Deceptions (2/2) Stella Bonasera, Jessica Angell; PG-13
Title: Deceptions (2/2)
Author: Zelda Ophelia (zeldaophelia
Fandom: CSI:NY
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mild cursing, mention of violence
Prompt: 120.) The truth is too simple: one must always get there by a complicated route. -- George Sand (1804-1876), French novelist, playwright, critic, political writer and feminist.
Summary: A costume ball isn't supposed to end with murder.
Author's Notes: Long enough I had to break it into two to post. Huge thank you to eternal_sadist for betaing. <3
Angell's mouth was curved into a tight frown when she returned to the precinct. Lucas had been useless, insisting that the man at the party had been his boss. It wasn't until she showed him the photographs of the tiny plastic surgery scars that he relented, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face as he sat and ran his finger over the image. Braun had always drawn the line at plastic surgery, he told her. Botox, lip plumpers, waxing--the list of things he'd do to maintain his looks was long, but surgery was out. He'd point to other celebrities who no longer looked like themselves or worse. That was something he'd never do.
Unfortunately, Lucas was unable to pinpoint when the switch had taken place, pointing out how well he'd been fooled. The fake Braun had done too well at the party and at events leading up to it to have just stepped in at those places. He'd known too much about Braun's life, had been able to accurately answer questions and deal with emergencies that cropped up.
Whoever their John Doe was, it had become apparent that he'd been completely immersed in the real Braun's life.
The one person who would know the truth, Braun's head of security, was also the one person no one could find. Hunter Slocombe was "backpacking in the Amazon" for his annual vacation according to Lucas, and they had been unable to reach him since the murder. Apparently, he had refused to bring a satellite phone with him, insisting on remaining totally undisturbed during the only two weeks of vacation he had off for the year.
She had to admit, it was great timing on the murderers' part. Everyone knew Slocombe was one of the best out there, well experienced on both sides of the law. If there was ever a time to make an attempt on Braun's life, it'd be when Slocombe was on another continent, which could explain the stand-in.
Regardless, it was frustrating. Lucas didn't know where the real Braun would be, though he had given her contacts for his employer's various real estate holdings. She wasn't looking forward to an afternoon on the phone, calling around the world trying to track him down. Then again, she wasn't looking forward to an afternoon of reading lawsuits, either.
"Hey, Jess," Flack said, giving her a quick smile as they met on the precinct steps. "You got someone waiting for you in there. She said it had something to do with the Braun case."
"Thanks," she said, returning his grin as she paused. It could be any one of the witnesses from the party the night before, but at this point she'd be willing to take anything she could get.
"How's the case going?" he asked, turning back to the doors with her.
"It's going," she said, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally.
"That's good," he said, quirking his eyebrows. "Listen, I've got to go - the Conrad case. But if you need a fresh set of eyes later-"
"I'll let you know," she said. It was standard with them, hashing out tough cases together to see if the other caught anything they were missing.
"I do still owe you for the help on the Brahams case," he reminded her with another grin, turning back to the steps. "You know where to find me."
It turned out to be Ms. Crenshaw who was waiting for her, sitting at the chair next to her desk and nervously twisting a strand of long blond hair around her finger.
"I can't believe I forgot about this last night," she said as Angell joined her, not giving her time to greet her or even sit down.
"Forgot what?" Angell asked, sitting and opening her notebook. Whatever it was, Ms. Crenshaw thought it was very important for her to know. She seemed smart enough to know whether or not it really was important to the investigation.
"He knew my name."
Angell frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Who knew your name?"
"One of the robbers. I had my cell phone with me, and I tried to get it out to call 9-1-1, but he saw me. I didn't have it hidden well enough, I guess. And when he took it from me, he said, 'I wouldn't do that if I were you, Miss Crenshaw'." She took a deep breath, panic evident on her face. "He knew who I was. But I've never gone to anything like that before, and whenever Michael and I met, it was always privately. He'd send a car to bring me to his place, or if we were at a restaurant we'd eat in a private room, things like that. I'm not rich or famous; I'm a nobody in this town, not like him. No one from his scene had ever met me before. Nobody at the party knew who I was. So how did one of the robbers know?"
"Did his voice seem in any way familiar? Or anything else about him?" Angell asked, keeping her voice steady. While this was huge - Ms. Crenshaw had a connection to one of the thieves in some way, which certainly narrowed down the suspect pool - it was also obvious that the witness was very scared about what this meant for her.
"I- I don't know. I mean, I couldn't tell, but maybe it could have been? I'm not certain." She was fiddling with her purse strap now, looping it around her palm several times as she answered. "I don't think I know him, but how did he know me? So maybe I do but just didn't recognize him?" She looked up at Angell, her eyes wide with fear and concern. "He- he isn't going to come after me now, is he?"
"It's unlikely," Angell said carefully, "considering he didn't harm you last night. But I do think it would be advisable for you to stay with friends tonight if possible. Or I could make arrangements for you to stay in a safe house."
"I have a friend from work who is staying with me right now. I called her last night and asked her to come over - I didn't want to be alone."
"Good. You might want to stay at her place for the next few nights - in case he knows your address as well as your name. I'll make arrangements to step up patrol in her neighborhood, too."
"Thanks." She gave Angell an uneasy smile.
"Do you know anyone personally who has anything against Mr. Braun?" Angell asked, pushing her dark hair back over her shoulder as she looked over her notes.
"No! And that's what I don't I don't understand, how someone who was out to get Michael knew me. The Board of Directors at my workplace don't have any idea who I am, and they're the ones who put the drawing together. I doubt any of them would recognize me in a crowd. And no one I work with, unless it was my boss, would call me Miss Crenshaw. Most people just call me Annalee."
"What about people you don't work with that you see regularly--neighbors in your building, people who shop at the same stores as you?"
"I don't really know any of them well enough. If I do introduce myself to any of them it's as Annalee, I don't mention my last name. It--," she shrugged. "It just seems too formal for a passing relationship, you know?"
Angell smiled. "I understand. I know most of my neighbors' first names, but not their last." She stood, holding out her hand to the other woman. "Let me know if you think of anything else, or if you need anything."
"Thank you." Ms. Crenshaw stood with Angell, holding her purse strap tightly as she slung it over her shoulder. "This helps, right?" she asked uncertainly.
"Yes, it helps."
::
Kendall's report on the soil found at the crime scene revealed that, unfortunately, it was fairly ubiquitous across New York City. It was even less help than the contact, from which the lab tech had been able to read the prescription. Unfortunately both the prescription and the contact itself were standard enough that they were going to need names and court orders to get much further. With luck, there would be DNA matches to provide them with names. Jane's lab was almost as busy as the crime lab was, but the DNA profile from the contact had finally been sent for them to search. The tissue would have to come later.
Stella looked up from her equipment when the door to the lab opened. Angell stepped inside, pausing in the doorway as she said something to Hawkes out in the hall.
"Did the assistant have anything?" she asked after the door closed behind Angell.
"No. It was as much of a surprise to him as it was to us. And he couldn't say when Braun may have started using the double, just that the guy was good enough to convince him he was the real thing."
"So, we're back to square one there." Stella frowned, checking her computer again. It still hadn't come up with a match.
"Well," Angell said, grinning at her, "I did have an interesting visitor when I got back to the precinct."
"A visitor?" Stella looked up. "Who?"
"Annalee Crenshaw." Angell pulled one of the stools over and sat down as she launched into an explanation of Ms. Crenshaw's visit.
"So he knew who she was?"
"And like she said, she's not a part of Braun's scene. Considering that the other parties in the lawsuits against him are, it makes you wonder if those really are related to the motive," Angell said.
Stella turned back to her computer when it finally beeped, signaling a match. "Why don't we ask?" she said, holding the print off out to Angell.
The owner of the contact lens found at the scene was one Andrew Trumball, an ex-con who'd gotten his start in Philadelphia. He'd had the misfortune of having committed his crime in Pennsylvania, a state in which all convicted felons had their DNA entered into CODIS. Bad break for him, lucky strike for them. A few more keystrokes and Stella had nearly his entire history on her computer screen: after his time in Mahanoy prison in Pennsylvania, he had decided to take his act to New York, which landed him ten years in Woodbourne for manslaughter, ending ten months ago.
Angell had hopped off her stool, coming around to look over Stella's shoulder as she read through his history. "I'll call his parole officer and see where we can find him," she offered as she pulled out her phone.
Stella nodded, spotting Sid in the hallway as Angell spoke. Catching his attention, she waved him in. "You have our John Doe's face for us?" she asked hopefully.
"Yes, yes, I do. And his name. Meet Mr. John Doe," he said as he handed the facial reconstruction to her.
The victim down in the morgue did bear a striking resemblance to Michael Braun, but there were significant differences. His nose was wider, his cheekbones a bit lower, his jaw not as strong. "Do know his name?"
"I believe that is your department," Sid said.
Stella nodded, scanning the picture so that it could be compared to the facial recognition database.
Angell joined them as he spoke, putting her phone away. "Trumball has missed his last two appointments with his parole officer. I've put a warrant out, and he's sending a list of his usual hangouts. Is that our dead guy?"
