The Night Is Deep (A Liam Dempsey Thriller Book 2) (15 page)

CHAPTER 15

The Cornerstone Bar wasn’t on a corner and it wasn’t made of stone.

Liam traced the roof’s steel peak, taking in the dirty sidewalls that may have once been a rich red but were now stained a dull brown. Water coursed out of a broken gutter on the closest end of the building, pooling and running in a miniature river past a scuffed and discolored security door shut to the weather. A neon
Open
sign hung at an angle in a murky window. There was one vehicle in the muddy parking lot, a rusted Chevy with a bed that canted to the left like a busted jaw.

“The proprietor’s chariot?” Liam asked as Perring coasted to a stop before the building.

“Yeah, that’s his. Liam, what are you planning on doing here?”

“I’m going to ask him some questions.” He opened his door and stepped into the rain. There was still a black manic energy coursing through his veins from Dani’s phone call. It was like some intravenous drug that wouldn’t leave his system no matter how much he disregarded it. He had felt hints of it before: whenever he thought of Abford, when he’d seen the pictures of the mangled bodies of his brother and sister-in-law, whenever he looked at a cold-case photograph, the victim’s eyes beseeching him for justice.

But it was stronger now. So much stronger.

He walked beneath the building’s awning, holding the door for Perring, as she hurried from the car, inside.

The bar reeked of stale popcorn and fried food along with smoke. A long, pitted bar stretched away from them and turned at the rear of the building, ending next to a set of double doors. The windows let in pale swaths of light through their filmy panes, illuminating high-top tables that hadn’t been cleaned in some time. A digital jukebox waited silently in one corner and what appeared to be a brand new pool table sat in the center of the floor. As Liam shut the door behind them, a broad man with a gray ponytail stepped through the double doors, holding an open beer can and smoking a cigarette. His eyes found them and narrowed as he stepped out from behind the bar.

“What can I do for you, detective?” He said the last word like a slur. Perring walked toward him while Liam moved to the pool table, glancing at the bar’s owner as he went. Houston was in his late forties or early fifties, his hangdog face covered in a growth of whiskers that resembled a wire brush. He wore a white leather vest over a long-sleeve button up, and a gaudy gold ring on his left index finger. Liam stopped beside the pool table, running his hand across the flawless, green felt. He fished in his pocket for a moment before drawing out several coins.

“Mr. Houston, we’re here to ask you a few questions.”

“Already answered all of your questions when I was in at the station house. I ain’t got nothin’ more to say to you.”

Houston and Perring both looked Liam’s way as he shoved in the coin bed and the pool balls dropped from inside the table, the clatter echoing throughout the bar.

“Sorry,” he said, flashing them a sheepish look. Perring frowned at him and turned back to Houston.

“Sir, we need to go over what you’ve told us so far. Honestly we’re concerned about the change in your story.”

“Listen, I told you already, I was drinkin’ since there wasn’t any customers in that night ’cept for Dickson. We had some shots and I didn’t remember until later that he took off and came back. That’s it.” Liam watched the bartender spin the gold ring around and around his finger as he racked up the pool balls.

“Do you have credit card receipts from Jenner that night?” Liam asked, racking the pool balls. “Maybe something to give us a solid timeline about when he was here and when he left?”

“He paid cash,” Houston said, his upper lip curling in a sneer.

“Can you tell me again why the epiphany came to you about Dickson leaving?” Perring asked.

“The what?”

“Epiphany. Why did you suddenly remember he hadn’t been here the whole time when you plainly told the officer the day before that he had?”

“Because I was drunk. Ever been drunk before, detective, or you too good for that?”

Liam broke the formation of pool balls with a stroke of the cue. Several dropped into pockets and Houston glanced his way before returning his gaze to Perring.

“Mr. Houston I don’t appreciate your tone and if you’re unwilling to cooperate with us we’ll have to continue this conversation at the station.”

“You got no right coming in here and orderin’ me around. I told you everything I know. Now I got business to attend to so if you’re done, I’d appreciate you gettin’ the hell out of my bar.”

Liam took a shot at a three ball, letting the cue slide from his fingers and drop to the floor.

“Watch it!” Houston said, pointing at the table. “All that’s brand new. You’ll be payin’ me if that cue’s broken.”

“Sorry. Lost my grip,” Liam said, picking the cue up. “How long have you known Jenner?”

“Since he could drink. Who the hell is this guy, anyways?” Houston said to Perring, pointing at Liam.

“His name is Mr. Dempsey. He’s assisting us on the investigation.”

“Well if he ain’t a cop, I don’t have to talk to him.”

Perring sighed. “Sir, Dickson Jenner is dead. He was killed in a shooting with police this afternoon.”

