43
“I
T TICKLES
,” C
REVIS SAID
as Pam rubbed his bristled head with the hair dye. His rust-colored hair had been transformed into a slick black pelt that resembled a boot brush more than a haircut. His tiny mustache had grown out for a day or two; Pam painted the dye there as well. My sink was mud colored and probably permanently stained. I didn't think I would ever get it clean.
“We're just about finished.” Pam brushed a last light coat on Crevis's lip.
“My undercover name will be Creavas Pierre,” he said in a French accent. The kid had some real issues. He ran a finger over his pencil mustache. He did look different, at least enough to throw someone off who might have seen us together before.
Ashley Vargas's funeral was scheduled for 2:00 p.m. at Dobbs Funeral Home on Kirkman Road. Given the circumstances, I didn't think it would be wise for me to show up… inside, anyway. Crevis and Pam had stepped up to help me on this again. I was disturbed that I couldn't pull off most of the investigation by myself, not even a good trash pull. But, I had to admit, our little investigative unit was at least starting to have some fun.
Crevis cracked a few French jokes and made faces in the mirror with all the maturity of a ten-year-old.
“Crevis,” I said.
He contorted his face in the mirror all the more and stuck out his tongue.
“Crevis.” I grabbed his chin and forced him to look at me. “Focus!”
“I heard ya, Ray,” he said, his jaw still cupped in my hand. “I was just having fun.”
“I need you to listen to me and take this seriously. You're going to be inside there by yourself. I don't think anyone will recognize you, but we can't be too careful.”
“Does that mean I get to carry a gun?”
“Absolutely not. That means you have to listen to everything I tell you. I don't have so many friends that I can afford to lose any.”
Crevis grinned. “I'll be okay.”
I explained how the small camera would work. I attached it to the inside of his coat with the pen camera portion facing outward. He could record—audio and video—everyone he could see in front of him. The battery life was several hours and would certainly last through the service.
Pam slipped Crevis's coat on, and we tested the system, which worked on a wireless connection to my laptop—another rousing purchase that should just about bankrupt me. But if Oscar got his way, or whoever'd been trying to murder me got theirs, I wouldn't be around to worry about paying those bills.
With our wired-up, tricked-out Crevis in tow, we all loaded into the freshly rented minivan, the finest vehicle ever created for surveillance. Eight out of every ten cars on the road seemed to be minivans. You could park them anywhere and they just seemed to fit in. I had Crevis remove the middle seat, and we set up our surveillance station there with my laptop tied down on a box, a digital camera, a digital camcorder, notepads, and water bottles. You never knew how long stakeouts could go, so you had to be prepared.
Pam drove and Crevis sat in the passenger seat. I remained in the back. I didn't know who would attend Ashley's funeral, but I wanted to get pictures of everyone there as well as write down the tag numbers. I needed to identify some of the other girls who could be in the Lion's Den with Brigitte. And, although they say it on television all the time, sometimes the killer really does come back to the scene. Maybe he'd show up at the funeral. We'd be foolish not to be prepared for that. We pulled into the parking lot, which was already filling up. I instructed Pam to park near the front entrance.
“Crevis, I want you to try to face as many people as you can, so I can zoom in for some closeups. If anyone asks, just say you were a friend of Ashley's and leave it at that.”
“Got it.” He flipped a bony thumb in the air.
“If you have any problems, just walk out or run as fast as you can,” I said. “Or yell over the mike that you need help. We can hear you.”
He hopped out and hurried to the front of the funeral home. A line was forming to get in. Pam's little makeup job worked well. I flipped on the wireless connection and tuned in to Crevis's clothes rubbing as he walked, but the audio was still strong. The camera jiggled as he moved but still provided a clear signal to my computer. I called him on the cell phone for a voice check.
“Creavas Pierre,” he said.
“That's enough, genius. I'm just checking the range and voice. Everything sounds good. Keep your phone on vibrate.”
“Oui, oui, monsieur.”
Crevis hung up.
He wasn't taking this as seriously as I'd hoped.
A fair amount of cars flowed in before the service. A majority of the young women appeared to be in the “entertainment” industry. At 1:50, Chance's monster Hummer advanced on the funeral home like he was taking hostile territory He gunned it until he coasted into a parking space.
Chance exited his macho machine and straightened his jacket, which seemed like it would split down the middle at any moment as it tried to cover his swollen frame. Carl extricated himself from the passenger side of the vehicle with such difficulty, I thought I'd have to call the fire department to use the Jaws of Life to get him out. I shot some good video of them swaggering into the red brick building.
