The Mystery of Jessica Benson (13 page)

The next morning, they showered together and sat across
from one another in his kitchen over bowls of Grape Nuts.
“I have to get to practice early. Coach Raymond wants
this win almost as much as I do. Take your time getting out of
here, okay? If you need anything, including my toothbrush, help
yourself. And I don’t say that to all the girls,” he smiled.
“Thanks. I’ll be out of here pretty quickly, though. I
have to get home and change for work, but I need to make a
couple of phone calls before I leave.”
“Yeah. Phone calls. I almost forgot. The lady is a cop.”
“True, but I wear the blindfold of justice, even when I’m
naked.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He stood and put the milk in the
refrigerator, the box of cereal in the pantry and after rinsing his
bowl, put it in the dishwasher.
Karen watched, waiting for his good bye. He leaned
down and kissed the top of her head.
“When can I see you again?” Kyle asked.
“I don’t know for sure. Let’s see how things go today.
This... us seeing each other, outside of the case, that is, will not
be easy.
“Easy isn’t worth fighting for.” His eyes searched hers.
“Right?” he asked.
The words ran through her mind and into her body. She
had hoped he would give her some kind of assurance, and he
now he had. “Right,” she nodded, wondering if anything would
ever be right again.
When Karen finished with her dishes, she went into the
living room to call into work. She was put right through to Will.
“Kaufman, Homicide.”
“Hey. It’s me.”
“Where the hell are you? We got work to do, lady.”
“Something break?”
“Burglary.”
“And that affects us, how?”
“It was the Demons’ doctor’s office.”
“Ouch. Fraga?”
“That’s him. His gun went missing.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

F
our intense detectives sat around a table at Roasters ‘n Toasters
on 41st Street on Miami Beach discussing the burglary and
ransacking of Joe Fraga’s office. The doctor had gone psycho on
the Robbery team and the detectives were still shaking their
heads over his bizarre behavior.

“Goddamn, you’d think a doctor would be able to handle
something like this, huh? I thought we were gonna have to call
the paramedics for him,” chuckled Manny Pedrosa, one of the
guys from Robbery.

His partner, Cassie Whitney nodded in agreement. “I’ll
be sure not to call him next time I have to have my knee scoped.
That man is a lunatic.”

“Makes you think that it maybe wasn’t just about
burglary, you know what I mean? What with the Benson murder
and him being team doctor, a little too much coincidence maybe.
And I don’t believe in coincidence,” Karen added.

“All that mess and nothing’s gone missing but his gun?
Something’s weird. Looked like whoever did it was looking for
something specific and the gun was just a bonus.” Pedrosa
looked to Will

Will brushed patches of crumbs from his corned beef
sandwich off his shirt and took a sip of coffee. He shook his head
and said, “Oh, that’s some good stuff. Yessirree. Good stuff.”
Then he wiped his mouth with his napkin and continued.
“Maybe there’s shit gone that he isn’t so anxious to tell us about
that’d account for him being such a jerk about this.”

“Like what kind of shit?” Pedrosa asked.
“Think about it. He’s a doctor working for a football
team.
Hellloooo
! What might he have that someone would want
besides his fucking gun? The creep’s not gonna share with us if
his drugs have been cleaned out. Who knows what that guy’s
peddling?”
“Nah, that doesn’t make sense,” Whitney said. “He told
us about the gun, so why wouldn’t he cop to the drugs? Like you
said, he’s a doctor. He treats painful injuries. It’s only logical
that he’d have narcotics and shit on board.”
“C’mon Cassie, think about it. A gun could come back
and bite him in the ass—you know how easy it is to trace a
gunshot back to the gun—so of course he’s gonna squawk about
it. But drugs… There are plenty of them that he might overlook
mentioning. Not necessarily the prescription kind, you know?
The waitress came by with their check, asking if they
wanted anything else. It had been relatively quiet when they got
there, but now the lunch crowd was closing in on them. Steve
Rosen, “The Delilamma,” was standing by the waitress looking
impatient.
“Everything okay today, folks?” he asked.
The quartet nodded in unison. “Your pickles are the
best,” Cassie added.
“
Of course
,” he replied. “That’s why they cost so much.
You know, we bid for these things. People don’t realize that.”
Karen smiled. “New one on me, Steve. Kind of like the
futures markets, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess, kind of. Just enjoy.” He said, as he took
off toward the other end of the deli where Senator Dan Gelber
had just arrived with a group of dignitaries.
Cassie, crunching loudly on her pickle, spoke up,
“Meanwhile, back at the lab…maybe when we get the prints
back from Fraga’s office they’ll give us some clue to what’s
going on over there.”
Karen started to say something, but her cell phone went
off, and she excused herself to go take the call. She got back just
as everyone was leaving.
“We may have caught a break, Will.”
“On the Sands case?” he asked.
“No, in the case, asshole.”
Yeah, yeah, so you say. What’s going on?”
“That page was Feyzi, the trainer. He wants me to come
to his place. Said he needs to talk to me ‘bad.’ He lives on North
Bay Road in the Fifties.” The guy must give a helluva workout
to afford
that
address. Even in the guest house, which is where
he stays, those things rent out for what, fifteen hundred, two
grand a month?”
“Great, I’m happy for him. Let’s roll,” Will said.
“Uh, wait a second,” Karen called. She hesitated, and
then said “Don’t get pissed, okay? He kind of asked me to come
alone. I seem to be a more sympathetic figure. Guess you shook
him up pretty well at Crunch the other day. Let me just pay him
a visit and if he gives me anything worth following up on, I’ll
buzz you. No sense in ruffling his feathers any further. At this
point a lead is a lead.”
“Kid’s a scumbag. Well, that’s fine with me. I got plenty
to do without getting jerked around by a pretty boy that’s just
yanking your chain, probably trying to sign you up for some of
his titty-twister classes. Anyways, I gotta see someone on
another matter. Maybe you wanna catch a ride back to the station
with Cassie and Manny to pick up your car? We can hook up
again some time later today.”
Karen turned to Pedrosa and said, “Fine. That okay with
you guys?”
“Not a problem, c’mon.”

