06 Fatal Mistake Page 32

  “I could be.” She was riding the high of rescuing the kids and figuring out what had been a baffling murder investigation. It was all coming together nice and neat, the way she liked it best.

  “Damned fine work today, Lieutenant,” the chief said, his pride evident in his affectionate gaze.

  “Thank you, sir. We’re on the verge of an arrest in the Vasquez and Lind case.” She gave him a quick summary of what they’d discovered about Elle.

  “Unreal,” the chief said. “I knew her father a little bit. He always struck me as an upstanding kind of guy.”

  “By all accounts, he was until he made the mistake of dying and leaving his empire to her. I need your help with two things—a report from the lab on a bloody knife Crime Scene found and the partial prints one of the CSU techs was processing. I need them both—badly.”

  “I’ll do what I can to move things along.”

  “Thanks.” She glanced at the door and saw the horde of reporters gathered in the courtyard. “Shall we? I’ve got a fundraiser to get to.”

  “After you,” Farnsworth said.

  Hill, McBride and Tyrone accompanied Sam and the chief through the double doors to the courtyard. The reporters pounced immediately.

  Sam waited for them to pipe down. “I’ve got a brief statement, and then I’ll entertain a few questions.” She paused for effect to make sure they were listening. “At sixteen hundred today the body of Feds relief pitcher Rick Lind was found at the Capitol Motor Inn on Massachusetts Avenue.”

  A murmur of shock rippled through the gathering.

  “Like Mr. Vasquez, Mr. Lind had been stabbed once in the chest, and his aorta was severed. While at the motel, MPD officers stumbled upon what appeared to be a sex slave operation involving numerous minors. Working in concert with the MPD’s Special Victims Unit and Vice Squad, we were able to round up the perpetrators and rescue the children from a house where they’d been held away from the hotel. In all, six adults have been arrested and forty children—twenty-six found at the house and fourteen at the motel—are being reunited with their families tonight. Some have been missing for a number of years.”

  “Do you believe the perpetrators of the sex slave ring had anything to do with Lind’s murder?” one of the reporters asked.

  “No, we do not. We’re continuing to work on establishing a connection between the Vasquez and Lind murders.”

  “Were you aware of your husband’s ties to the Thai factory and the fire that killed three hundred workers?”

  “I have no comment now or ever on my husband, his personal business or his career.”

  “But did you know he owned stock in Lexicore?”

  “I have no comment now or ever on my husband, his personal business or his career.”

  “Did you know he was going with the president to Afghanistan?”

  “I have no comment now or ever on my husband, his personal business or his career. Anyone left who doesn’t get that?” When no one dared to ask another question about Nick, Sam said, “We’re going back to work. We’ll let you know when we have anything.” This was said directly to Darren Tabor, who was in the back of the crowd. He nodded his understanding.

  “Can you tell us what happened this morning with Lieutenant Stahl at your house?”

  “I’m not at liberty to comment on an ongoing internal investigation.”

  Sam stepped away from the podium and gestured for Hill, McBride and Tyrone to come with her. As they went inside, Sam dropped back and gestured for Jeannie to walk with her. “So the thing you asked me about, it’s cool with me and the department.”

  “Oh,” Jeannie said, seeming surprised. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m very sure, and I’m very honored to be asked.”

  Jeannie raised a brow. “Will you still think so when I’m dragging you to dress fittings?”

  “Ugh. One fitting. That’s all you’re getting.”

  “I’ll take it. Thanks, Sam.”

  Sam squeezed her detective’s arm. “Sure thing.” Back in the pit, Sam turned to Jeannie and her partner, Will Tyrone. “We’re heading to the W Hotel, Fifteenth Street entrance. I expect there to be a couple of muscular goons outside the ballroom, twins named Boris and Horace, of all things. Their job is to protect Elle Jestings. Your job is to arrest them for the murder of Willie Vasquez. I want you to call patrol on the way and get them over there to back you up. I don’t expect the goons to go quietly. I want them transported and held separately. They’re not to have any time alone together.”

