C'est la Vie (Raja Williams Series) (18 page)

“By the way, when you were reporting what you found, I don’t suppose you mentioned my help in the matter.” Raja knew that under the circumstances, mentioning his name would only have hurt Remy’s credibility.

“I certainly did. I told them it was all your idea.”

“How foolish but decent of you, Remy. You are good man.”

“Oh yeah, did I mention that Captain Rochefort said he is putting in a request for my transfer to the narcotics division? With a promotion and a pay upgrade included.”

“Well done, Remy. You deserve it.”

“All thanks to you, Raja. I just followed your instructions.”

“Credit where credit is due. You did a hell of a good job.”

Remy beamed. “Thanks.” He was very excited. “I’ll go see Captain Rochefort immediately. Anything else you need?”

“Like you said, the police must steer clear of the empty container at the train yard. If Assad doesn’t think we are onto his human trafficking operation, he will want to keep everything business as usual. You said three of the containers left Paris by train. We need to find out how soon those containers will be returned. We need round-the-clock covert surveillance on Assad’s ship. I have an idea how we can catch whoever is helping the smugglers at the dock, but we can set that up when the containers all get returned to the dock to be picked up.”

Remy met with Captain Rochefort who agreed to follow the plan. He was more than willing to provide the surveillance, considering the success of the drug bust. Remy returned to Raja, who waited in the front.

“Everything is set. We coordinate through Lieutenant Brevard. He’s the one who helped me on the bust.”

“Good. So, you must keep in close communication with Brevard. It may be a few days or even a week before the containers arrive back in Paris. Oh, and give me your phone number.” Raja input it into his phone. “When the containers arrive back at the train yard, you must call me. Until then we wait.”

“Sounds great.” Remy was ready to return to his celebration.

“There is one more small matter,” said Raja, smiling.

“Napoleon.”

“Yes. How did you like driving the Porsche?”

“It was better than I dreamed. Such a great car. I parked it outside the station. I’ll take you to it now.”

“Not necessary, Remy. You go have your celebration. And thanks for taking care of Napoleon. You have the keys?”

Remy looked at the keys and handed them over reluctantly.

“Don’t worry, you’ll drive Napoleon again before you know it.”

“Don’t I wish.”

Outside the station, Raja scanned the area to make sure he was alone, and then pushed his hair back twice. It was the signal he always used to tell Vinny the coast was clear. The little white Ford Mondeo pulled out of a discreet parking spot a block away and crept toward Raja. He walked directly toward the car and got in, and they were gone.

“Sorry to have to leave you out here, but we must maintain your cover. I’m still not sure who we can trust. Until we know, we tell no one.”

“As you wish, boss. How did it go?”

“Remy is a brave young man. And a good policeman. The drug bust took down over twenty million dollars in uncut heroin. Now we have a plan in place to knock out the slave traders as well.”

“Great. What can I do to help?”

“There is some info you can probably help find. I would like to know how many girls are involved in the current shipment. Any data you can get will be helpful. But, be careful. Mostly I need you to stay on top of the cabaret and its activities and keep an ear to the ground. We haven’t tied Bruno to the drugs but I’m betting we will. I’m going to shake things up. There’s Napoleon.” Raja pointed to the orange Porsche parked on the side of the police building. “Here is good.” Vinny pulled over and let him out.

“Remember, Vinny, low profile. I know how bad you want this. Let’s take one step at a time. Find out if there is any more chatter on Mrs. Browning. Professor Browning must be out of his mind by now. I should go see him.”

After Vinny drove off, Raja got in the Porsche and punched in the hotel where the Brownings were staying. Vinny had gotten him a new phone. Raja changed his mind about going to see the professor. There wasn’t much to report on his wife. Raja checked his voice mail. He had several messages from Professor Browning he hadn’t heard. He picked one and hit the dial caller button and waited.

“Hello, this is Professor Browning.”

“This is Raja Williams.”

“Thank God you are calling. I left you ten messages.”

It wasn’t ten, but the point was moot. “I saw that. Believe me when I say, I was indisposed.”

