Sex and Murder.com: A Paul Turner Mystery (29 page)

“These are all of his clothes?” Fenwick asked.

“I haven’t seen any others,” Turner said.

“This must be rat heaven,” Fenwick said.

Turner said, “I don’t think even a self-respecting rat would live here.” The toilet bowl was black with scum. There was no shower. The sink next to the commode was encrusted with rust.

Turner, Fenwick, and Micetic gathered at the only remotely clean spot in the room, the computer station. It took up a third of the space in the darkest corner farthest from any windows.

Micetic typed at the computer while Fenwick and Turner inspected the accumulated filth. Fifteen minutes later, under a pile of shredded paper Turner found a Palm Pilot. He handed it to Micetic.

The computer expert pointed at Homan’s machine and said, “I’ve found records here of their security attacks. I’ll print out copies in a few minutes.” He took the Palm Pilot and connected it to the computer. In seconds the screen began revealing information. “I think this is Lenzati’s,” he said. “It’s got names and addresses of people.” He studied it for several minutes while Turner and Fenwick returned to inspecting the rest of the space. They found nothing that indicated who might have wanted to kill the three victims. They went back to Micetic. He said, “The Palm Pilot has anecdotal records of some of their sexual escapades. It also seems that Lenzati bragged a bit to Eddie Homan.”

“The two of them were buddies?” Turner asked.

“From what this says, I think it was more he gave out hints like Werberg did to his sister. Homan was pretty bright. He must have found out about this thing’s existence and gotten hold of it.”

“Is there any way to print it out?” Turner asked.

“Sure. I’ll print it with the other stuff. You’re going to have hundreds of pages to go through. I think a lot of it matches what we found at the secret warehouse.”

In seconds pages from the Palm Pilot began to emerge.

Turner grabbed the first sheet. “He kept records just like Werberg. I like a victim who keeps records of something that could lead to his killer.” He and Fenwick examined more pages as they emerged. “These are only of the couples they seduced,” Turner said, “what they did, and how he got proof to add them to the conquest list.”

“Perfect,” Fenwick said.

“How did Homan get it?” Turner asked.

Micetic said, “In the original encryption from Werberg, he talked about Lenzati’s proof. This must have been what he was talking about. If Homan had Werberg’s encrypted material, he could have glommed onto this as well.”

“Maybe he was blackmailing them?” Fenwick said. “I was hoping we’d get blackmail in here somehow.”

Turner said, “He knew what they had done. He got into their computers. He had the goods on both of them, but then somebody got to them and him. He couldn’t have been killed before the two of them. The killer was after Homan too.”

Fenwick pointed to the Palm Pilot. “Why? To get this thing? Why didn’t the killer come here and retrieve it?”

Turner asked, “Maybe he or she didn’t know it existed. Maybe he or she thought all records were somewhere on the computers at the secret warehouse and never found it. We wanted to find it, but we weren’t frantic about it. We had no idea it would contain this much information. How would the killer know it would contain all this? He or she probably wouldn’t.”

It was nearly eleven when they got back to the station. Fenwick said, “I’m beat. I want to go home. I don’t want you to check your computer anymore. I don’t want any more phone messages.”

“There’s no chocolate on my desk.”

Fenwick said, “Not every killer is perfect.”

Turner walked up to the corkboard. “Let’s at least put this information from Craig Lenzati’s Palm Pilot up here.” They spent fifteen minutes filling in as many blanks as they could. Micetic added the data he’d gotten so far from Homan’s computer on the security fraud Lenzati and Werberg had been perpetuating.

Micetic and Turner met in front of Rian Davis’s name. Micetic said, “She and her husband had a company that failed.”

Turner said, “It’s not listed on the printouts from the warehouse.”

“But it is on Eddie Homan’s,” Micetic said.

“They didn’t know about this backup file,” Turner guessed. He checked the original sexual encryption they had downloaded. “There’s no couple listed for three months before or after they failed.”

“When was she hired?” Fenwick asked.

“Do we have records of that?” Turner asked.

“I’ll check the Palm Pilot,” Micetic said. He picked it up and began punching letters on the keyboard. Moments later he showed the results to the detectives.

