Case of the Murdered Chessplayer Ch. 04

"Okay, that's all I'm prepared to give you now unless you confirm the immunity." Dill-Worthing said.

"Tell me about the woman." I said.

"I don't know anything about her. Never saw her before that night."

"Why was she there?" I asked.

"I think she wanted to join our cartel." Dill-Worthing stated.

"How did you feel about that?" I said, staring at him. He looked at us, then his lawyer.

"Do I have the immunity?" he asked.

"No." I said, my voice controlled, but showing harshness at the edges. "You're not playing it straight with me. You know who she is, now tell me what you know."

Dill-Worthing remained silent, looking at the table. I looked at Paulina and Tanya, and we all began getting up as if to leave.

"All right, all right." Dill-Worthing said. "Her name is Elizabeth--" he said, giving my sister's name, "and yes, she wanted to be our American contact. Baptiste had worked with her in France and was vouching for her. That's all I really know about her."



"How did you feel about her being part of the group?" I asked.

"I wanted to be... cautious... before admitting a new member." Dill-Worthing stated. "Now do I get the immunity, or not?"

"Are you kidding me?" I asked sarcastically, then regained control.

"No, Mr. Dill-Worthing, you do not get immunity at this time. You're holding back the truth, and I'm getting tired of it... and you." I said. His lawyer started all but screaming at me with insults, threats, accusations of broken promises.

"Okay here's the deal I will offer you, Dill-Worthing." I said, relishing every word. "You will make a statement of confession, which will then be put into writing. You will sign the confession and hand it to ADA Patterson here. In exchange, the DA's office will not seek the death penalty, and you will go to prison for the rest of your life."

"What?" Dill-Worthing said with pure, simple disbelief, involuntarily leaning forward as if to stand up. "You think I killed Kurchikov?" Then, as my words hit him, he leaned back, trying to recover his arrogance, and said "Prove it."

"I can and I will." I said. "Shall I tell you what happened, Mr. Dill-Worthing, and you'll please fill in any blank spots I might have left out." Paulina was looking at me as if I'd lost my mind, and Tanya Perlman was trying very hard not to break down laughing.

I began. "I know that you opposed the admission of the woman into your group; in fact, you became so vehement arguing about it that the police were called to the apartment. You argued with Kurchikov over it every time you were in dummy during the card games. The rest of them wanted to admit her, by the way. So Kurchikov tabled the discussion, but you overheard him telling the others during their private time that they could cut YOU out of the cartel and replace you with Elizabeth."

Dill-Worthing was staring at me. His eyes showed fear, and I knew that so far I was not missing the mark.

"You left with everyone else, but circled around back, putting on your gloves if you didn't already have them on. You saw the woman leave by the back way, so you decided to try the back door. You climbed the back stairs to the kitchen door, found it unlocked, and quietly re-entered the apartment.

"You snuck over to the drawer to get a big knife, but Kurchikov heard you opening the drawer, came to investigate the noise... and you met him right at the door and stabbed him. You got in three good shots at him before he stumbled backwards. He turned and fell face down near the table in front of the sofa and, not knowing he was already dead, you slit his throat.

"You then threw the knife in the kitchen trash, locked the back door, then went to the front door, being very careful not to step in the blood and create a more obvious crime scene. Once outside you hurried to your car and left.

"That is what happened, Mister Keith Dill-Worthing." I stated. "And if you don't confess to it by the time I leave this room, I will provide the District Attorney here with an ironclad case that will result in you being put to death by the State for the murder of Vladimir Kurchikov."

Dill-Worthing was still staring at me, the look of shock and fear on his face priceless.

"You'll never prove one word of that," the lawyer was gasping, "and I am going to have your badge for harassing my client like this!" But I wasn't listening. Dill-Worthing and I were having a staredown, and he knew that I was telling the truth. I decided to deliver the coup de grace.

"Mr. Dill-Worthing, I know that you also play tournament chess. You have a rating with the British Chess Federation. Nowhere near Kurchikov, of course, but you will recognize this." I said, throwing the photograph down as if it were a trump card. Dill-Worthing looked at it and his face sank. I had him.


"No death penalty?" he asked when he looked back up. He silenced the protestations of his lawyer, who was trying hard to keep him from confessing.