“So, have you found Margaret?” The professor asked tentatively, fearing bad news.

“Not yet, I’m sorry to say. I know it is no consolation but I am working on finding her.”

“I don’t understand. She could not just disappear without a trace. What am I to do?”

The melancholy in the professor’s voice made Raja sad. “You need to stay positive. No news is good news. I will find her. There’s really nothing else you can do to help the investigation. You should go back to your project at the museum. Keep yourself occupied.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Give it a try, Professor. I will call as soon as I have any news.” What Raja wasn’t saying was that it appeared Mrs. Browning had fallen into a black hole, and at this juncture of a typical kidnapping case, the likelihood was that she was buried at the bottom of it.

Chapter Twenty-six: Raja on the Rampage

Raja went back to his flat and poured himself a couple fingers of The Macallan, his favorite scotch. There were too many things in play on this case, and too many players. Professor Browning was right. His wife’s continued missing status did not make a lot of sense. If she was dead, where was her body? And if she was alive, where was she? Who had her? And why? Raja had more questions than answers. He still didn’t know what part she played. It had all started the day that Corinne’s brother was killed. He had to find out why he was killed. He needed to talk to Corinne. Although she claimed no knowledge of any of her brother’s activities that would get him killed, she might know more than she realized. It also didn’t hurt that Raja was eager to see her again. He drove to Corinne’s building.

The first thing that Raja noticed when he reached Corinne’s flat was that the door was not locked. After what he had found out about the way Bruno had terrorized her, and Raja's insistence that she lock the door, he knew she would never leave it open. The knot that formed in his stomach could not distract him from the throbbing ache in his head. “A sure sign of bad mojo,” his grandmother used to say back in Jamaica when he was a little boy. He would sit on her lap and she would tell stories he didn’t understand, trying to pass on the wisdom she had learned. “De stomachache ez one ting, de headache anudder. But together das a sure sign of de bad mojo. Remember dat, bwoy.”

Raja remembered it now as he turned the knob slowly and went inside Corinne’s flat. He closed the door behind him out of habit, while he strained to hear her moving about or humming as she liked to do. The silence made his head hurt more. When he got to the living room, he saw an overturned table and chair. There had been a fight. The bedroom door stood open and Raja forced himself to walk in that direction. He stared at the floor when he entered, like not looking would somehow change the outcome. He gently shut the bedroom door behind him. He noticed that the full-length mirror on the door was cracked, and when he looked up at it he saw her in the reflection. Corinne was lying spread eagle on the bed with her tongue hanging out. Raja forced himself to turn around. When he moved closer he saw that Corinne’s eyes were wide open. They were dull and grey, not the lively green he remembered. That’s when he realized she was gone.

Raja slumped onto his knees. When the room began spinning he got up and staggered into the bathroom, knowing what was coming next. After he threw up, he stood at the sink and washed his face. When he looked in the mirror, a grey, anguished face stared back at him. He pulled out his phone and called Vinny.

“What’s up?” she said cheerfully.

“Corinne is dead.” The heaviness and the finality in Raja’s voice told Vinny that he was devastated.

The best thing she could do was get him to talk. “What happened?” she asked.

After a long lag, Raja said, “He killed her. She did nothing to him and he killed her.” The lack of emotion meant he was shutting down.

“Are the police there?”

“I haven’t called them. There’s nothing they can do.”

“Hold on,” said Vinny. She dialed the number for Inspector Gilliard. Claude answered.

“Yes. There has been a murder
…
Corinne Reneau
…
At her flat
on Rue de Lourmel. Raja
Williams is there now with the body. Tell Inspector Gilliard. Please hurry.” Claude tried asking questions. Vinny ignored them and switched back to Raja, but he had already hung up.

Raja walked back into the bedroom. Looking at Corinne’s lifeless body sickened him, but he told himself that the outcome was not going to change. He needed to be the detective now and analyze the case evidence before him. Steeling himself, he studied the scene. Corinne’s blouse was torn and she was naked from the waist down. Raja knew he shouldn’t touch anything, but he couldn’t refrain from covering her torso. His DNA would certainly be found all over her flat, so a little more wouldn’t hurt. The marks on her neck indicated that she was violently strangled, probably after being sexually assaulted. The bruises and cuts on her face indicated that whoever did it was angry, and her broken nails said she fought back, at least for a while. After studying the scene, Raja usually visualized the crime being committed. In this instance, he could not yet bring himself to do it.

