Dave Zeltserman - Bad Karma

“What hospital they take the victim to?”

“Memorial.”

“Why don’t you head over there and take a statement in case the victim regains consciousness. Jenks can stick with me for the time being.”

Robideau nodded and was out the door when Daniels asked him how the victim was doing. “EMTs didn’t think it looked good,” Robideau said.

Daniels stepped into the apartment, nodded at Shannon, then sniffed a couple of times. He made a face. “You been smoking?”

“A couple of cigarettes. Filthy habit,” Shannon said.

“Yeah it is. I didn’t know you were a smoker.”

“Up until today I haven’t been. At least not during the last five years.”

“I sympathize,” Daniels said. “This Carver-Gibson business can take its toll. These last few months I’ve been pouring an extra couple of shots of Maker’s Mark each night. And now just what we need. Another homicide.”

“It’s not a homicide yet,” Shannon said.

“No, not yet. I guess we can hope for the best. How well did you know the victim?”

“Pretty well. Emily lives two doors down. She’s probably Susan’s best friend here in Boulder.”

“Susan…?”

“My ex-wife, well sort of my ex-wife. We got back together four years ago, just never bothered remarrying.”

“How well did you get along with this Emily…?”

“Emily Janney. I like her. She’s a good kid.”

“You two ever involved?”

“No.”

Daniels took several steps into the room and looked around. “I had to pull in a few favors to get this case assigned to me,” he said. “My boss didn’t want me touching anything else until the Carver-Gibson murders are closed. My own personal circle in hell: to work that case for all eternity.” His eyes settled on the hole in the wall. “You had access to the equipment from the closet?”

“Yeah. I had built in a side panel that could be slid out. Too bad they didn’t use it instead of carving up the wall.”

“They probably found the video recorders with a stud detector-type device for electronics.” Daniels’ barrel chest expanded as he took a long deep breath. He let it out slowly through his nose. “This is going to be another fucking long day. Just what I was hoping for on a Friday night. What was your neighbor doing here?”

“She was keeping an eye on the place. She was supposed to call the police if she saw or heard anything.”

“You were expecting someone to break in?”

“I thought there was a chance the muscle I ran into at True Light would try it. A couple of Russian thugs.”

“Yeah? What made you think so?”

Shannon scratched his neck, looked away. “They threatened to come here if I kept bothering the True Light. It was an indirect threat. Nothing I could sign out a complaint on.”

“Ah fuck, this is just what I need. Now I’ve got to chase after a couple of phantom Russian thugs.” He lowered his head into his right hand and squeezed his eyes. When he looked back at Shannon they were as bloodshot as any bassett hounds’. “I’m going to need you to go to the precinct and look through mug shots. I’ll give our sketch artist a call and see if I can get him down there tonight.”

“Maybe I can do better than that.” Shannon took out his wallet, found the Russian’s driver’s license and handed it to Daniels.

“How’d you get this?”

“During our scuffle the other day. I doubt you’re going to find much on him. I’d already faxed his picture to my friend at the FBI and so far she’s found nothing.”

“What about fingerprints?”

“Already checked. License had been wiped clean.”

Daniels held the license closer and squinted as he read the name and address. “Dan Smith from Los Angeles. What do you suppose the chances are that that name and address are genuine?”

“Unless he legally changed his name, zero. Both of these guys had thick Russian accents. If I had to bet money on it, I’d say this one was ex-KGB. Also, at one point he boxed professionally-at least in Russia.”

“Give me a timeline.”

“I stopped off here at ten to two to check emails, stayed no more than fifteen minutes. I came back around six and found Emily. I think the window’s smaller. One of the Russians picked up a few of True Light’s members at Vishna Yoga around three-thirty. He was driving a black Mercedes 500 SEL. I didn’t get a license plate. They were probably here somewhere between two thirty and a quarter past three.”

Daniels nodded slowly as he considered that, then yelled out for Jenks. The patrolman came out of the bedroom and told Daniels he was maintaining the crime scene. Daniels waved him over. “Show this license to every tenant in this building and find out if anyone saw him here this afternoon. Also whether anyone saw a black Mercedes sedan. I want every tenant asked. I also want the neighborhood canvassed.”

“His nose is probably bandaged up,” Shannon offered. Daniels eyes narrowed as he gave him a sideways glance. “I broke it pretty good the other day,” Shannon explained.

“You heard what he said,” Daniels said to Jenks. “Mention the bandages.” Jenks acknowledged Daniels with a curt “yes sir”, then left the apartment.

Daniels asked Shannon, “Outside the videotapes, anything taken?”

“My computer. Nothing else that’s obvious. I’ll go through the apartment more thoroughly later. Are you going to talk to True Light?”

“Yeah, I’ll get their side of it. I want you heading over to the precinct and looking at mug shots for that other Russian.”

“Later. Mug shots are a long shot at best. Right now I’m going to pick up Susan and take her to Boulder Memorial. When the sketch artist is available give me a call on my cell phone and I’ll take care of that and the mug shots at the same time.”

Daniels made a face but didn’t argue. Instead, he mentioned in an offhand manner that maybe they’d get lucky. That Emily would regain consciousness and be able to tell them what happened.

“If she does recover she’s not going to be able to tell us anything. If she could, those Russians wouldn’t have left her alive.”

Daniels shrugged weakly, indicating he pretty much agreed with that. “I’ll get forensics here, see if we can lift any prints or fibers,” he said without any enthusiasm. Shannon left without bothering to mention how useless that activity would be.

The Boulderado Hotel was less than a five-minute drive from his apartment. On his way to pick up Susan, he found that he had shaken loose a cigarette and was lighting it before he realized what he was doing. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror-the cigarette dangling from his lips, the hardness about his face, an emptiness in his eyes. He took the cigarette out and crumpled it. After parking at the hotel, he tossed the cigarette and the rest of the pack in the trash, then found Susan waiting for him in the hotel lobby.

She walked to him quickly and took hold of his hand, then asked whether there was any news on Emily. He told her that he didn’t know of any yet. “But you gave her the Opium 1M?” He nodded and told her he did.

As they walked to their car, Shannon saw that dark clouds had rolled over the Flatirons. With the approaching storm the temperature had dropped almost twenty degrees in the last hour. He felt Susan shiver next to him. She squeezed his hand harder, but didn’t say a word.

While they drove to Boulder Memorial, he told her his theory about Paveeth sending the Russians to their apartment while he was busy at True Light. She sat quietly, listening, her face tense and pale in the evening dusk.

“I am so angry about this,” she said at last.

“Susie, I am so sorry about what happened.”