Stillwater
10:21 a.m.
Leo stared at Shawna in disbelief. He nearly dropped his cell phone, where Angie was still on the line. “This is ridiculous! Who ordered the tests?”
“I don’t know,” Shawna said.
“How did the tests come back so quickly?”
Shawna sighed. “I don’t know. They must have put a rush on them.”
Leo grimaced. There was nothing he could do about the arrest. But now he had Angie on the line, and he could at least ask her the question about Valyne. He raised the phone back to his ear. “Angie, you still there?”
“I’ve been listening. I’m here.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll try to figure things out. But we need your help. We need to know who a ‘Valyne’ is.”
“Valyne? As in Valyne McKinnon?”
Leo grabbed a piece of paper, and scribbled the name down. He passed it to Shawna and Francis. “You know her?”
“Not really. I never really got to know her. I didn’t see what Rollie liked about her.”
“He liked her?”
“They met at a party a few days ago. Hit it off quite well, it seems,” she said.
Was that a sour note that Leo detected in her voice? Or was he just imagining it? “So do you know if he was going to see her last night?”
“I think so. He mentioned something about it.”
“Would you know how to find out where she lives?”
“232 Hefner, apartment C,” Angie said, surprising Leo. “I remember the address from a message I took once for Rollie.” Leo wrote down the address.
Suddenly, Shawna’s phone rang again. She picked it up, listening to the person on the other end. Surprised, this time she passed the phone in Leo’s direction. “It’s for you.”
Leo stared at the phone, then spoke to Angie again. “Ah, right. I have to go. So, you’re okay? You don’t need one of us to pick you up, bring you home?”
“I’m fine. Leo – Lucinda and I have nothing else to do. We’ll go to Valyne’s house. See if she knows anything.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“We can do it,” Angie said, firmly.
“All right. Let me know what you find out,” Leo said. “And thanks,” he added, as an afterthought.
Poor kid, he thought, as he took Shawna’s phone. He sympathized with Angie, and understood her need to do something. Rollie had always been active in resolving conflicts, and Angie had always been there at his side. And now Rollie was, for the moment, gone, and Leo had to deal with Angie himself.
The moment he was off the phone with Angie, he switched to Shawna’s phone. “Leo McCarthy,” he said.
“McCarthy, Detective Fischer.” Leo quickly analyzed the tone of the voice he was hearing. Matter-of-fact. Sharp. Used to getting things done. Leo straightened. “We need to speak about your investigation … and mine.”
Of course. “You’re the one who’s in charge of the Domlin murder case, I assume?”
“That’s correct,” said the detective. “Why don’t we meet at Domlin’s residence in an hour?”
Request – or command? “I’ll be there in an hour and a half,” he said. Wasn’t that a power move Rollie used once, in one of their stings? He smiled slightly. “We have something to follow up on.”
Fischer sounded annoyed. “Hour and thirty it will have to be then.” He hung up before Leo could say anything else.
Leo hung up, and his eyes met Francis’, then Shawna’s. Shawna and Francis had been listening to both conversations with interest. “So what do you think the detective in charge of Domlin’s case has found?” Shawna asked. But her voice gave away the fact that she already had a good idea.
Leo flipped Shawna’s phone back and handed it back to her. “Let’s guess,” he said, flatly.
Francis sighed. “So what are we going to do now?”
Leo yawned.
“We’ve got some time. Francis, I figure it’s time for a nap.”
11:23 a.m.
Lucinda looked over at Angie. Had she always driven this aggressively? There was something Lucinda could sense in Angie as she drove that, while being natural for other New York drivers, was quite unlike Angie. The squeal of tires around an intersection. Nearly running a red light. Cutting off another car – more than once.
“We don’t have to get there this instant,” Lucinda finally said.
Angie held her eyes on the road, paying little attention to Lucinda. “I’m the one driving, okay?” she said.
Maybe I shouldn’t have let her drive. She’s more terrified for Rollie than she’s going to admit. Lucinda took a deep breath, then gave voice to the question that had been hiding at the back of her mind. “Angie, are you sure you’re okay?”
