frustrated, Charlie clenched the pen in her hand. “What about the cameras in the lobby? Maybe there’s a better shot of him on those tapes? And check the camera at the delivery entrance, too, just in case he didn’t come through the front door.”

“I’ll check them,” Rich said.

“Call us if something pops,” Charlie said and started to push away from the table. They had a lot of territory to cover and with each hour that passed the trail grew colder.

“Hang on a second. Don’t you want to see what else I found?” Rich asked.

Charlie eased back down and waited while the whiz kid tapped the computer keys. He fast-forwarded, then slowed it to real time. One second, two seconds, three seconds ticked by showing only the same scene of the elevator door and the empty hall leading to the Hill apartment. Then she saw it—a blip in the film. The blip was so quick, it was almost indiscernible. The empty hall scene remained the same, but the time on the film had jumped forward by nearly two hours. “Wait. Back it up a few seconds, then run it.”

Rich did as he was told. And there it was again—a break in the surveillance tape. It lasted no longer than the blink of an eye, but according to tape, nearly two hours had passed. “Somebody monkeyed with the surveillance camera,” she said aloud.

“Someone who obviously knew his or her way around the security system,” Vince pointed out.

“Good job, kid,” she told the tech as she stood and grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair. “Let us know if you come up with anything else on our mystery guy.”

Vince followed her to the door. “Who do you want to start with?”

They’d already interviewed J.P. Stratton and his son Aaron once. “Why don’t we start with the other son, Cole Stratton. Since he owns a security company, chances are he knows how to get around one.”

* * *

Sitting alone in the dark, he turned on the television and tuned in to Channel 4, knowing they would be the first to break the news story. He sipped his scotch and waited patiently for the beer commercial to finish.

“Good evening. This is Bill Capo filling in for Eric Paulsen,” the veteran investigative reporter began in that deep, sincere voice that made him a favorite among the locals. “Today in Washington…”

He listened to the reporter give a rundown on the national news front, the budget deficit, the rising cost of health care and the use of steroids in professional sports before he shifted to news on the local front. After a station break, Capo’s face returned to the screen.

“In other local news, the much-talked-about wedding of businessman J. P. Stratton to Francesca Hill that was scheduled to take place this evening has been canceled,” Bill announced. “Live on the scene with more on that story is Anne Le Blanc.”

The TV screen switched to the perky blond reporter standing at the entrance to the museum with the wind whipping her hair around her face. “Bill, I’m here at the New Orleans Museum of Art, where less than an hour from now J. P. Stratton, the founder of Stratton Hotels, was scheduled to take Francesca Hill as his bride. Inside,” she continued, extending her arm toward the structure, “thousands of red roses were flown in for the event and food was prepared by some of the top chefs in the city for the guest list of five hundred. But I’m told, a short time ago the guests began receiving calls from Mr. Stratton’s staff, advising them that the wedding had been canceled.”

“Anne, has any reason been given for the cancellation?” Bill asked.

“Not yet, Bill. And so far, our calls to both Mr. Stratton and Ms. Hill have not been returned. But as you can see from the cars arriving, not all of the guests received the news in time.” She walked down to the street and knocked on the window of a sleek black limo. When the window slid down, she asked, “Sir, you’re live on Channel 4 News. Are you here for the Stratton/Hill wedding?”

She pointed the microphone at him. “Yes, I am.”

“No one contacted you to tell you the wedding had been canceled?” she asked, and angled the microphone at him.

“My secretary reached me on my cell phone just as I arrived and gave me the news.”

“Were you told the reason for the cancellation?” Anne asked.

“No. Just that it was canceled and that Mr. Stratton extended his apologies.”

“Any guess as to why it was canceled?” she asked.

He paused. “Maybe J.P. got cold feet.”

“Thank you,” she said and walked away from the car. “It appears that for now the reason for cancellation of the fairy-tale event remains a mystery. However, a source, who has asked not to be identified, told this reporter that the police were seen at Mr. Stratton’s home this afternoon.”

“Anne, do we know why the police were at the Stratton home?” Bill asked.

“No, Bill, we don’t. But I’m sure many of the guests who were invited are wondering just as we are if the reason for the cancellation of the wedding is something much more serious than cold feet.”

“Thank you, Anne.”

“Thank you, Bill. This is Anne Le Blanc reporting live for Channel 4 Eyewitness News.”

