LIES OF THE PHOENIX (A Lieutenant Cassidy Mystery Book 1) (19 page)

D
ETECTIVE NORA CASTLE
rushed into Lieutenant Alec Cassidy’s office and stood in front of his desk. Cassidy looked up, but didn’t say a word. She had his attention.

“I have something. Just got off the phone with Lieutenant Kozlow, L.A.P.D. Organized Crime Unit. One of their watch list thugs took a flight out of L.A. and is here in Chicago.”

Cassidy sat forward. “Who is he and what do we know about him?”

“He’s a contract killer. A fixer for the California crime syndicates. His name is Hector Bazarov, a Russian gangster. Kozlow says this one has earned every bit of his body ink and to be careful. He is the
go-to
guy for the crime bosses when there is a mess to clean up. The guy is lethal.

“Do we have a description?”

“We have even better.” She spread five photographs out on the desk. All were candid shots taken by the L.A.P.D. with a telephoto lens. “And look at this,” she pointed to an area on one of the five photographs.

It was a photo of a large powerfully built man sitting at a table in a restaurant with a woman. He held a drink in his right hand and a distinctive scar snaked across the back of his hand.

“Sarah Lawrence’s attacker. Good work, Nora,” Cassidy said as he studied the photographs laid out before him. “Get a BOLO out to all our districts. Make sure they know he is armed and dangerous. He should not be approached without backup.” Cassidy picked up one of the photos and handed it to Nora. “Use this photo when you send out the notice. Send it to Taggert as well.”

Nora nodded and headed for the door. Cassidy reached for the phone and punched in a number. Ben answered immediately.

L
IEUTENANT CASSIDY
AND
Detective Castle secured their bullet proof vests and waited outside the Carpathian Regency Hotel. The lobby and target area of rooms had all been cleared and the SWAT team was assembled for armed advance into the building.

The SWAT commander approached Cassidy. “Lieutenant, my men are in position and all the exits are secured. We’re ready to move on your order.”

Cassidy nodded. “Let’s do it.”

The commander gave the signal and his team jumped into action.

Nora Castle’s heart was beating fast. They had received a report from a patrol unit that a suspect matching Hector Bazarov’s description was seen at the hotel within the last hour. The desk clerk had identified Bazarov’s photo and verified his room registration. Bazarov was believed to be still in his room.

This was their chance to nail him. They had enough evidence to charge him with the attack on Sarah Lawrence and take him off the streets. Once he was in custody, he might give up Jordan Lawrence. This could be the big break in the case they were looking for.

The SWAT team swarmed the lobby and poured up the staircase to Room 214. They took positions on either side of the door. An officer stepped forward with a battering ram and with one swing the door was breeched. Four members of the team armed with automatic weapons rushed into the room.

In less than a minute the SWAT leader emerged from the hotel room and approached Lieutenant Cassidy. “It’s empty. We missed him.” He motioned to his team and they filed out into the hallway.

Cassidy moved through the smashed doorway followed by Nora Castle. Cassidy scanned the room for any evidence of Bazarov’s former presence. The room looked pristine. Everything was neat and orderly as if it was ready for a new guest. The linens on the bed were smooth and undisturbed and the waste baskets were empty. Cassidy moved to the bathroom and it appeared untouched. All of the towels looked fresh and unused. He reached out and touched the towels just to confirm what he saw.

He turned to Nora and said, “He didn’t leave us anything. We’ll have forensics go over this room, but I doubt they will find anything. We’re done here, let’s go.” He headed for the door and Nora had to hurry to keep up.

Cassidy exited the hotel through the lobby and stood on the sidewalk looking up and down the street. As Nora approached he said, “I want a canvas of the businesses around the hotel. Show Bazarov’s photo around. See if he’s been seen walking anywhere, taking public transportation, driving a vehicle, or buying anything. We might get lucky and catch a break. My gut tells me Bazarov is going to move on Jordan Lawrence soon and we need to find him.”

* * * * *

He had slipped down the stairs to the first floor and avoided the lobby by going out a rear door into an alley. He always limited his exchanges with hotel personnel. The more interactions, the more likely the hotel staff would remember his face or notice and remember some other personal detail that could come back to haunt him.

He made a point of never complaining about the room or service. He never talked to the cleaning staff and avoided the front desk whenever possible. If it was necessary to go through the lobby he usually waited for the desk clerk to be distracted by a phone call or another guest. He would pretend to be on a cell call as he walked across the lobby to dodge eye contact and evade the greetings of the desk staff. He dressed well, but never flashy or distinctive. It was best to blend in with the environment. He wanted to look like just another overwhelmed business traveler in Chicago.

Bazarov walked casually out of the alley and down the street to a parking garage. He liked the anonymity and privacy of garage parking. It was far more difficult for the police to find a vehicle secluded inside a building than out on an open street. He was carrying his valise as he always did when he left his room. He never left anything behind.

