Mike Faricy - Devlin Haskell 06 - Last Shot Read online

  “If it’s the one I’m thinking of it was more than a couple years, and he was some sort of escaped savant with cash on him from the Fed or something.”

  “Yeah, that’s the deal.”

  “Hadn’t he escaped from where, Rochester?” Louie attempted another sip of coffee.

  “Yeah, Federal Medical Facility. Actually, I think he just sort of walked away when no one was watching.”

  “So, who and what?”

  “There was a young woman architect who got nailed stealing security plans for the Federal Reserve from her firm and apparently passing them on to the bad guys.”

  “I kinda remember,” Louie said.

  “That’s who I met. She claims she was railroaded and wants to nail the guy who did it. She’ll never be able to work as an architect again. I mean, Christ, she’s washing cars at Karla’s and bartending at Nasty’s, if that gives you any indication.”

  Louie nodded.

  “Anyway, she wants to nail a guy. Apparently, she was in a relationship with him and she maintains he set her up. After thinking about it for fifteen or twenty seconds, I turned her down.”

  “Because?”

  “Because, even if she’s correct in her assumption, it’s going to take a lot of time and energy to be able to prove anything.”

  “And you’re obviously very busy,” Louie said.

  I was back to staring through my binoculars, studying a woman pushing a stroller with two little kids in it.”

  “Yeah, well, that and the fact she didn’t have any money.”

  “I never realized you were that mercenary.”

  “I’m not. I just got a negative vibe on the whole deal, to tell you the truth.”

  “Negative vibe,” Louie said, shaking his head.

  “I’m not taking her case, man. I don’t need that kind of trouble. Whatever it is, I don’t need it.”

  “Probably the wise move.”

  “No, there’s no probably about it. It was definitely the wise move.”

  Chapter Five

  A couple of days later I got a call from Karla.

  “Haskell Investigations.”

  “Hi, Dev, Karla.”

  “Karla, been a long time, lady. What can I do for you?”

  “Did you ever meet with that employee of mine, Desi Quinn?”

  “Quinn, is that her last name? I guess in the course of our conversation it never really came up.”

  “So, you did meet with her?”

  “Yeah, didn’t she mention it?”

  “Actually, I haven’t seen her for the past few days. She never misses work, so I let the first day go. Yesterday I was really worried and called a couple of times, but never got an answer. I’m tempted to call the cops, but she’s been such a sweetheart I don’t want to get her in trouble with her parole agent. I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Has this ever happened before?” I asked, not liking the sound of it.

  “No, she’s been a model employee. I’d have her doing something else if I had the opening. I mean, with her education and she’s washing cars alongside my collection of deadbeats, not that she ever complained. Anyway, she didn’t say anything to you?”

  “No, she sort of explained what she wanted me to do and basically I turned her down.”

  “Turned her down? Why? She’s so sweet.”

  “No doubt, but as I explained to her I could spend a lot of time and energy, not to mention her money, and still come up with nothing. I couldn’t begin to guess what the bill might run and I just figured she was better off dropping the whole thing now, rather than ten grand down the road.”

  “She was willing to work it off.”

  “Come on, Karla, its one thing when we’re dealing with an employee of yours doing a workers comp scam. Desi’s deal was in a whole different league. Not a reflection on her, by the way.”

  “God, I don’t know. I really hate to call the police. I don’t want to get her in any sort of trouble,” she said then just let that last statement sort of hang out there.

  I waited what seemed like an exceptionally long time, hoping Karla would blink first. She didn’t.

  “Look, you want me to check on her?”

  “God, would you mind? Are you doing something right now? I mean, maybe I should just drive over to her place and see?”

  “Karla…”

  “I don’t know. I’m kind of nervous going over by myself. I suppose I could get my sister or my mom, one of them to…”

  “Karla. I’ll go over to her place and check it out. Give me her address. I’ll call you back if I find anything. No, wait, better yet, I’ll call you back either way.”

  “Thanks, Dev. I owe you. Maybe have to work it off, you know?”

  “Yeah, by the way, thanks for mentioning our little secret to Desi. You tell anyone else?”

  “Maybe just a few dozen of my closest friends.” She laughed.

  “What?”

  “Somehow, I didn’t think you’d mind that kind of advertising.”

  I hung up with Karla and drove over to Desi’s address. She lived in a nondescript apartment building that looked like it had been built about 1960. It was a three-story structure with long thin bricks and large square picture windows. It was probably very trendy fifty-plus years ago, but like the surrounding postwar neighborhood, it had clearly fallen on hard times.

  The house next door was vacant and had been boarded up. Red and blue city inspection notices were posted on the grey sheet of plywood covering the front door. Two phone books sat on the front stoop. Yellow and weathered, they looked to have been there for months.

  In today’s world of triple deadbolt locks, security systems and passwords needing upper and lower case letters plus at least a four-digit number, Desi’s building was a rarity. There was no security, absolutely none. I pulled the front door open and just walked in.

