Lack of Jurisdiction Page 9

  The knocking startled me awake, and I went to the front door. “You look casual,” I remarked, opening the door.

  Jablonsky eyed the crumpled blanket on my couch. “Anything you want to talk about?” He pressed his lips together and shook his head disapprovingly, going to the counter and putting down a few files. “Didn’t we talk about you finding some closure for Michael and Sam’s deaths?”

  “Mark,” I snapped, my tone icy, “I’ve been up all night, working out theories on my current case. Sometimes, a girl just needs a nap. It doesn’t mean shit.” He looked sorrowful, and I knew I couldn’t hide anything from him, even though my current bout of insomnia had nothing to do with any of that. “Some days, it’s still tough. But it’s not buried in the recesses of my mind anymore, and I’m getting there. Working helps. Martin helps.”

  A slight smile erupted on his face. “He’s a good man with excellent taste in scotch.”

  “There’s a bottle of Macallan in the cabinet,” I replied, knowing the point of the compliment. “He won’t mind.” After Mark poured a glass, I sat next to him at the counter. “So what’s up with the casual dress? I can’t remember the last time I saw you in something other than government regulation attire.”

  “I’m on vacation this week. I figured it’d give me a chance to catch up on some paperwork, maybe go fishing, and just relax.” He narrowed his eyes. “And then you called.”

  “Face it, you’d be bored senseless without me.” Smiling, I retrieved the stack of takeout menus and placed them on top of the files he brought. “What do you say we order dinner, you brief me on what’s going on, and we devise a plan of attack?”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we.”

  “Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do for the rest of the week.” He sifted through the menus, finding one for the Italian place down the street with the amazing cannolis. “Manicotti with a side salad, and we can split half a dozen cannolis.”

  “Three each?” I narrowed my eyes, dialing the restaurant. “Somehow, I think it might turn into a four to two split.”

  “Wow, you must really have high hopes if you think I’m sacrificing two cannolis to you. Maybe I’ll let you have one and a half, but only if you don’t tell Marty I’m drinking his scotch.”

  Twelve

  The body discovered in the tunnels just outside the breached subbasement door was identified as a John Doe. The man was mangled and beaten to a bloody pulp. His fingers were so badly damaged in the attack that prints weren’t possible, and dental records could take awhile. The most worrisome part of this mess was the breached door, the same doors that I considered a risk, guarded for half a day, and then forgot about. This wasn’t the best way of safeguarding a hotel.

  “Hey,” Mark nudged my ankle with the tip of his shoe from across the table, “what did PDN hire you to do?”

  “Evaluate their plan and protocols to ensure the businessmen and diplomats at the conference were protected.”

  “Okay.” He gave me that knowing look. “And how many of them were actually harmed in the process?”

  “None.” I rolled my eyes. “But that doesn’t make my job a success. There are two dead bodies in the hotel.” Before he could interject something ridiculously stupid, like this wasn’t my fault, which it wasn’t, I interceded. “And I wouldn’t put it past the police to assume I had something to do with it, particularly if Eastman is to blame.”

  “What do we know about him?”

  I gave Mark the rundown of everything that happened, leaving no rock unturned or comment unmentioned. Nothing surfaced in any of the background checks. Paul Eastman was just dirty enough to be clean for the murders. There was no confusing him with a saint, but his shit stunk enough for it to be believable.

  “Frankly, I don’t know enough to determine his level of involvement, but I doubt he’s our guy.”

  “A lot depends on the identity of the second vic,” Mark surmised. “The fact that he wants to hire you to clear his name doesn’t sit well.” He took another swig of the scotch. “Either he’s smart enough to realize he’s a viable suspect, or he’s hoping to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. The problem is you don’t trust him, not after he tried to sneak around to gain access to Marty.” He leaned back and considered something. “What did Lieutenant Moretti say about this?”

