A Spill of Blood Ch. 03

"I want the key to Kimi's apartment. I want to see if there's anything there the police missed." I didn't tell her I wanted to see if there was some clue as to Kimi's whereabouts.

"I can go with you."

"Okay." That surprised her. "It's not going to take a rocket scientist to figure out you might be here. Jess is going to do her checking from home"—I could see that was news to her—"and you'll be with me. Neither of you is alone here while this is going on. Besides, I want you to call Nikki and get her to meet me, and we owe Charlie Everett a call. I don't want those calls coming from this office." I had her phone turned off and in a Faraday bag to make doubly sure. With a cop on her tail, locating a cell phone was an obvious threat. I was using a burner.

The place had been tossed. We weren't in Kimi's apartment. We were in Emerald's. When Sydney pulled out a ring of keys and said, "For other girls," I'd wanted to beat myself in the head for not thinking of it. We were too late.

The doorman let us past based upon Sydney's smile and quiet "She told me I could borrow some shoes, Deke. I trashed a few pairs with all the rain we've been having."

He melted under that wattage. "That's okay, Miss Alessandra. I know you've got a key. When you talk to her, tell her that a cop was around last Thursday. I didn't let him up because she wasn't home, and he didn't have a warrant."

Me, I got a look that said it would have been "nothing doin'" except for the company I was keeping.

"Do you remember the cop's name?" I asked.

He looked at me doubtfully. "Nah." Of course not. City dwellers were good at that.

"Do you think it was Brady?" Sydney asked in the elevator.

"You said the police hadn't put a name to Emerald, but one of them shows up here the day she's killed? Yeah, I think it was Brady." She gave a little shiver.

It was obvious we weren't the first here when we opened the door. Bookshelves were emptied. Drawers were pulled out. They hadn't slit open the upholstery, but then normal people don't sew recently acquired valuables into furniture. A laptop power cord dangled with no laptop. Sydney had a stunned look on her face.

We looked hard, but if there had been something there, it was gone now.

"Grab some shoes," I said to Sydney before we left. "Make it look real."

We'd have been dead if he wanted it that way. I opened the apartment door and came face-to-face with the business end of a Glock. The part of my brain that wasn't involved in tightening my sphincter noted the hair on the knuckles, the slight fleck of green in the brown eyes. It's amazing what trivial things your eyes notice when they might be the last things you see.

A grin split his face. "Morgan," Mitchell said.

I reached up and used two fingers to push the barrel to the side. He let me.

"What happened to a small caliber?" I said. "Your need to compensate finally get to be too much for you?"

Once again, he didn't like my mouth. Once again, I watched him shove it down for later. There'd be a later, I had no doubt. He slid the cannon away under the tent he used as a coat, opening it wider than he needed to. I saw the second pistol slung on the other side. His grin came back. "I'll choose the right tool for the moment."

I ignored the implied threat. "Doorman?" I asked.

He shrugged. "A few bills to let me know when someone came looking." I remembered Regan's words from that time in my office: "We will make some inquiries from our side."

"That your work?" I gestured back toward the ransacked apartment.

He shook his head. "It was that way when I got here on Saturday."

"Let's go," I said to Sydney.

Mitchell's eyes raked up and down her body. "How 'bout a date, sweet cheeks?"

She shook her head. She was scared stiff.

"Later then." The way he said it sounded like a promise rather than a pleasantry. I could feel the tension in her hand as she took my arm. I was pretty sure Mitchell noted that unconscious motion.

"You should call Regan today," he called after us.

"Today's Tuesday, not Friday. Might want to get a checkup if you have trouble with days of the week," I said.

He didn't laugh. "Today."

I added it to the list.

As we crossed the building's lobby, Sydney gave Deke a reproachful look. He looked abashed and rose to open the door. He was a weedy guy and, now that he wasn't giving us his professional face, kind of furtive.

Another thought occurred.

"Who else did you call?"

His eyes studied the floor. "Dunno what you're talking about."

The beast inside gave a lunge against its chain. It didn't break free, but I was suddenly fed up with lying weasels. I gave it some slack.

"She's dead," I hissed in his face.

His only response was "urgh." I let up on the arm that was crushing his windpipe back against the cool marble that covered the lobby wall. "She's dead, and her killer was here going through her apartment. You probably let him up."

