The Rabbit Factory (29 page)

Brian stood up, which immediately gave him more presence than anyone in the room. "Whatever they saw, we've got on our surveillance cameras," he said. "And when they turn in their gift certificates, we ask for a driver's license, so we'll know who they are."

Terry stood too, until he was as eyeball to eyeball with Brian as one can be without getting kissed or hit. "Great, and we can follow them home to fucking Kansas or Taiwan or wherever, and then ask them if they saw anything."

Brian didn't blink. "Hey, I don't expect you guys to understand Lamaar policy, but let me spell it out for you. The people who were in this restaurant are our public. They're not the same as a bunch of homeless winos who you can just wrangle up and hassle as much as you want."

"What did you think we were going to do to your precious public? Kick 'em in the nuts? Letting them go just hurts our investigation."

"Not as much as interrogating them would hurt our reputation," Brian said, his voice reaching an un-Lamaar-like decibel level. "You may think I sound like a corporate asshole, but we can't have people going back to fucking Kansas or Taiwan or wherever telling their friends that Familyland was a real hoot, except for the part where some lady got stabbed to death in the bathroom."

A shrill whistle pierced the air. Jessica, two fingers in her mouth, had generated enough noise to hail three cabs in a

snowstorm. As soon as she had our undivided attention, she cocked her head, and, in her nails-on-a-blackboard nasal Chicago voice, said, "This was supposed to be my day off. Now would one of you buckets of testosterone show me the DOA, or did I come at a bad time?" By default, I got to play Good Cop. I took Jessica back to the ladies room and told her that whatever was inside the plastic bag was our highest priority. "I must have sounded like a total PMS-ing shrew back there," she said.

"Don't apologize," I said. "They had it coming."

"No they didn't, but I'm glad I let them have it anyway. I wish I could be that assertive all the time." She stopped when she saw Judy Kaiser and knelt next to the body. "You poor woman," she said. Then without looking away from the victim, she added, "Lomax, leave us alone please. I've got work here." It took the better part of two hours for Jessica and her team to take their pictures, vacuum up hairs and fibers, and dust for fingerprints, which was basically fruitless since we were dealing with a public restroom. Amy joined us, and to Brian's credit, she was not at all abusive, which for her was model behavior. We also learned that the letter opener was indeed another souvenir from the Lamaar gift assortment of fine murder weapons. The plastic handle was molded in the shape of J.J. Hogg, the world's richest pig. "Sounds like a rip-off of Scrooge McDuck," Terry said.

"Not so loud," Brian said. "Disney agrees with you. They're suing us."

"Some nerve," Terry said. "Like they're the only ones who can have a billionaire farm animal?"

Brian tried to hide a smile, but the amusement twinkled in his eyes. Now that the tension between the two of them had diffused, I figured we could have some real laughs together, if it weren't for this damn triple homicide. Finally, Jessica came out of the ladies room and announced what we were waiting to hear. "You've got mail." She held out u stainless steel medical tray. In the center was a sealed white, business-sized envelope. We all stared at it like it was the original of the Magna Carta. "Can you open it?" I asked.

"Forensically, yes," she said. "But first let me read you the message on the envelope. Quote, Police, deliver directly to Morris Rosenlicht or his heirs. If you open it, you 'II be the cause of the next victim's death. Unquote. Now, are you sure you want me to open it?" "Who's Morris Rosenlicht?" Terry said.

"I think I know." It was Amy.

"Can you tell us?" I said.

"This is really very weird," she said. "Give me a minute."

She opened her cell phone and walked toward a corner.

"What about the flipbook?" I said.

Jessica held out a second stainless steel tray. The book in l;he tray looked like the others. "I don't want to manhandle it any more than I already have, so let me just act it out for you." She started with a closed hand, then put her thumb and Jbrefinger in a circle and held the other three fingers in the air. "I think it means, 'everything's going great.' Something like that." "It's also the 'three-ring' sign," Terry said. "Ask the man for lallantine."

Jessica shook her head. "You lost me."

"Ballantine Beer. Gosh, Jess, I guess you're not the man you think you are."