Turner said, “Rian Davis, the head of the creativity division, had a business that failed and a husband who could have been part of a sex duo. The couple that filed the law suit also fits the bill. The Zengres didn’t have a business. Who among those others was married?”

Fenwick said, “We haven’t been able to find a lot of the married ones, and remember some didn’t have names.”

Micetic said, “It’s here in the Palm Pilot. A month after the Davises business failed, Lenzati and Werberg made it with both a husband and wife. Lenzati refers to RPD.”

Turner said, “Rian Porter Davis. Lenzati and Werberg wrecked their business. The Davises erased the records at the warehouse, but not at Eddie’s. They didn’t know about Eddie’s.”

Micetic added, “P is referred to as being a ‘steady’ with Werberg.”

“Steady?” Fenwick asked.

“Yeah, Lenzati records that Werberg tried to add the number of times he made it with a guy to his proof profile. He refers to arguments they had about it. There were only a few repeats.”

“Anybody else connected with this that has the initials RPD?” Fenwick asked.

Micetic searched the Palm Pilot. “Not that I can find.”

27

I’m going to kill him. The next chance I get, he’s going to be dead.

Turner and Fenwick found the home address for Porter and Rian Davis and drove over. It was just past midnight.

“I’m going to sleep for a week after this is over,” Fenwick said.

“You and me both,” Turner said.

They rang the doorbell for several minutes before it was answered. Rian Davis wore a sweater over blue jeans. Her husband, Porter, wore a sweatshirt and warm-up pants with a Stanford University logo on them.

“It’s late,” Rian said.

Porter Davis was short and thin—Werberg’s type. He had short-cropped hair with a budding bald spot in the back.

“We found Eddie Homan’s apartment,” Turner announced.

“Where was the creep hiding?” Rian asked.

Turner said, “We found a lot of data on his computer that wasn’t anywhere else.”

Silence.

“We found evidence they attempted to ruin your company.”

“What?” Rian asked.

“Big time sabotage. We have records that show they interfered with your company before it went broke. Eddie Homan had a record, although it wasn’t in the files at the warehouse. Someone erased it from there. You didn’t know about the files at his apartment, did you?”

More silence.

Turner said, “We also have a list of couples they had sex with.”

“That’s outrageous,” Porter said. “Do you have any proof that we were among those couples?”

“Did either of you have sex with either of them?”

“I most certainly did not,” Porter said.

“The whole concept is revolting,” Rian said. “Are you telling us they ruined our business deliberately?”

“As far as we can tell, yes,” Turner said. “Lenzati and Werberg caused your company to go bust. They got into your designs and altered them. You never discovered the flaws, so you couldn’t fix them. They kept records of their triumphs.”

Porter said, “I knew at the time we weren’t all that bad.”

“We were all that bad,” Rian said. “They just nudged the inevitable on further and quicker.”

“Maybe. But maybe we could have made it without their interference.”

Turner said, “We also found Craig Lenzati’s Palm Pilot.”

“Oh,” Porter Davis said. They were in the living room. The husband and wife sat on a lemon-yellow divan. Turner and Fenwick were in matching wing chairs.

Turner continued, “From data found in Lenzati’s Palm Pilot, we believe they had sex with both of you. And Mr. Davis, we believe Mr. Werberg continued to have a sexual relationship with you.”

“You did what!” Rian Davis said.

Porter Davis looked stricken. “I had to. He said if I didn’t, they’d fire you.”

Turner and Fenwick took the Davises down to the station and separated them. Rian was unwilling to speak to the detectives and demanded a lawyer. Porter, however, began to tell all.

“My wife and I found their scoring system. It took a while, but we broke the code. We erased all reference to ourselves. Or we thought we had. We didn’t know Eddie Homan found or kept records at his home as well. We didn’t know Lenzati kept a record on his Palm Pilot. We knew Brooks had anecdotal records. We found those and erased ourselves from them as well. They thought they were so damn smart about security. After we killed them, we erased everything that related to ourselves—including information about our company. That jerk Eddie still had a record.”