"I didn't let nobody up!"

"Then why was there a guy outside the apartment just now?"

Deke got a panicked look. "He killed her?"

"I don't know, asshole. Who the fuck else did you call?"

"Just the cop," he admitted.

"The one who was here last Thursday?"

He tried to nod, but my arm still pinned him. "Yeah. But I didn't let him up, I swear!"

It didn't matter. Getting in is easy when you have a tenant's keys, and the killer had taken Emerald's purse.

"You're a weasel who would sell anyone out for a buck."

"He was a cop!" he whined. "What was I supposed to do? He didn't give me anything, just told me to call."

I saw Deke's eyes go over my shoulder and spun to see Mitchell standing at the end of the lobby. The elevator hadn't made a trip, and I hadn't heard the stairwell door open or close. He'd been quiet.

"Nice," he said, a small smirk tugging at his mouth.

Deke made a sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper. I stepped back and let him loose. He used one hand to touch the growing lump on the back of his head where it had hit the wall. He used the other to massage his throat.

"We might have a problem," I said to Mitchell. "Take a look outside and see if there's a guy about five foot—"

He cut me off with a headshake. "It's your problem. That's why Regan's paying you. I got somewhere to be. Checking out you and sweet cheeks here's made me late already." He pushed past us and out the door, tossing "Call today" over his shoulder.

"We have to go," I said quietly to Sydney. "Show us how to get to the back door," I said to Deke.

"I can't leave here. There might be a delivery."

I took a step in his direction, causing him to back up suddenly until he hit the wall again.

"Show us or I'll make sure there's no delivery because a body will be blocking the door."

Any thoughts of rebellion that might have been creeping back fled. He scurried over and spun the lock on the entrance, then led us through an unmarked door behind his desk.

I called Regan on the cab ride across town to Kimi's.

"I didn't expect you to be a bull in a china shop," Regan said. "Yet I've already had two phone calls."

"Yeah?"

"Anders called to ask me why I was siccing some insignificant flunky on him." I could tell he enjoyed that characterization. "Then he hung up after delivering an ultimatum that he never wanted to see you again. As I said, very bull in the china shop."

"Yeah, well, we both know you weren't hiring me to be Poirot and sit in a room exercising my little gray cells. And Charlie Everett? I presume he was the second."

"You might actually be worth the money I've spent on you so far," he purred. "He called to ask me if I'd like his assistance in recovering the missing certificates. I'm presuming that was somehow at your instigation." He laughed. "Maybe a bull was exactly what was needed."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but there's no cheese down that tunnel."

"How so?" His voice lost its good humor.

"I didn't tell him I was working for you. I told him I had info about the theft and asked him to broker a deal with you."

He was silent for a moment. "How did you know he didn't have them?"

"I didn't. If he had them, I made myself a threat, and he'd have to try to do something about it."

He fell silent again. It wasn't because he was upset over the prospect of something being done about it. That's why he'd hired me.

"I think that's pretty tenuous. He says he knows where they are."

I wanted to snarl, "Because he isn't a pompous idiot who inherited granddaddy's money?" However, I wasn't quite sure that Everett had been telling the truth when he dismissed their shared prep-school past, and I didn't want to be fighting with Regan in the midst of all this if Everett was his buddy. I kept my mouth clammed up.

"That leaves Larry. What have you done about him?"

"No, Regan, it doesn't just leave Larry. You may have it in your brain that it's one of your three clients. I don't work that way. There were thirteen people at that party. I'm assuming you didn't hire me to find you. Another who was there is dead. That leaves eleven people who could have them." I didn't tell him I'd eliminated one more in my own mind. "You've insisted I back off Bertram, so I'll leave him for last. Ten people and I've got irons in the fire."

"Coco, too," he said absently. "I told you Bertram and his people. She's his." Another little tidbit he forgot to tell me. "What irons do you have in the fire?"

"Since one of the people at the party is privy to just about everything you do, I'll hold onto that."

"Mitchell?"

"Judas worked for Jesus," I said.

Again, the silence while he digested. I doubt I'd put much of a wedge into that relationship, but little acorns.

