Lisa Unger - Die For You

Without his crisp uniform and smart cap, with a five o’clock shadow, reeking of booze and cigarettes, Shane seemed to have aged fifteen years since they saw him at the Raines’ building. Grady saw that his hands were covered in angry patches of raw, red skin, that his scalp was peeling, his nose red from regular boozing. His knee was pumping like a jackhammer; he was scared. Good news for them. Grady cobbled together a little story from the information they got from Isabel Raine. Some of it was true, some of it made up, like all good fiction. He’d see where it got them.

“At this point we know quite a bit. We know that Marcus Raine was really a man named Kristof Ragan. We now believe this man killed the real Marcus Raine, stealing his money and his identity. We know about Kristof’s brother, Ivan Ragan, a man with a criminal history, involved with the Albanian and Russian Mob. We suspect Ivan helped his brother in the commission of the crime. According to our research, Ivan Ragan was arrested on unrelated charges, about a week after Marcus Raine disappeared. He was recently released, serving a sentence for gun possession.

“Corresponding with his release, someone caught on that the man everyone knew as Marcus Raine was not who he said he was. So Kristof Ragan started pulling in his lines-cleaning out bank accounts, arranging for equipment to be stolen, then collecting the insurance check, taking money from his brother-in-law. Then he walked out of the life he’d made. A cleanup crew came in, trashed his office and his home, killing witnesses-four people dead so far. They destroyed or removed every possible piece of evidence. With your help.”

Charlie kept his head down, still no eye contact. But Grady watched as a bead of sweat dripped from the old man’s head and fell to the table between them. They’d managed to find some photographs-an Interpol photograph of Ivan Ragan and a picture of the woman Isabel Raine only knew as S from the Services Unlimited Web site.

Jez handed the shots to Grady and he laid them out on the table in front of Charlie Shane. Still he didn’t glance up, didn’t say a word.

“So either you were just a bit player who took a big tip to let in the cleanup crew, in which case you’ll take the line we’re offering here and tell us what you know. Or you know so much that you’re more afraid of them than you are of us, in which case we’re at an impasse and I’ll have to charge you with conspiracy.”

Charlie Shane looked up quickly. Grady suppressed a smile; he didn’t know how much of what he’d said was true-some of it, maybe a lot of it. But he thought it sounded pretty good. He was proud of himself.

“I don’t know anything,” said Shane. “Mr. Raine asked me to let some friends of his in to move some files from his home to his office, and I did that. He gave me a hundred dollars to do so, and not mention it no matter who asked. How was I supposed to know there was anything criminal going on? I’m the doorman. I do what I’m asked.”

“He asked you not to mention it, if asked. Gave you a hundred-dollar tip? That wasn’t a clue that something unsavory was transpiring?”

Shane shrugged.

“Did you know any of the people you let in?”

“Of course not.”

“Can you describe them? Would you recognize them again if you saw them?”

“Don’t you have a video? You know, from those surveillance cameras in the lobby?” He gave Grady a nasty, yellow smile. Grady hadn’t quite expected to fool him with his bit about the cameras; just introduce a shadow of doubt.

“That’s it,” said Jez. She’d been standing in the corner, silent, brooding. In spite of the ice, her eye was started to swell badly. She moved quickly to the table. Grady could see that she was pissed, wanted reason to put her hands on Charlie Shane. He thought he was going to have to intervene. But she backed away, moved toward the door. “Too much conversation. Let’s get the paperwork started.”

“Wait,” said Shane, lifting a hand. Jez paused at the door but didn’t turn around.

“Start with how you knew Camilla Novak,” said Jez.

Grady placed the only picture they had of Camilla, the one he’d found on the Internet, in front of him. Shane shook his head.

“We found her dead body in her apartment today,” Grady said. “She had a stamp on her hand from the Topaz Room, where we found you just a few hours ago. You were the doorman in the building of the man who more than probably killed her boyfriend and stole his identity. You knew her.”

More silence. Jez turned the knob and opened the door.

“I knew her,” he said quickly. “I knew her.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Jez closed the door and turned around.

“More than a few weeks ago-maybe closer to two months-I was covering Teaford’s shift and I heard yelling out on the street. It was after midnight. A woman, screaming.”

He released a deep breath, rubbed at his temples.

“I left my post and went out to the street and saw Miss Novak yelling at Mr. Raine.”

“What was she saying?”

“She was saying, ‘You love her, you love her. You weren’t supposed to love her.’”

“And what was Raine doing?”

“He was trying to calm her down, speaking in low tones. She screamed, ‘I betrayed him for you. I thought we were going to be together. I have blood on my hands for nothing.’ Something like that.” He waved a hand. “I don’t remember her exact words.”

His leg was still pumping and he was sweating as if he’d just spent an hour working out hard in the gym.

“Mr. Raine said, ‘Be patient. It’s almost through.’ He tried to walk away but she followed, yelling, ‘You liar, you liar. I’m going to burn it down. All of it.’ She grabbed hold of his arm. But he slapped her hard and she went reeling back. He saw me standing there then. ‘Call the police if she follows me,’ he told me. I was stunned. ‘Charlie, I know I can count on your discretion.’ He left her weeping on the street.”

“What did you do at that point?” asked Jez.

“I couldn’t just leave her there. After he went upstairs, I brought her into the lobby, gave her some ice for her mouth, asked if I could call her a taxi.”

“Where’d you get the ice?” asked Jez with a frown.

“What?” asked Shane. It must have seemed like a stupid question, apropos of nothing. But Grady knew why Jez had asked it. Lies lived in the little things, the details people threw in to make their stories sound truer.

“From a cooler I bring my meals in. I use an ice pack to keep things cold.”

She nodded, satisfied. Shane stared at the wall in front of him. “She seemed very fragile to me, unwell. I felt sorry for her. We talked awhile. I asked her what it was all about, the argument. Who had she betrayed? She said that she’d betrayed herself-over and over until she didn’t even remember who she was or what she wanted anymore. I told her that she wasn’t so different from anyone. We all betray ourselves one way or another. She said, ‘Not like this. Someone loved me, really loved me. And I betrayed him for a life I thought was in my reach.’ She wouldn’t tell me more.”

He paused a second. “She was beautiful, you know. But she seemed like a bird or a butterfly. You couldn’t catch her or touch her. Just look.”

“But you touched her, didn’t you?” Jez had returned to her corner; she was partially hidden in shadow. “A lot of people touched her. She was a call girl, right?”

He nodded reluctantly. “We made an arrangement.”

“You kept an eye on Raine, told her anything you saw suspicious or out of the ordinary, his comings and goings? And she gave herself to you in exchange?”

He gave a weak shrug. “Herself, once. Then passes to the Topaz Room. Other girls there.”