Loose Ends

Detective Cade McKissik scrubbed hands over his tired stubble laden face. Frown lines permanently etched into his brow. He looked at the file folder on his desk.

It hadn’t always been like this, he had been third youngest cop to make detective Robbery/Homicide in department history. Everyone said he had the knack, the instinct, and his clearance rate was remarkable. Other cops loved him, his hard no-nonsense edge, not afraid to get his hands a little bloody to solve a case, a throwback to an early age. He made several high profile arrests including the notorious Black Rose murder, the Wells Fargo armored car heist, and he was a key contributor in the apprehension of the serial killer dubbed the ‘Parkside Strangler’. He was a young gun with the Midas touch, everything he touched seemed to turn to gold. He earned numerous citations, even a Medal of Valor during the Wells Fargo shootout. But everything changed in an instant.

Three years ago. It hot been one of those long hot stifling days, no wind. Heat clinging stubbornly to the ground. By the time the warrant arrived, the sun was sinking out over the ocean, but the pervasive heat remained.

They had tracked the two remaining suspects in the botched Kensington kidnapping to a house out in the valley. Two dead kids, one dead cop, one dead suspect, everyone had itchy trigger fingers.

Tactical wanted to assume control of the scene, but Cade refused, he was the hotshot, he would take point. Vest on, he lead the way. Moving up the driveway toward the carport on the left side of the house, using the old brown Ford LTD parked there to cover their approach, Cade was followed by two other officers. Simultaneously, another group headed toward the front door, another to the rear.

A slender male, approximately six feet tall stepped out of the side door and stood hidden under the overhang. Cade froze. The figure was mostly shadowed in the dying light. Cade bought his Smith & Wesson Model 4506 up. “Hands!” he yelled, “Show me your goddamn hands!” He barked again, moving rapidly passed the car, the other two cops close behind. The figure turned, there was a sudden flash of light and Cade saw a gun.

“Drop the gun!” he yelled, but the figure seemed to ignore the command, and as if just realizing there were people creeping up the drive. The shadowy silhouette lifted the arm with the gun and Cade cracked off one shot. The flash lit up the carport, the report echoing like a thunderclap, as the .45 caliber slug hit the figure in the chest, knocking him back against the house before the figure slumped to the ground.

Moving in, Cade found the gun, it looked like a little chrome or nickel=plated .22 Beretta, and kicked it back and out of the way. Another figure appeared in the door.

“Police! Don’t move!” Cade shouted. Startled, the figure in the door immediately darted back inside. Chaos ensued, as police intrusion teams burst into the house.

Both Kensington suspects were taken into custody, as was a third man, the owner of the house, all battered and beaten during the takedown. Overall, a smooth operation, except there had been a fatality, the sixteen year old son of the house’s owner. Wearing earbuds, the kid had stepped out onto the side porch to have a cigarette. The bulb in the porch overhead light had been burned out for some time. What Cade thought was a little Beretta, turned out to be nothing more than a fancy cigarette lighter. Didn’t matter, the kid was dead.

The investigation that followed the shooting cleared Cade of wrongdoing, but the incident changed him from the gregarious extrovert he had been, to a sullen and withdrawn man driven by a ghost. The citations, the Police Medal of Valor didn’t mean shit to him anymore. Within a year, he had been re-assigned to general duties, assisting both the gang-related and organized crime task forces. He began hitting the bottle with regularity, no longer able to leave the job at work. His temperament darkened. He was suspended for beating a suspect in an interrogation room. The incident never appeared in any formal reports, but he was suspended and ordered to see a shrink. When he refused to go, his suspension became indefinite. His home life fared no better as he grew more and more estranged from his wife. He was reinstated only after he agreed to see psychiatrist as directed, but he just sat quietly through the sessions, emotionally detached. Pouring himself into work, his descent only accelerated, two years after the shooting his wife Helen left him, he barely noticed. Still only thirty one, he looked a decade older.

Back in the present, he thumbed through the file. A goddamn missing persons report, some shifty lawyer gone missing. The only reason it found its way onto his desk was because there was a suggestion the shyster was mobbed up with ties to organized crime. Thomas Edwards. Cade had heard the name before. A slick mouthpiece who manipulated the system, using loopholes and technicalities to shield those with deep enough pockets. Cade didn’t like him. A sneer crossed his face, if this scumbag lawyer was missing, maybe society was better off. Grumbling, he closed the file.