“I’m sure we’ll be hearing a lot more on this story as the details become available,” Capo said.

They would be hearing so much more, he thought, disappointed that they hadn’t released the real story. He’d hoped to see the photos, hear some of the grim details and relive his triumph. He’d also wanted to get another look at the pretty detective.

Using the remote, he turned off the television. No matter, he decided. It would happen soon enough. After setting down his glass, he picked up the black silk stocking that he had taken from his treasure chest. His heart beat a little faster as he looked at it, sliding it along his fingers. There was nothing like the feel of silk. Sensuous. Seductive. Secretive. Just like the woman he’d killed. Lifting the stocking to his face, he breathed in her scent. He could feel his blood beginning to heat. A throbbing ache started in his loins and spread through his body like fire. It clawed at him, a ravenous beast demanding to be fed.

He freed himself from his pants. Closing his eyes, he pressed the stocking to his mouth so he could taste her while he closed his fist around his hard flesh and began the up-and-down motion. Up and down. Up and down. Fast. Faster. Faster still. He held the stocking in his fist, used the scent of her to bring back the memory.

And then she was there.

So beautiful. So wanton. So wicked.

Increasing the tempo, he could feel his breathing grow labored. Sweat began to trickle down his brow. Suddenly he was back in the bedroom with her. Once again, he could see the lust in her eyes turn to alarm. See the fear begin to take root as she struggled to free her bound wrists. Watch that fear turn to panic when she realized they were no longer playing a game. Best of all, he could see the terror come into her green eyes when she realized he was going to kill her. And as he recalled the feel of her body bucking beneath him and her life slipping away, he shouted as his own release came.

Later, when his breathing had returned to normal and he’d righted himself, he retrieved the black silk stocking and returned it to the envelope marked Francesca. Opening the black box, he placed it inside behind the envelope marked Emily.

“Kossak! Le Blanc!”

Charlie’s head came up, as did those of half of the squad room. All eyes went to Captain Edward Warren who stood at his office door with a scowl on his face. “Get your carcasses in here! Now!”

Quickly Charlie hung up the telephone, not bothering to finish dialing the number. She darted a glance over at her partner and mouthed the words What’s up? Vince shrugged in response while he attempted to finish his phone call. Pushing away from her desk, Charlie grabbed her black jacket from the back of the chair and slipped it on.

“I’ll get back to you,” Vince told the person on the other end of the phone line and ended the call. “What gives?” he asked her as the two of them started toward the captain’s office.

“Beats me,” she said. Together they entered the office. Big, black and bald, Captain Warren was a cop’s cop who had worked his way up the ranks. He was a tough taskmaster but a fair man who didn’t let politics get in the way of the job. And in a sue-the-police-force mentality that had begun to permeate society, the captain always went to bat for his officers. She respected him for that. She also was grateful to him for believing in her and giving her a chance to be a real homicide detective and not a token female with the title who was stuck behind a desk shuffling papers in order to meet some minority quota. She and Vince waited in front of his desk. “You wanted to see us, sir.”

“Shut the door,” he ordered, then pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. He retrieved a bottle of antacid tablets. He dumped out a handful of the chalky-looking tablets and shoved them all into his mouth.

Whatever it was, it was bad, Charlie realized. Everyone in the department knew that the way to gauge the captain’s mood was by the number of antacids he took. Three tablets meant he wasn’t happy. Four meant he was angry and five meant you were in real trouble. But never, ever, in the three years since she was assigned to Homicide had she seen the man take an entire fistful of the things all at once. Whatever had riled the captain was major. She glanced over at Vince and saw from his expression that he knew it, too.

When the captain finished the tablets and returned his attention to them, he looked mad enough to chew nails. “Did I or did I not instruct you to use discretion in the Hill murder investigation?”

“You did, sir,” Vince informed him.

When he looked at Charlie, she said, “Yes, sir, you did.”

“And weren’t you told that there were no statements to be given to the press until I authorized it personally?”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

Charlie got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and she hoped that she was wrong, that her sister Anne hadn’t done something stupid and landed both Vince and her in hot water. But when the captain shifted his gaze from Vince and trained it on her, Charlie knew she didn’t have a prayer.

“Then how do you explain the five o’clock newscast?” he demanded.

“Sir, I’m afraid we haven’t seen it,” she told him. “We’ve been working the case.”