"Yes, and we have a name. Howard Denis. His wife reported him missing six weeks ago, then - and this is interesting - retracted a few days later, saying that he'd been in contact with the family."
The three of them looked over the record of information the search had brought up. Howard Denis was a resident of Queens, a CPA who was heavily active in his local church and several charities. It was worlds apart from Braun's life, and, briefly, Stella wondered just how he came to be Braun's double. Something told her it wasn't by answering an ad in the newspaper.
"He's not the type you'd expect to end up like this," Angell said, voicing Stella's thoughts. "He has a wife and two kids? How does he cut himself off from his family like that? You know, if anything, I was expecting a single guy with no close relatives, not someone with a family."
"I'm not certain he was thinking about that," Sid said. "His wife did report him missing - he may not have told her what he was up to."
"Not at first, at least," Stella said, tapping her pen against the computer screen. "But he did get back in touch with them. I want to know what he told her that made her drop the missing persons report."
"So do I," Angell said as she wrote down the family's address. "What do you say we go find out?"
::
The Denis family lived on a quiet street in Linden Hill, in a blue two-story house with a postage-stamp lawn surrounded by others cut from the same mold. It reminded Angell of the neighborhood she'd grown up in, running wild on hot summer nights and playing baseball in the street during block parties. She wondered, as she pulled the car to a stop in front of the house, if this neighborhood was as close as that one. This family was going to need that kind of support.
The front door opened even before they made it up the walk, a woman coming out to meet them after shooing two small children back inside. "Mrs. Denis?" Angell asked, holding up her shield as she spoke. "We have a few questions about your husband, ma'am."
"I told you cops before," the woman said in an agitated voice, "I was wrong. My husband isn't missing."
"We know, ma'am," Stella said quietly from where she stood next to Angell. "We've found him."
"What?" Her eyes grew wide as she realized the implication of Stella's statement. "No. No. He's not dead. He can't be dead. Howard may have been sick, but he was going to come home before it got worse, he promised."
Angell stepped forward as the woman seemed to wobble before them, helping her to the front porch to sit down. She debated suggesting they go inside, but the two small faces peering out the window dissuaded her - they didn't need to hear this. "Ma'am, what can you tell us about your husband's disappearance?" she asked as she took a seat in the other wicker chair, Stella leaning against the porch railing in front of them
"Not much. He-" She took a deep breath, twisting her wedding ring around her finger as she continued. "Howard was sick. Bone cancer. It- it was one of those things where he didn't feel bad, just not quite right. More aches and pains than usual. It was the fourth trip to the GP, after his hip had really started hurting and he'd lost some weight, that it was diagnosed. By then it had already metastasized in his lungs. The doctor gave him something for the leg pain and told him to get his affairs in order. It- It was a blow to all of us."
"How did your husband react?" Stella asked.
"Depression." Mrs. Denis looked up at her, sadness etched on her face. "Howard didn't take it well. He took leave from his job, spent more time here at home with me and the boys, but it wasn't enough. He just drew into himself, pulled away from everyone else. He started going into the city more, 'just riding around on the trains and watching people,' he said. Then one day he didn't come home. When he didn't come home the next, either, that was when I called the police."
"When you retracted your report, you said that he had been in contact," Angell said. "How? Did he call? Come by?"
"He sent money," she said quietly, looking down at her hands. "Every week, once a week, but always a different day, I'd wake up to find an envelope of cash shoved through the mail slot. The first time, he included a note that he had a new job and not to worry about him."
"Why didn't you mention this when you retracted your report?" Angell schooled her face to remain neutral, but inwardly she was frowning. This was the type of thing most missing persons units advised family members to report.
"It's-" Mrs. Denis sighed and scrubbed a tear from her cheek. "-each week, it was more money than he made in a month with his regular job. I was scared that he'd gotten himself into something illegal. I didn't want him to get into trouble, I just wanted him to come home. I thought he would, whenever this was over."
Stella spoke up next. "Did his messages ever contain anything that suggested what he was doing?"
"No. Only the first envelope actually contained a note from him. The rest were just money, no messages."
"Did you ever see who left them?" Stella asked next.
"No. It always happened after I went to bed. I even stayed up a few nights, with all of the lights out, but it never happened those nights. It was like he knew that I was waiting for him."
"Do you still have the money or the envelopes?"
"No. I took the money to the bank--I didn't want that kind of cash around here. And I probably threw away the envelopes. I didn't have any reason to keep them." Mrs. Denis looked at Stella with wide eyes. "He really was involved in something illegal, wasn't he? That's how he died? Not the cancer?"
"Ma'am," Angell said, picking her next words carefully, "your husband was employed as a body double for Michael Braun. He passed away last night, shot during a robbery."
"I read about that," she said with wide eyes that were beginning to tear up again. "I had no idea that was Howard. We would tease him sometimes," she said, chuckling softly, "over how much he looked like Michael Braun. We went to eat at Porter House once, for our anniversary. The entire meal was comped because they thought he was Braun. But why was he at that party instead of the real Michael Braun?"
"We believe it has to do with some threats against Mr. Braun," Stella explained. "He had his share of enemies, and that party was very high profile. If someone was out to kill him, they'd know that he'd be there."
"So he sent Howard instead."
"Ma'am, your husband would have gone into this knowing he would be mistaken for Mr. Braun. He would have known the dangers."
"I guessed that much. But why? Why would Howard do this to us?" she asked, thrusting her hand out to motion to the house and her boys. "Why would he spend the last of his time with some fancy-pants playboy instead of his family? Yeah, we have medical bills to deal with, but we don't need the money, not that badly. I'd rather have had him with us than that money."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Denis, I'm afraid we don't have the answer to that," Angell said quietly. Who knew what had motivated Howard Denis to become Braun's stand-in? She had been hoping his wife would, but it appeared this was as much a surprise to her as it had been to them this morning.
"The old Howard never would have done this, but after his diagnosis, he just changed. He wasn't the Howard I married anymore. I couldn't understand it. I tried to be there for him. I knew that what he was going through couldn't be easy." She shook her head sadly, looking down at her hands again. "I feel like I failed him."
"We're sorry for your loss, Mrs. Denis," Angell said, handing her a card. "If you think of anything else about your husband's disappearance, please let us know."
She nodded, taking the card as she stood and walked to the door. "I need to tell my sons," she said quietly.
"Do you have any family nearby?" Stella asked.
"My parents live in Whitestone. I'll call them," Mrs. Denis said before going back inside, closing the door firmly behind her.
"Thermal imaging," Stella said as they returned to the car.
Angell frowned at her, crinkling her face. "Huh? You lost me there."
"Braun had plenty of money, and Slocombe knows all the tricks. If Braun hired Howard Denis to be his replacement, he would have been a part of his security detail. Slocombe could have easily arranged for whoever was dropping off the money to have thermal imaging technology with them. They would have been able to tell that Mrs. Denis was waiting by the door and not upstairs in bed."
"Yeah, but what I don't understand is why all the secrecy? Why go to all that trouble?" Angell asked, waving her hand back at the house before opening her car door. "Why didn't Braun tell his wife who he was working for? Or, even if he didn't tell her who he was working for, what he was doing? And why deliver the money at night? She may have been able to recognize Braun on sight, but probably not one of his body guards or whatever employee it was that made the drops." Angell shook her head as she started the car. "This whole thing seems fishy to me. There's more to this than just Braun wanting a double to take his place at events."
"Do you think Braun was behind this? All of it?" Stella asked, the look on her face suggesting that she was considering it, too.
"I don't know, but I'm beginning to think it's a possibility. I'd sure like to ask him about it if we could find him. Or Slocombe--he would have known about this." She turned onto a busier street, keeping an eye on the road as she drove. "But it certainly puts at least one witness' comment in a new light."
Stella nodded. It may have seemed unlikely at the time, but more and more was pointing to Braun's involvement. They had more questions than answers now, but they'd find the truth. Evidence never lied.
::
They were just pulling into the lab's parking garage when Angell's phone rang. She answered, eyebrows rising as she listened. "Thanks," she said before hanging up. "We found Trumball."
"Good. Where?"
"Warehouse by the river. Unfortunately, he isn't going to be able to tell us anything. He's dead."
"Of course," Stella said with a sigh, but then she looked back to Angell, a sly look crossing her face. "He might not be able to tell you anything, but I'm expecting to at least get something out of him."
"I'm counting on it."
The body had been found in an old warehouse, a dilapidated building that these days mostly just served to offer meager shelter to those who didn't have a place to call home. Stella grabbed her kit from the back, thankful she'd thought to grab it before visiting the Denis family. Hauling it into the old warehouse, she spotted the body laid out on the concrete floor. Stepping closer, she could see how battered and bruised it was. He'd clearly been in a fight prior to his death. And it looked like he hadn't been the winner.
"That doesn't look good," Angell said next to her, gesturing to his decidedly off-kilter nose. "Broken, you think?"
"Sid would be able to tell us," Stella said, kneeling next to the body as she snapped some pictures of him. "But it looks likely. He was in a helluva fight."