N
orth Bay Road was always quiet, always elegant. Landscaping
costs alone were astronomical, and with taxes only Republicans
could afford. Fairy tale mansions were cordoned off by high
walls and extravagant, locked gates. They nestled up on the wide
water of Biscayne Bay, where luxurious yachts, fully crewed,
floated next to private docks, waiting to be set into service at the
whim of the owner. Many well-known celebrities owned homes
on this secluded street.

A black Jaguar sat in the huge circular driveway at the
address Feyzi had given Karen. The ornate wrought iron gate
was wide open, like an invitation. She cautiously pulled through
and parked behind the Jag but remained sitting in her car for
another minute.

Only two days had passed since they had first questioned
Feyzi Batan. Although he was obviously shaken by their visit,
today when she got his call, he sounded like a desperate man.
His exact words were he was ‘sick at heart’ since the interview
and needed to ‘cleanse his soul’ to rid himself of the bad karma.
Whatever
, Karen thought.
So long as you give up a piece of this
puzzle.
She got out of her car, quickly surveyed the grounds and
headed toward the guest house, which she assumed was
somewhere behind the main residence.

The backyard was a tropical haven. Mango and citrus
trees dotted the lawn and multi-colored bougainvilleas lined the
gate walls. Banana plants with heavy hanging arms, the hands of
which sported full fingers of ripe, yellow fruit were scattered
throughout the property, and a twenty yard square was cordoned
off with a carefully tended vegetable garden.

Slabs of peach and russet slate led down to a wooden
dock. A yacht Karen figured to be about a sixty-footer was
docked there and quietly bobbed with the ripples of the teal bay.
Eden
, Karen thought.
Just stay away from those nasty old apples
and you never need to leave the estate
.

Feyzi’s so-called cottage was a replica of the main house
and sat very close to the dock. She rang the bell and could hear
chimes inside. A minute or so passed with no answer so she rang
again and called out his name. Still no response.

Something wasn’t right. He had been too anxious to
meet with her not to be around. She banged on the door a couple
of times, and then, suspicious, she tried the handle. It was
locked. She stepped through a hedge of plumbago to get to his
front windows and peered inside. Nothing. She blew out a stream
of air in disgust and turned to leave. It looked like another lead
was slipping through her fingers.

When she was almost to her car, she thought to check
the main residence to see if perhaps he was waiting for her there.
She muttered to herself that she should have checked the big
house in the first place. Yes, he had probably decided to wait for
her there and that was why the gate had been open.

The wooden door was huge, very impressive, as was
everything on the estate. She leaned on the bell and again heard
chimes sounding very much like parents to the ones in the back
cottage.

In less than a minute the door cracked open a notch. A
woman with short, spiky blonde hair and a cigarette dangling
from her mouth looked out at her. She was clearly on the other
side of fifty, looking a bit annoyed and rather curious.