  “We’re on it,” Jeannie said, her eyes alight with the fiery passion that made her one of Sam’s best detectives. “Meet you there.”

  * * *

  On the way to the W, Sam contacted Charity Miller and laid out what they had on Elle.

  “And you don’t think the husband had anything to do with it?”

  “No, only her and the bodyguards, one of whom killed Willie, but they were both there, and they both tossed him in the Dumpster. We’ve got that on film, and we can prove she paid them ten thousand dollars each to do her dirty work for her. Willie had ruined everything for her. She couldn’t let him get away with that.”

  “It’s a stretch without DNA and lab results,” Charity said.

  “I know, and that’s why I’m going to get the three of them to roll on each other and make the DNA connection after the fact.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  Sam laid it out for her, step-by-step, and then waited to hear what Charity thought.

  “Pick them up.”

  “On our way.”

  “You were pretty sure I’d go along with this,” Charity said.

  Sam could hear the smile in the prosecutor’s voice. “I’m confident that I’ve got the right perps on the hook. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “You could talk a dog off a meat wagon,” Hill said after she hung up.

  “Um, thank you. I think.” Sam fiddled with her phone and placed a call to Darren Tabor.

  “What’s up, Lieutenant?”

  “I’m about to arrest Elle Jestings and her bodyguards for the murder of Willie Vasquez. She did Lind on her own.”

  “Are you kidding me? Elle Jestings, the publisher of my paper, is being arrested for murder?”

  “In about five minutes at the W.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “If you want to see her being marched into HQ, have a photog outside in about thirty minutes.”

  “Thanks for the tip, Sam.”

  “A promise is a promise. See you later.” She closed the phone and pressed the accelerator, anxious to get this one closed.

  “What’s our plan at the W?” Hill asked.

  “Are you willing to distract Ray so I can take care of her?”

  “I can do that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I said I’d do it.”

  Sam pulled up to the hotel and parked next to the bell stand.

  One of the bellmen ran after her. “Hey, lady, you can’t leave that there!”

  Sam flashed her badge without slowing down. “That’s lieutenant lady to you, and those are my colleagues.” She pointed to the car Jeannie had parked right behind hers. “Touch those cars, and I’ll toss your ass in jail.”

  The young man stopped in his tracks.

  “Ballbuster,” Hill said under his breath.

  “Literally,” Sam said with a cheeky grin, still high off the damage she’d done to Stahl.

  “Wince.”

  Inside the hotel, a security guy tried to stop them from proceeding but was given the badge treatment.

  “Out of the way,” Sam said.

  “What do you want here?”

  “Nothing to do with you or your hotel.”

  “You’ll need to speak to the manager before you enter.”

  “No, I don’t. Get out of our way, or I’ll happily arrest you for obstructing a homicide investigation.” As she spoke, Sam pushed by him and headed for the escalator that led to the mezzanine.
With Hill, McBride, Tyrone and four patrol officers in tow, Sam followed the music to the ballroom.

  Two huge, stupid-looking guys in ill-fitting suits stood watch outside the main doors. Both were bald with muscles on top of their muscles.

  Sam pointed to them, and Jeannie nodded.

  “Over here,” Jeannie said to Tyrone and the patrolmen.

  Confident that her people had the bodyguards managed, Sam and Hill entered the ballroom, which was filled with glitterati. Women in flashy gowns circulated with men in tuxedos as waiters passed champagne and fancy hors d’oeuvres. On the stage at the far end of the room, a swing band played a familiar tune with big brass sounds.

  A woman in a slinky black gown approached them. “May I help you?” she asked, taking a perusing glance at Agent Hill.

  “We’re all set,” Hill said, shutting her down as he fired off a text.

  “The dress code is formal,” the woman said as she looked down her nose at Sam’s jeans.

  “We’re not here for the fundraiser,” Sam said.