Houston’s face tightened, the lines around his mouth and eyes flattening. “That’s too bad.”

“It’s more than too bad if we find out you aren’t telling us the truth,” Perring said.

“I don’t have to say nothin’. Think I’ll call my lawyer and speak with him. In the meantime, I want you two to get the fuck out of here.”

Houston took a step toward Perring, towering over her, encroaching on her space.

“Sir, I need you to move back,” Perring said, hand dropping to her handgun.

“Or what? You gonna shoot me too? Shoot me in my own bar after I done nothing wrong.” Houston swaggered forward, chest nearly touching Perring’s face as she retreated another step.

In his mind, Liam saw Valerie tied to the chair in the dank basement, crying through her gag, saw Abford spinning around and taking aim, saw the man in the park running his hand up Dani’s leg.

He took another shot and the cue bit hard into the felt. The tip snagged and pierced the green cloth, tearing a six-inch strip across the table.

The sound caught Houston’s attention and his eyes flew open wide. “Goddamnit!” he yelled. “You sonofabitch! That’s a brand new fuckin’ table.” The larger man came at Liam, one hand outstretched to grab him by the shirt, the other cocked back in a fist.

In one motion, Liam grasped Houston’s wrist and yanked him forward as he snatched the cue ball from the table. He pressed the big man’s palm to the felt and slammed the cue ball into the back of his hand.

There was a muted crackling as several bones in Houston’s hand broke.

The bar owner opened his mouth to scream but Liam punched him in the throat. The man’s cry became a squawk and his eyes bulged, watering instantly. He tried to pull away but Liam grasped him by the collar and twisted the cue ball into his hand at the same time. Houston whimpered and gagged.

“Liam!” Perring yelled, drawing her gun.

“Listen here you lying fuck, I know you’re not telling the truth so let’s dispense with the bullshit. Sound good?” Houston lurched away but Liam drew him back, leaning more on the cue ball. The bar owner’s knees gave out and he slumped to them beside the table. “Sorry, was that a yes?” Liam asked.

“Yes,” Houston croaked.

“Good. Why did you change your story?”

“Liam!” Perring yelled.

“Why?” Liam growled. When Houston only gagged again, Liam screwed the cue ball down harder into his ruined hand. The man’s eyes began to roll upward and Liam grasped the upper part of the man’s ear between his fingers and pinched. Houston retched and vomited on the floor. Liam released the pressure on the cue ball and the bigger man slumped to his side, cradling his broken hand to his chest.

Liam knelt beside him. “That was the beginning of the pain. There’s a lot more if you need it.”

“No,” Houston said, tears flowing out of the corners of both his eyes.

“Then tell us the truth.”

“He paid me,” Houston wheezed. “He paid me fifty grand to change my story.”

Perring stepped closer, holstering her gun.

“Who paid you?” Liam asked. When Houston didn’t respond he began reaching for his crushed hand.

“Okay, okay!” Houston nearly screamed. “That girl’s father, Caulston Webb, he paid me!”

CHAPTER 16

Liam swallowed the last of the coffee in his Styrofoam cup and crumpled it in a fist.

He glanced down the hallway outside of the room he was sitting in, still not seeing Perring anywhere. The bustle of officers communing in the area adjacent to the waiting room created a constant hum. Phones rang intermittently, papers shushed against one another, file drawers banged shut. All the sounds were so familiar. If he closed his eyes he could imagine he was back in his precinct building in Minneapolis.

He turned and stared out the window at the rain that refused to stop falling. The streets outside shone blackly as a bus hissed to a stop on the closest corner, depositing two men who hurried down the sidewalk, their heads ducked low into their collars. It was nearly six in the evening and the day’s events wore on Liam. He rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn as footsteps echoed down the hallway, drawing nearer. A second later Perring appeared in the doorway.

“So?” Liam asked when she only gazed at him.

“Let’s go.” She turned and didn’t wait to see if he was going to follow. He tossed the destroyed cup into the trash and walked after her.

They went down the stairs to the lower garage where Perring had parked her sedan earlier after spending several hours at the hospital dealing with Houston and the fallout of his arrest. She had dropped him off at the precinct prior and left him to sit and wait while she went through the necessary steps. When they climbed inside she started the car but made no move to put it in gear. Liam waited, picking at the drops of sap that still clung to the skin of his neck.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Thanks, but you already told me that.”

“That was the most irresponsible and reckless thing I’ve ever seen on duty.”

“Tearing the felt on the pool table or breaking his hand?”

She gave him a cold stare. “If I’d known that was what you were planning, I would’ve never—”

“Yeah and we never would’ve known what really happened,” Liam said.

“That doesn’t excuse what you did.”