The report was filed by the lawyer’s receptionist, Michelle Denman, apparently the last person to see him.

Jumping into the unmarked charcoal gray Crown Victoria, Cade drove to the downtown building where the lawyer’s office was located. Pulling into the parking garage under the building, he found an elevator and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. Stepping off before a bank of windows, he found the lawyer’s office.

“May I help you?” asked the woman behind the desk. He guessed she was around forty, make-up was caked on a little thick.

“I’m detective McKissik,” he replied, pulling aside the left panel of his rumpled suit jacket to show the badge on his belt. “I’m looking for Michelle Denman.”

The woman’s eyes widened, “You’re here about Tom,” she said, smiling and rising from her desk. “I’m Michelle,” she said, extending her hand.

He shook her hand and nodded. “You filed a missing persons on Mr. Thomas Edwards, correct?”

“That’s right,” she nodded.

He let out a breath before taking out a note pad from the inner pocket of his jacket. “So what makes you think Mr. Edwards is a missing person?” he asked flatly.

“It was all very strange,” she started. “It started last week Tuesday, just after four in the afternoon. A blonde woman, neatly dressed barged passed me and forced her way into Tom’s office. She didn’t have an appointment. After maybe a quarter of an hour later, he came out, told me to cancel the balance of his week, then he left.”

“Yes, very unusual,” commented the policeman, tone bordering on condescending.

“For Tom that was odd, especially because he had two court appearances scheduled, one for Wednesday, another on Friday. I just couldn’t cancel them and he never showed up for either of them,” she explained.

“Uh huh,” mumbled Cade.

“I tried his home, his cell, even his email. Nothing,” she continued.

“Yep,” he said, nodding his head.

“But here is the really strange thing, the blonde woman never came out,” she said, nodding her head slowly, eyebrows raised.

He looked up and frowned. “What?”

“The woman who went in, never came out,” Michelle repeated.

“Did you check the office?” he asked.

She nodded. “This is the only way in or out. She went in, she never came out. When I checked, the office was empty.”

“No chance she slipped past you, maybe you had to get a drink of water, pee?”

She shook her head. “He walked out, she never did.”

“Can I take a look inside the office?” he asked.

She got up and walked over to the double doors. Using her key, she opened up the office. He walked in and gave it a cursory once over. No apparent signs of a struggle.

“Anything appear out of the ordinary?” he inquired, glancing back at her.

“Not really,” she answered.

“These windows open?” he asked, moving over to one and looking down.

“Climate controlled building, none of the windows open,” she replied.

“Describe the blonde woman for me,” he said.

“5’7”, 5’8”, long blonde hair, grey business suit with skirt, white blouse, 28-35. She wore glasses. Her eyes were, like a gold or yellow color, very unnerving,” she said.

“Yellow? Contacts maybe?” he asked.

Michelle shrugged.

“Was she pretty?”

She scowled a moment then looked down and nodded. He jotted down some details in the note pad before closing it and putting it away.

“Okay,” he said. “I think that’ll probably do it for now,” taking another quick look around. Turning back to Michelle, he pulled out a card and handed it to her. “If you can think of anything else, or you remember some detail you might’ve overlooked, please give me a call,” he instructed.

She took the card and bobbed her head. “I just hope Tom is alright,” she expressed. Cade nodded. More than likely the counsellor was probably in Vegas nuts deep in some little sex kitten.

Arriving back in the parking garage, he took a moment to wander around the concrete enclosure. A heavyset man, fortyish, dressed in a fluorescent orange vest with yellow and silver striping approached him.

“Can I help you?” asked the garage attendant.

Cade nodded. “Perhaps,” he answered. “I’m detective McKissik. Maybe you can give me some information.”

The man nodded his head, “Sure.”

“Your name?” asked the cop, retrieving his notepad and pen.

“Frank Wright,” he replied.

“Been here long?”

“Going on five years about,” answered Frank.

“Are you familiar with a Mr. Thomas Edwards?”

Frank nodded. “Big time lawyer, up on fifteen.”

“That’s right. You know what kind of car he drives?”

