ZERO HERO (The Kate Huntington Mystery series) (34 page)

            “That prostitute, Roxie. The one that, you know... She told me today that she turned her stepfather in for molesting her, and he passed a lie detector test. So he got off and she got a lecture from the local sheriff.”

            Kate felt the sadness wrap around her heart and squeeze. The sensation was a familiar one. She used to wish she didn’t feel it when clients told her their horror stories. But after Rob’s comment about not caring anymore, maybe it was a good thing that she still felt it.

            “I’ve seen that before. Some psychopaths can pass them with flying colors while they’re lying through their teeth. Those tests pick up on anxiety so they’re not that hard to fool if you can keep your cool.”

            Skip scratched his head. “Yeah well, my cool isn’t something I’ve seen much of lately.”

            Kate patted his hand. “There’s not really anything more we can do today. Let’s try to have a relaxing evening and look at things fresh tomorrow.”

            Skip groaned, then his face brightened. “I’ve got a counteroffer for you. We relax for the rest of the weekend and on Monday I’ll see if everybody can get together for a brainstorming session. Hopefully Tyrell will have some info back from the lab about that basement by then. I’ve got a niggly feeling we’ve got most of the pieces. We just need to put them all on the same table and see how they fit together.”

            “That sounds good.” Irate screaming issued from the living room. Kate grinned at her husband. “I’ll go break up World War III while you make the calls to set that up.”

~~~~~~~~

            At lunchtime on Monday, those who were available gathered to brainstorm at Tyrell’s precinct. “Rose is on a surveillance case. I’ll have to fill her in later,” Skip told Kate as he opened the conference room door for her. Dolph and Judith were already sitting at the table, perusing the interview reports from Judith’s case file.

            Tyrell came in with a pot of coffee and a stack of styrofoam cups in his hands. He put them on a side table and sat down. Only Dolph and Judith got up to pour cups of the mud-colored brew.

            “Why is it that cop shop coffee is always bad?” Skip said.

            “Machine’s in constant use and it never gets cleaned,” Tyrell said.

            He pulled a large thermos out from under his arm, took the top off, loosened the stopper and poured. “Sorry, I like you all but I’m not sharing.”

            Kate breathed in the rich coffee fragrance. Was that a hint of vanilla? “Hm, smells heavenly.”

            “Okay, for the lovely lady visitor, I’ll make an exception.” Tyrell reached back to snag a styrofoam cup.

            “Hey, no flirting with my wife,” Skip said good-naturedly.

            Judith’s voice cut across the banter. She held up a piece of paper. “That prostitute, Elsie, didn’t say anything about hearing a commotion in Matthews’ apartment when my men talked to her.”

            “I figured she might not have admitted it to a cop,“ Skip said. “She didn’t remember the exact time but said it hadn’t been dark for long.”

            “That time of year, we’re probably talking between five and six.” Judith made a note on the pad in front of her.

            “Blood on the sidewalk outside that basement door was Jamieson’s blood type,” Tyrell said. “Also traces on that shovel. No needle tracks anywhere on him, according to the doc at the hospital, which confirms what you said, Kate. He’s not a heroin user. But there was definitely heroin in his system, enough to kill him. We’re treating it as assault and attempted homicide.”

            Kate felt a stab of guilt that she hadn’t gone to visit Pete yesterday, but she and her family had needed a day off from the stress. She’d called Mercy Hospital late Saturday afternoon and had been told his condition had stabilized. Yesterday he’d been transferred to the Center for Addiction Medicine on Linden Avenue. Ironically his medical insurance would pay for their detox program when they wouldn’t pay for his ongoing therapy.

            “Did Pete remember anything about who might have hit him?” Skip asked.

            “No. He said he’d pulled a box out of Matthews’ storage unit that had some DVDs in it. He thought they might have something useful on them. The last thing he remembered was going outside to get a signal to call Rob.”

            “I take it you didn’t find the box,” Dolph said.

            Tyrell shook his head.

            “How’d he get into the storage unit?” Kate asked. “It had a newish-looking lock dangling from the door.”

            It’s one of those locks where you set your own combination,” Tyrell said. “The combo Matthews had used was Jamieson’s birthday.”

            Grief slammed Kate in the chest and closed her throat. Grief for Pete and for the young man she’d never met, and for a friendship that close, a rare gift that had gotten lost along the way.

            Rob pushed open the conference room door. “Sorry I’m late, gang. I was in court this morning.”

            Kate looked at him and felt a rush of gratitude. She blinked back tears.

            “You are right on time, my man,” Tyrell said. “Have a seat. You want some coffee?” He pointed toward the pot on the side table.

            Rob shuddered and sat down next to Kate. He sniffed at her cup, then eyed Tyrell’s thermos. “How’d you rate the good stuff?”

            “I’ll share,” she pushed past the lump in her throat.

            He took the cup she offered and drank a healthy swig. She gave him a lopsided smile.

            “Can you recall exactly what Jamieson said to you on the phone Saturday?” Tyrell asked.

            Rob closed his eyes. “He was talking fast and breathing hard. Something like ‘Hey, it’s Pete. I’m down at Jimmy’s building and I found something in the basement.’ A box, and he seemed to think whatever was in it had something to do with Matthews’ murder.” Rob opened his eyes. “Then something about labels in Jimmy’s handwriting, but they didn’t make sense. Then there were some muffled noises and the phone went dead.”

