Traitor - Victor Series 10 (2022), page 5
Spector watched his reaction with a careful, considered gaze. She just looked at him, waiting for him to say more. Victor remained silent.
Spector adjusted the way she sat, pulling the chair a little closer to the table. She was done waiting.
‘His name is Grigori Orlov,’ she said. ‘Born in Russia and a citizen of the US for the past fifteen years. Someone shot him last night.’ She tapped her head three times. ‘Bang, bang, bang.’
Victor did not react. His target had been christened by a different name long ago. He hadn’t just become a citizen. He reinvented himself in America. On the surface, a regular citizen.
‘A businessman,’ Spector continued. ‘He owns a fleet of delivery trucks, an aggregate yard, and even has the franchise on a big-box store out of town.’
Victor waited for more. He acted as he expected a normal person would act in such a situation. He appeared expectant and confused.
She said, ‘Rumour has it that Grigori, despite the legitimate businesses, was part of the Russian mafia. Do you know what these guys call themselves?’
He shook his head.
‘Bratva,’ she said. ‘Means the Brotherhood. I’m no expert on them but I know a little. They are serious characters. To call them mafia is like calling a great white a big fish.’
‘They sound scary,’ he said.
‘Obviously, they’re way above my paygrade. The Feds are the ones going after them, naturally. But Grigori died on my turf so here we are for now before it gets passed up the tree.’
‘I thought you said he was a businessman.’
‘Sure did. But organised crime doesn’t happen in its own bubble, does it? Like any other mafia group, the Bratva have legit businesses like restaurants or construction firms so they can launder money. Did you know it’s estimated that something like eighty per cent of building permits in Moscow go to Bratva-owned companies?’
Victor shook his head. ‘How would I know?’
‘The FBI think Grigori answers to a guy called Kirill Lebedev, who runs the show for the Bratva here in the Midwest. Ran, I should say. He’s currently awaiting trial for, well, all sorts of things.’ Spector sipped her ginger and lemon tea, then said, ‘Where were you at three a.m. last night?’
‘I already told the two officers.’
‘Then you can tell me too.’
Victor said, ‘I was asleep.’
‘Anyone with you at the time?’
‘I was alone.’
‘And this would be at your residence, yes? On Fairview Drive?’
‘That’s it.’
Spector checked her notes. ‘You moved in – what was it? – six weeks ago. Is that right?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Why did you move here?’ she asked.
‘I wanted a change of scenery.’
She furrowed her brow and gestured that she didn’t understand or expected elaboration. Which was what Victor wanted. When lying, people almost always give too much information in an effort to appear veracious. When telling the truth it’s commonplace to reveal too little. If Spector wanted more then it meant Victor was being convincing.
‘I came for a job offer,’ he explained. ‘It didn’t work out.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said. ‘That must make it hard to pay the rent.’
‘It’s a short-term lease and I have savings.’
She tried to build some rapport with a self-deprecating smile. ‘Must be nice to have money in the bank. Mine slips away so fast you’d think it was deposited smeared with grease.’
He smiled a little in response. ‘You have a family then, I take it.’
She nodded. ‘And an ex-husband and two dogs and a cat.’
‘I like dogs,’ he admitted.
‘You don’t like cats?’
‘I don’t dislike any organism.’
Her head moved back. ‘That’s a curious turn of phrase.’
He said nothing.
The rapport was over because she said, ‘Why would someone have seen your truck in the vicinity of a crime scene?’
‘I don’t know why,’ he said, shaking his head and shrugging as he expected an innocent and confused man would do.
She said, ‘Would you consent to a GSR test?’
Victor knew what the abbreviation stood for but gave her a questioning look.
‘Gunshot residue,’ she explained. ‘Someone wipes your hands. It’s quick. Doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t even smell bad.’
The innocent and confused man Victor was playing might be suspicious of such a test, so Victor said, ‘Do I have to do it?’
‘Nuh, uh,’ Spector answered. ‘That’s why I asked if you would consent to it. You understand what consent means, don’t you?’
‘I do.’
‘Then you know it’s entirely up to you. Of course, if you don’t want to take the test then I’m going to want to know why you don’t want to take the test. And off the top of my head I can’t think of many good reasons why you wouldn’t want to consent.’ She raised a sudden finger into the air. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t actually think of any good reasons why you wouldn’t want to take the test.’ She lowered the finger in a slow, deliberate way. ‘I can only think of a bad reason why.’
‘Then I guess I’ll take the test.’
‘Great,’ she said with a small smile. She pushed herself and the chair away from the table, and stood. ‘Come with me, please.’
TWELVE
The situation was still novel for Victor, although he garnered no enjoyment from it. Simply being a suspect inside a police station had been unthinkable once. Every instinct he had said he should have done everything possible to avoid this situation at all costs. Whatever the fallout, this should never happen.
Now, Victor had to play it through regardless. He would have to jump through whatever hoops they presented to him. They were investigating a murder. They suspected him of killing the target he had planned to kill. They couldn’t prove he had murdered Grigori Orlov because he hadn’t shot the man.