"In exchange for a full confession and cooperation." Paulina said.

Dill-Worthing agreed. He wrote his confession, which was almost verbatim what I had told him, and signed it.

"Out of curiosity, why didn't you want Elizabeth in the cartel?" I asked him.

"Because the man I work with wanted her excluded." Dill-Worthing replied. "They had a falling out."

"Is this the man?" I asked. Dill-Worthing looked at the picture. It was Ned. Dill-Worthing looked up at me, his eyes wide and staring before hardening.

"If you know who that man is, Detective, you know that I will say nothing about him. Your State's method of executing me would preferable to what would happen to me if I answered your question. I suggest that you never speak his name or even think of him again, if you value your own life."

"He's already had his shot at me." I said as I got up to leave. "He won't get another."

Part 14 - Explanation and Loose Ends

"What was that photograph you showed him?" Tanya asked some minutes later. A rather large assemblage was in the MCD room and I was holding court, explaining the solution to the case.

"The chessboard, of course." I said. As everyone looked blank, I said "Of course that was the key to the whole case. Kurchikov had seconds to live and moved two pawns on his board. Fortunately, his killer did not see what he did."

"What was the significance of that?" Hugh Hewitt asked.

"It was a message from the grave. Kurchikov was trying to tell us who his killer was." I said. "Tanya, you got most of it."



"The white pawn move was the first move of the 'English Opening' in chess.", Tanya replied. "I didn't get what the black pawn move was."


"No, that's not as common as 1.c4, which is indeed the English Opening. The black move 1... b6 is called the 'English Defense' in some lines, though I'm not sure about that name as a response to 1.c4 on the white side. But Kurchikov wasn't worried about that. He just did what he could in his supreme moment of death."

"Wow. Your whole case was built on just that?" the Chief asked.

"No sir, but it made it easier for me." I replied, deciding not to admit the full truth. "It's much easier to find the solution once given an answer like that. But there was still plenty of evidence to show Dill-Worthing was the killer. And one of the others would've broken over time rather than face the death penalty."

"Of course, Dill-Worthing was an Englishman." I continued. "There are other chess openings, also: a French Defense, a Spanish Game, a Sicilian Defense as well as an Italian Game. There's no 'American' opening, if Elizabeth had done it, but I surmised as evidence came along that it was much more likely one of the men there, and it didn't really fit that Elizabeth would kill the man."

"Why is that?" asked Paulina Patterson.

"No offense to the women here, but it would take one hell of a strong woman, like Cindy Ross, to inflict those kind of knife wounds. Elizabeth would've shot the man with a gun, or tried to poison him. And the slit throat didn't fit Elizabeth, either. She hasn't shown extreme violent tendencies like that, at least not that I've seen.

"Last but not least," I added, "Elizabeth did not have any motive whatsoever to kill Kurchikov. In fact, she was about to be admitted into their cartel. For her to kill him at that time made no sense at all, so I was comfortable in looking elsewhere."

"And as I said," I continued, "I did have a chessboard screaming 'English' to me, so I zeroed in on Dill Pickle-- er Dill-Worthing rather quickly." Tanya couldn't hold it back; she began giggling.

"Seems to me like you guessed a lot." Vice Detective Timothy Geiger said. Geiger was Steven Ikea's dingleberry in the Vice Department. Ikea knew better than to show his face in this room at this or any time.

"Oh really?" I said, my voice cold and withering. "Everything was there in plain sight... except the smell of the perfume, and our noses led us to that. Detective Perlman caught on to that immediately. Sergeant Stonewall is an excellent drug dog and showed us that drugs had been in the apartment.

"It wasn't hard to see from the scoresheets that they were playing contract bridge, which meant that someone always was in dummy and not playing the hand, a perfect screen for rounds of drug negotiations. It took only the merest bit of research to discover the chess opening that Kurchikov put on his board, and that the other perps were also chessplayers."

"But yes, Mr. Geiger... I did use some imagination to connect the dots. That's just good police work. The key is to imagine correctly, of course... and your department's lack of imagination is why this drug operation has been going on under your noses in Vice for so long-- oh, leaving so soon?" Geiger was exiting the room as swiftly as he could get out.

"Enough of that, Crowbar." the Chief said. "Vice is a good outfit with some good people. You need to work with them rather than showing them up."

