Sleight of Hand: A Novel of Suspense (Dana Cutler) (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Nikolai Orlansky put up Gregor Karpinski’s bail as a reward for beating up Barry Lester. A few nights after getting out of jail, Gregor showered, shaved, and dressed in his flashiest clothes. Then he headed for The Scene in College Park, Maryland, a nightclub owned by Orlansky that catered to the students at the University of Maryland. Orlansky used it to launder money, and Gregor worked as a bouncer at the club on the weekends. During the week, he tried his luck with the college girls who frequented the bar. Nikolai gave Gregor permission to screw these girls as long as the sex was consensual. Nikolai did not want the club getting any bad publicity, so rape and roofies were a no-no. Gregor followed Orlansky’s rules scrupulously, ever since he had been forced to watch Nikolai use a scalpel, pliers, and a power drill on a colleague who had raped a coed he had picked up at the club. The girl had been paid off, the incident had been hushed up, and the fish off the coast had been treated to a multi-course meal.

When Gregor got to the club he headed for a booth on a platform elevated above the main floor that was reserved for members of Orlansky’s crew. The booth gave its occupants a good view of the dance floor and bar so they could spot trouble before it went too far. It was also a good place to scope out pussy. Gregor started up the stairs to join his friends when his cell phone vibrated.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Meet me in the parking lot. I’m in the back row by the fence.”

Gregor wondered what Charlie Benedict wanted from him, but he had made out okay whenever Nikolai told him to do something for the lawyer.

Gregor looked for Benedict’s Mercedes in the back of the lot, but he didn’t see it. Then the headlights on a dull-brown Ford came on, blinked twice, then went dead. Gregor walked to the driver’s side. The window was rolled down and Benedict was sitting behind the wheel, wearing a hooded sweatshirt. He grinned.

“Good to see you’re out, Gregor. Hop in.”

Benedict reached across and opened the passenger door. Gregor walked around the car and sat down beside the lawyer. He was curious about the car and the way Benedict was dressed, but he knew better than to ask questions.

“You did great with Lester,” Benedict said. “I told Nikolai that.”

Gregor wasn’t big on idle chatter so he held his tongue. The lawyer would tell him what he wanted when he was ready. Sure enough, Benedict cut to the chase.

“I’ve got a job for you. Are you interested in some easy money?”

“I must hear what you want me to do.”

“I need you to talk to someone, a woman. She’s been asking questions about Barry Lester. I want you to convince her to stop.”

“Nikolai is okay with this?” Gregor asked. Nikolai had made it very clear that members of his crew did not freelance unless they had his permission.

“Of course,” Benedict lied. After his meeting with Tiffany Starr he realized that he would have to act quickly, and there had not been enough time to clear with Orlansky what he wanted done.

“How bad you want the woman hurt?”

“Rough her up enough to scare her. Get sexual. You know, cop a feel, put your hand between her legs and rub a little. Do enough so she gets the idea. Wear a ski mask, black. I want her to fear you. I want you to tell her you’ll come back if she doesn’t back off. Get it?”

“Yes, I see what you want.”

Benedict handed Gregor an envelope stuffed with cash. Gregor noticed that the lawyer was wearing gloves. It was dark but he thought he saw specks of blood on the leather between the thumb and forefinger.

“So, we’re good?” Benedict asked when Gregor was done counting the money.

“Yes, we are good.”

“Okay, the woman’s name and phone number are in the envelope. You make sure she keeps her nose out of the Blair case.”

“How fast do you want me to do this?”

“I need it yesterday, Gregor. She’s already forced me to do something I didn’t want to do.”

Gregor nodded and got out of the car. He looked at his watch and sighed. If he did this tonight he would not have time to get laid, but Benedict said it couldn’t wait. Gregor went to his car, where he would have some privacy. He turned on an untraceable cell phone he used when he was making drug deals for Nikolai and dialed the number Loren Parkhurst had given to Tiffany Starr.

Chapter Forty

Dana headed home after leaving Tiffany Starr’s apartment. She was pulling into her driveway when her phone rang. Dana parked and fished the phone out of her pocket.

“You owe me a dinner, Cutler,” Andy Zipay said.

“I thought this was a freebie.”

“Yeah, the work is. You’re paying for the honor of being in the presence of pure genius.”

“Okay, you get dinner . . . if your info is good.”

“Good? It’s great! I have a contact from the old days who works at an intelligence agency which shall remain nameless. He did an in-depth search using some software from outer space. You couldn’t find out anything about Benedict before he went to college because Charles Benedict didn’t exist until two years before he registered at Dickinson. His admission application to college shows that he never graduated from high school. He has a GED under Benedict.”

“Dickinson is a pretty decent college. How did he get in with a GED?”

“Well, that is interesting. My buddy got into his college file. Benedict had close to perfect scores on his SAT exams. But that wasn’t the most interesting thing my buddy discovered. The year before he got the GED he changed his name legally to Benedict from Richard Molinari, and Richard Molinari’s name came up in a newspaper story about a double murder in Kansas City.”

