The Mystery of Jessica Benson (20 page)

It didn’t take long to find what they were looking for.
Fraga obviously had not seen this coming. No attempt had been
made to hide the contraband. His bedroom closet and medicine
cabinet were jammed full of most every drug available—on and
off the market.

“Holy shit on a stick! Get Frank up here, fast,” Will
yelled to Karen. “This place is stocked better than a drug store.
That fucker musta thought he was above the law to be this stupid
and leave it all over the fuckin’ place like this.”

Karen jogged into the bedroom, with Frank not even a
step behind her.
“Take a look at this, you two. Cocaine, Percocet,
Valium, Demerol. No wonder they call this dirtbag Dr.
Feelgood. I don’t even know what half this stuff here is, but I’m
willing to bet my badge that these packets of white powder
aren’t Sweet ‘n Low. This prick’s going down on possession for
sure, and I’m not ruling him out on a count or two of murder.
You might be right about Sands yet, partner.”
Karen ignored the innuendo and gestured downstairs.
“His attorney’s here, so I guess we ought to go down there and
get started. It’s going to be a long day’s night.”

Will Mirandized the doctor and put him in the back of
the cruiser. It was the detective’s decision to take him in for
questioning rather than handling it at his home. They did not
want him the least bit comfortable. His attorney, Jay Kirschman,
was going to follow them to the station.

Kirschman was a nationally recognized defense attorney.
A civil rights activist, ACLU lobbyist and draft lawyer in the
seventies, he had comfortably made the transition to criminal
defense when the draft ended and was as good as they get. He
rarely lost a case.

Today he was wearing suit pants, a long-sleeved button
down shirt, tails out, and the look of confidence. He hosted a talk
show on one of the cable news networks where he fielded
questions from callers about police brutality and felons’ rights
and wore his self-confidence as comfortably as he wore his skin.

In the station, Will, Karen, Jay Kirschman and a deflated
Joe Fraga sat in the cramped interrogation room, looking from
one to the other, waiting for the session to get underway. Will
finally said to the attorney, “Just what I love, another scumbag
and we gotta deal with you to boot. Man, there’s no rest for the
weary,”

Karen and Will had worked against Kirschman several
times, and although they were clearly adversaries, they shared a
mutual respect for one another. Undoubtedly, no one would
underestimate the expertise and cunning of the other.

“Hey, you buy me, you buy the best!” Kirschman
chuckled. “And Will, let’s be professional about this. You can
call my client
Dr.
Fraga. I can’t help but feel that
scumbag
might
be a little prejudicial. I know you wouldn’t want to do anything
that might affect the trial process. Even
you
know the problems
that could cause.”

The questioning continued for three hours, and the
doctor had become close friends with the Fifth Amendment. He
was soaked in his own sweat and volleyed between teary eyed
and downright crying. Kirschman appeared cool, relaxed and in
charge.

The search of Fraga’s office had turned up nothing, so
Will and Karen were able to focus on the cache they found at his
home. Neither was disappointed about the lack of success at the
office, because there was a fair chance he could defend any
drugs kept there.

Frank Garcia knocked at the door and stuck his head into
the room. He looked energized as he asked Karen and Will if
they would talk to him in the squad room for a minute. The
detectives excused themselves and headed out the door.

“Listen. I got in touch with my buddy at the FBI. You
remember Sam Garrison? I got friendly with him when I went
through that evidence workshop at Quantico a couple of years
back. Anyway, the thing is, we’ve kept in touch and it finally
paid off. I sent him the prints I picked up at Fraga’s house and
asked him to slip them into the Automated Integrated Fingerprint
Identification System. I was hoping maybe he could push us past
the usual three-day wait there. He really came through for me
this time! He just called and said he’d gotten a couple of hits. A
couple of hits! Damn! He got us a fucking bonanza! I’m gonna
owe him big now.”

