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A note? Goosebumps spread in an instant, taking me back to the first case that I ever worked on where Marcus was involved.
Already tucked away in a ziplock plastic bag, Brady passes me the note.
It’s not in his handwriting, it’s in the font of a phone message. Same size too.
That motherfucker. It takes everything in me not to react when I read it. To stay calm and pretend to rack my brain for what it could mean when I know damn well it’s from Marcus.
I’ll be her hero this time.
The hero gets the kiss.
The coroner and another cop come up alongside us, distracting Brady for a moment as he watches them. With fire in my blood, I hand the note back to him, clearing my throat to get his attention. “Sorry man, I have no idea, but I’d get that to processing.”
I’ll be damn sure to keep an eye on the forensics for this case, but I already know it’s a dead end.
There won’t be any evidence. Marcus doesn’t leave anything behind. He’s too careful. All this was intended as a show for me.
“If you could keep me updated with the case, I’d appreciate it,” I say then tilt my head to stare down at the body and add, “I want to know all of his connections.”
“What is it you think he did?” Brady questions, standing up and wrinkling his nose from the stench.
I keep my tone as casual as I can. “He threatened a lawyer I know, trying to cover up a case she was working on.”
“How do you know it was him?”
“A kid IDed him.” That was the first call I got. This was the second.
And there’s not a damn thing I can do now, but question Ross Brass without a warrant. I already know how that will end.
Delilah
With the suspect Herman dead, Claire didn’t fight me when I said I wanted to get back to work. She did say I had to see the department psychologist first though. Luckily, he cleared me.
He doesn’t know about Marcus and Claire doesn’t either. That is, nothing apart from the incident in the parking garage and the suspicion that it may have been Marcus. The leading theory now is that it was someone hired by Herman. At least that’s one of several.
Cody’s on board to keep quiet about what happened between Marcus and me, plus the flash drive. It’s not like we could use it in court anyway. It’s inadmissible evidence because of how it was acquired. The kid IDing Herman we can use, though. Now it’s just a matter of tying Herman to Brass.
The terminology “rot” is all I’ve got to work with and that’s not enough for a warrant. I don’t need a warrant to know that Herman worked closely with a man named Harrold Reynolds. He owns a dry cleaning business on Thirty-fourth Street. He was never a suspect in any case, but he was brought in countless times for questioning. His lawyer is familiar to our firm. He represents the mob.
It doesn’t make sense. Or least it wouldn’t without the bank accounts and proof of laundering. His former secretary is one of the women I suspected was murdered by Ross Brass, although I never did know why.
And there’s the connection, if only I can find new evidence that wasn’t tampered with that would lead Ross back to the secretary’s murder, which connects him to Reynolds who is already connected to Herman. It could be my way in. My mind spins, going through everything just as it has all morning and afternoon well into the evening. Glancing at the clock in the upper right corner, it’s already 8:00 p.m. It’s time to go.
But the case doesn’t quit.
Ross Brass committed a series of murders and got off on evidence tampering. The man whose release got me so worked up that I fell into a PR nightmare. I know he killed those girls… the laundering part is new, though.
Maybe Ross was the first man for hire. He isn’t the starting point, so we’ll have to look back further. I’m not sure, but the evidence on the flash drive files isn’t enough. There are deposits to a number of bank accounts, but none can firmly be traced. Not without a warrant and I don’t have evidence I can submit to get that warrant.
The theory: The mob hired Ross to launder. Ross used the money and Harrold Reynolds to commit other crimes, eventually leading to murders. When he got caught, he hired Harrold’s buddy, Herman, to get him off. It worked, but I pissed off Ross with my comment and Herman was hired again. Maybe I would have been murder number five. Maybe I still will be.
It’s only a theory with weak connections. Still, it’s a theory. My tired eyes stare at the white computer screen. There are so many pieces, so many crimes and only so much information I have that can go toward motive.
