Dead Broke (Lana Denae Mystery Series Book 1) (17 page)

Jamie gave her a dubious look. “Then why the third degree?”

Lana said simply, “If he
is
involved, obviously I want to know. If he isn’t, I’m going to need all the dirt we can find when his lawyer shows up.”

With a quick glance at the clock, Ray said, “That might be soon too, the lady didn’t sound like she wanted to wait and her offices are not far from the precinct.”

Lana shrugged. “Depending on when she shows up, she might be waiting whether she likes it or not. At the moment, I’m due for another round of questioning with our suspect. In fact,” she paused, glancing at the clock, “Mr. Schmidt is probably already there now.”

As she went out the door, Damien said, “While you’re busy with that, we’ll see what we can dig up on Mr. Carson.”

Already halfway down the hall, Lana called back, “We’ll compare notes later.”

One of them answered but Lana was too far away to hear what he had to say. “Probably nothing important,” she mumbled to herself, opening the door to where her suspect awaited.

Eric Schmidt, seated at the table and all alone in the room, seemed utterly bored. He looked up as Lana entered, not expectantly, only mildly curious. She noticed he still wore the smug look. She wasn’t surprised. Apparently, it was his trademark look.

“It’s your lucky day,” Lana said, closing the door with a solid thud.

There was no change of expression. Either Eric didn’t believe in luck or simply didn’t believe her. Silently, he waited for her to explain.

Taking her seat across from the suspect, Lana spelled it out for him. “The D.A. has agreed to your terms and is willing to drop the charges against you in exchange for your cooperation in our ongoing investigation. You also will be required to provide testimony at the upcoming trial.”

“So where do I sign?” asked a now significantly more eager Eric.

“I have the agreement right here,” Lana told him, shuffling through the leather satchel she carried. Pulling out a sheaf of papers, she said, “You may want to have a lawyer look this over.”

“I don’t need a lawyer,” Eric snapped. “Just tell me where to sign.”

Flipping through the stack of papers to the last sheet, Lana hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want to at least read through the agreement first?”

“No,” the bumptious Eric replied.

Shrugging, Lana produced a pen and placed it on the table beside the papers. “According to this agreement, you can’t be prosecuted for any of the crimes related to your association with the one who masterminded all of this.”

The contemptuous look still plastered on his smiling face, Eric signed his name with a flourish and tossed the pen down. “Am I free to go now?”

“Not quite yet,” Lana told him. “I need to get this to the D.A.’s office. He’ll need to have it filed and recorded. Then, we’ll have a few follow-up questions for you. Once that is all taken care of, you technically could be booked out. But it’s up to the D.A. how long he takes to actually give the release.”

Eric was not pleased with the timetable. That was obvious by his sullen stare. “So it’s not really my lucky day at all, is it?”

Stuffing the papers back into her satchel, Lana shrugged. “That remains to be seen. It’s still early. You could be out of here by noon.”

The placid smile gone, Eric said nothing. The dispirited look and the folded arms said it all for him; he didn’t believe her.

Instructing the guard to place the prisoner in a holding cell instead of returning him to the jail, Lana left, on her way to the D.A.’s office. An hour later, she was back in her office.

She still needed to finish questioning Eric, now that ostensibly, they had his cooperation, but Lana decided to hold off for a bit. Jamie had said Holloway was supposed to be coming in and she didn’t want to miss him. She was also curious to hear what her two sidekicks had learned about Perry Carson, if anything. Both Holloway and Carson could potentially have an impact on her still pending interrogation.

Chapter Eighteen

Lana was antsy, impatiently fidgeting in the chair at her desk, checking, and re-checking the time every few minutes. “I thought Jamie said Holloway was coming in today,” she called out to the patrol room.

Ray looked up from his computer. “Yeah, he did. But he didn’t say what time.”

“Any time now would be nice,” Lana grumbled. Then, changing the topic, she said. “You find anything on Perry Carson yet?”

“Actually, I did,” Ray answered. “It’s not much but it is rather interesting.”

Lana had gotten up and now stood at the door of her office. “Oh?”

