Major Crimes (2 page)

Bryson (Bryce) Kelly

Taking the remote from Chelsey’s hand, I guided her to a chair. “You’d better sit down for this.”

Disappointment showed in her eyes. I didn’t want her to find out this way. My plan was that we’d eat, we’d laugh, and then I’d ask for her help. Gently, slowly, I’d explain the circumstances. Knowing Chelsey worked for a private investigation firm and that she was my friend, I was certain she’d help me without going directly to the police. My name needed to be cleared and all my other friends were cops. I wasn’t sure who I could and couldn’t trust. My intentions were good, but being a single guy…I had to admit…I didn’t think much about Chelsey’s feelings or her child and how this would affect them.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“Where are you going to go with no car?”

Chelsey was smart. It was one of the qualities I admired about her.

“I didn’t kill him.”

Chelsey stared at me like she wanted to burn a hole into my head. “Then why are you a person of interest?”

“I found the body. They always suspect the person who finds the body.”

“Always?”

“Well…”

“This is painful. It’s like pulling teeth to get any information out of you.”

There wasn’t a good way for me to explain. I didn’t understand it all myself. All I knew was that I didn’t kill Archie Wallace. He was my friend. Killing someone in cold blood was
not
something I’d do. It was time to stop beating around the bush.

“It had started with a retirement party for Archie—dinner at Casey Prime Steakhouse. We moved the party to Savoy’s Bar and Grill afterward. We were drinking. A band was playing and it was crowded.”

“Go on.”

“I vaguely remember taking a cab to Archie’s house. When I came to in the morning, I was sitting in Archie’s living room. There was blood all over me. I felt my arms and chest, wondering where I was bleeding from. My head was pounding. I’d never felt so hung over in my life…even during my four years in college. Which was odd, because I didn’t recall drinking much last night.”

“Keeping going.”

“Then I saw Archie across from me, unresponsive and covered in stab wounds.”

Chelsey was silent. I didn’t know what she was thinking. “Well?”

“Archie was retiring?” Chelsey’s facial expression changed from intense to confused.

“I just told you the story about Archie’s murder and that’s the first question that comes to your mind? I don’t think you’re going to be successful as a private investigator.”

“You’re a murder suspect and you’re insulting my investigative skills?”

Insulting Chelsey wasn’t my intention. “I’m just joking.”

“How much
did
you drink?”

“That’s the weird thing. I only recall having two margaritas. Those shouldn’t have made me black out for hours.”

“Hmm.” Chelsey was deep in thought.

I waited for her response but after a five-minute pause, I grew impatient. “What are you thinking?”

“Were you drugged?”

“By who?”

“The person who wanted Archie dead.”

“I don’t know. Possibly.”

“You’re a detective and you don’t know if you got drugged?”

“My unit is Major Crimes, not Special Victims. We don’t typically investigate sexual assault cases where drugs are most often used. I’ve never been drugged before. How would I know?”

“Can you get tested somehow?”

“Not without calling attention to myself.” I thought about that for a few minutes. Drugs used to knock someone unconscious didn’t typically stay in the body for long. “It might be too late for me to get tested anyway. The drugs may not still be in my system.”

“What about a normal lab you’d get bloodwork from? I’m assuming you have health insurance that would cover it.”

“I’d need a script from a doctor, and I don’t have time for that. I need to find out who killed Archie and clear my name.”

“Wouldn’t proving you were drugged help clear your name?”

Investigators twisted things to make them fit their own personal hypothesis. Showing I was drugged would’ve made them jump to the conclusion I did something while I was under the influence. Went into a rage or something that I didn’t remember. “No. You don’t know how these things work. I’m better off gathering evidence on my own for now.”

“Still, how would anyone know you got tested? There are HIPPA laws. Doctors can’t go around telling your business to anyone.”

“Chelsey, I just need a place to sleep for the night. You don’t need to worry about this.”

“About that—why are you hiding out at my place instead of going to your police buddies? Isn’t there a cop code or something? Don’t you cops protect one another? Can’t one of them help you?”

“Cop code? A cop was killed. A very well-liked cop. A chief. Who do you think is going to side with me? They think I’m a cop killer! If I get arrested before I find out who did this, then there is no way I’ll be able to figure out what happened.”

“You don’t think they’d do their due diligence, investigate thoroughly, and catch the real killer?”

“You sure do see the world through rose-colored glasses, Chelsey. At least you sound like you believe me.”

The reality was that I was the last one to see Archie alive. His blood was all over me. The murder weapon was next to my chair. The murderer may have put my prints on the knife.

“Did you check him for a pulse? Did you dial nine-one-one?” Chelsey looked as desperate as I felt. Here was a woman who owed me nothing, yet she was searching for answers, desperate to find an easy explanation.

“I did check him for a pulse.”

“And? Why didn’t you immediately get on the phone and call for help?”

“There was no pulse, and then…his daughter came into the room and, well, after seeing the grisly crime scene, I can only assume she felt like she lived on Elm Street.”

“Elm Street?”

I rolled my eyes. As sharp as Chelsey could be, I wondered if she ever got out of the house. “You know.
Nightmare on Elm Street
. A horror movie.”

“Oh, right.”

“She screamed. I panicked and ran.”

“You don’t seem like the type to panic. You’re usually as cool as a cucumber. I figured that was part of your law enforcement training.”

“I know it’s unlike me. But I wasn’t in my right mind. I felt nauseous. It was like the walls were closing in on me. I couldn’t think straight. And that pounding in my head…the worst ever.”