"Yes, sir." I said, chastised.

"Just one more question, speaking of some not-so-good people." Tanya said, rescuing me. "Where does Sergeant Carroll fit into this?"

I did not get the chance to answer the question. Cindy Ross came flying into the room, out of breath. Teresa Croyle was right behind her.

"I just had a contact from a source." she said as she regained her breath. "There's some activity in the back of one of Timothy Olivet's warehouses. A young man fitting the description of Ned was seen, and the source said that a drug sale was going down there last night, and they might be setting up for another one tonight."

"Move, people, move! Don, you're in command of the raid." the Chief ordered, but unnecessarily. We were scrambling rapidly to get our vest protection already...

...and everyone not named "Ikea" knew damn well that I was in charge.

Part 15 - Sacrifice and Final Peace

"Here, put this on." Ned said to his brother, Timothy Olivet. It was a crudely stamped out piece of metal with straps on it, meant to be bulletproof chest protection. Ned also was wearing one, but it was a better fit. "Put your shirt on over it."

"Why?" Olivet said.

"Because the police are coming, and you don't want to get shot dead when you demand to see their warrant if they try to come in."

Real fear welled up inside Tim. This was just too much.

"Let's just get out of here, then." Olivet said.

"It's too late." Ned replied, not revealing the real reason. "My scouts have spotted them coming this way. They'll be encircling us soon."

The real reason for Ned was that he intended to leave Olivet to confront the police, followed by a shot being fired that would draw a police fusillade killing Olivet, and only Olivet's will leaving everything to his wife stood in Ned's way. Let the police do the job for me, Ned thought. Of course, his wife will then be found dead also, and her will leaves the money to him... so the money will then come to his dear brother, me.

The police coming so quickly had changed Ned's plans and he had to speed them up. The metal vest would not stop the armor-piercing bullets the police would be firing into Olivet. But Timothy was showing weakness.

"No," Tim said. "We should go now, and hide before they get here. You can slip past them while they're searching the warehouse."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!" Ned yelled, losing his patience, the sudden intensity of his scream shocking Tim.

Regaining his composure, Ned said more quietly, his voice very measured and controlling, "We are not running away. You are going to stop the police from entering the premises, and my people will be setting up the traps for them. I want my dear uncle dead before this night is over. Do you fucking understand?"

"No... no." Tim said. "This is crazy. No one has to die, here."

"You fucking wimp." Ned said. "Definitely not a man like your brother Jack was, were you?"

"You're one to talk, asshole! After the way your brother beat the shit out of you--" Tim replied hotly as Ned nodded to Clete.

"I guess... I will have to convince you." Ned said with studied quietness. "Clete, bring her in."

Clete was gone a moment, then appeared from around a corner, prodding Jeanine Olivet in front of him.

"Jeanine!" Tim said, running over to her. "Are you okay?" Clete came forward and shoved Tim back, hard, sending him sprawling several feet.

"You will now go outside and stop the police." Ned said. "They're already here. Jeanine will be safe as long as you do what I say."

"You... you bastard." Tim said.

"You're one to talk about 'bastards'... asshole." Ned replied.

--------------------------------

I had caught the last of the conversation between Ned and Tim Olivet as my team crept up to a side door to the large, empty room. Ned had observed some of our cars going to the gates, I surmised, but had not realized that a few of us had driven up in unmarked cars and already penetrated the property by a back gate.

The Enemy had Jeanine Olivet as a hostage. This was not going to be easy.

A voice came in on the radio. "Thermal imaging shows no one else in the building. Just you four and four perps in the main room."

"All right, guys, we're going in." I said. "Don't shoot unless they raise a gun. Let's get 'em. Hugh, go!"

Unfortunately, the distance was enough that Ned saw us spring into the room, and he was able to pull out a gun.

"Your bitch dies, brother!" Ned yelled, pointing the gun at Jeanine.

"NO!" Timothy Olivet screamed and lunged for his wife. He was in time to cover her body with his, his back to Ned as the gun fired twice. The bullets penetrated his back and ripped through his chest... and, ironically, were stopped by the underside of the metal armor before they could harm Jeanine.



