Alli (7 page)

“Well,” Michelle offered, “if she worked at the call center, she must have lived nearby. Twelve is not a huge number to check out, and if you have a good description of the receptionist, I can probably rule out the majority of those twelve in a few hours of checking.”

“But frankly,” Michelle continued, “the more pressing issue that I have to deal with is the murder of Doctor Johnson. I have seen plenty of muggings and murders, and unless the victim is known by the perpetrator, the victim’s wallet usually goes missing. Doctor Johnson’s wallet was still in his pocket, so either the perp got frightened off before he found it, or the good doctor was killed by someone who knew him. He was shot in the shoulder and the chest, so it was either a sloppy hit, a hit that was made to look like a robbery, or a coincidental shooting. I don’t believe in coincidences or robberies where nothing was taken.”

“They did take his briefcase, and tried to frame me with it,” Randy added.

“Right, so that pretty much rules out the robbery thing, and ties the reason he was murdered in with something you were doing. And the only thing you have been doing out of the ordinary recently is poking around the Call Center, correct? Since Doctor Johnson was involved in the Call Center from the beginning, he probably knew something that someone else did not want you to know.”

“So what else was in the briefcase?” Randy wondered out loud. “There must have been something in there the killer wanted you to find in my apartment."

“That’s the strange thing,” Michelle continued. “The briefcase was empty, except for what looked like personal papers. Nothing really work-related, a couple of printouts on ancient philosophers, Plato, Socrates. He was fascinated with those kinds of things, searching for answers to cosmic questions I guess. Philosophical stuff.”

“It sounds to me like the killer took out whatever the good doctor was going to share with me that night,” Randy said. “And don’t forget the other Doctor- Moscovich. Somebody didn’t want me talking to him either. That’s why I’m driving that gas-guzzling beast parked over there.” Randy motioned toward the Hummer. “It drinks twice as much gas as my old Suburban.”

“That looks like one of Carl’s special vehicles,” Michelle said with a smile. “He had several of those at one time. In fact, I think he sold one or two of them to pay for our divorce.” Michelle focused her attention back on Randy and continued- “Your friend is really one of the good guys, you know. He would do just about anything to help someone. Loyal to a fault. We would still be married if Carl was really the marrying type. I guess we live in two far too distant worlds.”

“So what’s your story?” Randy asked. “You don’t seem like a typical cop. Why are you a big city homicide detective instead of a middle-class mom, driving her kids to soccer and ballet practice?”

“A career in law enforcement was not my plan when I joined the force,” she said. “My plan was to work a few years and then start a family, but after spending a couple of years as a beat cop, and getting to know the people in this city, I couldn’t see bringing any more children into this world. I saw the painful cost a family pays when a child is injured, crippled, or worst of all, gunned down in the street for no reason. I guess I wasn’t ready to pay that price. I know there are plenty of other rewards when it comes to raising kids, but from my perspective, from the street perspective, I couldn’t bring myself to risk the loss. I have seen good people turn hard and resentful when everything is taken from them. It was not a place that I wanted to go.”

“Let’s take a walk down the beach,” Randy suggested, breaking an awkward silence. “It is too nice of a day to sit around here.” He jogged over to retrieve the Hummer keys and returned. Michelle was still sitting on the picnic table bench, staring out at the ocean.

“Snap out of it, beautiful,” he said, while passing by the table. “Let’s go grab some fresh air.”

Michelle snapped out of her trance and followed him the dozen yards to the ocean’s edge. “Tell me your story, Randy. Carl says you both went through Agency Farm Training together. What happened after that?”

“I threw myself into the job, I guess. We were doing important work, or at least I felt like we were. I was stationed all over, but primarily in Eastern Europe, Germany, Turkey. I spent most of my time supporting other agents out in the field, listening to radio traffic, fabricating documents, reading satellite data, filing reports. I’m not sure what happened to the years, but I put in ten and left. That’s about it.”

