The Dead Detective (15 page)

Vicky glanced at Morgan.

“The day the body was discovered,” he answered.

“Before or after the body was discovered?”

“After. It was done right after the end of shift,” Morgan said.

“So somebody changed the records the day after the murder and
after
the body was discovered,” Harry said, as he jotted the information in his notebook.

“That’s right.”

Rourke pulled a folder from his desk and opened it. “Benevuto was off duty the day Darlene was killed.”

Harry stared into space. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said at length.

“What doesn’t?” Rourke asked.

“Benevuto altering department records,” Harry said. “First, he couldn’t have known that we had a witness who took down one of our tag numbers until the
second
day after the murder, because that’s when
we
knew, that’s when our witness told Morgan that there was one plate number that he didn’t turn over to me. So what would prompt Nick to alter the records a day before there was even a hint that we might tumble to the fact that he’d been to Darlene’s apartment? Unless …”

“Unless he killed her and was covering up the fact that he knew her,” Vicky said.

Harry nodded slowly. “That’s right. And if he was the murderer why wait to cover it up until
after
the body was discovered? Why take the chance that someone would come across those records before he could change them?” Harry shook his head. “I just don’t see it. And I don’t see Nick as a realistic suspect.”

“Why not?” Vicky asked.

There was an edge to her voice that Harry picked up on. “Look, I can see Nick running into Darlene Beckett and deciding he wanted to try to get into her knickers. I can even see him taking the initiative and seeking her out for the same reason. Hell, there aren’t many women who Nick Benevuto would take a pass on and certainly not one as sexually appealing as Darlene.”

“But?” Vicky pressed.

“But while Nick may be many things, stupid isn’t one of them.”

“I’m not getting your drift,” Rourke said.

“My drift is simple, cap. Nick’s been a detective for a long time, and he’s pretty well known in the police community. Darlene was supposed to be on a short leash and she was being watched not only by the probation department, but by the prosecutor’s office and certainly by the media. If one prosecutor, one reporter, one anybody saw her with Nick, they’d be all over it.”

“Like flies on shit,” Rourke added.

“And Nick would know that. So I can’t see him getting heavily involved. A quick toss in the hay, sure, but nothing more. And for him to be the murderer, it would have to have been a lot more.”

“How so?” Vicky asked. The edge in her voice had become defensive now.

Harry softened his own voice. “If we’re thinking of Nick as a legitimate suspect, the only logical motive I can come up with is that he became seriously involved with Darlene; that he followed her from the Peek-a-Boo Lounge, caught her having it off with another guy, and killed them both in a jealous rage. And that just doesn’t make sense to me.” Vicky started to object but Harry raised a hand, stopping her. “I can see him altering records to hide the fact that he was seeing her, but I even have some trouble with that because of the time line.”

“So who altered the records?” Morgan asked. “Who else would have a reason to alter them?”

“Good question.” Harry shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense for anyone but Nick to have altered them. So we’ll ask him. One thing for sure, I don’t want him on the team anymore.”

“That’s a given,” Rourke said. “I’ll put him on restricted duty—duty unrelated to this case—until this computer records business is resolved. As of right now, the whole matter is in the hands of Internal Affairs.”

Harry winced. “I wish you’d hold off on IAD. I don’t need them climbing all over this investigation.”

“No can do, Harry,” Rourke said. “Whether you like it or not, IAD will be part of it until we know what happened to those records.”

Nick Benevuto looked more curious than concerned when he entered Pete Rourke’s office. Harry studied him closely, looking for a tell. As far as Harry could see, Nick had no idea what was coming.

Rourke laid it out slowly and deliberately, and with each sentence Benevuto’s face moved from mild embarrassment, to concern, to outright anger. But beneath it all Harry could detect fear as well.

“So I spent some time with her,” he said when Rourke finished. “Where’s the fucking crime?” He glared in turn at Rourke, Harry, Vicky, and Morgan. “It was purely business, and as far as anyone in this room is concerned, and
for the record,
I never laid a hand on her. If you’re looking at me as a suspect in her murder, you’re either desperate or you’re out of your fucking minds.” He turned his attention to Morgan and sneered. “And as far as your big theory goes that I altered department records, you listen up, junior. I wouldn’t know
how
to alter a fucking computer record. I know how to turn it on and type up a fucking report and that’s it. You don’t believe me, you ask my partner. We need anything done on a computer, he has to do it.”