“As okay as one can be, if your friend is dying in hospital.”
Angie’s blunt words were laced with icy determination. Lucinda laughed lightly, trying to relieve some of the tension that hung in the air like a stifling blanket. “You’re not going, say, suicidal, are you?”
The car horn that blared at them barely registered in Angie’s mind.
Angie rolled her eyes. “Of course not,” she said, tiredly.
Lucinda shrugged. “Then, let’s slow down just a teeny little bit?”
Angie jammed on the brakes and the car squealed to a halt at a parking spot by the curb. “Well, we’re here.”
Lucinda tried to hide her relief. As she stepped out of the car, she made a mental note that she was going to drive back.
The
apartment building was two stories, with four apartments. Three had entrances at the ground level,
while the fourth was accessed by an old rusted metal staircase that ran up the
side of the building. Lucinda looked at
the staircase, wondering how safe it was.
Lucinda followed the sidewalk around the building. She quickly found the metal door that was the entrance to apartment C, Valyne McKinnon’s apartment. The green paint on the door was peeling, and the iron letter C was dull and rusted. Lucinda wondered how, with all the women who had been throwing themselves at Rollie, Valyne had stuck out enough for Rollie to notice her.
He
must have really liked her.
Lucinda could smell the faint flowery scent emanating from the flower bushes that surrounded the door, the sweet odour mixing with the more offensive polluted air of the city. Angie knocked impatiently.
A soft click emanated from behind the door. The peephole was opened from the inside, and a moment later the door opened.
Valyne McKinnon was even prettier than Lucinda had expected her to be. Angie also appeared impressed, and she took a small step back. The young woman was European. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her makeup was not overdone, and accented her natural beauty enough to make Lucinda a little envious. She was dressed in a loose T-shirt and shorts.
The woman’s dark eyes darted from Angie to Lucinda. “Can I, ah, help you ladies?”
Angie’s eyes narrowed. “Are you Valyne McKinnon?”
The woman took a nervous step back. “Yes.”
Lucinda pushed in front of Angie before Valyne could get the wrong idea about their visit. “Hi,” she said, warmly. She extended her hand to shake. “I’m Lucinda Scott. This is Angela Ramirez.”
The woman’s eyes travelled to Angie. “Angie Ramirez … are you friends of Rol –”
“Yes, we are,” Angie interrupted, coldly. “Can we come in?”
Valyne took another small step back. “I’d rather – don’t get the wrong idea, but …”
“Please, it’s important,” Lucinda said. “Something’s happened to Rollie.”
Valyne tensed. “Please, just leave me be,” she pleaded. “I didn’t mean it –”
“Mean what?” Angie said, angrily. She stepped through the doorway. Lucinda sensed anger in her voice. “What’s happened to him? You know, don’t you?”
Valyne drew her hands towards her face. Her eyes glimmered as tears began to form. “Please, I didn’t know they were going to do that to him.”
“Who’s they?” Angie pressed.
“Please, Ms. McKinnon,” Lucinda said sympathetically, following Angie into the hallway. “Tell us what happened to Rollie.”
Valyne leaned against the wall, barely able to stand up. “All right,” she said, finally. “Come in.”
She turned and led the way into her small apartment. Lucinda and Angie followed her into the kitchen, which also seemed to serve as a dining room. A tiny metal table had been erected next to the window, which overlooked the street outside. “I’ll make some coffee,” Valyne offered, moving to the coffeepot which sat on the narrow countertop that ran along the back of the kitchen, next to a small stove and fridge.
Lucinda and Angie waited as Valyne slipped the pot into the coffeemaker, and set it running. She came and sat at one of the folding metal chairs around the table, gesturing for Angie and Lucinda to sit as well. She took a deep breath, wiping her eyes. Her voice was soft, and hesitant. “So you’re Angie, Rollie’s … coworker? And you’re …?” “Rollie’s friend, Lucinda,” Lucinda said, quietly. “I’m an actress.”