Will looked ready to pounce. “So go ahead! Don’t keep
us in suspense. What d’you have?”
“Well, we knew the bastard was feeding Jessica Benson
drugs, but how about Feyzi Batan
and
Tyrell Utley as well? Not
just downstairs, understand, which he could probably explain
away, but up in his bedroom, on the lamp by his bed, and in the
bathroom as well. They were all there at one time or another.
There were some other prints but he hasn’t been able to make
them yet. I figure one pair is probably that little illegal
housekeeper of his. Maybe this’ll give you some stuff to push
him with, if Kirschman lets you have any space at all with that
creep.”
Will looked at Karen and asked if she was ready to start
shooting.
“I am,” she answered, and headed down the hall.
Inside the interrogation room Kirschman was trying to
calm his client down, but Fraga’s eyes were wild and the stench
of fear permeated the room. Karen felt that if he kept unraveling
at this pace, they might finally hit some pay dirt by the end of the
day.
The doctor looked up at the smiling detectives and made
a gesture of futility. He was whining like a baby. “What? What
do you want from me? Jay, make them leave me alone already. I
can’t take much more of this...please. Make them stop and get
me out of here.”
Will continued with the grin and nodded. “We’ll let you
out as soon as you come up with the right answers to our
questions. Like, how did Jessica Benson’s fingerprints end up all
over your house?
“Oh, and while you’re considering the answer to that
one, I’ll give you a couple more things to ruminate on. You
might want to dwell a moment on why Feyzi Batan’s and Tyrell
Utley’s prints are all over your bedroom and bathroom, as well...
coincidentally where we just found the drugs.”
Fraga’s eyes pleaded with Kirschman. Kirschman raised
his hand and moved his head from side to side in a gesture of
caution.
“Take it easy, Joe. You don’t have to — scratch that —
you are
not
to say anything. God wouldn’t have given us the
Fifth Amendment if He hadn’t wanted His children to use it.
They’re trying to rattle you, Joseph. Remember what I told you.
Tune it out and take the Fifth.”
But Joe Fraga didn’t seem to hear his attorney, or if he
did, he wasn’t listening. He looked at Karen, and said, “She was
a friend. Just a friend. Batan, well, you know, he came around
with Jessica sometimes. They had something going on between
them. Did you know that? Did you know she and Batan were
together? Sands was such a numb nuts. He never even suspected.
She got away with murder behind his back. Uh, no, no, not
murder, but, um, she cheated on him. I couldn’t believe he
wasn’t on to her, that he stayed with her for so long. Yeah, and
that little Turk wasn’t the only one. There were plenty...“
“So, ?” Will interrupted. “You were running a
brothel? C’mon Fraga, you can do better than that! What about
your relationship with the deceased? Don’t tell me you had that
hot little puss up in your bedroom and never used your dipstick
on her.
“And what about Utley, huh? He was in your bedroom,
why? Maybe you were doing some fudge-packing, faggot.”
“Um, Utley, yeah, yeah. He used to come by for an
adjustment sometimes, you know, when he was having a tough
time. I do what I can for those boys. It’s what I get paid for.”
“Yeah, yeah, all the docs I know give adjustments in
their bedrooms! Get off it, you piece of shit.”
“Now, now,” Kirschman clucked. “Take it easy with my
client here. He’s not well.”
Will raised his eyebrows at the cowering mass that was
Dr. Joe Fraga. “We’re also curious about the murders of Jessica
Benson and Feyzi Batan. Your gun was used for one of them. In
conjunction with that impressive haul of drugs we got at your
place today, I gotta believe there’s something you’re not telling
us. Do you understand where I’m coming from now?”
Kirschman stood up and cautioned, “I mean it, Kaufman.
Take it down a notch here or we’re shutting down shop.” He
lowered himself slowly back into his seat, never taking his eyes
off of Will’s.
Fraga broke out in sobs. “I didn’t kill anyone. I’m not a
killer.” He gulped for air and looked from Karen to Will. Then
he stopped for a moment and seemed to consider where he was
and what he was up against
“Okay, so maybe I gave her some drugs...” he admitted.
Kirschman put his hand up, and snarled, “That’s it!” He
reached for his client and said, “Shut up, Joe. Catch your breath
and shut the hell up.” He looked back at the detectives and
continued. “My client is obviously distraught. I’m going to have
to insist you conclude this interview at once. Give him a chance
to recoup. You’re badgering him and I will not tolerate it.”
Fraga grabbed his attorney’s arm, and whined, “I gotta
tell them. They think I killed her. I have to tell them. She was a
whore. She used me, but I didn’t kill her. She knew how to work
