Fixed in Blood (15 page)

“I am who I am, Mort. I’m finished apologizing for it.” Her voice was steady. “I’m going to find Delbe. You’re going to find your killer. Do you want to do it together?”

He knew her determination and resources. He also was painfully aware of her vulnerabilities. Was he deluding himself to think he could keep The Fixer in check by keeping her close?

“I have Jessica’s address,” she said. “It’s late, but we could go question her now.”

Mort hesitated. “Tomorrow. Micki and I will head over after our appointment with Charlie Fellow.”

“I’ll join you. At Rite Now and at Jennifer’s.”

“Don’t you have patients?”

“I’ve cleared my schedule for the next four days. I’m at the Westin. I brought secure remote access to my home system. There’s nothing more pressing than finding Delbe.”

Mort thought. “Micki knows you. Knows I’ve relied on your observations in the past. You could be coming along to get a read on Fellow.”

“You could say the same as we head over to Jennifer’s.”

Integrating Lydia into a team of trained investigators could put them both at risk for long prison sentences. He hesitated. “I’ll meet you at the top of the dock at eight tomorrow. We’ll drive to the station, pick up Mick, and have plenty of time for our nine o’clock with Charlie Fellow.” His concerns remained. “Let me know if I’m asking too much.”

She stood again. “I will. Can I have a look at those snuff films tonight? Fresh eyes and all.”

She’d be using more than her eyes. Mort would lay good money Lydia planned to run every frame through that remote system of hers. Let her sci-fi computer work its analytical magic. No crime lab in the state could match the processing, tracking, and communication capability Lydia had in her basement. He needed whatever she might find.

Mort went inside and pulled two discs from the locked drawer of his desk. He came back out and handed them to Lydia. “Make your own copy and bring these back. I’m warning you. These are tough to watch.”

A smile flickered for the first time that evening. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

“I’ve thought about you now and then,” Micki said to Lydia as Mort drove to the headquarters of Rite Now Finance. “Your insights during the Bastian murder helped break open solid leads. I’m surprised you’re willing to get back involved. That last time almost killed you.”

Lydia handled Micki’s reference to her near-fatal gunshot wound with a sidestepping falsehood. She told Micki she was all healed and eager to expand her experiences in forensic psychology. Lying came easy to The Fixer.

Mort pulled his Subaru into a parking stall. “I’ll take the lead. Micki, catch whatever questions I miss. Lydia, keep your eyes open. Tell us everything you observe.”

Lydia nodded. “Will you ask about Delbe?”

Finding her patient might be Lydia’s top priority, but Mort had two murders he needed to solve. “Let’s see where the conversation takes us.”

Esther Hardgrove did a double take when the three of them walked in to the dingy reception area. “You hook up in the lot last time?” Her cynicism was underscored by her thick Brooklyn accent. She turned a skeptical eye to Lydia. “The cops we were expecting. You undercover or what?”

Mort pulled a search warrant from his jacket’s inside pocket. “We’re here to see Charlie.”

“I knew you’d be back. No one around here ever listens to me.” Esther pulled her reading glasses up from the chain around her neck and examined the document. “Financial records? Piece of cake. Our guy has them organized to a T.” She cast a raised eyebrow to Lydia. “You remember him, right? Your friend you took to coffee?”

“Is Charlie in?” Mort asked.

Esther pushed away from her desk and stood. “Follow me.”

Charlie Fellow didn’t bother to rise when she opened his office door.

“You want I should get them some coffee?” she asked her boss after she handed him the warrant.

Charlie tossed the paper aside. “No need, Esther.” He turned to Mort and dropped his smile. “I don’t want them getting too comfortable.” He shifted his attention to Lydia.

“Who are you?”

Mort nodded in Lydia’s direction. “This is Dr. Lydia Corriger. She’s assisting us in our investigation.”

“Assisting how?” Charlie Fellow scanned Lydia from head to toe before offering both women a seat. “You expecting me to have a heart attack or something? You bring those little electric paddles?”

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” Lydia said.

“We’re here to take a look at those records, Charlie.” Mort pulled a side chair in front of the desk and sat next to his team. “Let’s start with the accounts of Crystal Tillwater and Francie Michael.”

“Do I need to call my lawyer?” Charlie winked at the women seated across from him. “Or should I call my wife to come keep me safe?”

“I’m pretty handy with a computer, Mr. Fellow.” Micki erased his leer with a clipped tone. “No need to print the records. Give me your access codes and I’ll screen them up.”

The overhead fluorescents highlighted his silver crew cut as Charlie chuckled. “You still barking up my tree looking for whoever killed those two girls? Like this is the old days when loan sharks would bust a kneecap if a client didn’t pay?”