As he entered the garage he noticed a commotion in front of the hotel. From inside the garage he watched as Police vehicles and a SWAT team began blocking off the street in front of the hotel. An armed unit assembled in front of the building and then silently surged in.

He knew they were looking for him. The close call did not faze him. It just meant that the police had discovered his presence in Chicago. He located his car and drove out of the garage in the opposite direction of the street blockade. A few blocks away he parked and walked to a bus stop.

* * * * *

Nora was back out on the street and had given instructions to several uniformed officers on the neighborhood canvas around the hotel. She was waiting for them to report back. In the meantime, she planned to talk to a few of the locals herself. Their investigation needed to uncover something, anything, that might lead them to Bazarov.

As she walked down the street she stepped off the curb of a short alley that transected the block. She looked down the alley and saw a disheveled looking figure next to a shopping cart that was overflowing with assorted junk and black plastic garbage bags stuffed to bursting. The person was sorting through a dumpster and arranging space for his new finds in his shopping cart.

Nora approached the man slowly trying not to startle him. “Excuse me. I’m looking for someone who has gone missing. Could you help me?”

The man gave her a sideways glance and continued rummaging through the trash in the dumpster. He was in his late fifties, with long scraggily gray hair and a grizzled beard. He had a torn and stained raincoat on despite the warm summer temperatures. Nora looked him over with a critical eye trying to decide if it was worth trying to engage this reluctant street person in conversation.

She decided to give it one more try and approached closer. “Can I talk to you for a minute? I’m a police detective. Maybe you’ve seen who I’m looking for.”

The man stopped digging in the dumpster. He stood there looking at Nora like a deer in the headlights ready to run off any second. She needed to think of something before he took flight.

“There’s a small financial reward if you can provide any information.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. She held it up so he could see the denomination on the bill. He did not run. That was a good sign. “I’d just like you to look at this photo and tell me if you have seen this person.” She held the photo up for him to see.

She was standing within a couple of feet of him now and the smell of garbage, urine, and body odor was overpowering. She turned her head to the side and took a deep breath hoping the air would be less rancid.

The man looked at the photo and said, “24 R.”

“I’m sorry, 24 R? I don’t understand,” Nora said confused.

“Black, 24 R,” he said again and reached for the five dollar bill.

Nora pulled her hand back so that the bill was out of his reach. “You have to explain what you mean, then I’ll give you the money.”

The man stepped back and looked like he was ready to run, but she could see that he was still focused on the money in her hand.

She tried to defuse the situation and calm him down, “My name is Detective Nora Castle. I’m with the Chicago Police. I’m trying to find this man. All I want is information. If you can tell me anything about this man, I’ll be happy to give you the money.”

The man stepped back to his overflowing shopping cart and began digging through it. He pulled out a bottle that had about an ounce of clear fluid splashing around in the bottom. He walked over to Nora and said, “24 R give me.” He held the bottle out to her.

Nora looked at the bottle. It was an almost empty bottle of Russian vodka. “So are you saying the man in this photo gave you this bottle?”

He nodded vigorously, “Da!”

“But, 24 R, black, what do you mean?”

“He give me, and he go. 24 R, black.” He pointed to the street.

She was still confused, but then it came to her. “Do you mean he got into a black vehicle? Is that part of the license plate number you are giving me?”

“Da!” he nodded again and gave her a smile, “24 R, black.” Then he looked with anticipation at the money still in her hand.

“O.K., I will give you the money, but I would like to buy that bottle from you as well. She pulled out a twenty dollar bill. “Will you take this for it?”

He hesitated for a moment reluctant to part with any of his treasures, particularly one that contained at least one more swig of alcohol, but he handed it over and grabbed the two bills from Nora’s hand.

As he reached for the money, the sleeve of his tattered raincoat creeped up his arm. A swirl of tattoos came into view starting at his wrist and winding up his arm ultimately disappearing under the retracted raincoat sleeve. Nora recognized one of them. She had seen it before. In the center of his forearm was the image of a snarling cat. It was similar to the ink that the dead home invader, Vladimir Zykov, had on the top of his foot.

The pieces started to fit together. Bazarov had recognized a down-on-his-luck criminal brother. He gave him a bottle of vodka from the motherland so he could lose himself in drink for a little while. Fortunately for Nora, a bribe of a few dollars had undermined any loyalty that this street person had for his fellow criminal.

She returned to the task at hand. “Thank you. Maybe we can do business again. Would you give me your name?”

“Petrov,” he mumbled.

“O.K., Petrov, what’s the rest of your name.”

“Petrov. Enough.” He held up his hand, turned, and walked away pushing his shopping cart which probably contained all his worldly possessions. The interview was over.

Nora pulled out an evidence bag from her pocket and carefully placed the vodka bottle in it. Then she returned to the street to search out her team to see if they had found anything significant in their canvas of the area. She also asked the local patrol unit to keep an eye out for a black vehicle with a partial plate beginning with 24 R.