Valyne smiled shyly. “So am I.”
Angie broke in. “What happened to Rollie?” Angie pressed.
Valyne fidgeted. She ran her hands along the lip of her mug. Lucinda noticed that the nail polish on the woman’s fingers had not been repainted recently. Valyne clasped her hands together, and put them in her lap. She stared at them. “Uh, Rollie and I met a little while ago. At a bar. I’m an actress, so we talked a lot about the movie business. I thought that by talking to Rollie I’d get some pull in the movie world.” She rubbed the backs of her arms and shivered. But Lucinda noticed that there was no air conditioning in the apartment. “And he was really interesting, and nice. We hit it off pretty well, but we were just being friendly. He left the bar … without me. I stayed.”
Her voice broke, and for a moment, it seemed like she was going to cry. She rubbed one eye. “Soon after, three guys came up to me. Asked me who I was, what I was doing talking to Rollie. I didn’t know who they were, and I got really scared. I told them my name, and I told them I’d only just met Rollie. They talked amongst themselves, then asked me if I wanted to do a job for them.”
Angie frowned. “What kind of job?”
Valyne bit her lip. “They wanted me to make Rollie fall in love with me.”
11:45 a.m.
A large pair of iron gates marked the entrance to multi-millionaire Matthew Domlin’s rich estate. A small video camera was perched atop the gate, monitored by a security guard inside the grounds. Leo was prepared to speak his name into the small microphone in front of the ornate gates but suddenly realized they were already opening.
Everyone’s expecting us, he thought.
He manouevered the car through the gates and up the long driveway, which wound through a small wooded area. The trees quickly opened up to reveal the mansion. The overcast skies lit it in a foreboding grey colour, and Leo felt a shiver pass through him as he parked the car along the side of the curved driveway.
As they got out of the car, Francis remarked,“Nice place.”
Detective Albert’s comment was even drier. “This should be fun.”
They climbed the long flight of stone steps to the tall doors of the main entrance. The doorsopened before the three detectives reached them. The man who had opened them, a servant, nodded as they passed into the building. “Detectives McCarthy, Albert, and Gatti?”
“Yes,” Shawna said.
“Please come in. Detective Fischer is in the dining room.”
Leo smirked. In a way, he was reminded of the old detective novels his parents had hooked him on when he was young. A murder in a bizarre mansion; the rich guests, all under suspicion. The one detective who laboured to solve the case.
It felt like he was playing “Clue” all over again.
But this was not an eighteenth century mansion. Despite all appearances and attempts to hide them, Leo could spot the advanced technological enhancements that made the mansion unique. The emitters of the invisible laser beams that crossed the entrance hallway at ankle height. The alarm box with keypad. The video cameras that panned all the main hallways.
And the security appeared to be overkill until Leo realized the real excuse for it all. Matthew Domlin appeared to be a collector of rare and expensive paintings. Leo had never had much of an interest in art, apart from a habit of cartooning crude stick men when he was a boy. However, a few of the pictures on Domlin’s wall appeared familiar to him. He also remembered their approximate price, and suddenly he was a little more nervous passing by the tall framed canvases. It made him wonder what security features existed that he couldn’t spot. Pressure sensitive tiles? Were the cameras standard video, or infrared? Were there sound sensors?
The thought also passed through his mind that it would be nearly impossible for someone even with Rollie’s level of skill to bypass the security.
He quickly chastised himself when he realized he had thought of Rollie in the past tense. He’s still alive, remember, and you’re going to make sure he stays alive.
The dining room was just down the hall on their right. The servant entered, then paused just inside the doorway to let the detectives pass. The moment they were into the room, the servant shut the heavy doors behind them, and the latch clicked shut softly.
At the end of the long dining table, which Leo estimated could sit about twenty-five or more people, sat a tall man. Hovering over his shoulders and standing were two other tall men. All three were examining papers from a pile that consumed one end of the table.
The man who was sitting stood up when he saw the other detectives enter. He crossed the room and extended his hand to shake in a businesslike manner. “I’m Detective Colin Fischer.”