“Sure do, silver Mercedes. Got one of those vanity plates, legal eagle, LGL EGL,” he replied. “That’s his space over there,” Frank pointed to the vacant stall with a sign that read ‘T. Edwards’ attached to the wall.

“Does he leave his car here overnight?” Cade asked.

“No sir. I work the afternoons and I’ve never seen his car here overnight. Last I remember seeing it was last,” he paused a moment, reflecting, “Tuesday.”

“You’re certain?”

Frank nodded.

Cade wrote down the information. “On my way in, I noticed some cameras. Are they active, or just for show?” he asked, smile at the corner of his mouth.

“No, they record, but we only go back for about two weeks,” answered the attendant.

“Is the garage locked up at night?”

“Yes sir, we open every morning at five and lock it up at seven at night. Lock it up tight,” provided Frank.

“Do you think I could get a copy of the recording for all vehicles coming and going from last Tuesday morning’s open until today?” Cade asked, hoping he wouldn’t have to chase a stupid warrant

Frank nodded. “I’ll make a call to building security and see what they can do.”

Together they walked back to the security kiosk situated at the parkade entrance between the incoming and outgoing lanes. Cade thought it odd there were no barriers barring entry or exit. Frank made the call, nodding, he gave Cade a thumb’s up through the glass.

Hanging up, Frank said, “They’re going to make you a copy, chief of security said he’ll bring it down for you personally.”

“Much obliged, this the only way in or out?”

“Supposed to have another exit in case of earthquake,” he confessed, “But this is the only one we got.”

Cade laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m not a building inspector.”

It didn’t take long for the security chief to show up and give Cade a copy of the disk. He seemed overjoyed to be included in a real police investigation and fawned over Cade profusely. Cade nodded and smiled, shared his gratitude, but got the hell out of there as fast as his legs would carry him and drove back to the station.

Grabbing a coffee before heading back to his desk, he parked himself in front of his computer terminal and inserted the disk into the tray. Closing the tray, he set up the viewer while he waited for the disk to load. He knew this was going to be one of those onerous tasks where staying awake was as important as reviewing the hours and hours of recorded activities. Ten minutes into the disk, his coffee was three quarter gone and he wanted to shoot himself in the head. Speeding up the video helped, he leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand and focused on the screen as images of cars coming and going flicked by. When he caught sight of the silver Mercedes, he paused the video, backed it up and jotted down the time code, 9:46am. Must be nice to roll into work at that time of day he thought dryly. Several other vehicles came and went and he again sped up the video.

A slick little black roadster caught his eye, entering the garage at 3:59pm, a pretty blonde behind the wheel. The same vehicle left at 4:36pm, same blonde. He figure this was the one Michelle had mentioned.

“So there is our little blonde, who somehow vanished from the lawyer’s office, only to reappear in the parking garage. Not so mysterious. There’s one riddle solved,” he mumbled, scribbling her license plate in his notepad. Resuming the playback at an accelerated rate, he came to the end of the day Tuesday. He frowned. The Mercedes never left the garage. He curled up his hands and rubbed his eyes.

“Fuck,” he muttered, figuring he must have somehow missed the Mercedes leaving. Re-setting the time code to the time of the lawyer’s arrival, he re-ran the footage up until the end of day. The Mercedes never came out. He ran the tape for Wednesday, no Mercedes. Same again Thursday. He frowned. Leaning back in his chair, he mulled over the information. Blonde goes in office, never comes out, tape in the car park says different. Lawyer leaves office, but car never comes out, but car is somehow gone. He scratched his head.

He checked his watch, it was after eight o’clock. Grabbing his jacket he decided he needed a break and was going to explore another possible avenue of information. Jumping in his own car, he drove to the strip club called The Grind House. He sat a moment in his car, the flickering neon beckoning patrons inside. He knew this was an outfit run business, and he also knew the manager, Cyrus. Climbing out of the car, he crossed the street and entered the club.

“Scotch, single malt, rocks,” he ordered, leaning against the bar. The bartender returned with the drink, Cade pushed a ten across the counter. “Keep it. Cyrus here tonight?” he asked nonchalantly.