“Then allow me to show you what you missed,” he said dryly and hit the remote button for the portable TV set in the corner of the room. The set was tuned to the channel where the WWL-TV station reran the news broadcasts throughout the day. And there in living color was Anne in front of the New Orleans Museum of Art with a microphone in her hand.

“It appears that for now the reason for cancellation of the fairy-tale event remains a mystery,” Anne announced. “However, a source, who has asked not to be identified, told this reporter that the police were seen at Mr. Stratton’s home this afternoon.”

“Anne, do we know why the police were at the Stratton home?” Bill Capo asked.

“No, Bill, we don’t. But I’m sure many of the guests who were invited are wondering just as we are if the reason for the cancellation of the wedding is something much more serious than cold feet.”

“Thank you, Anne.”

“Thank you, Bill. This is Anne Le Blanc reporting live for Channel 4 Eyewitness News.”

The captain turned off the TV set. When he turned his attention back to the two of them, Charlie feared the veins in his neck would burst. “Sir, I don’t know who my sister’s source was,” she told him. “But it wasn’t me or Detective Kossak.”

He leaned forward, dropped his voice to a deep growl and asked, “Then who in the hell was it, Detective? Because let me tell you, I’d like to know who is responsible for me spending the last twenty minutes on the phone with the superintendent of police ripping me a new one because my detectives ignored a direct order from the chief himself that there was to be no information on the Hill homicide given to the press.”

Charlie checked the urge to flinch. She met the captain’s angry gaze. “Sir, you have my word, I did not tell my sister anything about the case.”

“Then how do you explain your sister breaking the story, Le Blanc?”

“I can’t, sir. But I can tell you that my sister arrived at the Stratton home as we were leaving. I refused to comment on our reason for being there.”

“She’s telling the truth, sir. I can attest to that,” Vince said. “Detective Le Blanc made it…um…clear to her sister that she had nothing to say.”

“Evidently she didn’t make it clear enough,” the captain remarked.

“If I might point out, sir, my sister Anne isn’t stupid. She knows I’m a homicide cop and she saw me leaving the Stratton residence. My guess is she put two and two together when the wedding was canceled.”

He seemed to consider that. “Then how do you explain your sister showing up there in the first place?”

“I can’t, sir,” Charlie told him.

“If I might speculate, Captain?” Vince asked.

“I’m listening.”

“Anne…Detective Le Blanc’s sister is a good reporter and like any good reporter, she has a nose for news,” he began.

Charlie looked up at her partner. She knew her sister was a good reporter and she knew Anne had the instincts of a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out a story. But she hadn’t realized that Vince knew it or that he had paid enough attention to Anne to discover that fact. Charlie frowned, recalling now that during the last month Vince had been commenting on her sister’s reports, asking about her family. Damn, she thought. Did her partner have a thing for her kid sister?

“…and she mentioned to me last week that she would be covering the wedding for the TV station. It’s possible she was there to interview Stratton before the ceremony as part of her story. That would explain her being at the house.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that it was just a coincidence, her being there at the same time you were?” the captain asked skeptically.

“I’m not a big believer in coincidences either, sir. But every now and then, they happen. And I think that’s what happened.”

“What about you, Le Blanc?” the captain asked. “What’s your theory?”

“I don’t have one, sir. But what Detective Kossak said makes sense, with respect to my sister’s reason for being at the Stratton house. If you want me to, sir, I could ask her.”

He waited a long moment and then said, “Don’t bother. I’ll see what I can do to smooth things over with the chief. But I’m warning both of you, any more leaks to the press and all the slick talking in the world isn’t going to save any of our asses. Understood?”

“Understood, sir,” Vince told him.

“Understood, Captain,” she replied.

He nodded. “Now tell me what you’ve got so far.”

They brought him up to speed on the investigation, starting with the fact that the theory of robbery as the motive seemed unlikely. “No thief with half a brain would have left that rock behind,” Vince told the captain, referring to Francesca’s engagement ring.

“He’s right, Captain,” Charlie added. “I’m not sure what to make of the cash, credit cards and other jewelry that’s missing. But robbery is not what’s behind the Hill woman’s murder.”

“Damn! This is not going to play well with the press or with Stratton,” the captain informed them. “Any leads?”