"No, I don't buy it. I think you're on the right track with Charlie. He's used to taking the easy way to get what he wants. If I had to pick one, I'd have guessed him. Anders is too new to take those chances, and Larry's smarter." Well, maybe he did agree with me about Everett.

"I'm where I need to be," I said. "Talk to you Friday." I hung up.

Kimi's apartment had been gone over by the police after Emerald's murder, and Sydney had grabbed Kimi's stash of money. So, I didn't expect to find much. Fate didn't disappoint me.

I dug around under the bed and through the covers, checking to make sure there wasn't a spent piece of brass, but this wasn't TV, and killers and cops—or killer cops—don't conveniently leave them behind. If they did, Gibson would have it. He was too sharp to have missed it. Again, I wondered how he'd connected the Jane Doe who was Emerald to Lindqvist. Something he found here? Something trapped under her body?

I did take two photographs from a box I found on a shelf in the closet. One was a smaller copy of a framed picture in the living room. It showed two women with their arms around each other.

"Kimi and her sister. I think her name is Akina," Sydney said.

The second showed a younger version with what looked like a family: mom, pop, three girls, and a boy. Sasha had said Kimi was Chinese or Korean. With that many children in the family, I didn't think Chinese.

"Where was she from?" I called out to Sydney. I had her sitting by the door, listening for the sound of the elevator.

"She came here from Korea, but her mother was Japanese."

I slid the two pictures into a pocket. Sydney was convinced her friend was innocent. I wasn't so sure. There was no passport to be found. Yeah, she'd left about twenty K and suitcases behind, but maybe she'd felt the need to go suddenly and fast. Maybe she had more than enough to make up for it.

It was my day for women's apartments. Emerald had told me she did in-call with a few long-term clients, but there was nothing much to indicate that beyond a dresser that held enough lingerie that ranged from sexy to downright erotic to outfit an entire Victoria's Secret show.

Kimi's place wasn't much different, though there was also the nightstand with more condoms and bottles of scented lotion than I thought your average thirty-year-old woman had ... though what did I know about average thirty-year-old women?

Nikki's place held Nikki.

I was solo on this one.

"It's best if you go alone," Sydney had said. "She and I aren't ... umm ... comfortable right now. She barely said yes to this visit, and it was pretty clear she doesn't want me there today."

"What's wrong?"

"There was this time when Larry wanted a third to join them for a scene. She invited me. Since then, he's asked for me to be there several times. He did it again at Jordan's party, but Nikki shut it down saying there wouldn't be enough girls to go around since two went with Jordan."

"The guy likes threesomes. Why is that a problem?"

Her gaze slid away, and she hesitated for a second. When she spoke, I understood. Whether it was the awkwardness or simply a habit of discretion, she didn't talk about clients with others. "I play his wife. Nikki is his demanding mistress. Nikki's worried that roleplay might become reality, and like I said, she's after the whale for herself. She got pissy—told him no and told me to back off. I got angry because I wasn't trying to steal him, and her attitude was costing me good money."

"I don't like you out of my sight right now."

"I'll stay in my apartment and not open the door to anyone but you."

"Huh?"

"Nikki lives in the same building as I do."

"You've got to be shitting me!" Everywhere I turned in this case there were tangles and complications. Brady was already alerted that we were out and moving around thanks to Deke. It wasn't a stretch that he might think we were heading to Sydney's place to get some of her stuff. The thing about a cop is that he could just arrest her and haul her off. Bystanders would let it happen. The fact that it was a bullshit arrest that wouldn't end at the station wasn't going to stop it.

At that thought, an idea blossomed, one that stretched my mouth into a grin because it killed two birds with one stone.

"I'm going to drop you at the Nineteenth Precinct." I talked over her protest. "Brady knows where you live, and he's got to suspect the office since you've been there once already. The station is safer; he'll never expect that.

"Ask for Detective Gibson, but talk to anyone if he's not there. Tell them you remembered Emerald's last name and that she told some story about Albany at that party. That'll give them something to go on."

I thought about the lifeless husk that had been on that bed. I didn't know anything about what Emerald—Cara—had been like when she was alive. She might have been as warm as that red hair, or she might have been a cold-hearted bitch. But whatever she had become, she was somebody's daughter. "There might still be family, and they should know."