“Something you need?” she asked in a raspy, smokeburnt voice.
Karen flashed her badge and said “Detective Brandt,
police, m’am.”
The woman’s brows lowered, and she said “Police?
Sorry honey, you got the wrong house,” then she started to close
the door.
“Wait!” Karen snapped. I don’t have the wrong
anything
. I need to speak with your tenant, Feyzi Batan, Is he
here?”
The door opened. The chunky lady stepped out and
asked, “Feyzi? Is he in trouble?”
“That’s what I need to speak with you about.”
The woman beckoned Karen to follow her inside. She
introduced herself as Mazie Rose. “I knew it. I just knew it! I
told that boy he was going to get himself into a shitload of
trouble. Too many women with husbands and boyfriends, and
his workouts weren’t just aerobics. So, who’d he finally piss
off?”
“I don’t know that he pissed anyone off, Ms. Rose. He’s
a possible witness in a murder case. He called me about an hour
and a half ago and said he needed to talk to me, but now that I’m
here, he isn’t.”
“Hmmm. That’s curious, even for Feyzi. He’s pretty
good about keeping appointments. Time is money, you know.
How about some coffee. We’ll talk.”
“Thanks, no. But about Feyzi...”
“A Danish maybe? From Epicure, very fresh. Excellent.”
Karen shook her head and said she had just had a big
lunch. Then she cleared her throat and asked, “Did he mention
anything about what’s been going on?”
“Like what, honey? Are you sure he isn’t in any
trouble?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. So, has he
mentioned anything at all to you about the Jessica Benson
murder? Or about anything at all that might be unusual, even for
him?”
“Nah. I’ve been holed up here working on some
paintings and haven’t seen much of him lately. Usually we visit
two, three times a week. He cooks me up a little of that Turkish
coffee he makes, and sometimes we munch some baklava. He
even tries to get me in shape when he has some extra time, light
exercises, you know? None of ’em are light enough for me,
though. I get jazzed up and it aggravates my smoker’s cough.”
She laughed, but it was broken up by a fit of phlegmy hacking.
“See. Just thinking about it aggravates the cough! I gotta
get off these things.” She nodded her head toward the cigarette
she was lighting. “My cousin the doctor says they’re bad for my
health. But what isn’t bad for you today? Don’t eat red meat, too
much fat. Stop the fish, too much mercury. Chicken? Hormones!
I’m glad I’m closer to going out than coming in. Another couple
of years and between the food, the air we breathe, and the
terrorist attacks, what do we do? Stay duck-taped in our homes
with canned crap to eat, and watch government terror alerts
change colors.”
Karen nodded, prompting her to continue.
Mazie looked down at her watch and said, “Look doll,
I’m late for my nail appointment and that’s sacred. A bunch of
us old broads have been meeting at Toy’s Place for over twenty
years. It’s a religion. Saves a bundle on psychiatry bills.
“I’ll do you one quick favor, though. Come with me.”
She gestured for Karen to follow her and headed toward the back
of the house.
Karen’s eyes were big. Each room was more magnificent
than the next. The ceilings must have been twenty-five feet high,
but there was a coziness about the place. It was warm, inviting
and saturated with class.
“You don’t live here alone?” she asked.
“Most of the time. My nephew’s away at school, but
when he’s in town he stays with me. And my grandson—only
eighteen months old and already a heartbreaker, poo poo poo—
comes to me when my daughter’s miserable husband allows it.
That’s usually when he wants to go out and they can’t find a
sitter.
“The kid’s a genius. Not just because he’s mine, no
one’s more objective than me. I’m telling you, the kid’s a
genius!”
They entered a small sun room off the kitchen. It was an
artist’s studio with canvasses in various stages of finish lining
the walls. An easel stood in the middle of the room displaying a
brightly colored modern piece.
“Your work is so
Brito
,” Karen said, referring to the
popular South Beach artist.
“I guess that calls for a thank you. He certainly has
inspired my style. C’mon, stay with me here.” She opened
French doors to the outside and led Karen around to the side of
the house.
“Ha. I thought so. His motorcycle is still here, so he has
to be in his place. Feyzi doesn’t go anywhere without the bike.
It’s his car.”
“I rang the bell and called to him,” Karen replied. “This
is strange. Considering that he phoned me and was in such a
hurry to speak with me. It took me longer than I thought to get
over here, though, and maybe something better to do came
along. I don’t know, I’m just not feeling good about this.”
“Now this is odd. He usually has his
meshuganah
music
blasting. Says it keeps his mood aligned with his body or the
moon or some such nonsense. So what’s it to me? If it makes
him happy, fine. He’s a good tenant, and today that’s a difficult
commodity to find. Aw, truth is, I like the kid. He’s got a good
heart.”
“You got a key?” Karen asked.
“You got a warrant?” Mazie shot back.
“No, I don’t want to search his place. I just thought
maybe you could go in there and make sure everything’s okay. I
think something’s
off
.”
“All right. I know what you mean. He’d almost have to
be dead not to have his music blaring.” She lit yet another
cigarette and sucked in a chest full of smoke, which threw her
into another coughing spell. When it ended she gasped,
“Sometimes I think my cousin might be right.”
“Well, um, that a pretty nasty cough you have there.”
“Yeah, really. Honey, I hear that so many times a day I
should write a book about it. Let’s go. I’ll get my key and we can
make sure everything’s cop esthetic with my boy here.” She
looked at her watch and said, “Damn. I’m going to have to call
Toy and tell her I’m running late.”
Mazie told the Karen to wait in the living room, where
she tried to make herself comfortable on a Jean Harlow lounger.
But the detective’s mind was racing and none of her thoughts
were good. Her sixth sense had kicked in and she was anxious to
get into that back house to allay her fears.
“Okay, doll face. Let’s go see what’s going on at
Feyzi’s.”