“Perry Carson was recently the subject of a multi-agency investigation for ties to organized crime,” Ray said. “The investigation lasted more than a year and Mr. Carson was ultimately exonerated but he is now, understandably, quite disgruntled. Doesn’t look favorably on law enforcement of any kind. Thinks we’re all out to get him.”

“So there’s nothing to tie him to Eric Schmidt, Cascade Global Investments, or the murders?”

“Nothing I could find,” Ray said. “It’s doubtful he’s involved since the investigation was taking place during the time he would have been planning this and calling Eric. I doubt he would have engaged in anything of the sort knowing he was under surveillance.”

“Maybe he didn’t know he was under surveillance.”

“Oh, he knew. He filed numerous complaints over it,” Ray said. “For invasion of privacy.”

Lana was only slightly disappointed. So, Perry Carson wasn’t their guy. She’d figured as much. “Well, at least that explains his reaction to Jamie and Damien yesterday.”

“And that of his attorney,” Ray said. With a shrug, he added, “Maybe Jamie and Damien will have better luck in coming up with something.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when the two detectives walked in, heads held high and all smiles.

“I assume from the boyish grins, you guys got the lowdown on Mr. Carson?”

“Did we ever,” Jamie said.

“And by
we
, he means
me
,” Damien said.

“Hey, I helped,” Jamie protested.

“If you call stuffing your face while I did all the work, helping, then sure.”

“Guys,” Lana interrupted. “I don’t care who did what or who helped and didn’t help. What did you find?”

Damien was instantly serious again. “Well, we didn’t come up with anything using the usual channels, but I was able to learn that for the last year, the FBI has been investigating, Mr. Carson.”

“Yeah,” Lana nodded. “For ties to organized crime.”

Damien squinted his eyes, looking at Lana like she’d stolen his thunder. “How did–”

“Ray,” Lana answered.

“Oh,” Damien said, sounding a bit deflated. Then, almost instantly, he perked up. “But does Ray have a friend at the FBI who can provide the details of that investigation? And what they found?”

Ray shook his head. “You got me there.”

“I assume you do?” asked Lana.

Damien, smiling again, jumped at the chance to vaunt himself. “Well, my guy wasn’t directly involved in the investigation but he was familiar enough with the case to give me the highlights.”

“And?” Lana prodded.

Damien subconsciously cleared his throat, as if preparing to give a formal speech. “Our friend, Perry Carson, is quite the entrepreneur. In addition to his many legal businesses, he’s got his hand in a little bit of everything on the shady side of he street as well: drug smuggling, teenage prostitution, gun running, and illegal gambling, to name a few. Oh, and there is even some evidence to suggest he is involved in human trafficking.”

“You forgot video and music piracy,” Jamie piped up.

“I didn’t forget,” Damien said. “I think I painted a clear enough picture. This guy is a jack of all trades.”

Lana was frowning. “If the FBI found evidence of all that, why isn’t Mr. Carson in prison?”

“They were investigating him for organized crime,” Damien answered.

“So?” Lana said. “Just because they couldn’t make a case for that doesn’t mean they should let everything else slide. You get him on what you can. One of the FBI’s most famous cases, that of Al Capone, is a perfect example. The gangster wasn’t convicted on his criminal activities—they got him on tax evasion.”

“Al Capone didn’t have Rita Faulk for an attorney either,” Damien commented dryly.

Lana hardened her eyes. “Obviously,” she said. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Simple,” Damien said.

Before he could elaborate, Jamie held up his hand. “Wait!” When he had their attention, he said, “I’d just like to point out that tax evasion is also a criminal activity.”

Lana rolled her eyes. “Technically, yes. But you know what I meant.”

Jamie nodded. “Just wanted to clarify that.”

“Thanks,” Lana said, sounding anything but appreciative. “Can we get back to the case now?”

With a short sigh and a captious look toward his partner, Damien continued. “As I was saying, Al Capone didn’t have Miss Faulk representing him. If he had, he may very well have walked. She got all the evidence in the Perry Carson case thrown out. Every last bit of it. Because,” he said, “the warrant the FBI obtained only authorized specific items to be seized.”

Lana slowly nodded. “Typical,” she said.

“Speaking of Miss Hot Shot Attorney,” Jamie said. “She been to see you yet?”