  “The police lieutenant isn’t one of my phone-a-friends, and I didn’t want to overstep and go straight to the big gun when Jacobs is working the case. If it were Nick or Derek, I wouldn’t be stuck out in left field, but Nick can’t be bothered to call back and Derek’s AWOL.”

  “Oh, so you called me because no one else could be bothered?” I must have looked rather sheepish because Mark let out an exasperated breath. “All right. Fine. Y’know, just because you didn’t get reinstated last month doesn’t mean you have to avoid the OIO like the plague.” I snorted. “Well, you’ve been avoiding the OIO for the last two years, but it’s time you stop.” He cast a dark glare at the blanket on my couch. “We’ll research the rest of the night. I’ll make a couple of calls on your behalf, and tomorrow, we’ll begin surveillance.”

  “Who said you could step in and take over my investigation?”

  “You asked for help. You never ask for help, so let’s shake off some of that rust that’s been accumulating around your deductive skills and see if you still have what it takes to work a case.”

  “It’s the police department’s problem,” I protested. “And I’m more than capable of working a case, despite what you may think.” The last case I insinuated myself into, Mark did all he could to prevent me from assisting, so this was a complete reversal. “Why do you think I should investigate? Shouldn’t you be telling me to mind my own business? How much scotch did you drink?” Picking up the bottle, I examined the contents.

  “You’re an immovable object and an unstoppable force. What’s the point? Plus, you need to stay away from the couch.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I snarled. “You’re not my shrink.”

  “Since when do you seek professional help?” he challenged.

  “Well,” the smile erupted on my face, “I did call you, didn’t I? Now let’s cut the crap and get to work.” I tossed him the phone. “Start dialing, Jablonsky. We need some solid leads on our first victim, whatever you can find on good ‘ol Bernie, and anything scandalous on Paul Eastman.”

  “Fine,” he matched my grin, “but I’m not above calling Moretti.” In between placing calls, he met my eyes. “I’ve missed this.”

  “Me too.”

  * * *

  The next morning, I woke up to Mark snoring on my couch. Normally, I would have been suspicious that Martin orchestrated this so I wouldn’t be alone, but since I called Mark myself, that didn’t seem likely. Oddly, I was glad he was here to help steer my indeterminate investigation in a more productive direction. I couldn’t remember the last time we worked amicably together, and it was nice having trusted back-up.

  After showering and working out some of the mental kinks over our lack of useful information, I emerged from the steamy bathroom. Mark was awake, making coffee. He grunted good morning and went to his car to get his go-bag. He never went anywhere without a change of clothes and other necessities. It was one of the helpful tricks of the trade he instilled upon me.

  While he was making himself presentable, I left a voicemail for Martin as promised. Then I turned to the pages of notes from the night before. Nothing was useful. Our plan of attack was to spend the day talking to the hotel employees, figuring out who the second homicide victim was, and having another chat with Eastman. This time, it would be unplanned, and maybe he would shed some additional light on everything.

  Before Mark emerged from my bathroom, there was a knock at the door. Now what? I sighed and glanced through the peephole.

  “Morning, officers,” I said, holding the door for them to enter. “Did you forget something on Friday?”

  “Ms. Parker,” the lead officer loo
ked confused, probably since they weren’t the same cops that were waiting for me Friday evening, but I was certain they were here for the same reason, “we need you to come with us, ma’am.”

  “Why?” It wasn’t that I wanted to give them a hard time, despite the fact they called me ma’am, but they could either explain the reason for this or formally arrest me. I spent too many years in law enforcement to go quietly, particularly when I had other plans for the day.

  “Your name has surfaced in conjunction with an ongoing investigation.”

  “Concerning?” Now I was just being a pain in the ass for the hell of it.

  “Were you hired by PDN to evaluate hotel security?” the second officer asked, and I heard the bathroom door open behind him. The man spun, surprised anyone else was in my apartment. How he missed the sounds of the shower running was beyond me but whatever. Maybe all the insults Mark had made concerning the incompetence of the police department over the years weren’t completed unwarranted. “Sir,” the cop addressed Mark, suddenly uneasy, like we were about to jump him, “please remain there.”