  “They’re in the front at a table,” Hill said, heading in that direction.

  Sam took off after him, yelling over the obnoxiously loud music, “How’d you know that?”

  “I told you. I’ve got eyes on them.”

  She hated when he turned out to be so useful. “There,” she said, grabbing his arm to halt his progress. She pointed to Ray and Elle sitting at a table, surrounded by people.

  “Let me get Ray out of the way,” Hill said.

  Sam nodded, and stood back to watch him go over to the table and excuse his way toward Ray, who looked up at him, seeming surprised to see his old friend.

  Hill tilted his head to ask Ray to join him away from the group.

  Ray got up, said something to his wife and walked away with Hill.

  The minute they cleared the dance floor and pushed through the double doors to the hallway, Sam made a beeline for Elle.

  She tapped the woman on the shoulder and truly enjoyed the moment when Elle looked up and saw Sam hovering over her.

  “What do you want? I’m busy.”

  Sam leaned in close to Elle’s ear. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Willie Vasquez and Rick Lind. You have two choices. Stand up and walk out of here with me, and I won’t cuff you in front of all these people. I’ll wait until we get outside. Second choice, put up a fight, and I’ll cuff you right here and drag you out. Your call.”

  As she spoke, the color drained from Elle’s face and realization set in.

  She’d never expected to be caught, Sam thought. It was a trait she shared with murderers everywhere.

  “What’s your decision?”

  “Go to hell,” Elle said, snarling through her teeth. “I’m not going anywhere with you. My lawyers will have your badge. Do you have any idea who I am?”

  “You bet I do. You’re a cold-blooded murdering bitch who’s also flat broke, and you’re under arrest.” Sam grabbed her by the arm, hauled her out of the chair, turned and cuffed her before Elle ever knew what’d hit her.

  Sam recited the Miranda warning in a clipped, no-nonsense tone and took great pleasure in dragging Elle kicking and screaming through the room. Tuning in to something happening, the band stopped playing, and the crowd parted to let them pass.

  “Someone do something!” Elle shrieked. “This is police brutality! Lucien!”

  Sam recognized the O’Connor family attorney, Lucien Haverfield, who watched the proceeding with a detached aura of amusement.

  “Do something!” Elle screamed at him.

  “May I ask what Mrs. Jestings is being charged with, Lieutenant?” Lucien asked.

  “The murders of Willie Vasquez and Rick Lind,” Sam replied, loud enough to make sure everyone around them heard her.

  A gasp went through the gathering.

  “I’m sorry, Elle,” Lucien said. “I don’t do murder.”

  Sam held back the urge to snort with laughter at his dismissive tone. “Let’s go, Elle. You’re done here.”

  Elle fought her the whole way, shrieking like a banshee. As they cleared the ballroom doors, she tried again to bust free of Sam’s tight hold. “Boris! Horace! Get this fucking bitch off me!”

  “They can’t help you,” Sam said, “because they’ve been arrested too.”

  “You won’t get away with this,” Elle said, seething as Sam dragged her onto the escalator.

  “I already have. Keep fighting me, and I’ll give you a little push.” Sam slackened her hold on Elle, and the other woman screamed as she pitched forward on the escalator. Keeping a grip on the cuffs, Sam let her dangle precariously for a second before she pulled her back. Elle remained comically still for the remainder of the ride to the lobby.

  A crowd had formed around the police cars, and smart phones held aloft recorded their emergence from the hotel. Sam would bet that Elle wished she’d worn her hair down tonight, because she had no way to shield her face from the cameras. “In you go,” Sam said, putting her in the back of a patrol car.

  “You will not get away with this,” Elle said once again.

  Sam slammed the door in her face and walked away. That had gone well.

  * * *

  Avery led Ray to a hallway outside the crowded ballroom.

  “What the hell is going on, Avery? What’re you even doing here?”

  “There’s no easy way to say this, Ray. Elle is being arrested for murder.”