GSR test or not.
He stood waiting with his palms out in front of him as he had been instructed.
Though Spector wasn’t doing the test herself, she was watching it.
The thin cop snapped on some blue nitrile gloves and wiped Victor’s palms with two cotton swabs. One for the left and one for the right. Each swab went into a separate test tube. The thin cop pulled off the gloves and filled out a form.
‘Is that it?’ Victor said.
Spector nodded. ‘All done. Told you it wouldn’t take long.’
‘Can I go now?’
‘Sure,’ she said, then added, ‘Once the test comes back clean, I mean.’
‘How long will that take?’
She exchanged looks with the thin cop, who said, ‘Fifteen minutes, maybe.’
She looked back at Victor. ‘That okay?’
‘I guess.’
‘I knew you would consent.’
Victor remained silent.
Spector said, ‘You can wait in the interview room. Coffee?’
‘Sure.’
Before they went back, the big cop appeared and gave Spector a pointed look.
Spector asked him, ‘They’re here already?’
The big cop said, ‘Yeah.’
Spector looked at Victor. ‘Coffee’s going to have to wait, I’m afraid.’
Victor asked, ‘What’s going on?’
‘Time for your line-up.’
It was done in a bright room. Which made sense. The fluorescent ceiling lights were as intense as daylight, exaggerated by the white paint on exposed wall and the mirrored window. He stood with four other men. No one really looked like anyone else beyond broad features. One guy was taller than Victor. The other three were shorter. Two had lost most of their hair. Only one was about the same age. Two were much younger. One was older. Three of the four were wider around the waist. Victor had a short beard, as did two of the others. The youngest guy had no trace of stubble.
He was third in the line. The two in front entered before him and took their places. The big cop had given a few seconds of instructions before opening the door. Not much more than go in, stand on your number. Not complicated.
Victor stood over the number three that had been spray painted on to the floor. Behind him was a chart for height. He looked forward at the mirrored wall and his reflection looked back at him.
He pictured Spector on the other side of the glass. The thin cop and the big cop might be there too. And the witness, of course.
Only no one had seen Victor commit the crime. They couldn’t have seen him near the crime scene, either.
No one said anything. He wasn’t sure how long it was supposed to take. He imagined it would be a quick process if the witness immediately made an identification. Which had to be a good sign. They hadn’t picked him out of the line-up because he wasn’t the man they had seen. Maybe they were explaining that to Spector behind the mirrored glass. Spector could be reminding them to take their time and have a really good look. Or perhaps there was some briefing they had to go through first.
He didn’t feel so much observed as evaluated.
His posture and demeanour were non-threatening enough without needing to change them now. He carried himself as if he were no danger to anyone. He realised that this might be part of the problem. Since he tried so hard to blend in he also wouldn’t stand out and be obvious it wasn’t him the witness had seen. His forgettable demeanour could be a good enough proxy for lots of generic individuals, especially if a witness hadn’t had a good look. In the dark or at distance or for a brief moment.
A speaker squealed and the big cop said, ‘Number Three step forward.’
Victor did as he was told.
He stood a step in front of the other men, a step closer to the glass. He wasn’t sure how much difference that could realistically make.
‘Turn to your left,’ the voice told him.
He did.
‘Now turn to your right.’
Again, he did so. Then there was silence for a moment. There were no distinguishing features on either side of his face, so he expected the witness had seen a man from their profile only. Or was this just part of the routine?
‘Step back into line.’
He noticed the guy next to him, the youngest, glance his way, as if now identifying Victor as the suspect the others had been brought in to stand with, but Victor saw it was for some other reason. Like the young guy wanted to tell him something.
The door then opened and the big cop gestured for Victor and the four men to leave.
‘That’s it,’ the cop said. ‘All done. Thank you, everyone, for your assistance.’
The other guys began filing away.
Victor said, ‘Why do I get the impression that didn’t go to plan?’
The big cop had an unreadable face. ‘I don’t know why you would have that impression.’
Spector joined them. ‘I have some more questions for you.’
‘I think I’m going to go now,’ Victor said. ‘I’m not under arrest, am I?’
‘Not yet,’ Spector said.
‘So that means I’m here by consent, yes?’
She made a slow nod.
‘Then I’m going. We can talk again another time.’
She said, ‘Why not just talk now? We can get this all over with in one go. It’s not like you have a job to get back to, is it?’
He said, ‘The witness couldn’t say for sure they saw me because they didn’t see me. I didn’t kill that guy, so this is a waste of all our time.’
‘You think a murder investigation is a waste of time? That’s not an especially community-driven response, Mr Pendleton. Even if you had nothing to do with last night’s homicide, it’s important we eliminate you from our inquiries as quickly as possible. I’m sure you understand that.’
She was speaking in a reasonable voice, as if they were all reasonable people discussing a mundane problem. Only nothing about this situation was reasonable to Victor, who said:
‘I’m going now. We can talk more tomorrow.’
‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ Spector said, then to the big cop, ‘Officer, if you would.’
The big cop reached for his belt, for the handcuffs.
‘The GSR results came back positive,’ Spector said to Victor. ‘So if you’re not going to stay here voluntarily I have no choice but to arrest you on suspicion of murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law … ’
THIRTEEN
Victor let it happen. He wasn’t going to maim or kill cops inside their own police station under any circumstances. He would be a wanted man far beyond the county or state borders. He would be a fugitive on a national scale. Even if he fought his way out of the station past the other cops – and he didn’t know how many more there were – he might not make it out of the country. Not with his face passed to every agency and flagged on every database.
The big cop put him in handcuffs, ratcheting them tight around his wrists, yet not too tight. Polite to a fault. Spector finished reading him his rights.
‘Who processed the test?’ Victor asked.
The big cop said, ‘Why does that matter?’
Spector said, ‘The test doesn’t lie. It’s a chemical reaction. No false positives.’
‘Who processed the test?’ Victor asked again. ‘This has to be a mistake.’
The thin cop, close by, said, ‘I did it right, don’t worry.’
‘I want a lawyer,’ he said.
‘Course you do,’ Spector said. ‘I’m amazed it’s taken you this long to ask for one.’
‘I didn’t need one before.’
‘Thought you were going to get away with it?’
Victor said, ‘What’s my motive?’
The big cop answered, ‘Probably money related.’
‘Maybe he’s the one who promised you that job,’ Spector said. ‘At the aggregate yard, maybe. Then he pulled it away once you’d already moved and it left you high and dry. You’ve been sat watching your savings evaporate, knowing he did you wrong, and that anger and resentment built and built and then you just snapped.’
‘Makes sense,’ the big cop said.
‘I snapped,’ Victor said. ‘And in my rage I then went to the local bar for distinctly average omelettes and left my green truck parked outside for all to see?’
The big cop just shrugged in response. Spector gave Victor a look like he’d made a good point, and yet she didn’t comment. She was doing her job with the evidence she had.
‘I’ll be gone in twenty-four hours,’ Victor said. ‘All you have is a witness who described a truck like mine, but who couldn’t pull me out of a line-up, and a GSR test that at most says I shot a gun recently. You don’t have enough to charge me.’
Spector said, ‘Let us worry about that, okay?’
‘There’s nothing to connect me to the murder.’
‘A lot can change in twenty-four hours,’ she said, then to the big cop, ‘Take him to the holding cell.’
‘You don’t want to ask me any more questions?’
‘Sure I do,’ Spector answered. ‘But after we’ve searched that truck of yours, and your house. Who knows what we’re going to find there?’
Victor remained silent.
The big cop took him by the upper arm and led him away to a room containing a single holding cell. Bars extended floor to ceiling, and wall to wall across the middle of the room. Enough benches in the cell to hold a dozen men. No occupants so far today.
The big cop had him turn around inside the cell and uncuffed him through the safety of the bars.
Perceived safety only, because there was a moment’s opportunity when Victor’s first hand was free, a moment for him to yank the big cop closer, into the bars, stunning him long enough for Victor to spin around. Then, with one of the big cop’s arms between the bars, there was all sorts of horrors Victor could inflict.
‘Dial zero for room service,’ the big cop said with a smirk as he put away the handcuffs.
He looked very pleased with himself.
Victor said, ‘Do you use that line with every detainee?’
A frown replaced the smirk.
The big cop stared at him, the bars between them, and Victor understood what it must be like to be a wild animal in a zoo.
‘We don’t get a lot of murderers here.’
‘I can imagine,’ Victor said. ‘Everyone’s too polite to kill each other.’
‘Exactly. Whenever we do have a homicide it’s always someone from out of town. Usually out of state.’
‘Is it you?’
The big cop said, ‘What?’
‘One in three,’ Victor said.
The big cop said, ‘What?’ again.
‘Spector, the thin cop … you.’
The big cop shrugged with his hands. ‘You can count to three. Amazing. I hadn’t realised we’d arrested a certified genius.’
‘I’m assuming not all of you are in this together,’ Victor began. ‘That seems too much of a stretch, doesn’t it? Three bad cops working together. I imagine there’s maybe only three bad cops in this entire state. What are the odds they all work in the same county? What are the odds they all work in the same building? On the same shift?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Someone tampered with the GSR test or the results. I don’t suppose it really matters what they did exactly. But it wasn’t all of you. It wasn’t every bad cop in the whole state working together. Like I said: it’s a one-in-three chance it’s you.’
The big cop was silent.
‘Is it you?’ Victor asked.
The big cop looked at him as though he had misheard or as though Victor was talking nonsense. He took a backwards step. Could be instinctual defensiveness or because he had had enough.
Victor said, ‘Because I’ll find out.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about your best interests.’
‘Are you threatening me? That’s not a very good idea.’
Victor shook his head. ‘I’m going to be out of here soon and then I’m going to find out why I was here in the first place.’