The bartender held eye contact for a minute before flicking a glance at the bouncer and turning away. Cade smiled and pivoted to face the bouncer as the bruiser walked up. Cade was no shrimp at 6’2” and a solid 215, but the bouncer was few inches taller and easily outweighed him by about a hundred pounds.

“Something I can help you with friend?” asked the bouncer, tone menacing, smirk on his thick face.

“I hope so,” Cade, answered, pulling aside the left side of his jacket far enough to reveal both badge and hogleg shoulder holster.

The bouncer looked down at the brass and gun, paused a moment, eyes narrowed.

Letting the go the jacket, “Let Cyrus know this is just a friendly social call, I’m not looking to stir up anything,” he said, holding the glass in front of him and clinking the ice cubes.

The bouncer grunted then walked away. Cade watched the lumbering hulk navigate through the tables, before passing the stage and vanishing into the back. Cade’s eyes lingered on the naked blond girl wrapped around the brass pole before draining the contents of his glass.

The goon reappeared a couple minutes later. “Mr. Traynor will see you,” he said, gesturing back the way he had come with a big meaty hand.

Cade nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry, I know the way,” he answered, walking into the back hall of the Grind House. The office was at the end of the hall, door open.

“Cade McKissik as I live and breathe, nothing but department’s best and brightest here in our little slice of heaven tonight,” replied the short, aging man, attired an open dress shirt and dress pants. Although short, he was thick, easily over two hundred pounds of residual muscle gained earlier in life.

“Arvin ‘Little Train’ Traynor,” Cade replied with a smile, recognizing the man and stepping into the office. “I see life higher up the outfit food chain has been treating you good,” he added, patting his own stomach.

“What brings you to our little establishment tonight officer?” Little Train asked, not bothering to rise, but offering Cade a seat at one of the chairs across from the desk.

“It’s detective now. I came here hoping to talk to Cyrus,” Cade replied, dropping his ass into a chair.

“Looks like we’ve both moved up in our respective worlds. You want something to drink or you on the job?”

“Scotch, single malt, rocks, nothing juvenile like the shit you’re peddling up front,” Cade replied.

Arvin laughed then rang the order times two through on the desk phone to the front.

“Since we’re being all sociable and the like, maybe you could enlighten me as to why you’re looking for Cyrus,” Little Train said, tone serious, eyes scrutinizing the cop.

“I’m chasing a missing persons report, some grease bag lawyer with alleged connections to your little band of merry men, has up and vanished. I was wondering if he might have had reason to take a sudden vacation.” Cade replied. “I figured maybe Cyrus could point me in a direction.”

Arvin spread his hands, “Don’t know what to tell you, I’m in the dark about your missing lawyer, straight skinny.”

Cade frowned, he knew the one time enforcer now underboss was on the level. Even though they were on opposite sides of the law, there was a begrudging mutual respect. A scantily clad girl arrived with two drinks, set them down, before Arvin waved her away. Cade grabbed the glass and took a pull. “That’s good,” he complimented looking at the generous portion of amber liquid in the glass.

“Should be, it’s probably as old as you are,” chuckled Arvin, inclining his glass before taking a sip. “Now, I got one for you detective, Cyrus and a bunch of his crew left this very place last Tuesday in the middle of the afternoon, and no one has heard from any of them since. Vanished, straight into thin air, no blood, no bodies, just gone, and nobody knows shit, even left all their cars behind,” he explained, opening his the fingers on his left hand blowing through them like there was a puff of smoke lingering there.

“Which explains why they have you here,” nodded Cade.

Arvin lifted his glass and winked.

“I didn’t know,” replied Cade honestly, he hadn’t heard about Cyrus disappearing.

“The fact you came here looking for Cyrus tells me you probably didn’t know about his disappearance, but maybe you heard something about a new player in town trying to make some bones, somebody maybe looking to make a play in this territory.”

Cade frowned. He shook his head slowly from side to side. “Nothing out of the ordinary showed up on my desk. I’d of heard. Your boys maybe have something on the go? Step on some toes, got stepped on in return?”

Little Train shrugged. “If Cyrus had something big on the go, he kept in low profile. I do know he was going to do some business here Tuesday around noon, but all indications were is was small time. Whether or not it happened, or it went sideways, I have no clue. When it came time to open up Tuesday night, Benny found the place was deserted.”