“Just following a coincidence is all.” Mort knew Lydia would be watching Fellow’s every move, looking for a clue to the kind of pressure he was feeling. “Two murdered girls, both with dead-end jobs, both with ties to your shop. People they knew telling us how worried they each were about how what they owed you kept growing. Good a tree as any to bark up.”

Charlie tapped a hand on the arm of his chair. “Like I said before, we’re a growing concern. Lot of folks working those dead-end streets. Rite Now is here to help them.”

“The best way for you to do that is to give us access to those records, Mr. Fellow,” Micki said. “If you don’t, that warrant empowers us to seize your computers and ledgers. We could take everything down to the station. Even without the access codes, our investigators would get in.”

Charlie’s eyes lost their sparkle. “Anyone ever tell you you’ll never land a man being that pushy?” He sat in silence; weighing his options or playing chicken, Mort wasn’t sure. A full minute later Fellow heaved a sigh and reached for his desk phone. He punched in two numbers. “Esther sweetheart,” he cooed into the handset. “Ask Greg to join our little party, will you please? Tell him to bring that razzmatazz laptop he spent so much of my money on.”

Charlie hung up and pointed a finger at Mort. “I’m about one breath away from calling my lawyer.”

“You’ll spend more of your money hearing him tell you your only option is to comply with the warrant.” Mort crossed one leg over the other. “But if you feel the need, we’re happy to wait.”

Charlie’s jaw churned. Mort wondered what he was keeping himself from saying, when his office door opened.

“You wanted me?” Greg Dystra waited for Charlie to wave him in. His smile faltered when he saw Lydia. “Dr. C?” Greg looked first to Mort and Micki, then to his employer, then back to his former psychologist. “What’s going on?”

Charlie pointed to Lydia this time. “You know her?” He switched his attention to Mort and raised his voice. “You got a cop hooked up with my numbers guy and I don’t know it?”

“She’s not a cop,” Mort said. “She’s assisting the case.”

Charlie Fellow pulled himself up and supported himself against his desk. He turned his anger to his chief financial officer. “How do you know this cop assistant, Dystra?”

“You don’t need to answer that, Greg,” Lydia said.

“The fuck he doesn’t.” Fellow leveled a glare at Greg. “I got cops in my office looking into my records and my CFO comes in calling one of ’em by a pet name? Start talking.”

“She’s not a cop,” Micki and Mort said in unison.

“I used to see her.” Greg Dystra held his laptop like a shield across his chest.

Charlie leaned back in disbelief. “You? Mr. Schlepp-Face Baggy Pants? Used to date
her
? Try again.”

Dystra was breathing fast. Mort detected the irritation in his voice. “I didn’t date her. She’s a psychologist. I saw her professionally a while back. I had some issues to resolve.”

Charlie Fellow alternated his attention between Lydia and Greg. “You had some issues.” His voice was calmer. “You saw a shrink. Okay. Everybody’s entitled, I guess.” He turned to Mort and grinned. “And you bring in the one assistant who’s been inside my bean counter’s head? I wonder if my lawyer has enough room for all the zeros I’m gonna sue your ass for.”

“The issues are independent.” Mort made a mental note to check in with departmental attorneys when he got back to the station. “We’re here to execute the warrant. You can show us the files we need or we can haul your gear down to the station.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll give you sixty seconds to make the decision.”

Charlie Fellow ran a hand over his crew cut and cursed. He sat back down and cursed again. He drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair and treated them all to another chorus of angry descriptions of sexual acts with family members.

“Ten seconds, Fellow.” Mort tapped his watch. “What’ll it be?”

Charlie stared at him for eight of the remaining clicks of the clock. Then he waved his hand in frustration. “Fire up that damned computer, Dystra. But keep track of every fucking thing they look at.”

Greg Dystra fumbled to set his laptop on Charlie’s desk. Micki, Mort, and Lydia made room for him and leaned in to watch as he tapped in his user ID and passcodes. “This gives us access to our entire database.” He looked over his shoulder to Mort. “What is it you want to see?”

“Let’s start with Crystal Tillwater.” She was the first to die. She deserved the lead-off position.

“Can you spell that?” Greg typed the letters Mort called out and pressed Enter. A heartbeat later the screen of his laptop showed the entry page of her record. “Got her. Is there anything specific you want to know about her account?”

Micki took notes as Greg read off the answers to each of Mort’s questions. Date and amount of first loan. Number of extensions. Interest rate. Current amount owed. In the end they learned Crystal had first approached Rite Now four years ago, seeking $350. She’d borrowed eleven more times over the past four years and asked for six extensions. Her current balance was $3,612.42. Though she’d had a few late payments in the past, her account was up-to-date and in good standing.

