Evil in the 1st House (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-five

Karen called at five. “I'm heading back into Manhattan.” She cursed loudly. “If I can get this damn stupid GPS to work right.”

“Where are you?” asked Lowell.

“On something called the Grand Central Parkway. I followed this bozo, Christo out to some town out in Long Island somewhere. Nothing. A neighbor I spoke to recognized him. He was visiting his sister.”

“Are you heading east or west?”

“West.”

“It's simple. Turn the GPS off.” He gave her directions. “When you get to the toll on the Tri-Borough Bridge go through the automatic lane. The car has an E-Z-Pass on the windshield that will allow you through. I'll have Andy meet you at the garage and then pick me up and we'll head downtown to your uncle's place.”

***

Andy drove Lowell and Karen to her late uncle's apartment on Avenue B. Julia had to go food shopping and wouldn't let Luigi stay in the house unsupervised, so they took him with them.

Alphabet City is officially part of the East Village, but has its own flavor, and so far had been spared the modernization that most of Manhattan was going through. It's very similar to what the Village had been like many years ago. It still had an old world look and feel about it. Dozens of small shops and restaurants dotted the area. Darkly lit bars offered cheap, by Manhattan standards, food and drinks, many with live music. The neighborhood surrounded Tompkins Square Park and had a bohemian feeling that reminded Lowell of the Sixties.

As they headed for the apartment they passed a number of residents on stoops and in outdoor cafes. Many of the men had long hair, a rarity uptown. Lowell was suddenly very aware of his ponytail.

They walked up the three steps to the entrance of the building, a small but relatively new structure for this area, probably built in the sixties. The front door was propped open and two men were carrying a dresser out. Lowell and Karen let them pass and then entered.

Karen walked over to the mailbox. “I came here when I first got to town hoping the package he sent had arrived. Boy, talk about snail mail.”

She took out the smaller key her uncle had given her and opened the mailbox. Inside was a tiny package, about the size of a cassette tape.

“Well,” she said, “it's about time.”

She took it out and put it in her pocket. Then they climbed the stairs to the third floor where she took out the other key and opened the door. It was a one room flat about three hundred square feet. Against one wall were a small dresser and a single bed. There was a kitchen table, with two small metal chairs in the middle of the room next to the wall-unit kitchen, and a small loveseat against the opposite wall, all well-worn furniture. In the corner was a small desk with a single drawer. An old lamp sat on top. There wasn't much, but still the room felt cluttered.

Luigi was busy sniffing around the place. Lowell sat on the loveseat. “Let's see what's in that package.”

Karen sat next to him, opened the small parcel and tipped it. A tiny plastic envelope surrounded by bubble wrap tumbled out and landed on the table. She picked it up and took the bubble wrap off. Inside the envelope was a computer thumb drive.

Karen handed Lowell the tiny device, about two inches in length.

Lowell turned it over a few times. “Let's get this back to my office and see what's on it.”

He got up from the couch and glanced out the window. He saw the same two men who had accosted him and Sarah exiting a car. He watched as they entered the building.

“Karen, do you have your gun with you?”

“No, I left it at your house. Why?”

“We're about to have visitors.” He picked up his cell phone and quickly sent a short text. Then he looked around the tiny apartment. “We have to hide this. But where?” The room was so tiny and sparsely furnished it wouldn't take long to search it. There was little time. He walked over to the miniscule kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Inside was an open yogurt, a bottle of water, and a new, sealed package of Swiss cheese. He thought about putting the device in the ice tray, but they would find it.

There was a roll of scotch tape on the kitchen counter. He took the thumb drive and taped it to underside of Luigi's collar. Then he pointed across the room to the airshaft at the back of the building. “Throw the packaging out that window.”

Karen hurried across the room, opened the window, and threw out the box.

Moments later the door burst open and the two men barged their way in. The one with the long scar on the side of his face, McFarley, according to Lieutenant Roland, held a gun and aimed it at Luigi.

“Alright, get over there and sit down or I'll shoot the dog.”

Lowell and Karen sat on the couch.

“What do you want?” asked Lowell.

McFarley walked over toward the couch. Luigi nudged him with his head. The man unconsciously started scratching the dog's ear. His hand nearly brushed against the thumb drive several times as Lowell watched, unable to act.

McFarley pointed at Lowell. “Someone wants you out of the way.”

“Who?” asked the detective.