“Just calm down, Nick,” Harry said. His voice was soft and steady.

“Calm down, shit, Harry! You know me. You think I killed her?”

Harry ignored the question. “How did you meet her?” he asked instead.

Nick studied his shoes for a moment. “I was interviewing a dancer at that club, the Peek-a-Boo Lounge. I thought she might have witnessed a murder when she was working in a joint in our jurisdiction. It was the Bruder case, Jeffrey Bruder. Happened late last January and this dancer disappeared right after I started my investigation. I finally caught up with her in early March. The case is still open. You can read my daily reports and cross check ’em in my notebook.”

“So where does Darlene Beckett come in?” Rourke asked.

Benevuto shook his head and let out a breath. “She was at the bar. I saw her and recognized her, and when I was finished with my witness I struck up a conversation.” He shook his head again. “Her case had just finished up in court and it wasn’t very hard to recognize her. Hell, she was all over TV and the papers.
And
I knew she had gotten probation with some pretty heavy restrictions, so I asked her if she was supposed to be there.”

“Just being a good cop, right?” Vicky threw in.

Benevuto looked at her as though he wanted to grab her throat and hang on for at least a week. “That’s right,
lady.
” The final word was spoken with pure venom.

“Alright, knock it off, both of you,” Rourke snapped.

“What happened then?” Harry asked, throwing a look at Vicky.

“Well, she tells me there are no restrictions on her going to a bar, or restaurant, or anything like that. She says she’s just restricted about where she can live—like not close to a school, or playground, or anything like that. And she can’t hang out in places where kids hang or teach anymore.” He shrugged. “It was bullshit, of course, bars are always a no-no.”

“So you just kept chatting her up,” Vicky said, ignoring Harry’s silent admonition. He threw her another hard look.

Nick glared at her. “That’s right. And I even got her phone number and address, and told her I’d give her a call sometime. She seemed interested in the idea.”

“And it never registered with you that she was on probation and not a suitable social contact for a cop?” Rourke asked.

Nick looked him straight in the eye. “I wasn’t imagining her as a social contact. You think I was gonna start diddling some broad who fucks kids? I wanted her as a snitch.”

“Oh, Christ,” Vicky said.

Nick rounded on her. “Fuck you, lady.”

“Knock it off,” Rourke roared. “This is the last warning for both of you.”

Harry held up a hand. “So you called and dropped by her place,” he said.

“That’s right.”

“How many times?”

“Three, four, I’m not really sure.”

“We have you for two, both times in department cars,” Rourke said.

“It was more than that. Your neighbor missed one or two.”

“Was she wearing an ankle monitor the three or four times you saw her?” Harry asked.

Nick looked off as if trying to remember, then slowly shook his head. “I don’t know. I think she was wearing slacks each time I saw her.”

Harry held his gaze. This time the tell had been there and he wanted Nick to know he had seen it.

“So did she agree to be your snitch?” It was Rourke this time, skepticism dripping from every word.

Benevuto either didn’t hear it, or chose to ignore it. “Yeah, after a fashion,” he said. “The second time we met—that was the first time I went to her apartment—that’s when I hit her with the idea of working as a confidential informant. She wasn’t hot for the idea, but when I pressed her, told her I might be able to do her some good with her probation officer if she ever got jammed up, she said she’d keep her ears open and call me if she heard anything. I let it go at that, for the time being. Later I pushed her to see what she could find out from this dancer I interviewed at the Peek-a-Boo. The one I thought knew something about the Bruder murder.”

“Did Darlene agree to do it?” Harry asked.

Nick nodded slowly. “Yeah, she did, but not with a lot of enthusiasm. She said she didn’t want to get the dancer into any trouble. You all know what it’s like. Snitches’ll tell you stuff they hear, but they can think up all kinds of reasons not to go in and ask questions. They know doing something like that is risky. Usually you can only get junkies to do it, and only when they need some fast cash to score.” He shrugged. “Anyway, Darlene probably got iced before she ever had a chance to talk to this dancer.”