“So, you never have an occasion to kil-“

“No, I never killed anyone! Why does everyone ask me that?”

Chapter Fourteen

Fredrick Hightower II looked up from his custom designer computer tablet as Carl Frazier approached. Carl was one of only a handful of people who would dare approach Hightower without an appointment. The security people surrounding Hightower knew Frazier as an associate and good friend of their boss. It was unusual to see him at Hightower’s private penthouse pool area on a weekday, but they had witnessed many other strange and more disturbing events surrounding their employer.

Fredrick Hightower II was President and Chief Executive Officer of Ameriplaxi LLC. He had inherited Ameriplaxi and a great deal of influence from his father, Fredrick Senior. Under Fredrick Senior’s control, the company had struggled to survive from one government research grant to the next. But that was before Fredrick II took over. Fredrick Hightower II was a bona fide genius. His push into microcellular neurological disease research produced a number of breakthroughs and secured the company’s future. It was Ameriplaxi’s expertise with the human mind that brought them into a partnership with the Federal Government’s Connect America program. Ameriplaxi was the “go to” company when it came to understanding the human brain and how to keep it sharp and focused; a skill required when working long, grueling hours dealing with the general public.

“Don’t get up, Freddie,” Frazier quipped as he approached. “I only need a couple seconds of your time today.”

Fredrick casually picked up his Nickel-plated Colt Anaconda and swung it toward Carl. “Calling me “Freddie” is going to get you dead someday,
Carlie
.” Hightower bristled every time Carl used his childhood nickname. He would not even allow his parents to call him that after he turned eleven. But, in retrospect, his parents were not nearly as useful as Carl, or as loyal.

Carl had more respect for the firearm than the man who was mishandling it. “Quit waving that peashooter around, Junior, you‘re going to end up hurting somebody with that thing.”

Hightower pointed the large gun toward his own temple, smiled, and tapped it lightly against his head. “I have everything under control, Carlie, so don’t get your panties in a bunch. I know how to use this thing, so you can stop looking so nervous.” Fredrick Hightower pointed the revolver off into the distance and pretended to fire a couple of rounds before dropping it on the table next to his chair. He considered himself lucky to have such a man as Carl Frazier in his long-term employ. Besides himself, Carl was the only one who might know all of Ameriplaxi’s secrets. And all of Fredrick’s, for that matter.             

“So what brings you to my humble abode?” Hightower asked, while he toyed with one of the dozen gold bracelets he wore. “Did you get lonely for one of my girls again, or did you miss my company?”             

“Neither, Junior. We need to talk about a situation,” Carl said, as he shot a glance toward Fredrick’s friends, or more correctly, his security people surrounding the pool.

“In private.”

With a wave of his hand, Fredrick’s two guards and four bikini-clad women who were lounging nearby disappeared.

Hightower used both hands to slick back his hair. “You must have something important to break up my afternoon party,” He observed, placing both hands behind his head and lounging back on his chair. “What’s on your mind?”

“I have a handle on the Call Center situation, Fredrick. You had no reason to get all bent out of shape and get your senator friend in such an uproar.” Carl remained standing. This was going to be a short meeting. “Anything you share with that power-hungry bastard you might as well put up on a billboard. He went ahead and got Perez or Pedro or whatever your rent-a-cop’s name is on the first floor involved. There’s a reason the bottom two floors are separate from the rest of the building, you know.”

“Duh. I designed it, remember?”

“Right. And if Senator McBlimp can’t get your bill passed, you’re going to end up with nothing more than a building and a bunch of useless computer equipment.”

“Right... right, right. And if my aunt had a dick, she’d be my uncle. Look, you worry too much. Everything is on schedule and running smoothly as long as this Fairchild guy doesn’t gum it up. So how much did McGinty leak to you guys? Is Perez going to be a problem, too?”