"And killed execution-style, bullet to the forehead. He pissed someone off." Angell crouched down near his head, pointing at the wound but being careful not to touch with her ungloved hands. "His face has been on the news since we got the DNA results before lunch. Think his partners had something to do with this?" She looked up and grinned when Stella handed an extra set to her. "Thanks; the box I keep in the car has run out."
"No problem. I'd say it's a good possibility. He became a liability in an otherwise well planned crime," she said as she lifted one of his hands. The knuckles were bruised and cracked, suggesting he'd fought back against his attacker, and here was residue under his fingernails. She carefully bagged his hands before moving to check around the body. Whoever killed him had been much more careful here than at their previous scenes. While there was a fine layer of dust on the warehouse floor, it had been swept away around the body and between the door and the body. Someone knew better than to leave shoe treads behind. "How'd we find him?"
"That's the interesting part," Angell said, shooting Stella a sly look. "Seems someone came by looking for a way to get out of the cold and found him. He was understandably reluctant to leave his name."
"Sounds plausible," Stella mused from where she was bagging a casing.
"Only there aren't any payphones in the area like he said he was calling from. And if you track the number, it's not a pay phone at all but a cell phone. A throwaway cell phone." Angell nodded at Stella's raised brow. "Now that we have the number, we're pulling the LUDs on it. My guess is someone thought a prepaid cell was safe enough to use for the call, since they couldn't find any payphones in the area. They didn't think we could track who they have been calling once we got the number. We may not know who bought the phone, but we can find out who they've been talking to."
"His own partners killed him and led us to his body. They're hoping that this is enough to satisfy us," Stella said as she stood, brushing her hands on her slacks. "It's like they want us to close the case with one dead criminal and drop the ball on the rest of them."
"Yeah." Angell shook her head, looking down at Trumball. "I don't think they're going to get what they want. This is two dead now; that's only going to make me look harder."
"Me, too," Stella said as she turned in a slow circle, looking around the warehouse. "Here's what I don't get: why sweep the floor but leave potential DNA evidence under his fingernails? Why kill the one person we could connect to the crime but call it in using a personal phone?"
"It's as if whoever is behind this knows a bit about how a police investigation works, but not enough," Angell said.
"Just enough to slow us down, not enough to completely stymie us." Stella tried to look and feel positive as she picked up her kit and waved Sid's assistant over. "We'll find them. It may take a little longer, but we'll find them."
"Let's just hope we do so before half their crew gets killed off. I want them behind bars, not in the morgue."
Stella's phone rang before she could reply, the shrill tone echoing through the empty building. "Bonasera." She nodded a few times as she listened to the caller, brushing her hair from her face as they explained something. Finally, she hung up, turning back to Angell. "That was Kendall. The DNA from the tissue in the car is a match to Lester Grimes."
"Lester Grimes?" Angell asked, a contemplative look on her face. "I know that name."
"He was Trumball's cellmate in Mahanoy Prison." Stella said, nodding at Angell. "It would appear that they kept in touch."
"Makes sense that they'd end up on a crew together." Angell quickly wrote something in her notebook before continuing, "I'll pull their full prison records, see who visited them, who they spent time with, see if anyone sticks out. We might be able to pull a few more potential names for their crew that way. And I have an appointment with Trumball's parole officer later today. We may have found Trumball, but he might be able to help with more known contacts."
::
It was late afternoon when Angell returned to the lab, a few more answers in her notebook and a lot more questions on her mind. Stella was waiting in her office, looking like she had even fewer answers.
"What'd Trumball have to tell you?" she asked, flopping into a chair and stretching. Her back was protesting all the time she'd spent in the car.
"Not much. Hopefully he'll have more for Sid," Stella said, shaking her head. "The casing was a dead end. How about his parole officer?"
"He happens to also be Grimes' parole officer and says the two men kept up after leaving prison. They're living in the same halfway house and both got jobs as mechanics. He'd been hoping their friendship could help keep the both of them on the straight and narrow, but they've both been missing their meetings lately."
"Mechanics?" Stella asked, frowning as she dug through the stacks on her desk. It was just there; she'd just seen it.
"Yeah, at Flushing Body Shop."
"Whose owner is well known to the auto theft team for his proclivity to purchase stolen parts," Stella said, catching her eye. "And rumor has it that his criminal tendencies don't stop there. Guess who our prepaid cell phone called multiple times? Including last night, right after a certain party?"
"Telling him where to find the SUV. 'Bout time we got a break," Angell said with a relieved grin. "I'm supposed to be going out with my sister-in-law tonight. They're visiting from out of state, and, of course, we catch the case that won't end. Why don't we take a ride and see where this lead takes us?"
Flushing Body Shop was still open for business when they arrived, the bays all filled with cars and trucks getting taken apart and put back together by various mechanics. Tommie Boyer, the owner, recognized them as cops almost immediately.
"Ladies, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked, stepping forward with his arms open.
"Michael Braun," Angell said. "We have a few questions for you about his death."
"Braun? You think I killed Braun?" He started shaking his head. "Trust me, I've tangled with your crew in my days, but murder was never my thing."
"But your crew happily stripped the murder vehicle for parts," Stella said.
"Nah, we don't do that thing here. That'd just be asking for you guys to be poking in daily."
"Uh-huh. Tell us about Andrew Trumball and Lester Grimes," Angell said.
He shrugged. "What's there to tell? They used to work here."
"Used to?" Stella asked.
"They don't show up for work, they don't have a job."
"That easily? They don't show up and they're fired? No second chances?"
"Lady, the guys who work here all come from the same place. This is their second chance. And they know that if they don't show without calling in, they don't have a job. And believe me, I wish it wasn't so. They're both good mechanics."
"Were, or at least Trumball was," Stella said, handing him a picture from the second crime scene. "Have you heard anything from Grimes today?"
"Shit, they got Andy?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Damn."
"What do you know?"
"A guy, an old friend who knows I don't do that stuff no more. But he still stops by, asking if I know anyone who can do a job. I tell him no and to get the hell out of here. I'm staying out of that game. But he's talking loud and all, you know, like he didn't think I wouldn't notice Andy and Les following him out, asking questions and getting his number. Sonuvabitch."
"Your old friend have a name?" Angell asked, taking out her notebook.
"Yeah. Denny Clark." He shook his head. "Here's what I don't get. He used to be in that stuff, but he got out. Got a fancy job working for some guy named Slocombe in security. So what's he doing coming around here talking about putting together a crew?"
"Slocombe," Angell said. "As in Hunter Slocombe?"
"I dunno, could be. I wasn't asking."
"You got a call last night from one of them. About an SUV?"
He raised an eyebrow but answered the question. "And I said no before they even told me the address. Like I said-"
"You don't do that anymore," Stella finished for him, rolling her eyes when he flashed her a bright grin. "Do you have any idea where Lester or Clark would be?"
"You actually think they'd tell me that? And I was beginning to think you were smart."
"Cute. Do you or not?"
"No. But if you see Lester," he said, turning to one of the bays where a mechanic was waving him over, "tell him he's fired."
"Nice guy," Stella said as they returned to the car.
"Yeah," Angell said, staring out the windshield as she thought. "You know what I think? I think the robber knew Annalee's name because he knew who she was. I think he knew who she was because he worked for Braun and Slocombe."
"You think Braun's behind it?" Stella asked for the second time that day.
"Yeah, I'm beginning to think I do. You?"
"I think we need to talk to Slocombe. And for some crazy reason, I'm thinking he's not down in the Amazon right now."
"Me neither."
She pulled the car out onto the street, heading for Slocombe's Upper West Side townhome. According to the file, which Stella read aloud to her as she drove, Slocombe kept a room in Braun's home and spent most of his time there. But they and other officers had been in and out of Braun's since the murder, and if Slocombe was hiding away, that was where he could be.
They were five minutes away when the call came over the radio: shots fired at an address that was very familiar to them both. Angell flipped on the lights.
"You don't think-" Stella started, stopping as Angell took a tight turn.
"I think someone's plan is falling apart," Angell said, turning again and pulling to a screeching stop in front of the townhouse. "And they're not too happy about it."
Neither bothered to knock, identifying themselves as cops as they entered the home. The entry was empty, but voices could be heard down the hall. There was shouting, and another shot was heard just before someone came running their direction, looking back over his shoulder. Angell quickly recognized Grimes, grabbing him by the wrist and using his momentum to propel him into the wall. He was still a bit stunned as she clicked her cuffs around his wrists and handed him off to one of the uniforms who'd joined them.
Stella continued down the hall, keeping an eye on the closed door in front of her. She paused when she reached it, listening to the voices from the other side as she waited for the officers and Angell to get in position. When the other detective nodded, she pushed through the door.
"NYPD! Drop your weapons, hands in the air!"
There were several men in the room, none of whom was the man she and Angell were actually expecting to find. Michael Braun quickly raised one hand, using the other to point at Lucas.
"It's about time! I think he's gone crazy!" He quickly shut up when Lucas turned back to him, gun still in hand. Next to him, another man who fit the description of Denny Clark took a step back.
"Mr. Lucas, put the gun down," Angell said to her left.