The man shrugged. “It's just a job. Someone wants you gone and I got paid. That's all I care about. Hey, don't take it personally.” Then he laughed a boisterous guffaw and waved the gun. “Get up. We're going for a ride.”

“Listen, McFarley,” said Lowell. “I can pay you much more than they are.”

The gunman looked puzzled. “So, you know who I am?”

Lowell nodded.

“Well, that's just too bad for you.”

“We can make a deal,” said Lowell.

“Shut up,” said McFarley. “Stand up. Now.”

Lowell tried to reason with him. “You're making a big mistake.”

“Yeah, probably ain't the first time.” He turned to his partner. “Don't you love how they beg and bargain when they know it's their time? Don't ya just love it?” He laughed again. “Now get up.”

There was a pounding on the door.

“Open the door, it's the super.”

“McFarley aimed the gun at Lowell. “Get rid of him.”

“Okay, just don't do anything stupid.” Lowell went to the door and opened it a crack. “What's the problem?”

“I need to get in there. There's been a report of a gas leak and I've called Con Edison. There should be someone here in a few minutes.”

The gunman had his weapon in Lowell's back. “Just give me a minute. My wife's dressing.”

“Okay, but make it quick. This is serious business.”

Lowell went to close the door, but suddenly moved aside. The door was slammed open and hit McFarley in the face, knocking him backwards. Andy rushed in, his own gun drawn.

The other man was standing next to the loveseat. He took a gun out of his pocket and aimed it at Andy. Karen jumped up from the sofa and shoved herself against the man just as the gun went off. The shot missed Andy by inches. The gunman was getting ready to fire again. Andy turned and with a calm look in his eye, aimed his gun and fired, hitting the man in the chest, killing him instantly.

McFarley ran past Andy knocking the gun out of his hand. He ran out the door and down the stairs before anyone could react.

Andy picked up his gun. “You want me to chase him?”

Lowell shook his head. “Let him go. They were just hired hands. I don't think there's much we can learn from him anyway. Let the police deal with him. Karen, you've met Andy.”

She waved. “How wonderful to see you again. Your timing couldn't have been better.”

“Thank God for texts. Glad I could help.” Andy looked down at the body and then turned to Lowell. “Okay, Boss, now what?”

Lowell dialed Melinda. “Andy just killed a man in self-defense. Can you call Lieutenant Roland and meet us here as soon as you're free?” He gave her the address and hung up.

Andy looked shaken up. He sat on the edge of the tiny bed. “You know I was in the Corps.” Lowell nodded. “I killed people before. But this is different. Most of them were a long ways off, not in your face.”

Lowell had been responsible for the death of a man in the Judge Winston case and knew the feelings it could create. There was a sense of karma—that this act would never completely leave you and would even follow you into future lifetimes. Lowell was a firm believer in reincarnation.

Andy continued. “I know it's part of the job, and hell, he was a piece of dirt who was gonna kill us if he could. It's just that, I don't know, sometimes I wish I did something else for a living. You know?”

Lowell knew.

“Andy, if you ever get the itch to try something else, no matter how off the track it may seem, please come to me and I'm sure we can work it out.”

Andy nodded. Then he smiled. “Well, for now I'm still your bodyguard and chauffeur.”

“And friend.”

Chapter Twenty-six

About twenty minutes later Roland arrived with two uniforms. Melinda was just a few moments behind. Roland nodded to her as she entered. “How are you, Melinda. Haven't seen you in a while. You're looking well.”

“Hi Phil, how have you been?”

Roland shook his head. “Tough business.”

Melinda walked over to Karen. “I'm Melinda Lowell, David's daughter.” She stuck out her hand.

Karen shook it forcefully. “Karen Sweeney. How nice to meet you.”

The lieutenant walked over to Lowell. “What happened?”

Lowell tugged at his ponytail. “Lieutenant Philip Roland, Officer Karen Sweeney of the Los Angeles Police Department. This is her uncle's apartment.”

Roland ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed. “Why do I think this isn't going to make me happy?” He turned to Karen. “What can I do for the LAPD?”

“Well…” she started.

Lowell interrupted. “Actually, Karen isn't working officially for the department at the moment. She's here on personal business.”

“I see,” said Roland. “May I ask what personal business?”

“I'm here to find my uncle's murderer.”

“And your uncle was…?”

“Mickey Broad,” said Karen, “a private eye from L.A.”

“This was his place?”

Karen nodded.

“And he was killed in N.Y.?” asked Roland.

She shook her head. “No, L.A.”