“Sounds like a satisfied customer to me.” Charlie Fellow leaned back in his chair. “Just the kind of person we enjoy helping here at Rite Now.”

Mort ignored him. “Call up the record of Francie Michael. M-I-C-H-A-E-L.”

They all watched Greg type in the request. “I’ve got two Francie Michaels. You got a birthdate?”

Micki flipped back two pages in her notebook and told him. Greg highlighted the correct listing and tapped Enter. As with Crystal Tillwater, Francie Michael’s entry page appeared on the screen.

“You want to know the same stuff?” Greg asked.

Mort nodded and Greg rattled off the facts as Micki recorded them in her book. Francie’s first loan, of $400, was recorded ten months ago. She’d borrowed twice more since then and asked for two extensions. She currently owed $779.11. Unlike Crystal, Francie had no late payments. Her account was current and enjoyed the same good standing as Crystal Tillwater’s.

“Another happy Rite Now customer. And testimony to the screening we do before we give loans. Both accounts responsibly managed.”

Mort breathed deep against his frustration. He shot Lydia a look.

“Let’s see the record of Delbe Jensen. J-E-N-S-E-N.”

Charlie returned to his flustered voice. “Hold on there, cowboy. The search warrant asks for the records of the two dead girls. You got what you wanted. Time to head back to the OK Corral or wherever the fuck it is you get your doughnuts and let the grown-ups get back to work.”

Mort’s edginess eased as he realized he’d hit a nerve. “Check it again. We’re looking for Crystal and Francie’s records and following wherever they lead us.”

Charlie held up a spread-out hand. “Stop right there. Tillwater and Michael. Both dead. I get the connection. Explain to me how that leads you to…what’d you say the name was? Darby somebody?”

“Delbe Jensen.” Mort gave her approximate age to Greg. “I don’t have to explain anything, Charlie. Call that attorney of yours and ask him.”

Charlie’s jaw was churning again. He nodded a reluctant approval and Greg entered the data. Micki and Lydia leaned in.

Greg clicked past the entry page to Delbe Jensen’s account. Her first loan coincided with the timeline Lydia had shared. The payment record jibed with the monthly checks Delbe’s mother complained about writing for her daughter. With interest, fees, extensions, and additional loans, Delbe’s initial debt of $650 had grown to a staggering $9,018.36.

“What kind of person lends that kind of money to a pancake house waitress?” Mort asked.

Charlie addressed his question to Greg. “She current?” He nodded. Charlie was smug when he answered Mort. “Who turns that kind of profit on a $650 investment? A pretty damned good business pro, I’d say.” He looked at the three of them. “We done here? This fishing expedition leading anywhere else? ’Cause I gotta tell you, expensive or not, I’m thinking I need to get my attorney down here.” He focused on Lydia. “I’m sure he’d have all kinds of questions for the shrink turned policeman’s helper.”

An electric surge stabbed behind the bridge of Mort’s nose. “We’re done for now.” He saw Greg Dystra throw Lydia an odd look before he grabbed the laptop and bolted from the room.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t see you out,” Charlie said. “Next time you guys want to go fishing in my pond, bring snacks and beer.”

Mort, Micki, and Lydia left his office and made their way out of Rite Now Finance. Esther didn’t lift her head from her paperwork as they said their goodbyes. Back in the Subaru, Lydia and Micki belted themselves in as Mort settled behind the steering wheel.

He turned the key in the ignition and glanced into the rearview mirror to the two women in the backseat. “Another day, another brick wall.”

Lydia looked at Micki before leaning forward. “That’s not so.”

A faint breeze of hope tickled the hair on the back of Mort’s neck. “What?”

“The entry pages,” Lydia said. “Every time a computer record gets accessed, the date is recorded.”

“And?”

“Crystal Tillwater’s and Francie Michael’s records shared an access date. That’s common. Systems are usually set to update entire databases uniformly.” Lydia again looked to Micki. “But there were two Francie Michaels, remember? We saw their entry pages. The two Francies had different access dates. And when you asked to see Delbe Jensen’s record, her entry page had the same access date as the Francie Michael who
wasn’t
our murder victim.”

Mort took a moment to consider. “So the Francie Michael we’re not investigating and Delbe Jensen showed the date when the system routinely updates. Do I have that right?”

“You do,” Lydia said. “And the two murder victims Charlie Fellow
knew
we were investigating had been accessed at another time.”

“When was that?” Mort asked.

“Yesterday,” Lydia said.