The gun wavered but didn't drop. "They used me," Lucas said furiously. "Clark--" He gestured with a tick of the gun, a move that had both Stella and Angell taking a step forward, but there wasn't a clean shot as he continued speaking. "--showed me the will. I was supposed to inherit a small fortune. That was the only thing that made working for this--" The gun moved back to point at Braun. "--bastard worth it. It was his idea, the robbery at the party, the murder. He said Michael deserved it, we'd split the money from the robbery. Michael wasn't going to get away this time, not from the lawsuits and the IRS investigation, and he'd just drag us down with him. But if he died, all that would disappear. They just forgot to let me in on their little secret that it wasn't actually Michael who'd be dying."
He glanced over at Angell, turning ever so slightly so his back was to Stella. "Thank you, detective, for telling me the truth. It was time someone did. And it's time that someone finally did the rest of the world a favor and-" He broke off with a gurgle, dropping to the floor after Stella hit him on the back of the head.
"Did the world a favor and got him to shut up!" Braun said in a pleased voice, stepping towards them. He quickly backed up when Angell turned her service weapon in his direction. "Whoa, whoa, I'm not the criminal here!"
Angell shook her head. "That has yet to be determined," she said as she and the officers with them cuffed Braun and the other men in the room.
"I'm an innocent victim! I am a guest of Hunter Slocombe, house-sitting his home while he's on vacation. That madman is raving about who knows what."
"Something tells me you've never housesit a day in your life," Stella said, rolling her eyes as she pulled Lucas to his feet.
"I have no idea what's going on here! He just burst in and started waving a gun about-"
"Save it for your lawyer," Angell said. "You know, the one who's trying to save your ass from those lawsuits. I'm sure he'll love this development."
"Actually, I think he'll have to get a different lawyer for criminal charges. Those corporate sharks usually don't touch stuff like this," Stella pointed out as they herded the group down the hall into the entry.
The front door opened as they reached the end of the hall, a dirty and battered bag preceding a dirty and tired-looking Hunter Slocome as he came in. The bag--and his jaw--dropped as he found himself staring down several annoyed-looking and well-armed cops.
"What the hell?"
"Mr. Slocombe," Angell said slowly, pulling out a zipcuff, "you're under arrest."
"What for?"
"Ruining my day off."
::
"You're shitting us," Maka said with a laugh, flipping her empty shot glass over as she set it back on the table.
Stella shook her head as she waved for another round. "Nope. That's exactly what she said."
"Damn straight," Angell said, draining her beer. "I missed out on going out with Emily and some old friends. First time my brother and sister-in-law have been back in the city in almost a year, and those idiots go and ruin my chance to spend time with them."
"So Braun and Slocombe were behind it?" Lindsay asked.
"Slocome wasn't; we had to let him go."
"His alibi was pretty airtight, since he'd just gotten off a plane from Iquitos, Peru," Angell said. "But the rest of it was all Braun."
"Which explains the sloppiness. Slocombe's an ex-cop. He would have known better than to leave potential DNA evidence behind," Stella added.
"He would have known better than to get involved in that mess in general," Maka added, shaking her head. "Did Braun really believe you'd fall for the fake?"
"He actually thought we had no way of knowing that Howard Denis had undergone plastic surgery to look like him."
"He did, helpfully, go so far as to have his dental records replaced by Denis'," Angell pointed out with a slight laugh, "but since his DNA and prints weren't on record anywhere, he was certain that's all he'd need."
"Oh, my god," Lindsay said incredulously. "It's like the criminals keep getting stupider. He was really that certain he was going to lose the lawsuits?"
"I don't think he was so much worried about the lawsuits as the IRS investigation," Stella said, picking up her beer. "Apparently, Michael Braun had been cheating a lot of people, including the federal government. The amount of back taxes he owes is in the millions."
"And it seems his bank accounts aren't as flush as everyone was led to believe they were. In fact, that bicycle charity of his? Totally bogus. The money from that fundraiser was being channeled directly into a Swiss bank account for him."
"Wait," Lindsay said, sitting up. "I've heard of that charity before. Weren't there some celebrities doing that? I mean, legitimate celebrities, not people like Braun who happened to be rich and in the news."
"Yeah, there are," Stella said, "just not any connected to Braun."
"Meaning everyone at that party had probably heard of a similar program and thought their money was going there." Maka sighed, pushing her shot glass around on the table. "There's a special place in hell for people who cheat charities and the needy like that."
"Oh, and there's going to be a special place in Riverview for him, too," Angell said.
"Okay," Lindsey said slowly, pushing her glass aside as she leaned in, "let me see if I'm getting this right. Braun took advantage of Slocombe being gone to plan this mess by getting Denis hired to replace him-"
"Slocombe knew that when he was out of the country would be prime time for any of Braun's numerous enemies to try to kill him, so he agreed that a double would be prudent," Angell explained, glancing at her empty glass, trying to decide if she wanted another refill. It'd probably be best if she didn't. She had to work in the morning, and showing up with a hangover would just be inviting Flack to tease her.
"Then he gets Slocombe's assistant, Clark, to help him put together a robbery crew."
Stella nodded. "Clark didn't tell them the plan, either or at least that the plan involved killing Braun's double. They didn't even know there was a double or that Braun was a part of the plan, either, until it was over. All they had been told was they were going to rob the party and split the take."
"And then Clark gets Braun's assistant Lucas involved in planning the murder," Maka said.
"Braun and Clark thought they'd throw us off. Lucas was in charge of planning the event; he knew all of the details. So if we were going to think that someone on the inside was behind it, they figured he'd be the most likely."
Lindsay shook her head. "No wonder he was so upset when Angell asked him about the real Braun. He thought he'd gone to all that trouble of killing his boss, and instead he realizes his boss was setting him up as the fall guy for the fake's murder."
"He gets shown a fake will and agrees to the entire thing. Apparently Braun was as sick of him as he was of Braun," Stella said. "What he didn't know was that Braun had actually set up a trust, and a false identity as the beneficiary once you got past all of the dummy corporations and whatnot. Braun also had a ticket to the Maldives for the next morning. He'd just bought a villa there under the false name."
"I'm guessing the Maldives don't have any extradition treaties with the US."
"No treaties. Even if he had been found out, he would have been sitting pretty on the beach. As long as he didn't travel to the wrong place."
"Damn. All of that to save his bank account, and no regard to the fact that someone died. Even if Denis went into that knowing it was a possibility, Braun knew from the minute he hired him that he'd end up dead," Lindsay said angrily.
"Actually," Angell said quietly, wishing she hadn't decided against another drink, "he knew."
"What?" Maka sat up straight in shock, staring at her and Stella. "Denis knew?"
"It was part of the arrangement," Stella said. "Denis was dying of cancer. He was in a lot of pain, and it was only going to get worse. Eventually, he'd be bedridden. He didn't want that; he didn't want to go out that way."
"So, this was his way of committing suicide?" Lindsay asked, eyes wide. "To be murdered in someone else's place?"
"That's what Braun says," Angell replied. "Whether or not you want to trust him," she added with a shrug, "is up to you. Denis didn't leave any sort of suicide note, so we still don't know what he was thinking with this whole thing. But he did suddenly and unexpectedly leave his family without telling them where he was or what he was doing. And they were getting large sums of money, in cash, dropped in the mailbox once a week."
"Regardless, the ME has ruled his death a homicide," Stella added.
"So his family will still get his insurance."
"Oh, I'm sure his insurance company will try to use Braun's testimony to put an end to that."
"I don't see how they'd get too far," Lindsay said as she stood, pulling some bills from her wallet to set on the table. "If Sid said it was a homicide and there wasn't a note, they have no way of proving it. Just Braun's word, and with him being charged with this--" She shrugged. "I've gotta go. See you in the morning."
"Yeah, I need to go, too," Maka said as she stood. "Walk to the subway with you?"
"Sure."
Stella stood as the other two detectives left. "I should call it a night, as well. You?"
"Need to get home," Angell said, putting some cash out to cover her drinks. "You think Denis'll get away with it? Staging his suicide like a murder for the insurance?"
"I don't know," Stella said. "I'm going to let the insurance company and his family's lawyers hash that one out. We got to the bottom of it, and Braun and his cronies are going to prison."
Angell nodded as they parted ways on the sidewalk, wrapping her jacket more tightly around herself as she turned toward her apartment. She didn't really care what happened with the insurance money herself. Like Stella said, they'd found the truth, which in their line of work was the important part. The rest of it was up to the lawyers.
Her phone rang, startling her from her thoughts. The number on her caller ID was a familiar one, and she couldn't help but grin as she answered. "Hey, Don," she said. "Just heading home. You?"
She nodded at his response, glancing back in the direction of her apartment before turning. "Yeah?" she asked. "We closed the case. How about yours?"
Eyes widening at the response, she crossed the street. "Hey, give me about ten minutes and you can tell me in person."
It was closer than home. And maybe talking his case out would bring it closer to solved, too.
Not to mention that he couldn't tease her if he was just as hung-over or late in the morning as she was. Smirking at that thought, she ducked into a convenience store along the way. Something told her liquid refreshments wouldn't be turned down no matter how late it was.