Amy rejoined the group. "I just called Ike Rose," she said. "He's on a plane back from New York. He'll be here in a few hours." "Ma'am, with all due respect," Terry said, as politely as I'd seen him in recent days, "we've either got to deliver this envelope, or ignore the warning and open it. We don't have time to wait for the head of the company." "The letter is addressed to the head of the company," she said. "Mr. Rose was born Isaac Rosenlicht. He changed his name in business school. His father was Morris Rosenlicht. He's dead. This letter is meant for Ike Rose." "This gets sicker and sicker by the minute," Terry said.

Brian circled his fingers in the three-ring sign. "Detective Biggs," he said. "For the first time today, you and I are in violent agreement."

"TJTt was after five o'clock when Ike Rose arrived. He wanted I to personally express his condolences to the dead woman's JL family, but we had interviewed them and sent them to a liotel over an hour ago. He wanted to see the latest victim. We tried to discourage him, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. I "This is madness," he said, when he came back from the blood-spattered ladies room. "She was a guest. An innocent woman. A wife, a mother."

"Can you talk," I said, "or do you need some time?" He shook his head. "I'm fine. I mean, I'm not fine. Nobody here is fine, but I can talk." He sat down at a table, lit a cigaictte, and sucked in the poison.

Jessica set the envelope on the table. She had already pholographed it, dusted it for prints, checked out the paper and the Ink, and done a field-level analysis. If there were any clues like I >NA, she'd find out in the lab.

Rose stared at it. "Deliver directly to Morris Rosenlicht or his heirs. That's my father," he said. "He died last year. Oh, Jesus,

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it says if you open it, you'll be the cause of the next victim's death. The guy's a madman."

"We don't usually take orders from madmen," Terry said. "But in this case we decided to wait till you got here." "This is Jessica Keating," I said. "Forensics. I'd like her to open it."

"We all know what it's going to say," Rose said. "'Dear Ike, you're next.' I've gotten death threats before, but never from someone who has successfully demonstrated his capabilities beyond any shadow of a doubt." "Is there a reason somebody would want to kill you?" I asked.

"Same reason someone wants to kill every politician, every corporate leader, or their gym teacher. Somewhere along the line I did something to piss him off. Only most people don't act out their resentment the way this guy has. Go ahead, Miss Keating. Open it." Jessica sliced the side of the envelope open with an X-acto knife, then used long tweezers to pull out a single sheet of paper. She unfolded it gingerly and began reading. "Hello, Isaac. By now we hope we have proven we can kill your employees, your customers, or anyone else who associates with Lamaar. We are capable of killing many, many more. If you 'd like the killing to stop, it will cost you two hundred sixty-six point four million dollars'' Rose sprang up like he was zapped by a cattle prod. "What the fuck! They want money? This is Danny Eeg. He's been trying to get money out of us for years. Who else knows my father's name? You've got to arrest this guy." "There's more," Jessica said. "The amount is not negotiable. Once you agree to pay the money, place a notice in the Classi --

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fk'd Section of the LA Times stating that the family of the late Buddy Longo thanks his friends and co-workers for their love and support during our time of grief. When that notice runs, you 'II get further instructions. Until it runs, the killings will continue."

"The killings will continue," Rose said. "This is fucking insane."

Jessica went on. "If you don't respond within five days, I will notify the media of everything you have tried to keep secret. Mainly, that being associated with Lamaar can be extremely hazardous to your health. After that, we won't have to kill your [K'Ople or your customers or your suppliers. They'll desert you in droves, and that will definitely have a negative impact on your bottom line."

Jessica set the letter down. "There's no signature. Nothing else," she said.

Not a single person in the room had any difficulty processing the clear-cut instructions. Yet, for a good ten seconds, no one said a word. Not even Amy.