Dana ate a hasty dinner, then went on her computer and read the story to which Zipay had alluded. Twenty-five years ago, two drug dealers had been tortured and murdered in Kansas City. Their bodies had been found in an abandoned barn in the countryside. The police theorized that they had been killed for the money they were going to pay for cocaine. Richard Molinari had been arrested shortly after the murders but he had been released.

Dana found a few more references to the case but learned nothing new. She was about to try a different approach when the cell phone with the “Loren Parkhurst” number rang.

“Barry Lester is lying,” a man said.

“Who is this?”

“Not on the phone. I must meet you.”

Dana hesitated. Then she asked, “Where?”

The man told her before disconnecting. Dana sat back and thought. Tiffany Starr was the only person connected to the Blair case who had this number, so the man had to have gotten it from Tiffany. Who would she have told? Charles Benedict was a possibility, but the man who called had an accent, possibly Russian. He wanted to meet in an industrial park, which would be deserted at night. That was not a good sign. Still, Dana could not pass up a possible lead, so she collected several weapons and headed out the door.

Dana braked Jake’s Harley, stopping at the curb in front of a vacant lot. She took off her helmet and hooked it on the motorcycle’s handlebars. The lot was in the middle of an industrial park. Darkened warehouses and deserted offices crowded around the rubble-filled space. A cold wind whipped through the empty streets. Dana did not like the setup. Just as she was wondering if she should leave, the headlights on a parked car came on and the car’s engine started. Moments later, a black Cadillac Escalade parked in front of her bike and a man got out.

Dana’s first thought was that he was huge and thick, like a professional wrestler. Then he raised his head and she saw the ski mask. Before Dana could react, Gregor was on her. She kicked at his leg but the blow had no effect. Gregor punched Dana in the chest. Her motorcycle jacket absorbed some of the blow, but it was so strong that she found herself on the ground gasping for air. Gregor pulled her to her feet. When she was standing, he wrapped a thick, gloved hand around her throat and pushed her against the side of the SUV.

“Nice,” he said. His voice was low and sensual, and the sound made Dana’s skin crawl. Then Gregor’s tongue flicked out of the hole in the ski mask and he licked her cheek.

“You are tasting very sweet, very fuckable.”

Dana’s heart surged in her chest. Nightmarish memories of the gang rape flooded her. Gregor’s other hand found its way between Dana’s legs and he began to rub rhythmically.

“This is feeling good, no? You are getting hot. Soon you will be wanting me to fuck you, no?”

Definitely Eastern European, maybe Russian, Dana thought as she slipped her hand behind her back.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered, words she knew her attacker wanted to hear.

“Listen good.” Gregor tightened the grip on Dana’s throat. “You have been asking questions about Barry Lester. This you do not do no more. If you don’t stop putting your nose where it do not belong I will fuck you until you bleed. You understand?”

“Please,” Dana begged.

Gregor grabbed Dana’s crotch hard and she winced.

“You no like pain?
I
like pain. No more questions, understood? No more Blair case for you, understood?”

Gregor loosened the grip on Dana’s throat.

“Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” Dana said.

What Gregor did not understand was Dana’s natural reaction to being accosted sexually. The last four men who had done that to her had died hideously, their bodies chopped in pieces by ax blows.

“If I hear you have not obeyed me, I will come to your house in the middle of the night and I will—”

Gregor stopped making sense as his threat became a high-pitched scream. His hands fell away from Dana and he staggered backward. Dana’s knife was jammed to the hilt in his crotch and she followed him, twisting the blade viciously before pulling it free.

Gregor lurched backward. He was in shock. The pain was unbearable. Dana smashed her fist into Gregor’s nose. She didn’t know if it was the blow itself or the pain that brought him to his knees. She didn’t care. She kicked him in the temple with the steel toe of her boot, then stomped his head against the sidewalk until she was certain that he was unconscious. She was about to land a blow that would finish Gregor when she stopped in mid-strike. She wanted to kill, but the time she’d spent in therapy at the mental hospital saved Gregor Karpinski’s life. The man was not planning to kill her or rape her. He was a messenger sent to scare her, and that crime did not carry a death penalty.

Dana’s chest heaved and she brought her breathing under control. Her attacker’s crotch was damp with blood and she knew he would die if he didn’t get medical help quickly. Dana couldn’t use her own phone because the call could be traced to her. She searched the man’s jacket pocket and found a cell phone. She used it to call for an ambulance.

What should she do next? If she stayed and the man died, she would be out of commission for as long as it took for the DA to decide that her use of force had been justified. She could not afford to be idle. She had to find out who sent her attacker.

What would happen if she left? She was wearing gloves, and the man had not drawn blood, so there would be no prints or DNA to connect her to the scene. If the man died, she would be home free. If he lived, he wasn’t going to give her up. To do that, he would have to confess to attacking her.

Leaving was a no-brainer, so Dana straddled her bike and drove off. When she felt safe she called Frank Santoro.

“Who is this?” the detective asked. His angry tone told Dana that Santoro had been asleep.

“We have to meet right away,” Dana said.

“It’s after midnight. I just fell asleep.”

“Tough. I just escaped being raped by someone connected to Horace Blair’s case.”