Previous
Author: Zelda Ophelia (zeldaophelia
Fandom: CSI:NY
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mild cursing, mention of violence
Prompt: 120.) The truth is too simple: one must always get there by a complicated route. -- George Sand (1804-1876), French novelist, playwright, critic, political writer and feminist.
Summary: A costume ball isn't supposed to end with murder.
Author's Notes: Long enough I had to break it into two to post. Huge thank you to eternal_sadist for betaing. <3
Angell's mouth was curved into a tight frown when she returned to the precinct. Lucas had been useless, insisting that the man at the party had been his boss. It wasn't until she showed him the photographs of the tiny plastic surgery scars that he relented, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face as he sat and ran his finger over the image. Braun had always drawn the line at plastic surgery, he told her. Botox, lip plumpers, waxing--the list of things he'd do to maintain his looks was long, but surgery was out. He'd point to other celebrities who no longer looked like themselves or worse. That was something he'd never do.
Unfortunately, Lucas was unable to pinpoint when the switch had taken place, pointing out how well he'd been fooled. The fake Braun had done too well at the party and at events leading up to it to have just stepped in at those places. He'd known too much about Braun's life, had been able to accurately answer questions and deal with emergencies that cropped up.
Whoever their John Doe was, it had become apparent that he'd been completely immersed in the real Braun's life.
The one person who would know the truth, Braun's head of security, was also the one person no one could find. Hunter Slocombe was "backpacking in the Amazon" for his annual vacation according to Lucas, and they had been unable to reach him since the murder. Apparently, he had refused to bring a satellite phone with him, insisting on remaining totally undisturbed during the only two weeks of vacation he had off for the year.
She had to admit, it was great timing on the murderers' part. Everyone knew Slocombe was one of the best out there, well experienced on both sides of the law. If there was ever a time to make an attempt on Braun's life, it'd be when Slocombe was on another continent, which could explain the stand-in.
Regardless, it was frustrating. Lucas didn't know where the real Braun would be, though he had given her contacts for his employer's various real estate holdings. She wasn't looking forward to an afternoon on the phone, calling around the world trying to track him down. Then again, she wasn't looking forward to an afternoon of reading lawsuits, either.
"Hey, Jess," Flack said, giving her a quick smile as they met on the precinct steps. "You got someone waiting for you in there. She said it had something to do with the Braun case."
"Thanks," she said, returning his grin as she paused. It could be any one of the witnesses from the party the night before, but at this point she'd be willing to take anything she could get.
"How's the case going?" he asked, turning back to the doors with her.
"It's going," she said, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally.
"That's good," he said, quirking his eyebrows. "Listen, I've got to go - the Conrad case. But if you need a fresh set of eyes later-"
"I'll let you know," she said. It was standard with them, hashing out tough cases together to see if the other caught anything they were missing.
"I do still owe you for the help on the Brahams case," he reminded her with another grin, turning back to the steps. "You know where to find me."
It turned out to be Ms. Crenshaw who was waiting for her, sitting at the chair next to her desk and nervously twisting a strand of long blond hair around her finger.
"I can't believe I forgot about this last night," she said as Angell joined her, not giving her time to greet her or even sit down.
"Forgot what?" Angell asked, sitting and opening her notebook. Whatever it was, Ms. Crenshaw thought it was very important for her to know. She seemed smart enough to know whether or not it really was important to the investigation.
"He knew my name."
Angell frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Who knew your name?"
"One of the robbers. I had my cell phone with me, and I tried to get it out to call 9-1-1, but he saw me. I didn't have it hidden well enough, I guess. And when he took it from me, he said, 'I wouldn't do that if I were you, Miss Crenshaw'." She took a deep breath, panic evident on her face. "He knew who I was. But I've never gone to anything like that before, and whenever Michael and I met, it was always privately. He'd send a car to bring me to his place, or if we were at a restaurant we'd eat in a private room, things like that. I'm not rich or famous; I'm a nobody in this town, not like him. No one from his scene had ever met me before. Nobody at the party knew who I was. So how did one of the robbers know?"
"Did his voice seem in any way familiar? Or anything else about him?" Angell asked, keeping her voice steady. While this was huge - Ms. Crenshaw had a connection to one of the thieves in some way, which certainly narrowed down the suspect pool - it was also obvious that the witness was very scared about what this meant for her.
"I- I don't know. I mean, I couldn't tell, but maybe it could have been? I'm not certain." She was fiddling with her purse strap now, looping it around her palm several times as she answered. "I don't think I know him, but how did he know me? So maybe I do but just didn't recognize him?" She looked up at Angell, her eyes wide with fear and concern. "He- he isn't going to come after me now, is he?"
"It's unlikely," Angell said carefully, "considering he didn't harm you last night. But I do think it would be advisable for you to stay with friends tonight if possible. Or I could make arrangements for you to stay in a safe house."
"I have a friend from work who is staying with me right now. I called her last night and asked her to come over - I didn't want to be alone."
"Good. You might want to stay at her place for the next few nights - in case he knows your address as well as your name. I'll make arrangements to step up patrol in her neighborhood, too."
"Thanks." She gave Angell an uneasy smile.
"Do you know anyone personally who has anything against Mr. Braun?" Angell asked, pushing her dark hair back over her shoulder as she looked over her notes.
"No! And that's what I don't I don't understand, how someone who was out to get Michael knew me. The Board of Directors at my workplace don't have any idea who I am, and they're the ones who put the drawing together. I doubt any of them would recognize me in a crowd. And no one I work with, unless it was my boss, would call me Miss Crenshaw. Most people just call me Annalee."
"What about people you don't work with that you see regularly--neighbors in your building, people who shop at the same stores as you?"
"I don't really know any of them well enough. If I do introduce myself to any of them it's as Annalee, I don't mention my last name. It--," she shrugged. "It just seems too formal for a passing relationship, you know?"
Angell smiled. "I understand. I know most of my neighbors' first names, but not their last." She stood, holding out her hand to the other woman. "Let me know if you think of anything else, or if you need anything."
"Thank you." Ms. Crenshaw stood with Angell, holding her purse strap tightly as she slung it over her shoulder. "This helps, right?" she asked uncertainly.
"Yes, it helps."
::
Kendall's report on the soil found at the crime scene revealed that, unfortunately, it was fairly ubiquitous across New York City. It was even less help than the contact, from which the lab tech had been able to read the prescription. Unfortunately both the prescription and the contact itself were standard enough that they were going to need names and court orders to get much further. With luck, there would be DNA matches to provide them with names. Jane's lab was almost as busy as the crime lab was, but the DNA profile from the contact had finally been sent for them to search. The tissue would have to come later.
Stella looked up from her equipment when the door to the lab opened. Angell stepped inside, pausing in the doorway as she said something to Hawkes out in the hall.
"Did the assistant have anything?" she asked after the door closed behind Angell.
"No. It was as much of a surprise to him as it was to us. And he couldn't say when Braun may have started using the double, just that the guy was good enough to convince him he was the real thing."
"So, we're back to square one there." Stella frowned, checking her computer again. It still hadn't come up with a match.
"Well," Angell said, grinning at her, "I did have an interesting visitor when I got back to the precinct."
"A visitor?" Stella looked up. "Who?"
"Annalee Crenshaw." Angell pulled one of the stools over and sat down as she launched into an explanation of Ms. Crenshaw's visit.
"So he knew who she was?"
"And like she said, she's not a part of Braun's scene. Considering that the other parties in the lawsuits against him are, it makes you wonder if those really are related to the motive," Angell said.
Stella turned back to her computer when it finally beeped, signaling a match. "Why don't we ask?" she said, holding the print off out to Angell.
The owner of the contact lens found at the scene was one Andrew Trumball, an ex-con who'd gotten his start in Philadelphia. He'd had the misfortune of having committed his crime in Pennsylvania, a state in which all convicted felons had their DNA entered into CODIS. Bad break for him, lucky strike for them. A few more keystrokes and Stella had nearly his entire history on her computer screen: after his time in Mahanoy prison in Pennsylvania, he had decided to take his act to New York, which landed him ten years in Woodbourne for manslaughter, ending ten months ago.
Angell had hopped off her stool, coming around to look over Stella's shoulder as she read through his history. "I'll call his parole officer and see where we can find him," she offered as she pulled out her phone.
Stella nodded, spotting Sid in the hallway as Angell spoke. Catching his attention, she waved him in. "You have our John Doe's face for us?" she asked hopefully.
"Yes, yes, I do. And his name. Meet Mr. John Doe," he said as he handed the facial reconstruction to her.
The victim down in the morgue did bear a striking resemblance to Michael Braun, but there were significant differences. His nose was wider, his cheekbones a bit lower, his jaw not as strong. "Do know his name?"
"I believe that is your department," Sid said.
Stella nodded, scanning the picture so that it could be compared to the facial recognition database.
Angell joined them as he spoke, putting her phone away. "Trumball has missed his last two appointments with his parole officer. I've put a warrant out, and he's sending a list of his usual hangouts. Is that our dead guy?"