Finally, Rose spoke. "He's right. Thousands of our employees would quit if they thought that working for us would put their lives at risk. That would cripple our operations, but I think we could weather that. And if the public finds out that a woman was murdered in Familyland just because she decided to spend her vacation here, we will lose hundreds of millions of dollars in revenue. It would rock this company to its foundations, but I think that long-term we could weather that as well." His voice was calm. His thought process was no longer driven by emotions. Once again he was a CEO analyzing a business problem. He took another drag on his cigarette. "What we won't be able to deal with is Wall Street. What investor in his right mind would

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want to put money into a company whose customers and employees are abandoning it in fear for their lives? Lamaar stock would be in the toilet. Now, wouldn't that make Danny Eeg happy? Speaking of which, I think this would be a good time to give me an update on where you are with Mr. Eeg."

I filled him in on Falco's interview with Eeg. "I'll be honest," I said. "Even with his vendetta, Eeg never fit the profile of a serial killer. But this case is no longer just about multiple homicides. Now what we've got is an extortion plot."

"Pay $266.4 million or we'll cripple your company? I'd say that's one hell of an extortion plot, Detective."

"Mr. Rose, we've got a lot of new evidence here. LAPD will bring in the FBI and we will do whatever it takes to catch the person or persons behind this," I said. "And we would strongly urge you not to pay the ransom."

"I don't intend to," he said.

I was a little surprised he had made that decision. Amy was a lot surprised. She let out a little gasp. Rose looked at her, then turned back to me. "I've always admired the people who stood up to terrorists and refused to meet their demands. I just never thought I'd be forced to make that decision myself."

"Sir, excuse me." Amy was finally talking. "Do you plan to consult with the Board of Directors?"

"I'll tell the Board what I've decided, but I'm not going to put the burden on them," Rose said. "According to my contract, this is my call, and I repeat, I am not paying the ransom." -1

We were seeing a different side of Amy. The Corporate Kiss Ass obviously disagreed with her boss's decision and she was letting him know it. "But, sir, the ransom note says that if you don't pay, they'll keep killing people connected with Lamaar." .

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"Yes, I know," Rose said. Then he turned to me and Terry. "That puts the pressure on you, gentlemen. Find out who's hehind this. And find out fast." He dropped his cigarette on the floor, stepped on it, and walked out of the room.

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BOILING THE BUNNY

Wie were back in the office by 8 p.m. The chopper deposited us on the roof of the Federal Building and another pair of uniforms picked us up in a Muck and white. This was a male-female team. It was the first lime I'd ever met them, but I'd bet anything they were learning up after their shift was over.

Terry agreed. "Hell, yeah. Did you see his body language? Mi' practically announced that he's banging her."

"And I thought it was my keen detective skills that had led (tic to deduce that," I said. "But then if I were a real detective Illuy wouldn't be calling in the Feds to solve my case."

"Help solve," he said. Terry, who had been pissy on the way Jown to Familyland, had mellowed now that we were back on "our home turf.

I, on the other hand, was tired, hungry, and cranky. "Sending for the Feebies," I said, loud enough for half the squad room to look up, "is like making a public announcement that llu-crime we're supposed to be solving has now escalated )>oyond our Level of Competence."

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We were back in the office by 8 p.m. The chopper deposited us on the roof of the Federal Building and another pair of uniforms picked us up in a black and white. This was a male-female team. It was the first lime I'd ever met them, but I'd bet anything they were learning up after their shift was over.

Terry agreed. "Hell, yeah. Did you see his body language? I le practically announced that he's banging her."

"And I thought it was my keen detective skills that had led me to deduce that," I said. "But then if I were a real detective they wouldn't be calling in the Feds to solve my case."

"Help solve," he said. Terry, who had been pissy on the way down to Familyland, had mellowed now that we were back on our home turf.

I, on the other hand, was tired, hungry, and cranky. "Sending for the Feebies," I said, loud enough for half the squad room to look up, "is like making a public announcement that Ithe crime we're supposed to be solving has now escalated beyond our Level of Competence."

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"It's not beyond our level of anything," Terry said. "You and I could've found D.B. Cooper if we'd have caught that case. But you gotta admit this one has escalated. It's a serial killer, plus big bucks extortion. And now that they're threatening to kill anybody associated with Lamaar, you got your terrorism factor. Three mints in one. Sounds like a Federal case to me. That still doesn't mean that a couple of schmucks from LAPD can't solve it." "Okay, schmuck, how do we solve it?"