  “What the fuck?” Mark glanced at me. “Now what did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything. Apparently, I’m wanted for questioning.”

  “Too bad.” Mark smirked and pointed to the coffee table. “Do you see those credentials?” The cop picked them up and examined them and then Mark. “You’ll have to take a number. Ms. Parker is assisting on a case.”

  “Agent Jablonsky, we’re under strict orders to bring her in for questioning,” the police officer insisted.

  “Is she under arrest?” Mark asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then run along, kid.” He hid the smile masterfully. “I’ll bring her in later this afternoon for your interrogation. If anyone has a problem with that, tell them to speak to Lieutenant Moretti because I’m giving Dominic a call right now.” The police officers hedged while I sipped my coffee and wondered how far they were willing to stick their necks out to follow orders. “Go on,” Mark jerked his head at my front door, “or do you want to risk impeding a federal investigation?”

  The cop glared at me. “If you don’t stop by this afternoon, we’ll be forced to issue a warrant for your arrest.”

  “Sure thing.” I gave him a bright smile.

  After the door closed, I shook my head. There was never a dull moment around here. Mark took a seat beside me at the counter and flipped through our notes from the night before.

  “Why do you think they dropped by?” he asked.

  “Because they want to cover all their bases.”

  “And if I wasn’t here, would you have gone with them?”

  “Eh,” I raised my shoulders in a ‘who knows’ gesture, “too bad they don’t want to throw some consulting work my way.”

  “C’mon,” he stood and put his mug in the sink, “we have work to do. And since I’ve promised to deliver you to the precinct in a timely fashion, we better get started. I would say we could save time by splitting up, but you’re likely to go on the run.”

  “After doing that once, it really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” I slipped into my shoulder holster, picked up my purse, and grabbed my jacket. “But just to be on the safe side, you better drive.”

  First stop was the hotel. Mark’s OIO badge packed more of a punch than my P.I. license, and after speaking to a few desk clerks, the shift manager, and a few of the security personnel, we were escorted into an office to await an appearance from the head of security and the hotel manager. It was nice to have access to the big guns.

  When the two men entered, I wasn’t surprised to learn I hadn’t encountered either of them before. It’s not like they had to deal directly with PDN, just the Secret Service and whatever foreign security the delegates might have. After a brief round of introductions, the man in charge took a seat across from us while the head of security remained standing next to him.

  “What can we do for you, Agent?” Gordon Russell asked. His nameplate gleamed brightly in the fluorescent lights, and I wondered if he polished it on a daily basis. There was no reason not to take pride in your position, even if hotel manager never seemed that important of a role to me.

  “Just dotting some I’s,” Mark said. This wasn’t an OIO investigation, and since the FBI was removed from the case based on lack of jurisdiction, it would be a pretty large leap to justify our presence. “What can you tell me about the recent business convention in regards to the two bodies being discovered on the premises?”

  “As far as the investigators have determined, the events are unrelated.” Russell leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. “It’s a shame we lost our best night clerk over nothing more than gratuitous violence.”

  “Was there any trouble at home or personal problems? Do you know of anyone with an axe to grind?” I asked.

  A brief look was exchanged between the head of security and the manager before they both gave a slight headshake. “No one I’m aware of. Business was fine. Alvin acted normally. Hell, he even volunteered to pick up some of the slack since everyone was pulling double duty,” Russell responded.

  “Are you sure there were no personal issues outside of work?” Mark asked. “I mean the guy volunteered for extra shifts. Did he need the money? Or could he have been avoiding someone?” Jablonsky narrowed his eyes. “Has anyone strange been by to speak with Alvin Hodge in the last couple of weeks?”