  The hallways needed airing. On second thought, they needed a lot more. There was graffiti either spray painted or scribbled with some sort of marker all over the stairwell. It was almost illegible and looked to resemble some form of Arabic. I hated that. What appeared to be a torn mattress was leaning against a wall down at the far end of the hallway. I could hear a rheumy cough rattling from somewhere behind a closed door.

  Desi’s unit was 204. As I climbed the stairs, I grabbed the wrought iron banister. The thing wobbled in my hand and felt like it could break loose at almost any moment. I made a mental note not to slide down the thing on the way out. I could say the stairway carpet was worn, but that would be an understatement suggesting there was actually a semblance of carpeting left. What remained was grimy, threadbare and could probably serve as a Petri dish at the Center for Disease Control.

  There was a baby crying in one of the second floor units, and either someone had the television on too loud or a domestic was heating up in another unit. There were two overflowing white trash bags next to one of the apartment doors, the smell of garbage suggesting they needed to be taken out yesterday or the day before.

  Desi’s door was the second one on the right. Slightly off-center adhesive numbers identified the unit, although the ‘2’ had been partially torn off. An area the size of a dinner plate around the door knob was coated from a half century of grimy hands rubbing against it. There were a number of scuffs and two large boot prints on the lower half of the door. I momentarily thought back to the night Lydell made his memorable entrance at Annie’s by kicking in her front door.

  I placed my ear to the door, but couldn’t hear anything. I knocked, waited, then knocked again. Still no response. I turned the knob and the door pushed open. This was definitely not the sort of building where I would choose to leave my door unlocked.

  “Desi? Desi, it’s Dev Haskell,” I called out.


  She didn’t answer back, but I knew she was there. I’d smelled death before. I was suddenly aware of the flies, lots of flies and the sound of buzzing. I had a momentary flashback to a hut we’d opened up in Iraq where we found a family. I would have given anything right now to have an M-16 and a-half dozen guys backing me up. As it was, all I had was my phone, so I made the call.

  Chapter Six

  “How is it you were here?” Aaron LaZelle asked me again.

  He was a lieutenant in homicide and a long time pal. We’d known one another since kindergarten, played hockey together, got dumped by some of the same girls. He’d pulled my feet from the fire more than once and I could only hope I’d done the same for him on occasion. We were standing in the parking lot next to the overflowing dumpster outside Desi’s building. It was warm in the sun, and in between the noise from passing buses and trucks, you were able to catch the odd bird chirping.

  “Like I said, her employer called me. Said she was worried because Desi hadn’t been at work for a few days. She didn’t get an answer when she called and asked me to stop by and check on her.”

  “You knew her, the deceased?”

  “Desi Quinn? Not really. I met with her the other morning for breakfast. She wanted me to look at her case, the circumstances of her conviction. I took a pass. It was out of my area, plus I told her it would cost a hell of a lot and frankly, I didn’t think she had the money.”

  “So you told her ‘no’.”

  “Yeah. Actually, I told her she sounded like she was looking for revenge and maybe she should just move on or something like that.”

  Aaron nodded and sipped from a Starbucks cup.

  “You giving sensible advice? When the hell did that start?”

  I ignored his comment. “There is one thing. She said something like she had a feeling.”

  “A feeling?” Aaron said. “Like what? She was being watched or followed? Someone threatened her?”

  “She didn’t elaborate. Just said she had a feeling and then I told her I wouldn’t help and she walked out, said she had to get to work. Oh, yeah, and she said I was her last shot.”

  The unlocked front door to the building swung open and a gurney with a black rubber body bag strapped to it was rolled out by two medical examiners dressed in navy blue trousers and short sleeved white shirts. One of the guys headed our way and nodded at Aaron when he got closer.

  “How’s it going, LT?” he said, then handed a clip board to Aaron.

  “Good, Doc. Any conclusions?” Aaron asked as he scribbled his name across a line at the bottom of the form and handed the clip board back.

  “Looks to be a small caliber. If I had to guess, I’d say maybe .22 short or a .25. Whoever it was, they wanted to make sure. One to the side of her head and another beneath her chin. We’ll have a little more definitive information once we autopsy.”

  Aaron gave a slight nod.

  “Just guessing here, and you can check the pictures your guys took, but the way she was on the bed, it doesn’t seem to be a forced sort of thing. No real abrasions on her wrists or ankles that we saw. No outward indications of a struggle. Like I said, I’ll be able to give you more detail tomorrow after the autopsy work up.”

  “Hazard a guess?” Aaron asked.

  “Good chance she probably knew whoever it was. Maybe they pulled the gun on her and made her lie down. Small caliber, could have been a novice or it was just small by design, keep the noise down. I don’t know. That’s your job. See you tomorrow, I’ll email you on the time. We’re sorta light right now, so unless something awful happens tonight, we’re probably looking at a morning exam.” He gave me a nod then caught up with his partner standing next to the gurney.

  They shoved the gurney onto a track and rolled Desi into the back of the M.E. wagon, slammed the door closed, climbed in and drove off.

  The building door flew open again and Detective Norris Manning came out. As he walked toward us, he puffed out his cheeks and exhaled, then began to peel off one of his latex gloves. He shook his pink bald head as he approached and kept his eyes focused on Aaron.

