Fade Away (1996) (23 page)

Myron shook his head. 'Why come down to the basement in the first place?'

'The laundry room,' Dimonte answered. 'He was coming down here to wash his clothes.'

'The laundry room is upstairs off the kitchen,' Myron said.

Dimonte shrugged. 'So maybe he was getting a suitcase.'

'They're in the bedroom closet. This is just a kids' playroom, Rolly. Why did he come down here?'

That stopped Dimonte for a moment. It stopped Myron too. None of this made much sense. Had Liz Gorman been killed here and dragged to her apartment in Manhattan? That didn't seem to make much sense based on the physical evidence. Could she have been injured down here?

Whoa, hold the phone.

Maybe the attack started here. Maybe there had been a scuffle in the basement. In the course of subduing or knocking her out, blood was spilled.

But then what? Did the killer stick her in a car and drive to Manhattan? And then - what? - on a fairly active street, the killer parked a car, dragged her injured body up the stairs, entered her apartment, killed her?

Did that make any sense?

From the first level a voice cried down, 'Detective! We found something!

Quick!'

Dimonte wet his lips. 'Turn on the video,' he told Krinsky. Videotaping all the relevant moments. Just like Myron had told him. 'Stay here, Bolitar. I don't want to have to explain your ugly mug being on the film.'

Myron followed but at a discreet distance. Krinsky and Dimonte headed up the stairs into the kitchen. They turned left. The laundry room. Vinyl yellow wallpaper with white chicks blanketed all four walls. Emily's taste?

Probably not. Knowing Emily she'd probably never even seen the inside of a laundry room.

'Over here,' someone said. Myron stayed back. He could see that the dryer had been pushed away from the wall. Dimonte bent down and looked behind it. Krinsky arched over to make sure the whole thing was being filmed. Dimonte stood back up. He was trying like hell to look grim - a smile wouldn't look good on film - but he was having a rough time of it. He snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and lifted the item into view.

The baseball bat was covered with blood.

When Myron got back to the office, Esperanza was at the reception desk.

'Where's Big Cyndi?' Myron asked.

'Having lunch.'

The image of Fred Flintstone's car tipping over from the weight of his Bronto-ribs flashed in front of Myron's eyes.

'Win filled me in on what's been going on,' Esperanza said. She wore an aqua-blue blouse open at the throat. A gold heart on a slender chain dangled proudly against the dark skin of her sternum. Her always-mussed hair was slightly entangled in big hoop earrings. She pushed the hair back with one finger. 'So what happened at the house?'

He explained about the cleaned-up blood and the baseball bat. Esperanza usually liked to do other things while she listened. She wasn't right now. She stared square into his eyes. When she looked at you like that, there was such intensity it was sometimes hard to look back.

'I'm not sure I understand,' she said. 'You and Win found blood in the basement two days ago.'

'Right.'

'Since then, someone cleaned up that blood - but they left behind the murder weapon?'

'So it appears.'

Esperanza considered this for a moment. 'Could it have been a maid?'

'The police already checked on that. She hasn't been there in three weeks.'

'Do you have a thought?'

He nodded. 'Someone is trying to frame Greg. It's the only logical explanation.'

She arched a skeptical eyebrow. 'By planting and then cleaning up blood?'

'No, let's start from the beginning.' He grabbed the chair and sat in front of her. He had been going over it in his mind the whole ride back, and wanted to talk it out. In the corner on his left, the fax machine sounded its digitally primordial screech. Myron waited for the sound to subside. 'Okay,' he said, 'first I'm going to assume that the killer knew Greg was with Liz Gorman that night - maybe he followed them, maybe he was waiting for them near her apartment. Whatever, he knows they were together.'

Esperanza nodded, stood. She walked over to the fax machine to check the incoming transmission.

'After Greg leaves, the killer murders Liz Gorman. Knowing that Downing would make a good fall guy, he takes some blood from the murder scene and plants it at Greg's house. That will raise suspicion. To put the icing on the cake, the killer also takes the murder weapon and plants it behind the dryer.'

'But you just said the blood was cleaned up,' she interjected.

'Right. Here's where it gets a little tricky. Suppose, for example, I wanted to protect Greg Downing. I go into his house and find the blood. Now remember, I want to protect Greg from a murder rap. So what would I do?'

She squinted at the fax coming through. 'Clean up the blood.'

'Exactly.'

'Wow, thanks. Do I get a gold star? Get on with it already.'

'Just bear with me, okay? I would see the blood and clean it up. But - and here's the important part - the first time I was in that house I never saw the bat. That's not just in this example. That's real life. Win and I only saw the blood in the basement. No baseball bat.'

'Hold on,' she said. 'You're saying someone cleaned up the blood to protect Greg from a murder rap but didn't know about the bat?'

'Right.'

'Who?'

'I don't know.'

Esperanza shook her head. She moved back to her desk and hit some keys on her computer keyboard. 'It doesn't add up.'

'Why not?'

'Suppose I'm madly in love with Greg Downing,' she said, moving back to the fax machine. I'm in his house. For some reason I can't fathom, I'm in his kids' playroom. Doesn't matter where I am. Imagine I'm in my own apartment. Or I'm visiting your house. I could be anywhere.'

'Okay.'

I see blood on the floor or on the walls or wherever.' She stopped, looked at him. 'What conclusion would you logically expect me to draw?'

Myron shook his head. I don't understand what you're saying.'

Esperanza thought a moment. 'Suppose you left here right now,' she began, 'and went back to the bitch's loft.'

'Don't call her that.'

'Whatever. Suppose when you walked in, you found blood on her walls. What Would be your first reaction?'

Myron nodded slowly. Now he saw what she was getting at. 'I'd be worried about Jessica.'