"TIM!" Jeanine screamed as Tim fell, slumping against her. As they both went down in a heap, we were raising our guns and firing at Ned, but the shots that hit him were stopped as his armor held. He jumped through the door as more bullets struck the wall. Clete tried to run around the corner from where he'd brought Jeanine, and Hugh and a patrolman tore off after him.

I threw open the door Ned had gone through and rushed through it. To my right, the hall dead-ended in another hallway, and I just saw Ned turning the corner to the left. I sprinted after him, rounding the corner...

... and I knew I had fucked up.

Time slowed down. I was able to clearly see that Ned was several yards away, his legs set apart in a firm stance, with his gun raised in a two-handed grip. I knew that he was drawing a bead and would fire, and that I would not have time to move out of the way. I was dead.

I felt something hit me in the hip, driving me sideways just as the gun fired. Ned missed!

I realized that I was being tackled by Cindy Ross, and even as I was striking the floor, I extended my arm and fired my gun. The bullet struck Ned's chest to the right of center, but his armor again saved his worthless life. The impact was enough to knock him back, preventing him from getting off another shot himself. As I aimed again, Ned took off running and my next shot also missed the mark.

Ned bolted through a door and Cindy and I went after him, but by the time we got to the door it was locked, and we knew that there was no way we'd get through it in time to find the young killer.

"All units. Ned may be leaving the building. Search every building! Cover the entire fence line!" I ordered into the radio. We began running back to the room where the Olivets were.

"Thank you, Cindy." I said as we hurried back down the hallway. "I fucked up, and you saved my butt that time."

"You know what this means, don't you?" she replied. "RANGE TIME, buddy!" I smiled bitterly, knowing how many times I'd said that to her. She was not all that amused as she said it, though.

"You got that right." I said as we entered the room. It was a tragic sight that greeted us.

--------------------

"Tim! Oh my god, Tim, I love you Tim, please don't die. " Jeanine cried as she cradled her husband, who was on his back looking up at her. "HELP! Somebody help!"

Teresa Croyle came up to them just as Tim looked up at Jeanine. "I... I love you... so much..." he said, managing to caress her cheek with his hand. Then the hand dropped and his head fell back. His eyes opaqued.

The EMT's arrived just as Cindy and I did. It was too late to do anything for Timothy Olivet. For him, the final peace of Death had come, ending all of his torment.

The EMTs tried to draw Jeanine away, but she would not move. "No, leave him alone!" Jeanine cried out, still cradling her husband in her arms. "Don't touch him! Don't touch him!" She just held him, sobbing. Teresa Croyle looked like she wanted to cry herself, as she tried to comfort Jeanine.

"What happened here?" the Chief asked as he came up with several uniformed patrolmen. I made sure that my voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Ned tried to shoot Mrs. Olivet. Mr. Olivet took the bullets. He gave his life for hers."

And I wished that I could trade my life for his right now.

----------------------------

Some minutes later, I stood outside, watching the EMTs load the body of Tim Olivet into the ambulance. Teresa and Cindy were leading Mrs. Olivet away to another car.

Hugh Hewitt came up to me and the Chief, who was standing next to me. "We got the other guy." Hewitt said. "He gave up quickly enough, he wasn't armed. They're taking him to headquarters now."

I just nodded. "Any sign of Ned?" I asked, my mind a million miles away, the pain in my heart overwhelming me.

"Not yet." Hewitt said. "We're looking in all the buildings and around the fences."

They would not find him.

--------------------

3:00am.

I was sitting in the Commander's office, an empty room next to Paulina Patterson's office that was next to the Chief's office suite. I had been sitting there ever since we returned from the botched raid, sitting in the dark. Something about this office felt right to me, and I often used it for composing reports or just hiding when I didn't want to be found.

Right now, I didn't want to be found. I was feeling the pain of failure. And death on my hands.

I felt more than saw someone else in the darkness, seated in the chair by mine in front of the desk. I realized that the Chief had slipped in and was sitting next to me. I had no idea how long he'd been there, sitting with me.

"I fucked up." I said quietly. "I should've shot that son of a bitch before we charged into the room. I should've just blown his fucking ass away right then and there."

"You did the right thing." the Chief said.

"A man is dead because I fucked up." I said.

"You don't know that, kid. Knowing your nephew, the Olivets were going to be dead eventually, anyway. But you just don't know. You made all the right calls, except for chasing that bastard around the corner too fast."