            “Jamieson couldn’t remember what was on the labels,” Tyrell said. “But we found half of a broken jewel case in the basement. Label read, ‘RO-PP-SM’ and a date.”

            Skip sat up straighter in his chair. “Roxie and her john, Paul Polinski.”

            Judith rooted through the papers in front of her. “Here it is. Roxie said Matthews was going to make her a porn star.”

            “SM,” Dolph said. “Chains and whips?”

            Skip snorted. “Polinski’s the type, and not for the dominant role. Your people find anything else interesting in that basement?”

            “No, but the lab’s still processing stuff. May take them awhile.”

             Judith read to the bottom of the report in her hand, a frown growing on her face. “Roxie’s alibied for Matthews’ TOD window. She named three johns who all verified she was with them that afternoon and evening, with not much time in between.”

            “Why would she kill Matthews? He was her gravy train,” Skip said. “She would, however, have a motive for conking Pete over the head to get her hands on those DVDs.”

            “But then why shoot drugs into him?” Kate asked.

            “And if she wanted those DVDs she could’ve gotten them out of there a long time before this,” Rob said.

            “Maybe she didn’t know where they were,” Dolph said.

            “So she’s just hanging around Matthews’ building,” Judith said, “and Petey shows up, and then what? They stumble on the box and she clobbers him to get it.”

            “He didn’t say anything about talking to any of the hookers,” Tyrell said. “And I’m a little surprised three johns admitted to being with her?”

            “There was some reluctance, until I reassured them their names would be kept out of it,” Judith said.

            “So maybe Roxie followed Pete for some reason,” Skip said. “And when he found the box, she hit him and took it.”

            “That still doesn’t explain the overdose set-up.” Kate was beginning to think this brainstorming session was producing more questions than answers.

            “Maybe somebody else decided to take advantage of the fact that he was out cold to finish the job,” Rob said.

            “But who, and why?” Kate asked.

            Dolph was scratching the back of his head. “Where’s the M.E.’s report again?”

            Judith dug through the pile and pulled out a clump of papers. Dolph leafed through them, then stopped. “Here it is. ‘Lividity was consistent with the position of the body. Contamination of the scene made it difficult to ascertain the degree of bleeding that had occurred at that location.’ Doesn’t sound like the M.E. was completely convinced Matthews was killed there.”

            Dolph looked at his former partner.

            “EMTs got there before our guys,” Judith said. “They stomped around a bit before they determined he was beyond saving. And it had rained that evening. M.E. said the blood could have washed away.”

            “Or he could’ve been killed elsewhere,” Dolph said.

            She rooted again through the papers and pulled out another report. “The techs checked Jamieson’s apartment thoroughly. No signs of blood but they did find some of Matthews’ hair.”

            “Which could’ve been dropped there at any time,” Kate said. “Since they were friends. How good a housekeeper was Pete?”

            Judith grimaced. “About as good as you’d expect a guy struggling with addiction to be.” After a moment, she asked, “Anybody got anything else to add?”

            Something had been nagging at the corner of Kate’s mind. “Strings.” They all looked at her. “On the shovel. There were some black strings hanging from a splinter.”

            Tyrell cocked his head. “I’ll check with the lab on that. And also take another look at Matthews’ apartment, although it’s got a new tenant now.”

            “There’s a good chance the apartment is rented furnished so you still might find something.” Judith pushed up from the table. “I’m gonna have me another little talk with Mr. Polinski.”

            “I thought you weren’t supposed to be pursuing new leads,” Dolph said.

            “Screw that. If Matthews made that video without Polinski’s knowledge and then he found out about it, he has a much better motive than Jamieson.
And
he was on the scene.” She started gathering up the papers from her case file.

            Tyrell stood up. “And I think I’ll be talking to our little Roxie. See where she was when Jamieson was attacked Saturday.”

            “Mind if we tag along?” Dolph said, gesturing toward Skip.

            “Not a bit.”

            Kate glanced over at Skip. His jaw was tight but he stood to join the other two men as they headed for the door. She fervently hoped her feeble little suggestions helped him deal with his anxiety. When all this was over, if he was still struggling with it, she’d recommend he see a colleague who specialized in phobias.

            She turned to Judith who was sliding the last of the papers into their folder. “Did anyone report shots fired around Pete’s building that night?”

            “No, and the gun didn’t have a silencer.”

            “That’s not the nicest neighborhood in Towson, but it’s not one where gunshots would go unnoticed either.”

            “I know.” Judith’s lips were set in a grim line as she walked past Kate and Rob. “Thanks for your help, guys. If you all hadn’t been willing to go to bat for Jamieson...” She let the sentence dangle as she walked out the conference room door.

            “Looks like it’s just you and me, schweetheart.” Rob faked a Bogart accent. “I’ll buy you a quick lunch before we have to go back to our offices.”

            Kate's stomach growled by way of an answer. She grinned at him, relieved that he seemed to be in a good mood today.