"Yes, and we have a name. Howard Denis. His wife reported him missing six weeks ago, then - and this is interesting - retracted a few days later, saying that he'd been in contact with the family."
The three of them looked over the record of information the search had brought up. Howard Denis was a resident of Queens, a CPA who was heavily active in his local church and several charities. It was worlds apart from Braun's life, and, briefly, Stella wondered just how he came to be Braun's double. Something told her it wasn't by answering an ad in the newspaper.
"He's not the type you'd expect to end up like this," Angell said, voicing Stella's thoughts. "He has a wife and two kids? How does he cut himself off from his family like that? You know, if anything, I was expecting a single guy with no close relatives, not someone with a family."
"I'm not certain he was thinking about that," Sid said. "His wife did report him missing - he may not have told her what he was up to."
"Not at first, at least," Stella said, tapping her pen against the computer screen. "But he did get back in touch with them. I want to know what he told her that made her drop the missing persons report."
"So do I," Angell said as she wrote down the family's address. "What do you say we go find out?"
::
The Denis family lived on a quiet street in Linden Hill, in a blue two-story house with a postage-stamp lawn surrounded by others cut from the same mold. It reminded Angell of the neighborhood she'd grown up in, running wild on hot summer nights and playing baseball in the street during block parties. She wondered, as she pulled the car to a stop in front of the house, if this neighborhood was as close as that one. This family was going to need that kind of support.
The front door opened even before they made it up the walk, a woman coming out to meet them after shooing two small children back inside. "Mrs. Denis?" Angell asked, holding up her shield as she spoke. "We have a few questions about your husband, ma'am."
"I told you cops before," the woman said in an agitated voice, "I was wrong. My husband isn't missing."
"We know, ma'am," Stella said quietly from where she stood next to Angell. "We've found him."
"What?" Her eyes grew wide as she realized the implication of Stella's statement. "No. No. He's not dead. He can't be dead. Howard may have been sick, but he was going to come home before it got worse, he promised."
Angell stepped forward as the woman seemed to wobble before them, helping her to the front porch to sit down. She debated suggesting they go inside, but the two small faces peering out the window dissuaded her - they didn't need to hear this. "Ma'am, what can you tell us about your husband's disappearance?" she asked as she took a seat in the other wicker chair, Stella leaning against the porch railing in front of them
"Not much. He-" She took a deep breath, twisting her wedding ring around her finger as she continued. "Howard was sick. Bone cancer. It- it was one of those things where he didn't feel bad, just not quite right. More aches and pains than usual. It was the fourth trip to the GP, after his hip had really started hurting and he'd lost some weight, that it was diagnosed. By then it had already metastasized in his lungs. The doctor gave him something for the leg pain and told him to get his affairs in order. It- It was a blow to all of us."
"How did your husband react?" Stella asked.
"Depression." Mrs. Denis looked up at her, sadness etched on her face. "Howard didn't take it well. He took leave from his job, spent more time here at home with me and the boys, but it wasn't enough. He just drew into himself, pulled away from everyone else. He started going into the city more, 'just riding around on the trains and watching people,' he said. Then one day he didn't come home. When he didn't come home the next, either, that was when I called the police."
"When you retracted your report, you said that he had been in contact," Angell said. "How? Did he call? Come by?"
"He sent money," she said quietly, looking down at her hands. "Every week, once a week, but always a different day, I'd wake up to find an envelope of cash shoved through the mail slot. The first time, he included a note that he had a new job and not to worry about him."
"Why didn't you mention this when you retracted your report?" Angell schooled her face to remain neutral, but inwardly she was frowning. This was the type of thing most missing persons units advised family members to report.
"It's-" Mrs. Denis sighed and scrubbed a tear from her cheek. "-each week, it was more money than he made in a month with his regular job. I was scared that he'd gotten himself into something illegal. I didn't want him to get into trouble, I just wanted him to come home. I thought he would, whenever this was over."
Stella spoke up next. "Did his messages ever contain anything that suggested what he was doing?"
"No. Only the first envelope actually contained a note from him. The rest were just money, no messages."
"Did you ever see who left them?" Stella asked next.
"No. It always happened after I went to bed. I even stayed up a few nights, with all of the lights out, but it never happened those nights. It was like he knew that I was waiting for him."
"Do you still have the money or the envelopes?"
"No. I took the money to the bank--I didn't want that kind of cash around here. And I probably threw away the envelopes. I didn't have any reason to keep them." Mrs. Denis looked at Stella with wide eyes. "He really was involved in something illegal, wasn't he? That's how he died? Not the cancer?"
"Ma'am," Angell said, picking her next words carefully, "your husband was employed as a body double for Michael Braun. He passed away last night, shot during a robbery."
"I read about that," she said with wide eyes that were beginning to tear up again. "I had no idea that was Howard. We would tease him sometimes," she said, chuckling softly, "over how much he looked like Michael Braun. We went to eat at Porter House once, for our anniversary. The entire meal was comped because they thought he was Braun. But why was he at that party instead of the real Michael Braun?"
"We believe it has to do with some threats against Mr. Braun," Stella explained. "He had his share of enemies, and that party was very high profile. If someone was out to kill him, they'd know that he'd be there."
"So he sent Howard instead."
"Ma'am, your husband would have gone into this knowing he would be mistaken for Mr. Braun. He would have known the dangers."
"I guessed that much. But why? Why would Howard do this to us?" she asked, thrusting her hand out to motion to the house and her boys. "Why would he spend the last of his time with some fancy-pants playboy instead of his family? Yeah, we have medical bills to deal with, but we don't need the money, not that badly. I'd rather have had him with us than that money."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Denis, I'm afraid we don't have the answer to that," Angell said quietly. Who knew what had motivated Howard Denis to become Braun's stand-in? She had been hoping his wife would, but it appeared this was as much a surprise to her as it had been to them this morning.
"The old Howard never would have done this, but after his diagnosis, he just changed. He wasn't the Howard I married anymore. I couldn't understand it. I tried to be there for him. I knew that what he was going through couldn't be easy." She shook her head sadly, looking down at her hands again. "I feel like I failed him."
"We're sorry for your loss, Mrs. Denis," Angell said, handing her a card. "If you think of anything else about your husband's disappearance, please let us know."
She nodded, taking the card as she stood and walked to the door. "I need to tell my sons," she said quietly.
"Do you have any family nearby?" Stella asked.
"My parents live in Whitestone. I'll call them," Mrs. Denis said before going back inside, closing the door firmly behind her.
"Thermal imaging," Stella said as they returned to the car.
Angell frowned at her, crinkling her face. "Huh? You lost me there."
"Braun had plenty of money, and Slocombe knows all the tricks. If Braun hired Howard Denis to be his replacement, he would have been a part of his security detail. Slocombe could have easily arranged for whoever was dropping off the money to have thermal imaging technology with them. They would have been able to tell that Mrs. Denis was waiting by the door and not upstairs in bed."
"Yeah, but what I don't understand is why all the secrecy? Why go to all that trouble?" Angell asked, waving her hand back at the house before opening her car door. "Why didn't Braun tell his wife who he was working for? Or, even if he didn't tell her who he was working for, what he was doing? And why deliver the money at night? She may have been able to recognize Braun on sight, but probably not one of his body guards or whatever employee it was that made the drops." Angell shook her head as she started the car. "This whole thing seems fishy to me. There's more to this than just Braun wanting a double to take his place at events."
"Do you think Braun was behind this? All of it?" Stella asked, the look on her face suggesting that she was considering it, too.
"I don't know, but I'm beginning to think it's a possibility. I'd sure like to ask him about it if we could find him. Or Slocombe--he would have known about this." She turned onto a busier street, keeping an eye on the road as she drove. "But it certainly puts at least one witness' comment in a new light."
Stella nodded. It may have seemed unlikely at the time, but more and more was pointing to Braun's involvement. They had more questions than answers now, but they'd find the truth. Evidence never lied.
::
They were just pulling into the lab's parking garage when Angell's phone rang. She answered, eyebrows rising as she listened. "Thanks," she said before hanging up. "We found Trumball."
"Good. Where?"
"Warehouse by the river. Unfortunately, he isn't going to be able to tell us anything. He's dead."
"Of course," Stella said with a sigh, but then she looked back to Angell, a sly look crossing her face. "He might not be able to tell you anything, but I'm expecting to at least get something out of him."
"I'm counting on it."
The body had been found in an old warehouse, a dilapidated building that these days mostly just served to offer meager shelter to those who didn't have a place to call home. Stella grabbed her kit from the back, thankful she'd thought to grab it before visiting the Denis family. Hauling it into the old warehouse, she spotted the body laid out on the concrete floor. Stepping closer, she could see how battered and bruised it was. He'd clearly been in a fight prior to his death. And it looked like he hadn't been the winner.
"That doesn't look good," Angell said next to her, gesturing to his decidedly off-kilter nose. "Broken, you think?"
"Sid would be able to tell us," Stella said, kneeling next to the body as she snapped some pictures of him. "But it looks likely. He was in a helluva fight."