The organ started playing a tune I probably should have known but didn't. I was sure Pam did though. She hummed along, confirming my suspicions. The camera continued to bounce until Crevis focused on an attractive blond girl in line in front of him. He must have been staring at her because the video stream remained locked on her curvaceous body for an inordinate amount of time.
I called him again. “Crevis.”
“Oui, oui.”
“Quit staring at the girl and shift around so we can see everyone inside.”
“Oh,” he said. “You noticed that. She's hot.”
“Ogle her later.” I regretted my idea to put him in there in the first place. “This is business, so for now, move and look around.”
“Oui, oui,” he said and hung up.
I forced a cleansing breath and monitored the screen. He was moving around a bit more now. I got some good closeups of individuals as well as photos of the crowd.
I turned to Pam. “Are you okay?”
“Yes… well, maybe not so much.”
“What's bugging you?” I figured we were getting a little more comfortable with each other. I didn't think she'd mind me probing a bit.
“My heart just goes out to these girls.” Pam leaned in closer to the screen. “That's what they really are… girls. They seem so pretty yet so lost. Why do they let these men take advantage of them like that?”
“I wish I had an easy answer for you. All I know is that somewhere in there lies the answer to your brother's, Jamie's, Ashley's, and Trisha's murders. And for what it's worth, I don't understand it either.”
As the pastor started speaking, a black Honda Accord screeched into the parking lot and raced past our van. The driver hurried into a spot, and a female hopped out. She wore a sleek black dress that clung to her shapely body and a black hat with a veil over her face. She scanned the parking lot before sprinting toward the sanctuary. She stopped at the doors and checked the lot again, then headed in. The best I could tell was that she was tall, slender, and in a hurry.
“I couldn't get a good look at her,” I told Pam. I called Crevis again.
“What?” he whispered.
“A lady in all black came in, and she had a black hat and a veil over her face. Get a shot of her when you can.”
He hung up without saying anything. The camera slid around as he was twisting. He stood and got a shot of the woman, now sitting in one of the back rows. I zoomed the camera in on her. The veil remained over her face. I didn't like that.
The pastor's eulogy was about fifteen minutes long. Much about sin, redemption, and everlasting life through Jesus Christ. He touched on Ashley's brief life without ever speaking about her current profession. Classy. I think he even got an amen from Pam.
After the service, Crevis met us back in the van, and we followed everyone to the grave site, about a ten-minute drive, which was completely taken up with Crevis giving me a blow-by-blow of the sermon and then telling me which of the girls he thought were gorgeous.
As we arrived at the cemetery, everyone took their places. A middle-aged couple held hands next to the site. They must be Ashley's parents. The sickness in the pit of my stomach overtook me for a moment. To imagine their little girl had been murdered by some scumbag… because she talked to me. If I had any decency, I would meet with them and explain. I didn't think that would happen today. Maybe sometime in the future.
Chance and Carl stood respectfully on the other side of the grave, a harem of striking young women dutifully surrounding them.
The mourner in the black dress arrived at the graveside service, although she stood behind everyone else. The service was unremarkable in every way—except in its sadness. After five minutes everyone said their good-byes. The lady in the black dress had kept her veil on the entire time. The veil seemed more of a disguise than an instrument of grief. She hung back away from everyone else and was going out of her way to be inconspicuous, which made her conspicuous to me.
She hurried to her car and exited with the same speed that she had entered.
“Follow her,” I said.
Pam pulled in behind her as she turned onto I-4. She flipped her veil up on her hat. I still couldn't get a good look at her. I had her tag number, but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to run a check on it since I'd been booted from OPD's computer system. Besides, I needed to see her face.
“Get alongside of her.”
“I'm trying to get over.” Pam veered into the other lane, but a truck cut us off and forced her back. The driver laid on the horn.
“We need to get next to her.”
“I'm trying.” Pam whipped out again and sped up.
I could see the side of her head but still couldn't get a good shot of her. “Pass her!”
Pam stepped on it, and we started to pass. I aimed the camera down at the woman through the tinted windows and understood why she had worn a veil.
Katie Pham's attractive face came clearly into the frame.
44
W
E FOLLOWED
K
ATIE
to her apartment complex just outside of the Orlando city limits. She went inside her first-floor apartment, then returned about fifteen minutes later wearing her blue crime scene jumpsuit. I had to move if I was going to catch up with her.