Leo shook the man’s hand firmly. “Detective Leo McCarthy.”
Colin Fischer moved to Francis. “Detective Gatti, right? I believe I’ve met you before.”
Francis nodded. “The Klauz Case. I remember.”
Detective Albert shook Colin’s hand, and the two held eye contact. “Shawna,” Fischer said.
“Detective Fischer.”
Leo looked at her questioningly. Leo wondered what past connection had warranted the informality on Colin’s part. But despite their past, her insistence at addressing Colin Fischer formally was reassuring.
“I must say, detectives, this case has brought to light some interesting questions,” Colin began. Obviously, thought Leo, Colin felt the other two men standing with him deserved no introduction, and it was time to get down to business. “But the underlying question is, what does your investigation have to do with ours?”
“I get the feeling he’s going to answer that for us,” Leo could hear Francis mumble, out of the earshot of the others. Leo grinned.
“So far, I’ll give you the run down on what we’ve found so far,” Colin continued. He had reached the end of the table, and he ran his hand across a pad of handwritten notes. As the others sat, he consulted it briefly, then began. “At 4:23 a.m. this morning Miss Lolita Jenkins, a live-in maid, was just on her way back to bed after coming back from the bathroom when she noticed Mr. Domlin’s bedroom door was half open. According to her, this is odd, and so she entered the dark room. That was where she found Domlin’s body.”
“Why was it odd that his door was open?” Shawna asked.
“Apparently he hates noise, and there are often people going down that hallway in the middle of the night,” Colin answered. “She left the room and called the police, which was where we enter the picture. Crime scene photographs were taken, and then Matthew Domlin’s body was removed. Then we began our investigation, and this is where your ‘victim’ comes in.”
Leo couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the way Colin Fischer’s tone of voice shifted as he said the word victim, but he kept his mouth shut as the detective continued. “As you know, when we heard of the bizarre coincidence of Rollie Tyler’s suspicious discovery downtown, we called up and got them to put a rush on the blood tests. Turns out that the blood on the knife Mr. Tyler had been holding was Matthew Domlin’s, so we now know Tyler is connected to the murder.”
The fact that Colin Fischer had the guts to pull strings so that the tests on the knife were rushed through really irritated Leo. It was evidence for their case, not Colin’s. Leo clenched his fist, and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“From what we have found so far,” Shawna Albert interrupted, “Rollie Tyler may be a victim. As I’m sure you know, Detective Fischer, there were drugs in Rollie’s system. We have reason to believe that these were given to Mr. Tyler against his will.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. She had to be referring from the eyewitness account of the restaurant worker. Hadn’t she said that the man’s account didn’t and wouldn’t convince anyone, herself included? He began to sense that she was manipulating what evidence they had in an effort to contradict Colin’s findings.
Interesting.
“If these drugs were placed into his system against his will, it doesn’t take much convincing to speculate that the knife would have been placed in his hand, too,” she continued.
“And who injected him with the drugs?” Colin said, an edge to his voice. “Who would have planted this knife in his hand?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.” She quickly changed the topic of conversation before she was forced to reveal that they had little other evidence to back them up. “But what else have you found?”
Colin Fischer sighed, more out of annoyance than regret. “We have more evidence placing Rollie Tyler at the scene.”
Leo stared at him, scowling. Colin pushed a set of glossy, colourless photograph prints across the table. “These were taken from a security camera just after midnight. Although the hall was nearly pitch black, the cameras use night vision technology.”
Leo, Francis, and Shawna looked at the photographs. The first thing Leo noticed was that although these were probably the best shots, the images of the man walking down the hallway were unclear. His face was also partially obscured. However, the hairstyle and facial features of the man matched Rollie’s to a fair degree.
Francis spoke up. “It looks like it may be him. But ...”
“How positive do you need, detective? With the bloodwork evidence from the knife, these pictures need not be perfect quality to convince a lot of people. For example, I’m convinced … and I’m sure a jury would be….”