  “Haskell.” He nodded after he came to a stop then snapped a piece of gum between his teeth like he was preparing to bite me. “Other than the body, we’re not coming up with much. They should be finished in there in another hour, hour and a half.”

  “You knew the deceased?” He turned toward me and his eyes seemed to suddenly morph into blue lasers.

  “Not really. Like I told Lieutenant LaZelle, I met her the other day for breakfast to talk about a case, but I really didn’t know her. I was checking on her for her employer.”

  “I’ll fill you in,” Aaron said, taking me off the hook. I was already tired of repeating the story and I’d only told it to Aaron.

  “She worked at Karla’s Karwash,” Manning said.

  “Yeah, and she said she’d picked up a weekend gig bartending at Nasty’s,” I added.

  “So between those two places, if we take all the characters she’d meet on any given work day, we’ll have more than enough suspects,” Manning said.

  I shrugged and noticed Manning’s mustache was glistening. It dawned on me it was from the Vicks Vaporub he’d applied under his nose in an attempt to mask the smell of death in Desi’s apartment.

  “Like I said, I’ll fill you in,” Aaron said, then turned to me. “You call Karla with the news?”

  I shook my head ‘no’. “Not yet.”

  “I think we’re going to head over there in a bit. You want to give her a call, now would be the time.”

  “Yeah, about Karla…listen, do you guys have any problem with me going over there in person? I don’t like the idea of telling her on the phone. Obviously she was concerned,” I said.

  Aaron shook his head and looked at Manning. Manning snapped off the remaining latex glove, then gave a slight shake of his head.

  “Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, but I just think it would be better if I did it this way. I think Karla genuinely wanted to help this woman.”

  “Sure, we’ve got some things to tie up here before we go over. Maybe ask her to have employment records available so we can take a look once we get there.”

  I nodded.

  “You think of anything else?” he asked Manning.

  Manning shook his head, then looked at me and attacked his piece of gum. “Sorry, Haskell, hopefully we’ll find whoever is responsible and soon.”

  I nodded and thought they didn’t seem the least bit optimistic.

  Chapter Seven

  The drive to Karla’s Karwash went way too fast. I seemed to be there in just a few minutes. I sat behind the wheel and tried to think long and hard about how I was going to present this, but I couldn’t seem to come up with any good answers. After awhile, I climbed out of the car, took a deep breath and forced myself to go inside.

  Karla’s office was through a white-enameled door labeled ‘OFFICE’ in blue letters, then up a flight of stairs to the second floor. I stepped into a carpeted reception area complete with a smiling grey-haired receptionist.

  “May I help you, Sir?” She smiled coldly and flashed some overly large teeth.

  “Karla, please.”

  “Do you have an appointment, Sir?” The ‘sir’ was just sort of tacked on there as an afterthought. I guessed in my sandals, shorts and T-shirt she figured me for just another lowlife looking for a job washing cars.

  “She asked me to stop by,” I said, not really paying attention, still concentrating on how I was going to break the news.

  “She’s involved in a meeting just now.” This time she left off the ‘sir’.

  “Could you phone her or send in a note? It’s pretty important.”

  “I really can’t leave the desk here. Maybe if I took your name and… Sir, Si
r!”

  I was halfway down the hall, glancing into offices along the way. There was a fat guy in a golf shirt sitting behind a couple of computer screens in one of the offices. He looked up as I drifted into his doorway.

  “I’m looking for Karla.”

  “Think she’s in the conference room, end of the hall.” He indicated my route with a nod of his head.

  “Thanks.” I nodded back and made my way toward the far end of the hall.

  The conference room had floor-to-ceiling glass panels with beige curtains which were pulled back. Karla was sitting at an elongated conference table, facing me. She was talking to a half dozen people seated around the table. She looked up and spotted me in midsentence. I motioned to her with my hand and she nodded, excused herself and walked out into the hallway.

  “Dev?”

  “Can we go to your office, Karla?”

  “Oh, dear…it’s not good, is it?”

  I sort of shrugged. How do you tell someone nicely that their friend had been found in bed shot twice in the head?

  Whatever the people still sitting in the conference room had been discussing was put aside and they had all turned to look at us.

  “Is she going to be okay, Dev?”

  I started to speak, but suddenly choked up and all I could do was stand there, shake my head and then I started to cry.

  “Oh God! No, no! Please not her, not Desi!”

  “I’m…I’m sorry, Karla.”

  “No, no,” she said quietly and then wrapped her left arm across her chest and covered her face with her right hand. Her shoulders began to shake and she started to sob.

  I didn’t know what to do, so I took a step forward, wrapped my arms around her and held her. She seemed to melt into me and sobbed quietly for a short moment, then suddenly pushed away.

  “Oh dear, dear. Poor Desi. God damn it! Here, come on into my office, I need a Kleenex. Jesus Christ!”

  I followed her into her office. It was large enough to house her desk, three chairs in front of the desk, a file cabinet and not much more. The Kleenex box was on the edge of her desk. She pulled out a fist full, handed one to me then blew her nose.