“The purest form of truth is found in violence.” He looked down at his hands, rubbing his knuckles. “Is Houston pressing charges?”

Perring gritted her teeth, then grabbed the rapidly dwindling pack of cigarettes. “No. He’s more concerned with the charges of conspiracy, obstruction of justice, and making false statements we’re slapping on him.” She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before cracking her window.

“What did you tell the hospital staff about his injuries?”

“The official report says he was resisting arrest.”

“Thank you,” Liam said. Perring refused to look at him. Instead she smoked, exhaling at an angle out the window. “I knew he wasn’t going to talk. And he was threatening you.”

“I can take care of myself, thanks.”

Liam smiled. “I know, but I felt threatened.”

“Bullshit.” Perring reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a plastic bag containing his straight razor. “Here. Forensics is done with this. They’re keeping your gun for a while longer though.”

“Thanks,” Liam said, opening and closing the blade before tucking it away.

“Odd thing to carry.”

“Not for a barber.”

“You’re a barber?”

“No, but if you need a haircut I could probably help you out.”

“Asshole.”

He watched the rain fall outside of the open garage entrance, its meteoric dance in the puddles. “It was my father’s. He passed it down to me.”

“So he was the barber.”

“Yeah.”

“Was he pissed that you didn’t follow in his footsteps?”

“No. He was proud of me being a cop. Cried when I graduated the academy.”

Perring nodded. “Wish my dad would’ve been like that.”

“He didn’t approve of your choice in careers?”

“You could say that. I’m not sure he ever spent a full week inside the law. Told me if I became a cop to consider myself an orphan. Needless to say I don’t get a card on my birthday.”

Liam appraised her out of the corner of his eye but saw no change in her demeanor. He looked forward again and said, “What did Caulston have to say?”

“When they first brought him in he wouldn’t say anything but I kept talking to him, goading him a little. He finally broke and admitted that he paid Houston the money, said he was glad Dickson was dead. Probably by tonight we’ll have the bank transaction record to back it up.” Perring shook her head. “Damn him. The old bigot let his hatred cloud all reason. If he hadn’t bribed Houston, Jenner would still be alive right now and so would his mother. The chief said there’s going to be a full inquiry into the shooting. He thinks it will be open and shut, but the race issue will be unavoidable.”

“Racism is the whole problem here. Jenner was blamed after Alexandra’s suicide, not only because he was her boyfriend, but because he was black. If he’d been white the resentment wouldn’t have followed him as long. Caulston set this whole thing off, but the groundwork was laid a long time ago.”

Perring nodded. “Yeah.”

“Does Owen know yet?”

“I called Mills. He’s standing in as task force leader until I get back. He said he’d relay it to Owen.”

“And there hasn’t been any more contact with the kidnapper?”

“None. And the search for the IP address came back with nothing.”

“Okay.” Liam brought his hand up and began tapping his forehead with a finger. “I think it’s obvious who we should speak to next.”

“Charlie said he wasn’t able to get anything concrete on Marshall Davis’s whereabouts. He was registered at a halfway house a month ago but nothing since. He’s checking with one of our informants now. I didn’t mention it before, but an ounce of cocaine was found in Dade Erickson’s nightstand.”

“I’d wager his good friend Marshall Davis sold it to him.”

“Exactly.”

“Was Erickson’s phone checked for Davis’s number?” Liam said.

“Yeah. So far there’s nothing labeled with his name. Erickson must’ve been erasing the calls after he made them. I’m having his phone records sent over as soon as they’re available.” Perring drew in one last lungful of smoke before tossing her cigarette butt out the window. “What a cluster fuck. If I don’t get an official reprimand for this case it’ll be a miracle.”

“There’s worse things than reprimands.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“No. Not easy.”

She gazed at him for a moment before dropping her eyes to the crumpled cigarette pack. “Rex would give me unending shit if he knew I was smoking again.”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” Liam said, giving her a small smile.

She returned it. “Deal.”

His stomach rumbled and he placed a hand over it. “I hate to be a pain in the ass, but I need to eat.”

“Should’ve had breakfast when I offered.”

“Sounds good now.”

“There’s a place a few blocks away—” Perring began, but her cell phone rang, cutting her off. “Perring,” she answered. She listened for a long time, her face darkening. “He’s sure? Okay, I’ll go check it out. Thanks.” She hung up and placed the phone in her lap. “The office just got a call from a pawn store owner downtown.”

“Yeah?”

“He says he recognized Valerie’s picture on TV this afternoon.”

Liam sat forward. “From where?”

“He says that she’s been coming to his store for two years.”

Dusk layered the city in shadow as they drove, rain beading and rolling off the windshield. The pawnshop was on a side street attached to a bank, its brick front matching seamlessly with the financial institution. A sign reading
Jewelry-Cash-Gold
was illuminated in flowing script above the doorway.