“Stay here, out of sight,” I said to Crevis and Pam. They didn't need to be seen with me. I might need them at a later time.
Negotiating through the parking lot, I hurried to intercept her before she got into her car. “Katie,” I said, as she unlocked her car door.
“Ray? What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
“Sergeant Yancey gave orders that none of us are supposed to talk with you. I'm sorry about that. He's really mad at you.”
“Does Oscar know you used to dance at Club Venus with Jamie DeAngelo and Ashley Vargas?”
Katie's normally soft, inviting facial features pulled taut, and she worked her car keys in her hand. I had no idea if she really did dance at the clubs, but it made the most sense of why she was at that funeral in disguise.
“What business is that of yours?” she said. “It's not like it's illegal or anything.”
“I just want to know if you told Oscar about your ties to two murder victims you processed the crimes scenes on? Under the circumstances, it's not an unreasonable question.”
Katie paused for a moment. “I needed money for college, to pay off some of my loans and get the classes I needed for this job. The money was good, so I danced for a while and put myself through school. I did what I had to do. That part of my life is behind me now, and I don't like you coming here and throwing it in my face.”
“If that part of your life is over,” I said, “why did you attend Ashley's funeral today?”
“I knew her. I felt bad about what happened. Do you know how hard it is to work a crime scene where the victim was a friend and then not be able to tell anyone? I just wanted to pay my respects.”
“I'm going to guess that you didn't tell Oscar because you didn't put your time at Club Venus on your work history when you applied at the department. That could have caused you some trouble.” I mentioned that for two reasons: it was my best assessment of the situation, and I wanted to encourage her to ignore Oscar's shunning order and talk with me. Katie was a sharp girl and seemed to get it.
She nodded. “I only worked there part-time and on a mostly cash basis. And, no, I didn't list it on my application.”
“How well do you know Chance Thompson?”
“As well as anyone else,” she said. “He was nice to me, let me work when I wanted to, and didn't keep me on the schedule.”
“You freelanced, then?”
“Yeah, something like that,” she said.
“How well did you know Jamie?”
“Like most of the girls, we crossed paths. We'd talk some in the dressing room, but we didn't hang out. She was kind of private and kept to herself. I hadn't seen her in a while… until I showed up at the scene.”
“What about Ashley?”
“The same,” she said. “I purposefully didn't get too close to Chance or the other girls. Besides, some of the girls did things I didn't even want to know about. I minded my own business and kept to myself. It was a temporary job to get me through a tough time.”
“Did you ever hear about anything called the Lion's Den?”
She cocked her head back. “No.”
“Ever see any important people come into the club?” I said, being intentionally vague. She needed to fill the rest in.
“Lots of people went there. There was no lack of business.”
“Do you know who killed Jamie or Ashley?”
“No.” She looked at her watch. “Anything else? I'm going to be late for my shift.”
“I need help with my investigation.”
“From what I'm told, your ‘investigation’ is dead.” Katie worked the keys in her hand. “Sergeant Yancey shut you down.”
“Not hardly. But you and I could go and discuss this with him, if you'd like. Maybe with your insights on Club Venus, Oscar would be more likely to help me.”
“And to think I used to try to be nice to you. I felt bad about what happened. Now I know why no one likes you, Ray. You're a bully who'll do whatever it takes to get what you want. No matter who it hurts.”
“I watched Trisha die, and I've seen the carnage this killer has caused.” I caned closer, invading her personal space. “So you're right. I'll do whatever I have to do to get him. You can help me or get crushed in the middle. I don't really care anymore.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to check the ballistics test on the pistol taken from the Coral Bay murders that you sent off to the FDLE lab, then forward the report to me. And I want you to wear a wire and go undercover into Club Venus to help expose the killer.”
“I'll get you the report,” she said. “But under no circumstances am I working undercover for you. As a matter of fact, after I get you this report, you better not ever talk to me again. We're finished, and I don't care who you go to about my past.”
I hesitated long enough to make her squirm. I really wanted her to get inside the club, but that wasn't going to happen. I should have approached her differently, but I was making this part up as I went along. I took out my pen and scribbled down my e-mail address on a notepad and tore it off.
“E-mail the report to me, then we're finished.”
She took the paper and opened her car door. “Don't ever come back here again.”
She slammed the door and revved the engine as her Honda scurried out of sight.