Chelsey walked away from me. I wondered where she was going. To splash her face with water? I imagined my story was a lot for her to take in. It was a lot for me to take in.

When I saw her reappear from the bedroom, I was relieved she hadn’t snuck out a window to get away from me. Not that I would’ve blamed her. She was holding a laptop. She sat on the couch, setting the computer atop the coffee table. She searched the Internet for date rape drugs.

After a few minutes, she tilted the screen toward me. “Says here that this one would give you a terrible hangover.”

Information about gamma hydroxybutyric acid was on the screen. While part of my basic training included classes on drugs like GHB, I hadn’t remembered much of what I learned since I didn’t normally have to use the information during my investigations. I hunted mobsters, not rapists. Not that they were mutually exclusive, but my team focused on embezzlement and money laundering activities. Much of my time was spent listening to wiretaps and conducting interrogations. Except during assignments where I went undercover.

“It also says GHB doesn’t stay in your body for more than twelve hours. It’s definitely too late for me to be tested anyway.”

“Unless you think it was a different drug.” Chelsey retrieved her wine glass and gulped down the rest of the ruby red liquid. She found the bottle and poured the rest into her glass. “Did your drinks taste salty?”

“Well, yes, the margaritas had salt on the rim.”

“So, what next? How do we get you out of this mess?”

“Finding a suspect who would have access to GHB would be helpful.”

“How does someone get their hands on GHB?”

“It’s prescribed for narcolepsy.”

Chelsey raised an eyebrow. “Know any narcoleptics?”

“Negative.”

“So how else does one get it?”

“It’s not hard to make at home. It’s sold on the streets, at raves, and some athletes use it.”

“Boy. That narrows it down to…what? Ten thousand or more people in the area.”

“It’s probably better to find Archie’s enemies first, then see if any of them had access to GHB.”

“Then let’s do that first. Who’s on your list?” Chelsey sat back down on the couch.

I scratched my head. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that. I’m not sure what cases Archie’s had throughout his career. There could be plenty of criminals who were out to get him.”

“Is there any way to get a list?”

“I was hoping you or your boss could help with that. Being that you’re private investigators and all.”

“That’ll require some digging. Are you going to care if I bring Freddy up to speed?”

Freddy was Bonnie’s uncle and Chelsey’s boss. He was also a retired cop who opened up his own private investigation firm a few years ago. I was worried that he would be gunning for me like other cops were and that he’d turn me in. I couldn’t go to jail; I’d never find out who killed Archie. No one would search for another suspect. The jury of my peers had already tried me in the court of their minds and were on a witch hunt, about to string me up from the bough of the old oak.

“I’m not sure about that…how do you know he wouldn’t turn me in?”

“I don’t.”

“Then let’s not go there yet.”

Chelsey went on a search for a notebook and a pen. I sat down on the couch. My stress levels were taking their toll on my body. I stretched my legs out over the coffee table and tilted my head back.

Chelsey put ink to paper.

“What are you writing?”

“A list of suspects.”

“Including who?”

“The wife. The daughter.”

“Wasn’t the daughter.”

“How do you know?”

“The fear on her face when she found me in the room and her father dead on the floor. The horrific scream she let out. It wasn’t her. She’s just a teenager.”

“Nonetheless, I’m leaving her there. Haven’t you been watching that TV show
, Secrets and Lies
? The teenage girl on that show killed her own brother.”

“Chelsey, that’s television. You know, fiction? Non-reality? Made up stuff?”

“I’m not taking her off the list. I can eliminate suspects later.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me! I’m trying to help you!”

Ouch!
Scolded! I should’ve been more patient with Chelsey. The magnitude of the situation was making me act funny. “Sorry.”

Chelsey grimaced, then went back to writing. “Does he have a maid?”

“A maid? I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Anyone else that you know who would have access to the house? To get that close to him? To stab him with you in the room?”

“I guess his friends. His family.”

“I’ll need names.”

“I’ll jot down the ones I know for you.”

“Who knew he’d be at the retirement party? Better yet, I’ll need you to write down everyone that was there.”

“I will.”

Chelsey actually seemed intrigued. She was focused. Determined. Her eyes sparkled. It made her look hot. “How about co-workers? Enemies?”

“I didn’t work for Coral Beach for much longer than you did. He started working there right after you left. That didn’t give me time to see what his co-workers thought of him.”

“I could call Bonnie and ask.”

Bonnie worked in Coral Beach when I was on an undercover assignment there. She was also one of Chelsey’s closest friends. She could be rude and crude, but I didn’t view her as a suspect. “I didn’t know Bonnie had a beef with him. She was at Casey Prime that night, but not at Savoy’s.”

“I don’t think she had a
beef
with him, as you put it. But you know she got promoted to municipal clerk in Coral Beach, right? I could ask her if anyone didn’t like him.”

“Okay, but don’t tell her I’m here.”

Chelsey reached for the phone and dialed her friend. They were like hens clucking, gabbing for an eternity. I was beat up from the feet up and didn’t feel like listening. Chelsey was busy writing down names on her list. I was sure it was a waste of time. Finding a killer without having access to my division’s resources would be nearly impossible. But I was going to try. I had something in my pocket that could either mean nothing or lead us to the real killer. A man’s ring. I found it at the scene right before Archie’s daughter walked in. It could’ve been dropped by Archie, but I was hopeful that it wasn’t. Hopeful that it was left by someone more sinister. I wondered if I was grabbing at straws. Maybe there was DNA on the ring.