“My missing lawyer was also last seen Tuesday afternoon. Weird coincidence,” Cade mused, rolling the ice cubes around the inside of his glass.

Arvin let out a long sigh. “Crazy shit.”

Cade drained his glass and set it on the desk. Standing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out two business cards. He handed them both to Arvin. “That’ll come straight through to me, you hear something that might interest me, call me. Write your digits on the other card, I’ll do the same for you.”

Arvin laughed. “Fair enough,” he replied, scribbling his cell number down on one of the cards and handing back to Cade.

Taking the card, Cade nodded and put it into his pocket.

Heller International

The following morning, he awoke late, He’d spent most the night tossing and turning and trying make some sense of the evidence. Grabbing a shower and a quick shave, he headed into work, stopping at the drive through at Donut world on the corner near the station. 

He stopped at the administrative assistant Rebecca’s desk and handed her a cup of coffee, “Double-double,” he said pleasantly.

She scowled. “What do you want?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

He grinned. “I need you to do me a tiny favor ASAP, can you to run this plate number for me, get me a name, address, any other details you night think pertinent?” he asked, making a sweet face and handing her a piece of paper with the plate number on it.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she replied, making sure he saw he eye roll.

Cade walked to his desk and sat down and went back to his computer. Not more than a few minutes later, Rebecca appeared.

“I ran the plate like you asked, belongs to a Hildegarde Helvet, owner of black 2015 Audi R8, but it brought up a flag too. This plate number was run by a North Division uniform named Gerald Taylor, who, along with his cruiser vanished last Monday night,” she said.

Cade looked at her a moment, wrapping his brain around the information. “You’re shitting me,” he said, half smirk on his face, thinking she might actually be pulling his leg.

She shook her head. “Nope. Central got an RFI on this plate number during a routine stop leading into the hills Monday 11:26pm. Taylor never returned to clock out at the end of his shift. Not been heard from since. North Division is conducting their own investigation.”

He sat upright in the chair. “What the fuck is going on around here?” he asked rhetorically, throwing his hands up in the air. Looking back to Rebecca, he asked, “What about GPS on the cruiser?”

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and shook her head again. “Just gone.”

He held her brown eyes a moment before shaking his own head. “That’s just fucking great!” he snapped. She handed him the paper with the contact information. He held his hand up, “I’m sorry Beck. I appreciate you doing this for me. This thing has got me spinning three ways from Sunday and the deeper I get, the less sense everything seems to make.”

She patted him on the shoulder and gave him a consoling smile. “That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” she teased.

He snorted. Taking the paper, he reviewed the information. He needed to meet this Hildegarde Helvet and see if he couldn’t get to the bottom of this mess.

The Heller International building, a giant circular mirrored building downtown, sat like a gem amidst a well cultivated green space. Parking his unmarked police car, he entered the oversized glass doors at the front of the building.

“May I help you?” asked the receptionist seated behind an impressive desk, a pretty young woman with a welcoming smile.

“My name is detective McKissik, I’m here to see Hildegarde Helvet if she is available,” he said.

“Is she expecting you?” the receptionist inquired politely.

He shook his head. “Just hoping to catch her in by the off chance,” he explained.

“I’ll see if she’s in the building and receiving visitors,” offered the young woman, favoring him anew with her smile. “You can have a seat over there,” she said, pointing to a row of plush chairs near a table littered with magazines as she tapped the numbers of the desk phone connected to the earpiece she wore.

Cade walked over and sat down, sifting through the stack of magazines, settling on one with a football player on the cover.

The young woman walked over, “She’ll be down in a moment detective. May I get you anything while you wait? Coffee? Soda? Water?” she asked, hands together before her.

“No thanks,” he replied. She nodded and retreated back behind the large desk.

A woman matching the description provided by the lawyer’s receptionist appeared from a hall to the left of the big desk. The receptionist looked at the woman, then pointed to Cade.

The woman turned to face him and he was momentarily taken aback. She was extremely attractive, a small almost coy smile on her lips, clothes accentuating a perfectly proportioned form. Her blond hair pulled back and her delicate glasses gave her a professional demeanor. But most of all, it was her eyes that captured him. The Denman woman had been right, it was the eyes. Gold, like a wolf.