  “Jason,” Russell turned to the man beside him, “can you get a copy of the video surveillance from the front desk for the last,” he glanced at Mark, “two weeks?” Mark nodded. “And bring it to Agent Jablonsky.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  After Jason disappeared, I scanned the rest of the office. The manager’s office was situated adjacent to the elevator on the tenth floor. “What’s the purpose of those cables?” I asked, focusing on one very similar to the type Hodge was hanging from.

  He turned his head to see what I was looking at and chuckled. “They’re consolidated to hold the cable, phone, and electrical wires. They run from room to room, mostly through the walls or floors, but after the latest remodel, the elevators were relocated and a couple of walls were knocked down.”

  “I see.” If someone intended to make a statement, they had to be familiar with the locations where they could leave Hodge hanging. Then again, maybe it was purely opportunistic and not at all planned. Mark shifted, and I knew he was waiting for me to ask another question. “What do you know about the second body that was discovered below the hotel?”

  “Nothing.” Russell’s eyes narrowed as if I suddenly struck him as familiar. “One of the security companies for the conference checked the underground tunnels for weaknesses, but they were ruled safe. When the police asked if anyone on staff could identify the dead man, no one ever saw him before, not that identifying someone beaten up like that would even be possible.”

  “Did you get a name?” Mark asked. We still didn’t have an I.D., but in case the police were playing hardball and choosing not to share with us, perhaps something accidentally leaked to the hotel manager.

  “No. I’d like to believe he was a vagrant.”

  “Did he breach the subbasement doors?” I knew the answer was yes, but it never hurt to test out someone’s ability to tell the truth.

  “Possibly. The seal was broken, but it didn’t appear the door was actually opened. Nothing inside was disturbed, and there was no indication he entered the actual basement.”

  “Can I see the surveillance on that?” Mark interjected just as Jason came back into the room.

  “Fine, whatever you want,” Russell sighed, clearly annoyed with our questions and requests, “but I need to get back to work. A hotel can’t run itself.” He whispered some orders to Jason, and we were led out of the room and to the security office.

  “Alexis?” one of the security personnel I dealt with during my stint with PDN asked as we entered the room. Shit.

  “Hey,” I
greeted as Jason whose last name was apparently classified information turned with a glare.

  “I thought you were federal agents,” he growled.

  “I am,” Mark piped up. “Parker is consulting for me. Do you have a problem with that?” He never raised his voice, but Mark was excellent at making threats without doing anything overt. I never understood how that happened or why, but Mr. Head of Security deflated slightly, almost like a scolded puppy. “Now, you were about to hand over the surveillance from the basement, Mr. …”

  “Oster. Jason Oster,” he admitted. At least we had a last name. At this rate, there was no doubt the police would find the murderer and the DA would have a conviction before Mark and I even determined the identity of the second body or if Paul Eastman was involved. Oh well, like I said in my apartment last night, this wasn’t our problem. Except, somehow, it was. “Here’s that footage. Now, unless you have a warrant, I believe we’re done here. I will show you out.”

  Mark glanced at his watch as we were led back to the lobby. “Fifteen minutes. That’s a new record for cooperation without the ‘no warrant, fuck you,’ speech,” he said quietly.

  “See, your people skills are clearly improving,” I whispered.

  Thirteen

  After getting kicked out of the hotel by Jason Oster, head of security, Mark drove to the OIO building. It was unexpected, and from the sly glance he tossed my way, I wondered what he was thinking. He was on vacation. Obviously, no one expected to see him in the building, and ever since my disgraced failed attempt at the physical reqs, entirely due to my broken bones, I was too embarrassed to show my face here.

  “The tech department owes me a few favors, so I’ll have them run the footage through facial recognition and compare it to our known criminal databases,” he supplied, parking the car. “I’ll also check to see if anyone’s heard anything about the second DB in the tunnels. Even if this isn’t our problem, occasionally word travels, and with the international conference, someone around here might have a vested interest.”