  Ray looked at him as if he’d spoken the words in a foreign language. “What in the world are you talking about? You don’t think she had something to do with Willie...”

  “Willie and Rick Lind.”

  His face went slack with shock. “Rick’s dead too?”

  “I’m sorry, but yes. He was found dead today at the Capitol Motor Inn.”

  “What’s that got to do with Elle?”

  “The company was in big trouble.”

  “We’ve had some problems, but big trouble is a bit of a stretch.”

  “She’s completely broke. Every credit card is maxed out. The paper can’t meet its payroll next week. Her house of cards was dependent on those World Series TV rights. In her mind, Willie ruined everything, and Rick didn’t help by failing to close out the game when he had the chance.”

  “She wouldn’t kill them. I mean, she’s not always the warmest woman in the world, but she’s not a murderer.

  “Checks for ten thousand dollars each were written to Boris and Horace from your joint account the day after the game. Can you tell me what that was for?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Avery let the statement speak for itself and watched as the realization hit Ray like a sledgehammer. “We believe she paid her bodyguards ten thousand dollars each to kill Willie. She took care of Lind herself.”

  “Why? Why wouldn’t she get them to take care of him too?”

  “Because Lind was personal.”

  “Personal? What does that mean?”

  Once again, Avery let his silence do the talking, letting a moment pass during which the truth dawned on Ray.

  “No. Elle and Rick Lind? Come on! That’s not true. I don’t believe it.”

  “I’m sorry, Ray, but we can prove it.”

  “How?”

  “We have a witness that puts her in Lind’s room. She heard them having sex once before. We believe the forensic evidence being gathered as we speak will prove recent sexual activity involving both of them in the room where Lind was killed.”

  Ray covered his mouth with his hand and turned away from Avery, his shoulders stooping a bit from the devastating news. “God, I was such a fool.”

  Avery rested a hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  Ray shook him off. “I don’t want your pity.”

  “It’s not pity.”

  “You never liked her, did you?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to. My mother always said I’d regret marrying her. People th
ought I was after her money. It was never about the money. I loved her.”

  “I know you did.”

  “I’d like to go home now.”

  “You’re free to go.”

  Ray started to walk away, but turned back to Avery. “Thanks for getting justice for Willie. I really wish he’d caught that ball, but he certainly didn’t deserve to die for missing it.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  Ray nodded in agreement and walked away.

  Avery watched him go, sad for his friend and a little sad for himself too as another case came to a close. Who knew when he’d next lay eyes on the gorgeous lieutenant who’d occupied his thoughts far too often in recent months?

  As he headed for the escalator, he knew he had to accept that he’d never have what he wanted from her. It was time to move on. With that in mind, he sent a text to Shelby asking if she had time for lunch tomorrow.

  * * *

  Elle went ballistic when she saw Darren and a Star photographer waiting outside HQ to document her arrival.

  “You’re both fired! Don’t you dare come to work tomorrow!”

  The photographer clicked away, capturing the tirade as Darren took copious notes of the venom that spewed from his publisher’s mouth.

  Sam took her time walking in as Elle once again fought her every step of the way.

  An hour later, Elle and her bodyguards had been processed through central booking and settled in different interrogation rooms. Sam, Hill, Cruz, Malone and Charity Miller were watching them through one-way glass. Horace seemed nervous, Boris looked bored and Elle was still furious, pacing relentlessly from one end of the small room to the other.

  Because they’d been working for close to fifteen hours by then and fatigue was setting in, Sam suggested they divide and conquer. She asked Hill to take Boris, Cruz had Horace and she would be going at Elle.

  Lieutenant Rango stepped into the small room. “We found some of the blond hairs you needed in Lind’s room, Sam.” He handed her the evidence bag.

  “Excellent! Charity, I need a warrant for her DNA.”

  “I’ll get it for you.”

  “As an added extra,” Rango said, holding up a second bag. “We’ve got some used condoms from under Lind’s bed. We might be able to tie at least one of them to her.”