"And killed execution-style, bullet to the forehead. He pissed someone off." Angell crouched down near his head, pointing at the wound but being careful not to touch with her ungloved hands. "His face has been on the news since we got the DNA results before lunch. Think his partners had something to do with this?" She looked up and grinned when Stella handed an extra set to her. "Thanks; the box I keep in the car has run out."
"No problem. I'd say it's a good possibility. He became a liability in an otherwise well planned crime," she said as she lifted one of his hands. The knuckles were bruised and cracked, suggesting he'd fought back against his attacker, and here was residue under his fingernails. She carefully bagged his hands before moving to check around the body. Whoever killed him had been much more careful here than at their previous scenes. While there was a fine layer of dust on the warehouse floor, it had been swept away around the body and between the door and the body. Someone knew better than to leave shoe treads behind. "How'd we find him?"
"That's the interesting part," Angell said, shooting Stella a sly look. "Seems someone came by looking for a way to get out of the cold and found him. He was understandably reluctant to leave his name."
"Sounds plausible," Stella mused from where she was bagging a casing.
"Only there aren't any payphones in the area like he said he was calling from. And if you track the number, it's not a pay phone at all but a cell phone. A throwaway cell phone." Angell nodded at Stella's raised brow. "Now that we have the number, we're pulling the LUDs on it. My guess is someone thought a prepaid cell was safe enough to use for the call, since they couldn't find any payphones in the area. They didn't think we could track who they have been calling once we got the number. We may not know who bought the phone, but we can find out who they've been talking to."
"His own partners killed him and led us to his body. They're hoping that this is enough to satisfy us," Stella said as she stood, brushing her hands on her slacks. "It's like they want us to close the case with one dead criminal and drop the ball on the rest of them."
"Yeah." Angell shook her head, looking down at Trumball. "I don't think they're going to get what they want. This is two dead now; that's only going to make me look harder."
"Me, too," Stella said as she turned in a slow circle, looking around the warehouse. "Here's what I don't get: why sweep the floor but leave potential DNA evidence under his fingernails? Why kill the one person we could connect to the crime but call it in using a personal phone?"
"It's as if whoever is behind this knows a bit about how a police investigation works, but not enough," Angell said.
"Just enough to slow us down, not enough to completely stymie us." Stella tried to look and feel positive as she picked up her kit and waved Sid's assistant over. "We'll find them. It may take a little longer, but we'll find them."
"Let's just hope we do so before half their crew gets killed off. I want them behind bars, not in the morgue."
Stella's phone rang before she could reply, the shrill tone echoing through the empty building. "Bonasera." She nodded a few times as she listened to the caller, brushing her hair from her face as they explained something. Finally, she hung up, turning back to Angell. "That was Kendall. The DNA from the tissue in the car is a match to Lester Grimes."
"Lester Grimes?" Angell asked, a contemplative look on her face. "I know that name."
"He was Trumball's cellmate in Mahanoy Prison." Stella said, nodding at Angell. "It would appear that they kept in touch."
"Makes sense that they'd end up on a crew together." Angell quickly wrote something in her notebook before continuing, "I'll pull their full prison records, see who visited them, who they spent time with, see if anyone sticks out. We might be able to pull a few more potential names for their crew that way. And I have an appointment with Trumball's parole officer later today. We may have found Trumball, but he might be able to help with more known contacts."
::
It was late afternoon when Angell returned to the lab, a few more answers in her notebook and a lot more questions on her mind. Stella was waiting in her office, looking like she had even fewer answers.
"What'd Trumball have to tell you?" she asked, flopping into a chair and stretching. Her back was protesting all the time she'd spent in the car.
"Not much. Hopefully he'll have more for Sid," Stella said, shaking her head. "The casing was a dead end. How about his parole officer?"
"He happens to also be Grimes' parole officer and says the two men kept up after leaving prison. They're living in the same halfway house and both got jobs as mechanics. He'd been hoping their friendship could help keep the both of them on the straight and narrow, but they've both been missing their meetings lately."
"Mechanics?" Stella asked, frowning as she dug through the stacks on her desk. It was just there; she'd just seen it.
"Yeah, at Flushing Body Shop."
"Whose owner is well known to the auto theft team for his proclivity to purchase stolen parts," Stella said, catching her eye. "And rumor has it that his criminal tendencies don't stop there. Guess who our prepaid cell phone called multiple times? Including last night, right after a certain party?"
"Telling him where to find the SUV. 'Bout time we got a break," Angell said with a relieved grin. "I'm supposed to be going out with my sister-in-law tonight. They're visiting from out of state, and, of course, we catch the case that won't end. Why don't we take a ride and see where this lead takes us?"
Flushing Body Shop was still open for business when they arrived, the bays all filled with cars and trucks getting taken apart and put back together by various mechanics. Tommie Boyer, the owner, recognized them as cops almost immediately.
"Ladies, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked, stepping forward with his arms open.
"Michael Braun," Angell said. "We have a few questions for you about his death."
"Braun? You think I killed Braun?" He started shaking his head. "Trust me, I've tangled with your crew in my days, but murder was never my thing."
"But your crew happily stripped the murder vehicle for parts," Stella said.
"Nah, we don't do that thing here. That'd just be asking for you guys to be poking in daily."
"Uh-huh. Tell us about Andrew Trumball and Lester Grimes," Angell said.
He shrugged. "What's there to tell? They used to work here."
"Used to?" Stella asked.
"They don't show up for work, they don't have a job."
"That easily? They don't show up and they're fired? No second chances?"
"Lady, the guys who work here all come from the same place. This is their second chance. And they know that if they don't show without calling in, they don't have a job. And believe me, I wish it wasn't so. They're both good mechanics."
"Were, or at least Trumball was," Stella said, handing him a picture from the second crime scene. "Have you heard anything from Grimes today?"
"Shit, they got Andy?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Damn."
"What do you know?"
"A guy, an old friend who knows I don't do that stuff no more. But he still stops by, asking if I know anyone who can do a job. I tell him no and to get the hell out of here. I'm staying out of that game. But he's talking loud and all, you know, like he didn't think I wouldn't notice Andy and Les following him out, asking questions and getting his number. Sonuvabitch."
"Your old friend have a name?" Angell asked, taking out her notebook.
"Yeah. Denny Clark." He shook his head. "Here's what I don't get. He used to be in that stuff, but he got out. Got a fancy job working for some guy named Slocombe in security. So what's he doing coming around here talking about putting together a crew?"
"Slocombe," Angell said. "As in Hunter Slocombe?"
"I dunno, could be. I wasn't asking."
"You got a call last night from one of them. About an SUV?"
He raised an eyebrow but answered the question. "And I said no before they even told me the address. Like I said-"
"You don't do that anymore," Stella finished for him, rolling her eyes when he flashed her a bright grin. "Do you have any idea where Lester or Clark would be?"
"You actually think they'd tell me that? And I was beginning to think you were smart."
"Cute. Do you or not?"
"No. But if you see Lester," he said, turning to one of the bays where a mechanic was waving him over, "tell him he's fired."
"Nice guy," Stella said as they returned to the car.
"Yeah," Angell said, staring out the windshield as she thought. "You know what I think? I think the robber knew Annalee's name because he knew who she was. I think he knew who she was because he worked for Braun and Slocombe."
"You think Braun's behind it?" Stella asked for the second time that day.
"Yeah, I'm beginning to think I do. You?"
"I think we need to talk to Slocombe. And for some crazy reason, I'm thinking he's not down in the Amazon right now."
"Me neither."
She pulled the car out onto the street, heading for Slocombe's Upper West Side townhome. According to the file, which Stella read aloud to her as she drove, Slocombe kept a room in Braun's home and spent most of his time there. But they and other officers had been in and out of Braun's since the murder, and if Slocombe was hiding away, that was where he could be.
They were five minutes away when the call came over the radio: shots fired at an address that was very familiar to them both. Angell flipped on the lights.
"You don't think-" Stella started, stopping as Angell took a tight turn.
"I think someone's plan is falling apart," Angell said, turning again and pulling to a screeching stop in front of the townhouse. "And they're not too happy about it."
Neither bothered to knock, identifying themselves as cops as they entered the home. The entry was empty, but voices could be heard down the hall. There was shouting, and another shot was heard just before someone came running their direction, looking back over his shoulder. Angell quickly recognized Grimes, grabbing him by the wrist and using his momentum to propel him into the wall. He was still a bit stunned as she clicked her cuffs around his wrists and handed him off to one of the uniforms who'd joined them.
Stella continued down the hall, keeping an eye on the closed door in front of her. She paused when she reached it, listening to the voices from the other side as she waited for the officers and Angell to get in position. When the other detective nodded, she pushed through the door.
"NYPD! Drop your weapons, hands in the air!"
There were several men in the room, none of whom was the man she and Angell were actually expecting to find. Michael Braun quickly raised one hand, using the other to point at Lucas.
"It's about time! I think he's gone crazy!" He quickly shut up when Lucas turned back to him, gun still in hand. Next to him, another man who fit the description of Denny Clark took a step back.
"Mr. Lucas, put the gun down," Angell said to her left.