The cop frowned. “Then why am I so lucky to have you in my jurisdiction?”

“He was in New York shortly before his death and I'm here following a lead.”

Roland nodded. “Just stay within the law and I've got no problem with that. Are you carrying?”

“I have my piece at David's place.”

Roland cast a glance at Lowell, his mouth turning up just at the very corners. “At David's place?” Luigi walked over to Roland and pushed his head up into the lieutenant's hand. Roland unconsciously scratched Luigi's head. “Your dog?”

Karen nodded. “That's Luigi.”

Roland smiled and turned toward Lowell. “He staying at your place too?”

Lowell nodded, a slight grimace on his face.

The cop grinned broadly. “So what happened here?”

“Karen wanted to see her uncle's place and look around a bit,” said Lowell. “We were getting ready to leave when the deceased and McFarley pushed their way in.”

“McFarley again?” asked Roland.

Lowell nodded. “Right before they broke in I texted Andy and let him know what was happening.” Lowell pointed to the wall and then to the dead man. “You'll find a bullet over there that came from this guy's gun. Andy only shot in self-defense.”

Roland spoke to one of the uniformed policemen. “Dig that slug out of the wall and bag it.” He turned to Lowell. “The forensic team will be here soon and they can go over it all.”

“Do you need us here?” asked Lowell.

Roland shook his head. “I'm going to have to take your driver to the precinct, but it's only a formality.” He turned to Andy. “Frankly, I wish you had gotten that other piece of garbage.”

Andy nodded. “No time, or I would have.”

Roland took out a cellphone and dialed. “It's Roland. McFarley was involved in a possible hit gone bad. I don't care what it takes, I want that SOB in custody now. Find him. Circulate his picture to everyone.” He hung up,

Melinda walked over. “Lieutenant, do you think Andy needs a lawyer?”

Roland shook his head. “I don't think so. It looks like a righteous shooting. Is your permit in order?”

Andy nodded and opened his wallet. “Here's my license to carry.”

Roland looked at it and returned it to Andy. He turned to Melinda. “If there are any legal problems I'll let you know.”

“Thank you, Phil,” she said.

Lowell was getting antsy. “Can we leave?”

Roland turned to Lowell and Karen. “I'm gonna need statements from you two. Might as well get it over with now.”

He called over one of the officers. “Wilson, take down their statements.”

“Okay, Lieutenant,” said the officer.

“And Wilson,” said Roland, “try to make it legible, will ya?”

The officer smiled and took out a small digital recorder. “Got it covered,” he said. “They can type it up at the precinct.”

When they finished telling their tale, Lowell, Melinda, and Karen left. Lowell was forced to drive the limo home. Although he enjoyed driving on certain occasions, and would at times take a journey by himself out of New York, navigating that huge car in the city wasn't much fun. He managed to get them home without incident.

Chapter Twenty-seven

As they entered the townhouse Julia greeted them at the door. When Luigi saw Julia he lunged toward her and leaped up onto his back legs putting his front paws on her shoulders and lapping her face.

She tolerated the licking for a few moments. “Okay, that's enough. Get down.” A stern look on her face. He went on all fours and then sat, looking up at her with anticipation. She took out a kitchen cloth from her apron pocket and wiped her face. “I suppose you want to eat again?”

He cocked his head to the side and stared at her.

“Supper?”

He got up, tail wagging fervently and pranced into the kitchen a step ahead of Julia who turned back halfway down the hall. “I swear he understands English better than I do.”

The others walked into the living room. Lowell sat in the armchair. Karen and Melinda sat on the couch.

Melinda looked at her father. “Did you find anything at the apartment?”

“There was a tiny thumb drive in the mail.”

“Why aren't we downstairs in your office looking through it?”

“Well, we don't actually have it at the moment. I had to hide it.”

Melinda saw her father smirk. “So who has it?”

Just then Luigi came bounding into the room, as if on cue, licking the remnants of his supper from his lips. He sat at Karen's feet. Lowell pointed to him.

“He does.”

Melinda and Luigi both cocked their heads to the right at the same time. “Really? And when do you think he'll give it back?”

Lowell clapped his hands and Luigi came over. He took hold of the dog's collar and pealed off the taped thumb drive. “Here it is.”

“Well?” said Melinda. “Let's go see what's on this device that's so important.”

They went down to the townhouse basement office. Luigi chose to stay close to Julia. You never knew when an errant morsel might find its way onto the floor. Lowell turned on the computer and popped the thumb drive into the USB port and tried to open the files.