“Why did you agree to have sex with them?”

“We were desperate for money.”

“Why did you decide to kill them?”

“The sex stuff always rankled. Maybe we could have gotten over that. When we found out what they had done to our company, that was too much. Eddie Homan led us to that bit of information. We met him at a hacker’s convention in Switzerland. We were eager to get revenge. He told us he was double-crossing them.”

“Why kill Eddie?”

“He’s the only one who knew what we had done—the only one who had proof. We thought the warehouse was the whole operation. Eddie said it was. It was so complete. It turns out Eddie was double-crossing us as well. I should have known he’d keep a separate set of records. We never could discover where he lived. We even tried the IRS computers to get his address.”

“You didn’t try Social Security,” Turner said.

“We could never find his number. He’d erased all of his employment records from the company. It was as if he didn’t exist.”

Turner asked, “How’d you get past the security system at Lenzati’s?”

“My wife offered him sex. He was surprised to see her that morning. After she let me in, we killed him. When we were done, we simply took all the tapes from the previous week, just to be safe. We turned the whole security system off before we left.”

To get into Werberg’s house, Porter had used the ruse of going over for his monthly sexual encounter. “I got him to put off going to work after your interview that morning. He was always horny, even though he seldom did much. My wife didn’t know I could get in because I’d been having sex. She thought Eddie and I had worked out a way to get past the security devices.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

“It was disgusting. I just didn’t want to get into it.”

“Why was he tied up?”

“For some reason, Werberg became suspicious. He must have figured out that Eddie was downstairs cutting off his escape. After he got suspicious, he fled to the computer room. He claimed he was going to the bathroom. I was tired of waiting so I went after him. I found him trying to send a message from his computer. We caught him before he could type more than a couple of words. We made him watch while we wrecked everything. It took both Eddie and me to pick him up and smash his head through the computer monitor. I never thought of myself as a violent person before I met these two fuckers. I guess I am. Maybe we all are. I know that doesn’t excuse my guilt. I don’t ever remember hearing a more satisfying sound, or seeing a more satisfying sight, than when his head first broke through. After he was dead, Eddie decided it would be a bit of bravado to use his own computer to announce his death. That was the deal with the chatroom announcement.”

“But your wife was there?”

“She was there for all the killings. I did the initial stabbing. She finished them off. She did all the extra gore. She worked very hard and hated losing our company. She hated that she had to debase herself sexually. I hate violence, but it felt good—real good—to watch them die.”

“How’d you find the warehouse and how did you get in?”

“Eddie told us about it a while ago. Ostensibly, we went there with him to try and salvage all the security hacking data they had done. We thought we might try to cash in on their hacking. Eddie knew how to get in.”

“Why did you piss on them?” Fenwick asked.

“We both did. An appropriate farewell to some of the biggest pigs in town. On Lenzati it was more than just an afterthought. I was furious at them, but Rian went nuts. I thought she would never stop stabbing Lenzati. In the end I had to restrain her. She pissed on Lenzati. I did it on Werberg. We both did on Homan.

“Why send me messages?” Turner asked.

“We didn’t send you any messages.”

“Did you have anything to do with the detectives who died in different cities?” Turner asked.

“We hoped we could try and confuse our killings with theirs, but we didn’t kill any cops. We had nothing to do with any cops. We can prove we weren’t in those cities when it happened.” He hung his head. “It’s over. Finally, it’s over. They’ve been stopped. We’re going to have to pay, but those predators have been stopped.” His hands trembled. “My life wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. I want to close my eyes and make it all not have happened.” He sighed deeply. “But I’m glad we killed them.”

28

Watching them die. That’s the best.

Turner and Fenwick worked long into the night finishing the paperwork involved with the arrests. They both had the next two days off.

The next morning Turner woke long enough to have breakfast with his family and to see his sons off to school and Ben off to work. He went back to bed and got up again around ten. He padded around the house in his stocking feet, faded blue jeans, and an old gray logo-less sweatshirt that belonged to his older son. He read the newspaper, drank some juice, did a little light cleaning, and threw in a load of laundry.