Chapter Forty-One

“Come on in,” Santoro said as soon as he opened his front door.

“Do you have any scotch?” Dana asked.

Santoro filled a glass with a little bit of ice and a lot of Johnnie Walker and handed it to Dana. She sat on the sofa in the detective’s living room and downed half of the glass.

“Are you ready to tell me what happened?” Santoro asked.

“Can you promise me you’ll forget you’re a cop?”

Santoro hesitated. Then he nodded

“I might have killed someone tonight.”

Santoro stayed calm. “Might have?”

“He was alive when I left but there was a lot of blood.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what happened?”

“I talked to Tiffany Starr yesterday but she wouldn’t tell me anything. Around eleven I got a call from a man who told me he would prove Barry Lester was lying if I met him at an empty lot in an industrial park. When I got there he threatened to rape me if I didn’t stop investigating the Blair case and Barry Lester.”

“What did you do?”

Dana looked down. Now that the adrenaline had worn off she felt sick about what had happened.

“Dana?”

“I stabbed him in the crotch.”

“Holy shit!”

Dana’s head snapped up and she looked fierce. “I did what I had to do to save myself, and I’d do it again. It was a clear case of self-defense, but I would have been answering questions and put on ice for who knows how long if I’d stayed, and I can’t afford that.”

“So you just left him to die?”

“No. The man was just a messenger. I called 911, but I left before the ambulance arrived, so I don’t know what happened to him.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I have to find out who sent the man who attacked me so I can neutralize the threat.”

Santoro had done some checking on Dana Cutler, including a look at the police file that detailed how Dana had dealt with the bikers who had kidnapped her. There were crime-scene photos in it. Santoro had seen some bad shit over the years, but these photos almost made him lose his lunch. After seeing the photos there was no doubt in Santoro’s mind what Dana meant when she used the word “neutralize.”

“There’s no way I’m going to help you kill someone,” he said. “If that’s where this is going, count me out.”

Dana stared into space for a moment. Then she nodded.

“What can you tell me about your attacker?” Santoro asked.

“He wore a ski mask. I was so anxious to get away that I didn’t take it off, so I can’t tell you what he looks like. But you shouldn’t have any trouble identifying him. The guy is huge. Not fat. Well built, like a heavyweight boxer. And you shouldn’t have any trouble finding him. He’ll be in a hospital or the morgue.”

“Is there anything else you remember? Any scars, tattoos?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s Russian or from somewhere in Eastern Europe.”

“Now,
that
is interesting,” Santoro said. “The odds are that Russian muscle would be connected to Nikolai Orlansky, and Charlie Benedict has represented members of Orlansky’s crew.”

“I’d forgotten that.”

“Yeah, well, you had other things on your mind.”

A sudden thought occurred to Santoro. “Do you think Tiffany Starr might be in danger?”

Dana turned pale. “I’m sure this guy came after me because Tiffany told someone about my visit. The person she talked to is probably the person who told her where Carrie Blair was buried.”

Dana looked worried. “Tiffany is a junkie, and junkies can’t be trusted. If I killed Blair and Tiffany told me a reporter had come around asking questions, getting rid of Tiffany would be my top priority.”

Santoro stood up and walked toward his bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Dana asked.

“I’m getting dressed. We’re going to drive to Starr’s apartment and see if she’s okay.”

Tiffany did not answer her door.

“She’s a stripper. She could be at a club,” Dana said.

“I hope so. Because she could also be dead.”

Dana thought for a moment. “Wait in the stairwell.”

“Why?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Dana had been inside Tiffany’s apartment so she knew it didn’t have an alarm system, and the bolt was pathetic. As soon as Santoro was out of sight, Dana jimmied the lock. Twenty minutes later, Dana was walking downstairs with the detective.

“She’s not in the apartment but I did find an ATM receipt of a recent two-thousand-dollar deposit.”

“A payoff for telling Barry Lester what to tell the cops?”

“Could be.”

“Did you see anything that made you think Starr was in
danger
?”

“There wasn’t any sign of a struggle or blood, if that’s what you mean.”

“Look, Dana, I’ve been thinking. If Nikolai Orlansky sent the guy who attacked you, you’re in a lot of trouble. Orlansky is completely ruthless, he has no conscience. He views killing people as a business strategy.”

“But he wouldn’t know I’m involved. I used a false name when I talked to Starr.”

“Then how did this guy get your number?”

“I gave her a business card identifying ‘Loren Parkhurst’ as a reporter for
Exposed
.”

“Orlansky is smart, Dana. With the lead to
Exposed
he’ll figure it out.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that you leave town for a while. I know how tough you are but it will be next to impossible for you to get to Orlansky, and he can get to you anytime he wants.”

“I’m not going to run. And what about my boyfriend? I’m living with someone I care about. If Orlansky is as ruthless as you say and he can’t find me, he might try to get at me by threatening Jake.”

“Good point, but I think I know a way to protect both of you. Is there any part of this investigation you can do out of town, because I’ll need a little time to see if it works.”

“There’s something I was going to do that would take me away from D.C.”

“Then do it. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come back. It shouldn’t be long.”