N
ORA DROPPED THE
vodka bottle off at the Forensics Lab and returned to the district station. She hoped that Bazarov’s finger prints would be on the bottle. It would mean that her street person, Petrov, actually had contact with Bazarov and that
24 R, black
was a credible lead. The street canvas had turned up nothing additional of value. One business owner said that he thought he recognized Bazarov’s face in the photo, but could offer nothing else.

Patrol officers assigned to the area had told her that Petrov was a neighborhood fixture. He had been living on the streets for the last couple of years and had refused all offers of assistance or referral to social services. The officers were of the opinion that Petrov had psychiatric issues, but he seemed able to care for himself. He didn’t bother anyone and they considered him more or less harmless.

Nora flipped on her computer with the intention of starting to work out the
24 R
,
black
puzzle. She pulled up the license plate registration data base and was about to begin a search when Mark, the office assistant, walked up to her desk.

“Excuse me, Detective Castle. Lieutenant Cassidy says he would like to see you in his office.”

“O.K., thanks Mark.” She started to get up from her desk and then said, “How would you like to do a little research for me?” She knew he was always looking for a chance to escape his usual duties of filing, answering phones, and running errands. The opportunity to contribute to an investigation would be a real treat for him.

Mark’s face lit up at Nora’s offer. “Sure, glad to help,” he said eagerly.

Nora gave him the license plate research to do and then headed for Lieutenant Cassidy’s office. Just as she entered Cassidy’s office the phone on his desk rang and Cassidy answered it. She could only hear one side of the conversation, but she knew it was the Forensics Lab calling.

Cassidy finished the call and then turned his attention to Nora who had taken a seat in front of his desk.

“They were able to match a partial print on the bottom of the vodka bottle to Bazarov. He must have wiped the bottle clean, but missed the bottom. Your street person’s prints were also in the system—Viktor Petrov, a petty thief with a long rap sheet. Were you able to come up with anything as far as that partial plate?”

“Not yet. Mark is doing some research for me now. I’m glad to hear that Petrov didn’t lie about seeing Bazarov to get a few dollars.”

“I want Bazarov’s and Jordan Lawrence’s photos circulated to area car rental agencies, and used car lots. See if anyone remembers them renting or buying a car in the last month. They both need transportation and I don’t think they would chance being caught with a stolen car. Their safest bet would be a cash deal for a used vehicle.”

“I’ll get on it. The reputable dealers won’t be a problem. The sketchier dealers know that their clientele may be avoiding the police so they are all going to have very bad memories. If it was a cash deal they aren’t going to care if the guy gave a cartoon character for a name so the paperwork isn’t going to help.”

“We could get lucky. Vehicles need fuel, they’re hard to hide, have traceable license plates and can be traffic stopped for violations. Bazarov is a big guy, someone might remember him.”

Just then Mark burst into the room unannounced. He was waiving a sheet of paper. “I found it!”

Lieutenant Cassidy and Detective Castle looked up startled by the interruption.

Mark reined in his exuberance. “Sorry. I was just excited about finding the vehicle you were looking for.”

“Let’s see what you have.” Cassidy reached out for the paper and looked it over nodding with approval. He then handed it to Nora. “Good job, Mark. This will help.”

Mark stood there beaming with pride. He had found the registration for a five year old black Buick sedan. The registration was for temporary thirty day tags with a license number beginning with
24 R
. The car had transferred title two weeks ago and was registered to John F. Kennedy.

Nora looked over the printout. “
JFK
? You’ve got to be kidding.”

Cassidy watched as Mark left the office with a new found sense of purpose. When he was out of ear shot he said, “Bazarov is a pro. He will know about our raid on his hotel room. He will cover his tracks and dump the car somewhere, just in case that is how we traced him. Probably did it already.”

Nora felt a pang of defeat. She had to admit she was excited about finding the vagrant and connecting him to Bazarov and the partial
24 R
vehicle plate number. If Bazarov dumped the car, then that information was now a dead end.

Cassidy saw the look of disappointment on Nora’s face. “If we find the vehicle it may still provide us with some evidence. It could connect Bazarov to Kyle Mason’s death.” Then he added, “I want you to continue the canvas on used car dealerships. Bazarov will need some type of transportation even if he dumps this one. These pros leave nothing to chance. He probably has another vehicle stashed somewhere. Same characteristics—used car, cash deal, nothing flashy.”

Mark knocked on the doorjamb of Cassidy’s office. “Excuse me Lieutenant, there’s a call for you from one of the patrol units in the vicinity of hotel raid.”

“Go ahead and put it through, Mark.”

The phone on Cassidy’s desk buzzed and he answered. Cassidy listened to the officer’s report and then said, “O.K., that’s it. Thanks. Bring it in.” He turned to Nora and said, “They found your
R 24
black Buick sedan parked on a side street about a half mile from the hotel. We’ll have Forensics go over it. Maybe they’ll find something.”