“But you’re not sure of that,” Harry suggested.

“Well, no. I can’t be sure of it, but I don’t think she did.”

“What are you thinking, Harry?” Rourke asked.

“Another possibility we have to pursue. Right now it’s just a
what if
.”

Rourke finished the thought for him: “What if she did ask the dancer some questions and the dancer went back and told somebody else.”

“Like the person who iced Bruder,” Benevuto said, grasping the offered straw.

“Oh, come on,” Vicky said. “That’s just a touch sketchy.”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry said. “But I don’t want to ignore it and then find out later we walked right by Darlene’s killer.”

“John and I can check it out,” Nick offered.

“No, you can’t,” Rourke said. “As of right now you’re off the case and on administrative duty. That means you’ll be riding a desk until this is cleared up. I need your reports and your notebook on the Bruder murder and I need Weathers in here to tell us about your computer skills. In the meantime I want your gun. You get everything back after Harry and IAD clear you.”

“IAD? This is bullshit.” Nick tossed his head toward Morgan. “Just because computer boy comes up with some bullshit theory that I altered department records, I get put on the rubber gun squad and my ass gets thrown to the fucking wolves.”

“It’s the way it has to be, Nick,” Harry said. “You know that. I promise you we’ll clear up our end as fast as we can. But as far as IAD goes, it would be the same story for any one of us. Cap’s hands are tied.”

“Bullshit,” Benevuto barked. He placed his gun on Rourke’s desk and glared at each of them in turn. “You’ll have the reports and notebooks before I leave today.” He spun around and headed out of the office.

“Tell John I need him in here immediately,” Rourke said to his back.

After John Weathers had confirmed that his partner’s computer skills began and ended with the power button and the keyboard, they left Rourke’s office and returned to the conference room.

“So where does that leave us?” Harry asked when they were seated around the table.

“I think it leaves us with Nick as a prime suspect,” Vicky said.

Harry looked at Morgan. “And what do you think, Jim?”

Morgan paused, taking time to study the top of the conference table. “All I know is that altering those records wasn’t a big deal,” he said, looking up. “Even if Nick didn’t know any more about computers than he said, if he had come to me I could have walked him through it in five minutes. Look, I hate this crap. I hate dropping a dime on a brother cop. I just didn’t think I could sit on the information when I came across it.”

He had spoken the words with passion, but Harry didn’t believe a word of it. Morgan was an ambitious young cop and Harry had little doubt he’d take whatever came his way if it gave him a leg up on a detective’s shield. “So you’re saying that Nick could have gone to any computer whiz and gotten it written down step by step,” Harry said.

Morgan looked pained by the question. “That’s about it,” he said.

“Well, it’s bullshit.” It was Weathers, his eyes ice now. He turned them on Vicky. “I don’t know what your problem is with Nick. Yeah, sure, sometimes he’s an asshole and he comes on a little strong. And maybe he even did that with you. But I’ve worked with him for three years and he’s a good cop, and there’s no fucking way he’d ice some broad because she turned him down. Hell, if that was the case half the women in the county would be dead by now.”

Vicky held his eyes. “What if he really fell for her, John, and then found out she was picking up guys in bars? And what if he followed her one night and found her getting it off on a beach?”

“That’s a load of crap,” Weathers snapped. “Nick never falls for any woman. All he ever wants is what they have between their legs. I don’t think he even likes women. He told me once that if they didn’t have pussies we’d hunt them like deer.”

“Alright, let’s leave it there,” Harry said, holding up a hand. “Right now we don’t have any choice. Nick’s a suspect until we clear him. I personally think we will, but even then we’ll have IAD to deal with before he’s back working the case. In the meantime, John, you team up with one of the uniforms—you pick who you want—and keep working the case just like you were with Nick. You’re probably going to lose a lot of time talking to IAD, but that can’t be helped. I’ll keep on with the church angle.”

“You still think that’s the strongest lead?” Vicky asked.