men. You didn’t know her, you don’t understand about her. I just
have to tell them a couple of things. They’ll understand better
and it’ll be okay. Let me tell them now.”
Kirschman stopped him with an ugly glare. “I’d like a
moment alone with my client,” he demanded.
“No, no! Jay, I have to make them believe I didn’t hurt
anyone. Listen, please, just listen to me. You have to listen to me
here. She had someone else, someone I didn’t know. I don’t
think anyone knew who he was. He was a goddamned phantom.
I swear to you. You gotta believe me.”
Kirschman stood suddenly and looked toward the door.
He held Fraga’s eyes with a fierce look. “Listen to me carefully,
Joe. You are in the process of talking your way right into a lethal
injection. If you’re not going to follow my directions, I’m out of
here.” He walked to the door and rested his hand on the handle,
waiting for his client’s response.
As though his attorney hadn’t said a word, Fraga went
on. “She met with him secretly all the time. Everybody pretty
much knew about everybody else, except Sands, of course, who
didn’t know about any of us. But she never let on who this guy
was. I mean, she let us all know he existed. She was such a cock
tease. But she never gave anyone a clue to who he was.” He
gulped in some air and went on. “She did shit like that, you
know, she...”
Will snorted in Fraga’s direction. “Ah, yes. Now we see.
A mystery guest. Of course! Why couldn’t we have figured that
out on our own? Gimme a fucking break, will ya?” Then he burst
out laughing, and turned toward Kirschman, who was doing a
slow burn by the door. “What a sense of humor. Your client’s a
regular Robin Williams. A mystery man! Geez!”
Kirschman shot his client another warning glare.
“Please, I’m telling the truth...”He laid his head on the
table, his arms covering it over.
“Were you fucking her?” Will shouted.
“No. I never touched her!”
“Bzzzzzzz! Wrong answer, doc,” Will shot back
immediately. “But thank you for trying.”
Kirschman made a final, futile attempt to reach his
client: “Joe, get a grip here, man. You’re digging yourself an
early grave and I won’t be able to do shit to help you.”
But the doctor continued. “You think I had a sexual
relationship with her? How? No one knew, I’m sure.”
“Gotcha doc! No one knew
what
?” Will gloated.
“I cared about her and she cared about me. It wasn’t like
you’re implying. I would never hurt her.”
Jay Kirschman rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“That’s it. I’m history. Drop me a note from your cell.” He
slammed the door shut behind him.
Will seized the moment. “Look, doc. I’m getting real
tired of this garbage. My partner and I are gonna wrap you into a
big, pretty package and deliver it to death row. There’s folks that
can testify that you had the Mack Daddy of sick relationships
with the deceased, and they’ll be lining up to do it to save their
own sorry necks. You were holding enough drugs to take care of
all the addicts in the County. Hell, never mind the County... in
the State! We could put you away for a long time with what we
got here. And you go on lying your ass off? Goddamn, I
hate
liars! Your own attorney gave up on you, man. You been advised
of your rights. Any other questions before we send you down to
the jail?”
“I did have a relationship with Jessica, but we never had
sex, uh, intercourse. It’s not like you’re saying. It was special
between us.”
“That’s not the word I would use for what you had going
on.”
“All right. You have me on the drug thing. I’ll give you
names, dates, whatever you want. Just believe that I never killed
anyone, I swear!”

True to his word, Dr. Fraga delivered a list of ‘patients’
that included local celebrities, models, sports figures, including
Tyrell Utley, who, according to the doctor, had a serious cocaine
habit going. He was also servicing some prominent executives in
the business community. But he continued to deny having
murdered anyone, and kept insisting there was that
anonymous
lover
. Will scoffed, dismissing the idea as ‘ridiculous.’ Karen
was not so sure.

I
t was late and Karen was exhausted. She briefly toyed with the
idea of driving straight home and getting to bed for some much
needed sleep. Now that the case had broken, things were finally
looking up for Kyle. She’d tried to reach him earlier, but had
only gotten his voice mail both at home and on his cell phone.
But he’d gotten hold of her just as she got in her car to leave the
station, and now all she wanted was to see him and share the
news.

When she arrived at the Blue Diamond, the concierge
nodded to the elevators, and she had to control her impulse to
run to them. Once she got to the penthouse floor, she did run.
She knocked on his door. He opened it and without speaking
immediately pulled her inside.