Sydney looked nervous.

"Look, if they were going to hold you, they would have the first time you went there. There's no percentage in it for them now. They'll ask you what else you know. Just play dumb, hem and haw, maybe mention a guy with her at the party. Drag it out. Hell, describe Anders to them. Maybe they'll rattle his cage a little. Just don't name him. That would show too much knowledge."

"And when I'm done?"

"I won't be long."

"You might."

I could see the prospect of being alone was bringing back the fear. I tried to think. The office had been a short-term solution. Brady would get around to it, and he'd had help when they'd jumped me. A couple of options occurred. I winnowed them down and chose one.

"Uncle Jimmy," I said when he answered. "It's Harry."

We got through the pleasantries. Jimmy was one of my dad's buddies, one of those honorary uncles. I chose him because he might be in his sixties, but he was still able and was possessed of a "screw the fuckers" attitude toward bad guys. He wasn't some hotshot SWAT-type guy, but he had a gun and I knew he'd pull the trigger if needed. One other thing he had going for him: he was single. There were no collateral civilians in his house.

"I've got a client who's in danger. I need to park her somewhere safe for a bit."

Jimmy's tone sobered. "How bad?"

"One person dead already and they've made a try at her. And, Jimmy, the triggerman's a dirty cop. If that's a deal-breaker, I'll understand."

There was a long silence. Finally, he said, "Just hide her a bit. That's all you're asking?"

"Yeah. Tell me if there's a problem, Jimmy, and I'll look elsewhere."

Another long silence while he contemplated loyalties. "Send her along. She'll be safe here. You can give me the story later. Fuck the fuckers."

I gave Sydney the address, made sure she had it in her phone. "Take an Uber from the police station to this place out on Staten Island. It's a friend of my father's. He'll keep you safe until I sort some of this out."

Right before I let her out at the door of the station, she said, "Harry, you know I don't want to own you?"

Huh?

"I like you ... a lot. But I don't want to own you, and I'm not a jealous person." She huffed a little laugh. "You can't be in my line of work."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

She just gave me a wide, sunny smile and hurried up the steps to the historic façade of the Nineteenth.

So ... Nikki's place held Nikki.

I knew what she looked like from her picture, of course. Sort of like Zuri Tibby, the Victoria's Secret model. No, of course I'd been clueless about who that was. Jess pointed it out when we first looked at the photos, bringing up a browser to show me. Yeah, sort of like Zuri Tibby.

What the picture hadn't told me was how vulnerable and lost those big eyes were. This was the opposite end of the spectrum from Sasha ... one a hunter, one prey. Those eyes begged for approval, pleaded with you to find her desirable and worth protecting.

"Just me," I said as she peered around me to see who else might be there.

She pulled me in and shut the door, locking, double-locking, chain. Then she gazed at me with apprehensive eyes, perhaps wondering if she'd just let in the wolf at the door. She sidled past me into the living room and settled on the edge of a sofa cushion. The bottom of her robe opened to show one leg to just above the knee, and she absently tugged it closed.

Some women have legs whose only job is to reach the floor. Nikki's were the kind that made a man have thoughts. Mine were that it was a shame she'd covered that one back up.

"I'm not letting anyone in," she said, despite the evidence of me sitting there. "B-but with what happened to Emerald, umm, Cara"—she looked to see if I knew the name—"Sydney said you're trying ..." She trailed off helplessly, ending with a plaintive "I don't know what to do."

"Sydney says you have a friend named Larry Beck? Could you stay there?"

She was shaking her head before I finished. "He wants nothing to do with me right now. Whatever is happening, he doesn't want to be involved."

Damn! "He's involved whether he likes it or not. What do you know about what's going on?"

"Cara told me that somebody boosted something at Jordan's party. And Sydney said she's dead because of it, and then they tried to get her because she talked to her." This woman wasn't good with pronouns. I sorted through that and decided Nikki knew the basics. "That means they'll try to kill me too 'cause she talked to me. It's why I've been hiding here, not going out at all. I get DoorDash to deliver meals to the doorman downstairs. He won't let anyone up without some tenant's verbal okay, and you're the first person I've said yes to."

"So, help me figure this out so you can relax again," I said. I let the silence grow as she thought it through.