“There's a password.” He turned to Karen. “Any ideas?”

“None at the moment. I'd have to think about it.”

Lowell dialed Mort and put him on speakerphone.

“What's up, Boss?”

“Sorry to bother you, but we've got a thumb drive from Karen's uncle and we need to get the password.”

Mort's voice filled the room. “Karen, did you talk to your uncle often?”

“Yeah, all the time.”

Mort was silent for a moment. Lowell could imagine him at home furrowing his brow as he often did while trying to use his psychic intuition. “I think it's something you know very well. Did you discuss a password for anything?”

Karen frowned. “Not that I remember.”

The speakerphone was silent for a few moments. The Mort's voice returned.

“It's something you've discussed with him many times. He wanted to make sure you could work it out, if necessary. Did you two have a favorite sports team, or nickname?”

“Not really.”

Mort suddenly laughed.

“You know what it is, don't you?” asked Lowell.

“Yes, I think so. It's…”

“Luigi.” Lowell and Mort said at the same time.

Mort's booming laugh filled the room. “Try it.”

Lowell typed in the dog's name and the files popped open. “It worked.”

“Hey, you two are good,” said Karen. “See, everyone loves Luigi.”

“Thanks Mort, I'll see you in the morning.” Lowell hung up. Then he scrolled through the files and printed copies of a dozen items. He looked through each quickly as they popped into the tray, and then handed them to Melinda. “Well, you're my legal expert. What do you think?”

She took the pages and read through them. When she was done she put them on the desk, stood up and stretched. “Karen, I think there may be something to your theory.”

“Why? What's it say?”

“It says that Dr. Ethan Williamson might very well be a crook.”

Lowell spoke. “There's a record of several genetic patents Williamson owned and how he acquired them, including the one involving Francis Goldsmith, a woman who was suing Williamson when she died in a hit and run. Apparently Mrs. Goldsmith was just about to get her case into court when she had her most unfortunate accident. Quite a coincidence.”

“And my father doesn't believe in coincidences.”

“No, I don't. There's also a note here about a cash layout of fifty thousand dollars to something called A-One Security Services at the same time.” He made a mental note to have Mort follow up on the name.

Karen started to pace. “So what does all this mean?”

Lowell leaned back in his chair. “Williamson owns a number of valuable patents. How he acquired the blood samples used to extract that DNA has everything to do with legal ownership. If they were obtained from discarded blood, it's considered public property. If they were taken directly from the patient for the purposes of research, they are that patient's property. Of course, all of this may become moot as a result of the Supreme Court's recent ruling that nobody can own an exclusive patent on DNA and how that is interpreted.

He handed Karen the paper. “That's a sworn statement from the attending nurse who was present at the time of Mrs. Goldsmith's examination. According to this, Williamson did his research on blood that he took directly from Mrs. Goldsmith's body for the sole purpose of experimenting and patenting it, not from discarded samples, as he claimed, which would make the acquisition illegal. Your uncle may have been on the verge of proving that Williamson did not, in fact, own the patent.”

“What's it worth?” asked Karen.

Lowell slipped off his loafers and put his feet up on the edge of the desk. “Likely millions. I wonder where your uncle got this.” He leaned back in his chair. “Melinda, what do you think?”

“Well, it may show that he was a crook, but there's nothing here to prove murder.”

“I agree.”

Karen wasn't sold. “If ten years with the LAPD has taught me anything, it's that one thread leads to another. Uncle Mickey found out that Williamson stole this woman's DNA, and he was dead soon after. I find that a coincidence I can't accept.”

“Okay,” said Lowell, “maybe you're right. But even if Williamson had stolen it, why would he risk murdering your uncle for something so difficult to prove? Mrs. Goldsmith is long dead and the DA would be loath to reexamine her accident now based solely on this nurse's testimony.” He tugged on his ponytail and sighed deeply. “I don't think this is why your uncle was killed.”

Karen stopped pacing. “What about those two thugs? They must have been after those files.”

“We don't even know who hired McFarley,” said Lowell. “I'm working on several cases at the moment. He didn't mention the thumb drive once. I don't think he was even aware of its existence. They may have just followed us to your uncle's place. I think there's something else amiss here. Something that we're missing. I'll let Mort examine the files tomorrow.”

Lowell got up, closed the computer, and headed toward the stairs. “In the meantime, I don't know the answer. But I'll be better able to look at it with a fresh perspective in the morning. Good night, ladies.”