The gun wavered but didn't drop. "They used me," Lucas said furiously. "Clark--" He gestured with a tick of the gun, a move that had both Stella and Angell taking a step forward, but there wasn't a clean shot as he continued speaking. "--showed me the will. I was supposed to inherit a small fortune. That was the only thing that made working for this--" The gun moved back to point at Braun. "--bastard worth it. It was his idea, the robbery at the party, the murder. He said Michael deserved it, we'd split the money from the robbery. Michael wasn't going to get away this time, not from the lawsuits and the IRS investigation, and he'd just drag us down with him. But if he died, all that would disappear. They just forgot to let me in on their little secret that it wasn't actually Michael who'd be dying."
He glanced over at Angell, turning ever so slightly so his back was to Stella. "Thank you, detective, for telling me the truth. It was time someone did. And it's time that someone finally did the rest of the world a favor and-" He broke off with a gurgle, dropping to the floor after Stella hit him on the back of the head.
"Did the world a favor and got him to shut up!" Braun said in a pleased voice, stepping towards them. He quickly backed up when Angell turned her service weapon in his direction. "Whoa, whoa, I'm not the criminal here!"
Angell shook her head. "That has yet to be determined," she said as she and the officers with them cuffed Braun and the other men in the room.
"I'm an innocent victim! I am a guest of Hunter Slocombe, house-sitting his home while he's on vacation. That madman is raving about who knows what."
"Something tells me you've never housesit a day in your life," Stella said, rolling her eyes as she pulled Lucas to his feet.
"I have no idea what's going on here! He just burst in and started waving a gun about-"
"Save it for your lawyer," Angell said. "You know, the one who's trying to save your ass from those lawsuits. I'm sure he'll love this development."
"Actually, I think he'll have to get a different lawyer for criminal charges. Those corporate sharks usually don't touch stuff like this," Stella pointed out as they herded the group down the hall into the entry.
The front door opened as they reached the end of the hall, a dirty and battered bag preceding a dirty and tired-looking Hunter Slocome as he came in. The bag--and his jaw--dropped as he found himself staring down several annoyed-looking and well-armed cops.
"What the hell?"
"Mr. Slocombe," Angell said slowly, pulling out a zipcuff, "you're under arrest."
"What for?"
"Ruining my day off."
::
"You're shitting us," Maka said with a laugh, flipping her empty shot glass over as she set it back on the table.
Stella shook her head as she waved for another round. "Nope. That's exactly what she said."
"Damn straight," Angell said, draining her beer. "I missed out on going out with Emily and some old friends. First time my brother and sister-in-law have been back in the city in almost a year, and those idiots go and ruin my chance to spend time with them."
"So Braun and Slocombe were behind it?" Lindsay asked.
"Slocome wasn't; we had to let him go."
"His alibi was pretty airtight, since he'd just gotten off a plane from Iquitos, Peru," Angell said. "But the rest of it was all Braun."
"Which explains the sloppiness. Slocombe's an ex-cop. He would have known better than to leave potential DNA evidence behind," Stella added.
"He would have known better than to get involved in that mess in general," Maka added, shaking her head. "Did Braun really believe you'd fall for the fake?"
"He actually thought we had no way of knowing that Howard Denis had undergone plastic surgery to look like him."
"He did, helpfully, go so far as to have his dental records replaced by Denis'," Angell pointed out with a slight laugh, "but since his DNA and prints weren't on record anywhere, he was certain that's all he'd need."
"Oh, my god," Lindsay said incredulously. "It's like the criminals keep getting stupider. He was really that certain he was going to lose the lawsuits?"
"I don't think he was so much worried about the lawsuits as the IRS investigation," Stella said, picking up her beer. "Apparently, Michael Braun had been cheating a lot of people, including the federal government. The amount of back taxes he owes is in the millions."
"And it seems his bank accounts aren't as flush as everyone was led to believe they were. In fact, that bicycle charity of his? Totally bogus. The money from that fundraiser was being channeled directly into a Swiss bank account for him."
"Wait," Lindsay said, sitting up. "I've heard of that charity before. Weren't there some celebrities doing that? I mean, legitimate celebrities, not people like Braun who happened to be rich and in the news."
"Yeah, there are," Stella said, "just not any connected to Braun."
"Meaning everyone at that party had probably heard of a similar program and thought their money was going there." Maka sighed, pushing her shot glass around on the table. "There's a special place in hell for people who cheat charities and the needy like that."
"Oh, and there's going to be a special place in Riverview for him, too," Angell said.
"Okay," Lindsey said slowly, pushing her glass aside as she leaned in, "let me see if I'm getting this right. Braun took advantage of Slocombe being gone to plan this mess by getting Denis hired to replace him-"
"Slocombe knew that when he was out of the country would be prime time for any of Braun's numerous enemies to try to kill him, so he agreed that a double would be prudent," Angell explained, glancing at her empty glass, trying to decide if she wanted another refill. It'd probably be best if she didn't. She had to work in the morning, and showing up with a hangover would just be inviting Flack to tease her.
"Then he gets Slocombe's assistant, Clark, to help him put together a robbery crew."
Stella nodded. "Clark didn't tell them the plan, either or at least that the plan involved killing Braun's double. They didn't even know there was a double or that Braun was a part of the plan, either, until it was over. All they had been told was they were going to rob the party and split the take."
"And then Clark gets Braun's assistant Lucas involved in planning the murder," Maka said.
"Braun and Clark thought they'd throw us off. Lucas was in charge of planning the event; he knew all of the details. So if we were going to think that someone on the inside was behind it, they figured he'd be the most likely."
Lindsay shook her head. "No wonder he was so upset when Angell asked him about the real Braun. He thought he'd gone to all that trouble of killing his boss, and instead he realizes his boss was setting him up as the fall guy for the fake's murder."
"He gets shown a fake will and agrees to the entire thing. Apparently Braun was as sick of him as he was of Braun," Stella said. "What he didn't know was that Braun had actually set up a trust, and a false identity as the beneficiary once you got past all of the dummy corporations and whatnot. Braun also had a ticket to the Maldives for the next morning. He'd just bought a villa there under the false name."
"I'm guessing the Maldives don't have any extradition treaties with the US."
"No treaties. Even if he had been found out, he would have been sitting pretty on the beach. As long as he didn't travel to the wrong place."
"Damn. All of that to save his bank account, and no regard to the fact that someone died. Even if Denis went into that knowing it was a possibility, Braun knew from the minute he hired him that he'd end up dead," Lindsay said angrily.
"Actually," Angell said quietly, wishing she hadn't decided against another drink, "he knew."
"What?" Maka sat up straight in shock, staring at her and Stella. "Denis knew?"
"It was part of the arrangement," Stella said. "Denis was dying of cancer. He was in a lot of pain, and it was only going to get worse. Eventually, he'd be bedridden. He didn't want that; he didn't want to go out that way."
"So, this was his way of committing suicide?" Lindsay asked, eyes wide. "To be murdered in someone else's place?"
"That's what Braun says," Angell replied. "Whether or not you want to trust him," she added with a shrug, "is up to you. Denis didn't leave any sort of suicide note, so we still don't know what he was thinking with this whole thing. But he did suddenly and unexpectedly leave his family without telling them where he was or what he was doing. And they were getting large sums of money, in cash, dropped in the mailbox once a week."
"Regardless, the ME has ruled his death a homicide," Stella added.
"So his family will still get his insurance."
"Oh, I'm sure his insurance company will try to use Braun's testimony to put an end to that."
"I don't see how they'd get too far," Lindsay said as she stood, pulling some bills from her wallet to set on the table. "If Sid said it was a homicide and there wasn't a note, they have no way of proving it. Just Braun's word, and with him being charged with this--" She shrugged. "I've gotta go. See you in the morning."
"Yeah, I need to go, too," Maka said as she stood. "Walk to the subway with you?"
"Sure."
Stella stood as the other two detectives left. "I should call it a night, as well. You?"
"Need to get home," Angell said, putting some cash out to cover her drinks. "You think Denis'll get away with it? Staging his suicide like a murder for the insurance?"
"I don't know," Stella said. "I'm going to let the insurance company and his family's lawyers hash that one out. We got to the bottom of it, and Braun and his cronies are going to prison."
Angell nodded as they parted ways on the sidewalk, wrapping her jacket more tightly around herself as she turned toward her apartment. She didn't really care what happened with the insurance money herself. Like Stella said, they'd found the truth, which in their line of work was the important part. The rest of it was up to the lawyers.
Her phone rang, startling her from her thoughts. The number on her caller ID was a familiar one, and she couldn't help but grin as she answered. "Hey, Don," she said. "Just heading home. You?"
She nodded at his response, glancing back in the direction of her apartment before turning. "Yeah?" she asked. "We closed the case. How about yours?"
Eyes widening at the response, she crossed the street. "Hey, give me about ten minutes and you can tell me in person."
It was closer than home. And maybe talking his case out would bring it closer to solved, too.
Not to mention that he couldn't tease her if he was just as hung-over or late in the morning as she was. Smirking at that thought, she ducked into a convenience store along the way. Something told her liquid refreshments wouldn't be turned down no matter how late it was.
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