Lana shook her head. “And neither has Mr. Holloway.”

Damien shot her a puzzled look. “We saw him again yesterday afternoon and he still planned to come by, he said. From the way he talked, I thought he’d be here before lunch or early this afternoon.”

“Probably got tied up at his office,” Lana said, checking her watch. “I’ll give him another half an hour.”

“That reminds me,” Damien said. “It’s almost three and Sonny Pierson is due to arrive at the airport in a half an hour. Should we still pay him a visit?”

Lana nodded. “Definitely. It would be nice to identify the boss before I question Eric but that’s not looking too likely.”

“Why can’t you just question him tomorrow?” Damien asked.

“I need to do it today. If I get nothing more out of Eric, and we’re unable to find anything, I have to let him go. I don’t like that idea.”

“You still don’t trust him,” Jamie said.

“Not in the least,” Lana replied. “Problem is, I still don’t know if he’s guilty either.”

Jamie got it then. “So you’re hoping one of these guys will be able to give you something to lead you one way or the other.”

Again, Lana nodded.

“Well,” Jamie said, looking at Damien. “We should go then. Maybe Mr. Pierson will provide the answers we need.”

“Call me immediately if you find anything,” Lana called as they walked to the door.”

Checking the time again, she sighed. It was nearly three thirty now and still no sign of Holloway.

Making her way back to her office, Lana sat at her desk, stewing over the lack of progress. She desperately needed a break, something to tie everything together. Sighing again, she laid her head in her hands, elbows propped up on the desk.

“Detective Denae?” came a woman’s voice from the doorway.

Before looking up, Lana knew who would be standing there. But having never met the lady, she waited for her visitor to introduce herself.

“I’m Rita Faulk,” the woman said. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay.” Lana wasn’t opposed to having a conversation—as long as it didn’t involve the attorney making threats against her or the Bureau.

The lawyer was standing just inside the doorway. Moving closer, she closed the door behind her, signaling this would be a private meeting.

“Have a seat,” Lana invited, motioning to the chair against the wall.

“I’m fine,” came the tacit response.

“Suit yourself,” Lana said, noting the change of tone now that they were alone. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I think you already know the answer to that, or you should, if you’re any kind of detective at all.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me, Miss Faulk?” I haven’t got time to play games.”

The attorney nodded. “Me neither. So, we’ll get right to it. Why are you investigating my client?”

“I’m not aware there is any investigation of your client,” Lana said.

“Oh, come on,” Rita said. “You can do better than that. I notice you didn’t ask who my client is, so obviously you are aware of the recent harassment he has experienced from your department. I’ll try again. Why are you investigating my client?”

“Yes, I know who your client is,” Lana acknowledged. “But, as I said, no one from the Homicide Detail is investigating him. And, as far as I know, neither is anyone else at the Central Precinct or even the entire Bureau.”

“How can you expect me to believe that?” the lawyer exclaimed. “Two of your own detectives were the ones asking questions.”

“Here’s what I can tell you,” Lana said. “Mr. Carson’s name surfaced as a person of interest in connection to an on-going investigation. I can provide no information beyond that.”

“This is the investigation into the recent rash of suicides at the Steel Bridge?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t comment on an on-going investigation,” Lana repeated.

“How about you listen then,” came the quick response from the attorney. “I know you are the lead detective on that case, the one you won’t comment on. The case involves the murder of Roselyn Wymer as well as the six jumpers who you have reason to believe did not commit suicide but were, in fact, also murdered. All this I know. Then, you tell me my client is a person of interest in this case. ‘Person of interest’ is code for suspect, and I will not stand for you to accuse my client of murder. Unless you have proof that you are willing to share, those accusations are unfounded. I’m serving you notice; if you persist in this unwarranted witch hunt, I will have no choice but to file suit on behalf of my client against you and the Portland Police Bureau for harassment, slander, and defamation of character.”

Lana calmly eyed the attorney, making a conscious effort to keep the surprise off of her face, all the while wondering how the lawyer had learned any of this.

Rita Faulk had made a career out of reading people’s faces and knew exactly what the detective was thinking. In answer to the unspoken question, she said, “I’m an attorney. I have my sources.”