Charlie told him about the people on the surveillance video at the apartment, as well as about the gap on the tape. “We’ve spoken to the staff at the apartment building, to some of the neighbors, to Mr. Stratton and one of his sons. We’ve got someone running down addresses on the minister and girlfriend who visited her that night, as well as Cole Stratton. And we’re trying to locate the ex-boyfriend, Schwitzer, and bring him in for questioning. We’re also still trying to identify the other woman on the tape and the mystery guy with the shades.”

“What about the victim’s family?” the captain asked. “Any help there?”

“Not so far. There’s a mother in Arkansas. We’re still trying to locate her,” Charlie responded.

“Forensics is going over the sheets, clothing and glasses from the crime scene to see if we can get a hit on any of the prints. I’m going to have the new kid Mackenzie try to run down the manufacturer on the stocking we found at the scene. It’s a long shot, but there’s a chance we’ll get lucky and be able to trace it back to the buyer.”

“Anything from the M.E. yet?” the captain asked.

“No, but we’ve asked for a rush and we’re on the hook to her for a dinner at Commander’s Palace,” Vince told him.

“What about cause of death?” he asked.

“The preliminary exam indicates death was due to strangulation,” Vince told him.

Charlie released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when Vince made no mention of the stocking’s possible connection to her sister’s murder. She’d hated taking advantage of their friendship. And she felt guilty asking him to remain silent or to do anything that might jeopardize his career. But the need to find Emily’s killer had outweighed her guilt. If it fell apart, she would make sure that Vince didn’t take the fall with her. It was she who had made the decision to withhold the information about her sister’s murder. She’d swear on a stack of bibles if need be that Vince knew nothing and that she’d done it on her own. But she prayed it wouldn’t come to that. Lying wasn’t something she did often and she didn’t do it well. But if it was the only way she could stay on the case and try to find Emily’s killer, then she would do it.

“Any suspects?” the captain asked.

“The ex-boyfriend is at the top of the list. And word is the victim didn’t get along with Stratton’s daughter. There was some kind of incident at the restaurant where they had the rehearsal dinner last night. Mackenzie is checking into it and getting statements about what went down,” Vince said. “And depending on how J. P. Stratton’s will is structured, I say we look at each of his kids since a new stepmother could impact their inheritance. My guess is that Stratton isn’t going to like us questioning them.”

“Anything else?” the captain asked.

“It’d help if we weren’t being asked to walk on eggshells while we do our job.”

“Point taken, Detective.” He steepled his fingers, saying nothing for a moment. “I’ll handle the chief and Stratton. You do your jobs and find me the killer.”

After exiting the captain’s office, Charlie said, “Thanks for backing me up in there and for not saying anything about the stocking and my sister’s case.”

“I told the truth—just not all of it.”

“You did more than that, Kossak. And I won’t forget it,” she promised as they approached their desks.

For the next hour, they worked the phones and attempted to track down Francesca Hill’s neighbor who had reportedly been out of town on vacation for the past week. They also tried to located Cole Stratton, the minister and the ex-boyfriend, Marcus Schwitzer. Charlie placed a call to Aaron Stratton and pressed him for the names of the dinner guests. She came away with several names to check out. In addition to Aaron Stratton, Jason and Phillip Stratton, J.P.’s twin sons from his fourth marriage, had attended the dinner party. Also present was Reverend Lawrence, Danielle Marceau and Judge William Findlay who was to serve as best man.

Vince stood and stretched. “I’m going to head over to Forensics and see if I can sweet-talk Pam into pushing our stuff up the line.”

“Who’s Pam?” Charlie asked, looking up from her notes.

“I swear, Le Blanc, sometimes I think you live in a cave. Pam is the brunette that came on board almost a year ago.”

“The one with the tattoo?”

“That’s the one,” Vince responded. “She works the late shift.”

Mention of the late shift made her glance at her watch. It was almost seven—which meant she was going to be even later getting to her parents’ house than she’d originally thought. She also had hoped to grab Anne before she headed to their folks’ and demand an explanation from her. Realizing that she’d have to wait only served to annoy her more. “I gotta go,” she said and began shoving papers and files into her bag to review at home.

“Got a hot date?” he teased.

“Hardly.” The truth was it had been more than two months since she’d been on a date. And that one had been a fiasco. Not that it was the guy’s fault. It wasn’t. She doubted if many guys would like being left in a five-star restaurant with two pricey entrées on the table because his blind date had been called to a murder scene.

“So what’s the big hurry?”

“I’m having dinner with my folks. And then I’m going to toss my sister Anne off a bridge.”