“Perez is not the problem here, Freddie, you are. Quit getting so excited about Fairchild. Tripping over yourself trying to frame him for something one of your thick-necked security clowns did isn’t going to work.  And if you send more of your idiots to scare him, I’ll be sending you the repair bill, since he’s driving one of my vehicles now. Listen. I know this guy. He plays by the rules. I know what he’s doing every minute of the day. I’m tracking him everywhere he goes. He’s a little hung up on a friendly voice from one of your Call Center girls, but he can’t get through our security unless I let him through. I have a feeling he’ll be forgetting his fantasy girl in the very near future.”

“I hope for your friend’s sake you’re right,” said Fredrick, tossing his empty Perrier bottle into the nearby hedge.

Chapter Fifteen

Randy sat bolt upright in his bed, covered in sweat. He had been dreaming about walking along a beach, but not with Michelle from the previous day. He was with a woman, someone with whom he could place neither a name nor a face. As the dream stubbornly faded from his memory, he started planning his day.

There were several loose ends he wanted to follow up on this morning. The warm water of his shower stung the top of Randy’s head.
Damn, I must have been out in the sun too long yesterday,
he thought. He and Detective Miller had walked quite a distance along the shore under a partly cloudy sky before turning back to where they had left their vehicles. The slightly warm breeze and the salty smell of the ocean had worked their magic on them both. It had been a very relaxing and enjoyable afternoon. He had sensed an attraction from Michelle, but Randy could not get the innocent, yet alluring sound of Alli’s voice out of his mind. He found himself thinking about what she must be like, and wondering when she would call again.

Randy’s cell phone erupted as he was leaving the apartment.

“Randy, its Michelle. I am at a crime scene you may want to see. Are you available?”

“Of course, sure- where are you?”

After receiving the address information, Randy made his way through the Washington morning rush hour. The address led to a brick and glass nine story apartment building on Pomeroy Road. When Randy pulled up, there were several DC police cruisers, plenty of crime scene tape, and an ambulance idling outside.

Michelle met him as he approached. “I think we found your Jessica Cooper. Looks like she’s been dead a couple of days.” Randy was allowed into the apartment, accompanied by Detective Miller. She offered him a bottle of Vicks Vapo-rub before they entered.

“If it’s only two days, it can’t be too bad yet,” he said. “I’ve probably smelled worse.” After entering the apartment, he wished he had accepted her offer. A little Vicks in the nose is better than what awaited him. The body had not had enough time to really start producing that foul, putrid odor, but it had released waste matter right after death.
Good thing the air conditioning was left running,
Randy thought.

The apartment looked as if it had been tastefully decorated, but now showed the obvious signs of a struggle and a thorough ransacking. The body was crumpled in a heap at the foot of the stairs. There was a large black stain in the carpet below the victim’s head.

“Looks like a struggle and a blunt instrument trauma to the head,” said one of the officers in the room. “And I would guess that broken trophy over there is the blunt instrument.”

“Thank you, professor,” said Detective Miller sarcastically. “We’ll take it from here.” She stepped around the body toward the trophy. Randy noticed several other trophies scattered around the floor, as well as a few still standing behind the broken glass door of a nearby display case. Most of them were for cheerleading and gymnastic competitions.
What a waste
, Randy thought,
what a waste
.

Randy stayed until after the scene was thoroughly photographed and the body removed. Detective Miller and her team carefully collected and sealed any fabrics, hairs, fluid samples, and any other items of interest, into evidence bags. The broken trophy was also collected. The entire process took nearly three hours.

Not wanting to seem rude or unappreciative, Randy offered to buy lunch for the pretty Detective.

“I’m surprised you still want to eat after that experience,” observed the detective. “Most people can’t eat until the smell goes away. How do you think I stay so thin?”

“That sounded like a no to me, but the offer still stands.” Attempting to change the conversation, Randy continued: “Now you have two dead bodies that had the misfortune of speaking to me recently.”