Reaching him, “Detective McKissik,” she said with a smile and handing him her business card before offering him her hand.

He cleared his throat. “Cade, please. I appreciate your taking time out of your busy day to see me Miss Helvet,” he said, accepting hand and shaking it.

“Hilde is fine, anything I can do to be of assistance,” she offered, withdrawing her hand from his. “Did Sadie offer you some refreshments?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, I’m good, thank you.”

“If you would follow me,” she said, leading him down the hall she’d appeared from to what appeared to be a large vacant boardroom. He tried to maintain his eyes at a respectful level, but couldn’t help but notice the sensual sway of her hips and toned bottom as she walked. In her wake, he could smell her subtle perfume, tantalizing and inviting.

As she walked, she considered him. She had seen it in those washed out hazel eyes of his, he was damaged, tortured by some inner turmoil. The battle still raged within him. She pondered as she opened the door for him to enter the empty room, maybe it was that, or maybe something else, some intangible quality about him that made him appealing to her. She felt she knew him, or least the type, he wouldn’t beg, he would kick and scream and fight until the very end. A smile touched her face.

“Please,” she said, pulling out one of the large chairs lined along the massive table and indicating for him to sit. He sat, she pulled out a chair beside him, but inside of sitting, she stood near him, resting her bum against the edge of the table. “How may I help you today?” she asked, folding her arms under her breasts and looking down to him.

He pulled out a notepad and pen and set them on the table. “I’m in the middle of an investigation and I was hoping you might be able to provide me some information,” he said. She smiled and when she didn’t say anything, he continued, “Are you familiar with a Mr. Thomas Edwards?”

“Certainly, he is a barrister. I saw him,” she paused a moment as if looking for an answer, “last Tuesday afternoon, fourish, if my memory is correct.”

He nodded. “When you saw him did he seem I don’t know, perturbed or agitated? Frightened?”

“Our conversation was somewhat confidential in nature, but I could certainly categorize his demeanor as somewhat agitated,” she replied.

He nodded. “Can you say by what, or are you not at liberty to say?” he asked.

She pursed her lips. “I do believe our interaction did not go as he anticipated, and this may have been a source of anxiety for him, but that’s only speculation.”

“Can you discuss the nature of your interaction that might have made him anxious?” Cade asked.

“Sorry, that’s privileged,” she said.

“Did you see the receptionist on your way out?”

“I do believe I did,” Hilde said, nodding in the affirmative.

“Are you sure?”

She smiled. “Yes. If there is anything else?” she asked

He frowned. “I don’t think so,” he replied, folding and closing his notepad before tucking it back into his pocket.

“Again, thank you for sparing me some time, especially unannounced like this, I suppose I should have called ahead to set something up,” he said, rising from the chair and offering her his hand.

Accepting his hand in hers, she shook it, holding it a moment as their eyes met, before releasing him. “No problem,” she added.

He smiled. “Oh wait, there was just one other thing, the police pulled you over near the base of the Hills last Monday, do you recall?”

“An officer cautioned me about speed at that time of night. I explained this all to the other uniformed officers the other day, I’m sure they could provide you with my responses from that interview,” she answered.

“Of course,” he said, “I didn’t realize they had come to talk to you yet.”

Pushing herself forward from the table, she held out her arm toward the conference room doom.

He walked to the door, pausing before pushing it open. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Does the name Cyrus mean anything to you?”

“Should it?” she responded.

Looking around the environment, he smiled. “No, I suppose not. I think I can see myself out.”

“It’s alright, I’ll walk you,” she said, stepping in beside him as he headed back toward the front desk.

In the lobby, he shook her hand once more before handing her one of his cards. He smiled and turned away. He didn’t think she was lying, but she certainly knew more than she was letting on, his gut told him so. She was definitely involved, but he just couldn’t connect the dots. Not yet at least.

She was utterly unconcerned about the progress of his investigation or possible legal entanglements as she watched him walk out of the building. Strumming her painted, manicured nails on the desk top, a smile touched her pretty mouth. She enjoyed this game with him. He intrigued her. She decided she wanted him. Turning to Sadie. She said, “Get me an information packet on detective McKissik.”

Sadie nodded her head, “Right away Hilde,” she replied.