~~~~~~~~

            After a hurried stop at Rob’s favorite deli, Kate made it back to her office with just minutes to spare before her first afternoon client was due. She picked up her phone to check her office voicemail. “Mrs. Huntington,” the first message began. “I’m Dr. Andrew Bering from the Center for Addiction Medicine. You’re listed as Peter Jamieson’s therapist on his intake sheet. I wanted to inform you that he insists on leaving our detox program against medical advice. He did sign a waiver upon admission so if you have any questions feel free to call.” Kate grabbed a pencil to scribble down his number.

            The next message surprised her even more than the first. It was Pete. “I checked out of detox. I really don’t think I need it.” Kate didn’t totally disagree with that assessment, but where the hell was he going to stay now? At least in detox, he was safe in a locked ward.

            “I hope you’ll understand. I can’t just sit around letting you all deal with my problems anymore. I’m gonna check out a hunch. I’ll call you later on your cell to let you know what I find out.”

            Kate groaned out loud in the empty office. If she’d been there when he called she might have been able to talk him out of whatever foolhardy thing he had in mind.

           
Why didn’t he call my cell phone?

            Then it dawned on her. He’d intentionally called the office phone hoping she wouldn’t answer. He didn’t
want
her to talk him out of whatever he had planned. She checked caller ID. It just said
PAYPHONE.

            Where’d he find a working payphone?
There was probably one in the detox center, no doubt carefully monitored by the staff. But if he was checking himself out, he would’ve been allowed to use it.

            She glanced at her watch. Two minutes past one. Her client was most likely already out in the waiting room. She quickly called Skip’s cell phone. It went straight to voicemail. “Hey there, Pete’s checked himself out of detox. He left me a message that he has a hunch he’s going to investigate. I’ve got a funny feeling he may be headed downtown so keep an eye out for him, would you? Love you!”