The Reveal: A Detectives Seagate and Miner Mystery (Book 6) (17 page)

I nodded. “Yeah, that will be a pretty strong
defense.”

“Besides, there’s no proof that had anything to do
with Alpha Phi Sigma.”

“It was in the dumpster behind your house.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s ours. Someone could’ve planted
it. You know, to frame us.”

I put on a thoughtful expression. “Yeah, I can see
that. Maybe some other fraternity wanted to make you look like a bunch of
fucking assholes. You should definitely tell that to your attorney. Someone
planted it.” I nodded. “That’s solid.”

Martin Hunt looked pale. “Are you going to arrest
me for anything? Am I free to go?”

“Oh, no, like I said, Mr. Hunt, this is just an
interview. You’re absolutely free to go. But before you leave, do you want to
hear that other reason we know you know Elena Moranu?”

“What?” It came out annoyed and sarcastic.

“We have a signed statement from her that she
worked the party. She told us who hired her. And we showed her the photos of
all the brothers in your chapter—we got the photos from the national. And she
picked out a bunch of the brothers who did her. She just pointed her finger—did
you notice that purple nail polish?—and tapped on the—Detective, do you
remember how many times she tapped her finger?”

“Seven times,” Ryan said.

“She tapped her finger seven times. She identified
seven members of Alpha Phi Sigma.”

Martin Hunt leaned forward and started to cry, out
of control, all tears and snot. “Oh, shit.” It was full of disgust and panic.
“Oh, fuck.” His hands disappeared beneath the table. Then he half stood up.

I didn’t know what was happening. “Mr. Hunt, are
you—” Then the smell hit me.

Ryan stood up. “I got it, Karen.” And for the
second time in an hour, Ryan escorted Martin Hunt to a locker room.

Chapter 19

When I had finished
reducing Martin Hunt to the snot-nose, pants-crapping little prick I had
already known he was, I got a call that Larry Klein, our county prosecutor, was
in the chief’s office. He had come over to help us understand what we were
permitted to do to contact Abby Demarest, the student in the porn video with
Krista.

Ryan and I went to the chief’s office. Margaret
waved us in. Larry Klein popped out of his chair when we entered the room. He
looked like he looked every time I’d seen him since I arrived in town over
seventeen years ago: wiry, patchy black hair cut short, black stubble, black
plastic glasses, and an expression that, if not black, was on the darker side
of the grey spectrum. He was wearing his usual black suit, black tie, and white
shirt over a sleeveless undershirt. We all said our hellos, shook hands, and
sat down to work.

Larry started to explain the situation. “I spent a
half-hour on the phone with Arthur Vines, the university chief counsel. Let me
tell you what I got from him, and how I think we ought to proceed. This
student, Abby Demarest, notified the university that she was the victim of
sexual harassment and threats of sexual violence. That complaint went right to
Arthur Vines because sexual harassment is outlawed by Title IX. The university
immediately advised her to leave her apartment because she said some of the
people making the threats knew where she lived. The university arranged for
alternative accommodations for her—Arthur wouldn’t tell me where—and she’s
living there. In addition, the university has a Title IX Coordinator, as
required by law, who’s in the process of opening an investigation. That’s where
we are right now.”

“Why didn’t the university contact us?” I said.

Larry shook his head. “Arthur said he wanted to
take action immediately because the university is required to be proactive in
responding whenever it knew about, or should have known about, a threat. He
wanted to be able to say—honestly—that he acted right away. There’s some
language that universities shouldn’t wait until a criminal investigation or a
criminal case concludes. He wanted to be extra safe.”

“Did Arthur say whether he suggested Abby contact
us?”

“Not in so many words, but he indicated she made it
clear she didn’t want to bring in the police. Maybe she felt safer keeping it
inside the university. At least, that’s her position now.”

“Did he say exactly what her complaint was?”

“Not exactly. By which I mean he didn’t tell me
who she said was harassing or threatening her—or what exactly they did. But she
did say she felt sexually threatened.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I took it to mean someone threatened to assault
her sexually.”

“That rally—the Christian group yesterday, you
heard about that?—the leader told me and Ryan there’s this student who’s in a
porn video, and he’s gonna remove her like a doctor would remove a cancer.
That’s what he said to us.”