'Your second reaction? After you found out she was okay?'

'Curiosity, I guess. Whose blood is it? How did it get there? That sort of thing.'

'Right,' she said with a quick nod. 'Would you think to yourself, "Gee, I better clean it up before the bitch gets accused of murdering somebody"?'

'Stop calling her that.'

Esperanza waved him off. 'Would you think that or not?'

'Not in that circumstance, no,' Myron said. 'So in order for my theory to hold water--

'Your protector had to know about the murder,' she finished for him, back checking her computer for something. 'He or she would also have to know that Greg was somehow involved.'

Myron's head spun with possibilities. 'You think Greg killed her,' he said.

'You think he went back to his house after the murder and left behind some traces of the crime - like blood in the basement. Then he sent this protector back to the house to help cover his tracks.'

Esperanza made a face. 'Where the hell did you come up with that?'

I just--

'That's not what I think at all,' Esperanza said. She stapled the fax pages together. 'If Greg sent someone to get rid of the evidence, the weapon would be gone too.'

'Right. So that leaves us where?'

Esperanza shrugged, circled something on the fax page with a red marker.

'You're the great detective. You figure it out.'

Myron thought about it a moment. Another answer - one he prayed was wrong - came to him all at once. 'There's another possibility,' he said.

'What?'

'Clip Arnstein.'

'What about him?'

'I told Clip about the blood in the basement,' Myron said.

'When?'

'Two days ago.'

'How did he react?'

'He freaked, pretty much,' Myron said. 'He's also got motive - any scandal will destroy his chances of keeping control of the Dragons. Hell, that's why he hired me. To keep any trouble contained. Nobody else even knew about the blood in the basement.' Myron stopped. He leaned back and ran it through his mind again. 'Of course I haven't had a chance to tell Clip about Liz Gorman's murder. He didn't even know the blood wasn't Greg's. All he knew was that there was blood in the basement. Would he go that far just on that? Would he still risk covering it all up if he didn't know anything about Liz Gorman?'

Esperanza gave him a small smile. 'Maybe he knows more than you think,' she said.

'What makes you say that?'

She handed him the fax. 'It's the list of long distance calls made from the pay phone at the Parkview Diner,' she said. 'I already cross-checked it with my computer Rolodex. Look at the number I circled.'

Myron saw it. A call lasting twelve minutes had been made from the Parkview Diner four days before Greg's disappearance. The phone number was Clip's.

'Liz Gorman called Clip?' Myron looked up at Esperanza. 'What the hell is going on?'

Esperanza shrugged. 'Ask Clip.'

'I knew he was keeping something from me,' he went on, 'but I don't get it. How does Clip fit into this equation?'

'Uh huh.' She shuffled through some papers on her desk. 'Look, we got a ton of work to do. I mean, sports agent work. You have a game tonight, right?'

He nodded.

'So ask Clip then. In the meantime, we're just going around in circles here.'

Myron scanned the sheet. 'Any other numbers jump out at you?'

'Not yet,' she said. 'But I want to talk about something else for a minute.'

'What?'

'We have a problem with a client.'

'Who?'

'Jason Blair.'

'What's wrong?'

'He's pissed off,' she said. 'He's not happy with me handling his contract negotiations. He said he hired you, not some' -- she made quote marks in the air with her fingers - ' "scantily clad wrestler with a nice ass." '

'He said that?'

'Yep. Nice ass. Didn't even notice my legs.' Esperanza shook her head.

Myron smiled. 'So what happened?'

Behind them the elevator dinged. Only one hit this part of the floor. The elevator opened directly into the reception area of MB SportsReps. Classy, or so he had been told. When the doors opened, two men came out. Myron recognized them right away. Camouflage Pants and Brick Wall. They were both armed. They aimed their guns at Myron and Esperanza. B Man stepped out behind them like he'd just been introduced on the Leno show.

Big smile, acknowledging-the-crowd wave.

'How's the knee, Myron?' he asked.

'Better than your van.'

B Man laughed at that one. 'That Win,' he mused. 'The man is always a surprise. How did he know when to hit us?'

No reason not to tell. 'We kept the cellular phones on.'

B Man shook his head. 'Ingenious really. I'm very impressed.' He wore one of those suits that are just a tad too shiny and a pink tie. His shirt was french-cuffed and monogrammed with four letters: b man. Taking the nickname thing a little far. A thick, ropelike gold bracelet encircled his right wrist.

'How did you get up here?' Myron asked.

'Do you really think a few rent-a-cops are going to stop us?'

'I'd still like to hear,' Myron said.

B Man shrugged. 'I called Lock-Home Securities and told them I was looking for a new financial advisor for my millions. An anxious young peon told me to come right up. I hit the twelfth floor on the elevator instead of the fifteenth.' He spread his hands. 'So here I am.' He smiled at Esperanza.

What with the too-white teeth and the tan, it looked like he switched on a night-light.

'And who is this fetching creature?' he asked with a wink.

'My,' Esperanza said, 'what woman doesn't love to be called a creature?'

B Man laughed again. 'The little lady has gumption,' he said. 'I like that. I really do.'

'Like I care,' Esperanza said.

More laughter. 'May I indulge you a moment, Miss . . . ?'

'Moneypenny,' she finished for him. She said it with her best Sean Connery imitation. No Rich Little, but not bad either.

Another laugh from the B Man. The man was half-hyena. 'Would you please call Win down here? On the speakerphone if you don't mind. Tell him to come down unarmed.'

She looked at Myron. Myron nodded. She dialed. Over the speakerphone, Win offered up another, 'Articulate.'

Esperanza said, 'Some bottled blond with a bottled tan is down here to see you.'

'Ah, I've been expecting him,' Win said. 'Hello, B Man.'

'Hello, Win.'