The police arrived at the scene
—
first a pair of uniformed officers, followed ten minutes later by Inspector Gilliard.

The inspector took Raja into the living room.

“Don’t touch her,” said Raja to the officers before he left the room.

“They won’t,” said Gilliard. It was obvious to him that Raja had more than an acquaintance with the girl. “You want to tell me what happened?” he asked, pulling out and turning on his recorder.

“I found her,” said Raja, looking at his watch, “about thirty minutes ago. Pretty much the way you see her now.”

“Did you touch anything?”

“Other than covering her a bit, no.”

“You knew her—personally.” It was a statement.

“Yes, we were intimate.”

“Today?”

“No.”

“When was the last time?”

“Two days ago.”

“Did you do this?”

“No, Inspector, I did not do this. But I know who did.”

“Who?”

“Bruno Laurent.”

“You know this how?”

“I just know it.”

“You know that won’t help me.”

“It’s good enough for me,” said Raja. The look in his eye was a red flag the inspector had seen many times.

“If that’s all, I need to go.” Raja got up to leave.

The inspector grabbed his arm. “Don’t do anything foolish, Monsieur Williams.”

“I do foolish things every day; why should today be any different?”

“Perhaps I must take you to the station to make a complete statement.”

“You have my statement now. So, unless you are planning to arrest me, I would like to go.”

The inspector thought about doing just that. He looked over Raja’s hands and arms, finding no wounds. “No arrest. But stay in Paris and out of trouble for the moment, yes?”

“Yes.” As far as Raja was concerned, the only one who would be in trouble was Bruno.
There were always times during a case when things got a little too up close and personal for Raja. It was one reason he was so effective. He connected with people without reservation. Contrary to popular belief, maintaining an objective view on a case did not mean being distant. Some of the most important facts only surface after an intimate and close look. However, there was a potential liability when he got too close, especially with a beautiful and vulnerable woman like Corinne. If Raja had an Achilles heel, it was his knightly defense of a wronged woman. And you can’t get much more wrong than dead. Vinny was convinced it would get him killed one day, and she had talked to him about it to no avail. Today just might prove her right.

By the time Vinny arrived at the crime scene in Corinne’s flat, Raja had already been gone almost an hour. She had been calling him continuously but getting no answer. She tried again. Again voice mail. It was a bad sign. She had hoped to get there while he was still grieving, but she was too late. Now he would be in revenge mode, and probably already at the club.

Raja stormed the Cabaret d’Artois like the Americans hit the beach at Normandy, making no attempt to hide his fury. The large security guard inside the entrance smelled trouble right away and stepped in front of Raja to block his path. A swift blow to the man’s Adam’s apple ended any interest he had in challenging Raja, leaving the man choking on the ground. Once inside the main room, Raja scanned for the target of his rage, finally locking onto a booth near the back. The floor show was on stage, and the pulsing dance beat only amplified the pounding in Raja’s head which, by his way of thinking, would find relief only when Bruno had taken his last breath. By the time Raja made his way through the crowd, the entrance guard had already alerted Bruno, who stood waiting.

Raja paused to assess his options, knowing that Bruno would not be one to
fight his battle on his own.
Several men were making their way through the crowd toward him from both sides. Raja knew where the scratch on Bruno’s cheek had come from. When Bruno sneered at him, Raja lost control, bull-rushing the last fifteen feet that separated the two men.

Raja’s feet stopped moving and his body shook uncontrollably as he realized he had been hit with the electrodes of a taser. Despite willing himself forward toward his enemy, his muscles refused to respond. When he fell to the floor the crowd pulled back from him forming a perfect circle. Raja looked up helplessly as Bruno calmly took the taser from Marcelo’s hand, and bent down toward Raja’s face.