Larry shifted in his chair. “That could be what it
is. Arthur didn’t give me any specifics. But he did tell me there’s a lot of
social-media chatter about a porn-star student the last few days. Presumably,
that’s enough to qualify as creating a hostile environment. That’s part of the
description of what the university has to fix: a ‘hostile environment’ that prevents
a student from pursuing his or her normal educational activities. That’s what
motivated him to take action right away.”

Ryan said, “Larry, did Arthur say whether the
university has issued any no-contact directives against anyone?”

“No, not yet.” Larry nodded his approval of the
question. “Which implies she didn’t give them any names.”

“Larry,” I said, “if we can’t talk to her, how do
we even know she doesn’t want the police involved?” I turned to Robert
Murtaugh. “Chief, don’t you think it would be better if we could at least talk
to her, see what it is she’s experiencing? See if she wants our help?”

“I agree.” The chief nodded. “If everything is
filtered through the university, we can’t be certain what the facts are or what
her state of mind is. Larry, what do you think of asking Arthur if he’d be
willing to ask Abby if she’d talk with us—on an untraceable phone—to tell us
what’s going on and confirm that she doesn’t want us involved?”

“That’s what I think we should do,” the prosecutor
said. “If he says no to that, there’s something going on that we don’t
understand.” He stood up. “I’ll call Arthur and get back to you, okay?”

Robert Murtaugh said, “Thanks, Larry. Get back to
Karen. She’s the lead.”

As Larry turned and left, the chief said to me,
“You’re thinking this guy Richard Albright is the one harassing the student?”

I sighed and turned to Ryan. “I don’t know about
you, Ryan. I don’t understand what’s going on. But if I had to choose a guy
who’s threatening Abby, the only one I can point to is Richard Albright.”

The chief looked confused. “What is it that’s not
adding up? I see a girl gets drunk or stoned, makes a porn video, someone puts
it online, some knuckle-draggers threaten her, she gets scared, calls the
university.”

“Yeah, if that’s all there was to it, but there’s
some other stuff going on you need to know about. We told you about the speech.
We didn’t tell you about the party at Alpha Phi Sigma.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Day after we discovered Virginia Rinaldi’s body,
Alpha Phi Sigma held this party they called ‘Bye, Bye Virginia.’”

The chief walked around behind his desk and sat
down, cradling his chin in a palm.

“We went over to the fraternity and talked to this
little shithead named Martin Hunt. He’s the president of the chapter. Plus,
he’s a student in Virginia’s course. They showed porn at the party. Ryan
discovered a computer hooked to the TV at the house. We brought the computer
back here—”

“He okayed that?”

“Yeah, officially. Anyway, the computer has a lot
of homemade videos of guys screwing girls in a room in the
fraternity—one-on-one and some group sex, too. So we think we’ve got some
leverage on this guy, at least until he gets a lawyer.”

“Has he said he’s going to do that?”

“No, he hasn’t. He’s pretty cocky, thinks he
hasn’t committed any crimes—or that we’re too stupid to finger him for
anything, so he doesn’t need a lawyer.”

“But you say he’s scared now.” The chief was
squinting. He does that when he’s trying to figure out our next move.

“That’s why I’d like to move fast, before he realizes
he’s in over his head and decides he needs an attorney. Anyway, his computer
also shows that someone’s been watching that video on the Internet. The one
with Abby that everyone’s talking about.”

“Okay. That’s not surprising.”

“Abby’s in Virginia’s course, too. And the other
person in the video is this local prostitute named Krista. She’s Virginia’s
girlfriend, the one living at her house.”

“The one that Virginia brought to her course to
talk about being a sex worker.”

“And here’s the final piece of the puzzle we can’t
figure out. Someone in the fraternity hired a prost to work the party. We think
ten guys screwed her, at fifty bucks a screw. And we think the prost was
Krista.”

“How do you know?”

“We just told Martin Hunt she signed a statement
picking out seven of the ten guys who screwed her.”

“How’d he react?”

I turned to Ryan, who said, “The official phrase
is he lost bowel control.”

“But you don’t have a statement from her about the
party, right?”