“Doesn’t look like a pawnshop at all,” Liam said as Perring parked directly in front of the entrance.

“Good part of town. You should see some of the other places.”

An odor of dust as well as a pleasant, electronic chiming met them as they stepped inside. The shop was simple but elegant, its walls a deep burgundy lit by sconces as well as a crystal chandelier hanging from a high ceiling. Glass cases lined three sides of the room. A velvet-covered table was positioned at one corner of the cases and several shining bracelets were draped across an angled display. Behind the table a man read a paperback novel, the cover bent around the back. He had a shock of gray hair, slicked straight back from a tall forehead and a long nose holding up a pair of bifocals. He glanced up as they entered and placed the book beneath the table. Then he was on his feet approaching them, a warm smile gracing his aging features.

“Good evening. How may I help you?”

Perring drew out her ID. “Mr. Sorenson?”

“Yes,” the man said, examining her badge before clasping his hands before him like a child.

“I’m detective Denise Perring and this is Mr. Dempsey. You called the station a short time ago saying you recognized Valerie Farrow’s picture?”

Sorenson’s face blanched and he nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid I did.” His voice had a soft twangy, southern lilt to it.

“You’re the proprietor, Mr. Sorenson?”

“Yes. I have two other staff but they normally work in the mornings.”

“Can you tell us how you recognized Valerie?”

“She’s been coming in here for nearly two years I’d say.”

“And what were the purposes of her visits?”

“She was a window shopper. She’d come in every other day or so and walk around the store looking in all the cases. She seemed very interested in our jewelry. We have one of the largest selections in the city you know.”

“I see. You say she came in every other day?”

“That’s right.”

Perring shot a look at Liam. “And you’re sure it was this woman?” She took out a folded picture of Valerie and held it out to Sorenson. The store owner adjusted his glasses and gazed at the photo for a few seconds before nodding.

“That’s her. Such a pretty woman. Is it true what they’re saying on the television? That she was taken from her house?”

“I’m sorry but I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of the case.”

Liam began walking around the store. He bent at the waist and scanned the rows and rows of diamonds glittering in necklaces, rings, watches. He moved down the display, pausing before a section set off by itself. He stayed there for a beat before returning to Perring and Sorenson.

“Such a shock for something like this to happen.” Sorenson was saying. “Even though we’re not a small town it’s always frightening to hear news like this.”

“What time of the day would Valerie typically stop by?” Liam asked.

Sorenson regarded him. “I would say it varied a little but normally she’d come in around ten in the morning. Sometimes a hair before noon.”

“Did she ever speak to anyone?” Liam said.

“No. That was the curious thing. She’d come in and say hello, but that was about all. She’d stay for maybe ten minutes and then leave.”

“She never asked to try anything on?”

“No, nothing.”

“When was the last time she came by your store?” Perring asked.

“I would say it was last week, maybe Tuesday.”

“And she hasn’t been by since?”

“No, ma’am. I always wondered about her. She had a skittish look to her, you know? Almost like she was afraid of being around people. She had a hard time holding eye contact whenever we’d ask her if she needed help. She always said no, of course.”

“Was there ever anyone with her on these visits?” Liam asked.

“No. She was alone every time.”

Liam glanced around the room. “You have a very nice business, Mr. Sorenson.”

“Why thank you.”

“Do you purchase items from the public?”

Sorenson gave a small frown. “We do, but it’s a very low percentage of our retail supply. Mostly we buy wholesale. Fair-trade diamonds and gold, of course. Like I said, we have one of the largest selections in the city.”

Liam nodded and looked at Perring who gave Sorenson a tight smile and held out her hand. “Thank you very much for your call and cooperating. Would it be a problem to get the footage of the last time Mrs. Farrow was in the store?” Perring asked nodding at the small camera mounted in the corner of the room.

“Absolutely. I’ll have one of the employees e-mail it over.”

“That’s perfect. Could we get a business card in case we have more questions for you?”

“Of course,” Sorenson said, pulling a beige card from his pocket.

“If you remember anything else about Mrs. Farrow’s visits, don’t hesitate to contact me,” Perring said, exchanging his card with one of her own.

“I will. Thank you, detective.”

Perring began heading for the door but stopped when Liam didn’t follow. He glanced at her and tipped his head toward the street. “I’ll be just a minute.” Perring’s mouth tightened as if she were about to say something when Liam held out his hand. “Only a minute, I promise.” She gave him a withering look before moving toward the door and out into the rain.

As the chime sounded again, Liam turned back to the store owner, fixing him with a smile.

“I apologize, but I have a few more questions for you.”