“We didn’t bring that up with her yet. She doesn’t
see herself as a working girl, so I decided to try to work up to it in stages.
So far, she’s admitted she made the video with Abby—which she realizes she
can’t deny since it’s on the Internet and it’s clearly her—but she doesn’t know
how it got on the Internet, and she admitted Abby gave her five-hundred bucks.”

“Did she tell you who ran the camera?”

“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew.”

“What do you need me to do?”

I shook my head. “Unless you can tell us who
killed Virginia Rinaldi, nothing. We need to talk to Abby, see if she’s willing
to tell us who her camera guy is, what her relationship with Krista is, a bunch
of other questions. Until we can talk to the players more, the only other thing
is the forensics.”

“What are you waiting on?”

“Harold thinks it was a skull fracture from
hitting her head on the stairs.”

“Not blunt-force trauma from a weapon?”

“No, he said the pattern of cracks in the skull
wasn’t right for that. But Robin told us the vic went down the stairs
twice—first time she made it all the way to the rug at the base of the stairs,
where she picked up a fiber in her hair. But the killer wasn’t satisfied she
was dead, so he dragged her up to the top of the stairs and pushed her off
again. The second time she only made it partway down the stairs.”

“There’s no biologicals?”

“Robin says she got some tissue samples from under
some of the
vic’s
fingernails. She’s typing the DNA
now. With any luck, it’ll be Richard Albright. His DNA is in all the databases
from his convictions in Nevada.”

“Okay.” The chief nodded. “Any reason not to
announce it when Harold calls it?”

I looked at Ryan. He nodded his agreement. “No,
put it out.”

“Keep me up-to-date on the prostitution at the
fraternity. Unless we can link it to the murder investigation, I’ll separate
the two cases and give it to Vice.”

“I’d really love to take that fraternity down, but
give me a little more time to put the pieces together. Krista’s the common
denominator. Without her, Virginia is still alive. We’re just not seeing the
link yet.”

“It could be really simple. Didn’t you say
Krista’s rate is five-hundred?”

“That’s what Vice said.”

“Abby Demarest goes to Krista, who she met in
Virginia’s course. She offers Krista five-hundred to make the video. Krista
sees it as a one-hour job—and she doesn’t have to give her pimp his sixty
percent or whatever his rate is. He finds out and wants his cut. He goes
looking for her at Virginia’s house. Things go south from there.”

“That could be,” I said. “But the pimp said that
wasn’t what happened.”

The chief smiled. “Is he the honest pimp?”

I returned his smile. “He said he was.”

“I’m not denying that Krista is the link—or that
Virginia’s relationship with her led to the murder. But Krista working the
fraternity party might be unrelated to the murder. That part could be a
coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.” I shook my
head. “Give us a little more time.”

The chief nodded. “We’ll hold a press conference
this afternoon calling it a homicide. Something might break then.”

Ryan and I thanked the chief and headed back to
our desks. I had a phone message from Robin. I called her. “Who killed
Virginia, Robin?”

“Some guy.”

“He got a name?”

“I’m sure he does.”

“Is it Richard Albright?”

“No.”

“Christopher James Barlow?”

“That’s a nice name, but no.”

“Shit.”

“It’s a guy, but he doesn’t show up in any of the
databases. You’re welcome.”

“Okay, Robin, thanks.”

I hung up and turned to Ryan. “Shit.”

“Yes, I heard you make that point.”

“I was hoping it was Richard Albright.”

“It could be him. Remember how his buddy jumped
into the crowd and beat up the kid who threw the bottle? Or it could be the
pimp: same deal. He doesn’t kill people himself. He subs it out. Cheer up. It
could one of those two.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “Still, I wanted it
to be someone with prints on file. We show him the match, he pleads, case
closed.”

“Then we go put the fraternity out of business?”

“And I’m home by four-thirty.”

“So, what’s the worst that can happen now? You
stay till five?”

“The networks are all over the murder tonight at
five, the guy takes off, and we’re gonna have to track him down.”

“Road trip!” Ryan smiled.

I just looked at him. “You planning to grow up any
time soon?”

“So I can be happy like you?” He raised an
eyebrow. “I think I’ll maintain my youthful enthusiasm.”

He did have a point.