Woodside passed a hand over his face in exasperation. “You have a point, Detective. You always have a point and are never shy about sharing it to boot.”
Kim ignored this. “Think of the publicity if we bag the killers,” she said, aiming for Woodside’s weak spot. “This is a high-profile case – struggling actress brutally murdered by poker ring. The papers are not going to let this one go until it’s solved. The sooner and cleaner we can tie this up, the better for the department.”
Woodside shot her a bleary eyed look of defeat. “You’re a sharp one, Detective Daniels. Maybe too sharp. All right, you have my permission. But for God’s sake, don’t try to be a hero out there. Get in, get out, and bring me back the psychopaths who did this.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Do you want to start a betting pool as to whether Officer G … I mean Detective Daniels shows up?” said Alex, hanging about Officer Phillips’ desk, as he had all afternoon. He hadn’t wanted to miss a minute of the excitement.
“Even I know that’s an insensitive comment,” said Jacob.
“Aren’t you supposed to be eating popcorn or something?” said Craig. He was still hunched over his computer, furiously trying to trace the source of the email.
“And what? Watch a tired romantic comedy when I could be on the front lines catching a killer? This is essential training for my future role. I’m a man committed to my craft, Officer. A little danger can’t dissuade me.”
“With your lack of training and considerable disregard for personal safety, it probably should,” Jacob said matter-of-factly. “You’ll probably be shot.”
“Or stabbed,” Craig said absentmindedly. “I can’t trace this email for the life of me. This man is a real professional. I’d feel admiration for him if he wasn’t knifing innocent women in the back.”
Alex took a deep swig of his coffee and checked his watch. The briefing was set to start in five minutes. Just then, the elevator chimed, and the doors swung open. Out stepped a tall woman in a short sundress and strappy high-heeled sandals. She strode purposefully through the room towards them.
“Well, hello,” said Alex, ears pricked. “Who is this lovely creature?”
The woman stopped in front of them, her hands on her hips, a look of exasperation on her face. “All right, don’t get worked up. I’m going undercover, after all. I can’t exactly wear a pantsuit.”
The men simply stared at her, dumbfounded. Kim’s long red hair had been let loose from its usual bun, and coupled with the flowered sundress and minimal make-up, she looked much younger.
“Outside says innocent country girl. Actions and voice say bossy dominatrix. I’m confused and aroused,” whispered Alex.
“Snap out of it, Kane. We’ve got a briefing to attend. Come on.”
The officers gathered in the conference room were just as bewildered by Kim’s get-up. As it turned out, she could command a room even in a sundress. The recon team briefed the room on the location, and Kim gave detailed instructions for how to approach once she’d given the signal.
“Just remember,” she said, teetering in her heels. “Don’t make the arrest until you’re sure you can make a clean entry. We don’t want any of these dirt bags getting away. OK, let’s go.”
Alex was hot on Kim’s (very high) heels. “You are not riding with me, pal,” she called over her shoulder.
“Detective Daniels,” he said pleadingly. “Take pity on a man. I’m not going to learn a thing twiddling my thumbs back at the precinct.”
The detective exhaled loudly. “Fine, Kane. As long as you signed a release, I don’t give a damn. Get Detective Newport to lend you a bulletproof vest.”
“Yessss!” Alex pumped his fist. “Hey wait, one more question.”
“Kane, I’m a little busy going undercover and all the jazz. What is it?” She stopped abruptly and glared at him.
“Yeah, uh, so what are you doing later? You know, after the undercover stuff. I know a great little Italian place not too far from here. You’re welcome to wear that sundress, it doesn’t bother me…”
Kim gave him a withering look and marched off towards the elevator. “Is that a yes?” Alex called after her. Jacob smacked him the chest with the bulletproof vest. The actor grunted. “Was that necessary, Newport?”
“I would like you to know that I absolutely don’t approve of civilians tagging along on police business. That said, put this on and hurry up.”
**
Kim parked outside of a non-descript brick building that fronted right onto the sidewalk. A wooden cross floated in a round window over the central door. No lights were on. Wrought iron fire escapes crawled up the front to the tiny upper windows. She took a deep breath and climbed out of the car.
The first thing she noticed was a warm voice floating on top of a mellow saxophone line.
Why not use your mentality - step up, wake up to reality?
But each time I do just the thought of you
Makes me stop just before I begin
'Cause I've got you under my skin
Kim shivered. Something felt wrong. What was she doing? She should have just let the team take care of things. She tried to tamp down her fears. It’s normal to be nervous, she thought. But I know what I’m doing.
She sashayed towards the front door, which was slightly ajar, trying to behave like an ordinary 20-something. She wondered if anyone was watching, and the thought made her shiver.
She carefully opened the door. It led into a small and shadowy lobby. A small door off to the side was similarly ajar. Sinatra’s smooth voice filtered through. Kim took a deep breath, wishing she had her trusty 9mm. All she was kitted out with was a tiny microphone in her ear. It would record the future conversation, plus transmit her code words to the team.
The second door led to a narrow flight of wooden stairs that descended into a dark space. What was it with killers and windowless basements? It was really getting all a bit clichéd. Kim carefully navigated her teetering heels down the stairs and through a long, dimly lit hallway. Eventually the hall opened into a mid-sized room with a low ceiling. In it, six men were seated around a circular table. Each was completely ordinary looking – balding and paunchy with heavy jowls and tired-looking eyes. A stack of poker chips sat in front of each. One chair was empty.
“Oh hi,” Kim said. “Is this the poker tournament? I’m so sorry I’m late. I totally got lost trying to find 16th street. Kind of out of the way, right?” The men greeted this chipper speech with painful silence. “Uh, OK, well, I guess this is my seat.”
Kim sat in the empty place and surveyed her company. Each man was almost perfectly still, as if carved from stone. Their eyes stared straight ahead. She would have thought they were dead except for the rise and fall of their breathing. They were expressionless, though the tension in their faces betrayed that they were purposefully concealing their emotions. Kim felt deeply unnerved and had to fight to control herself.
“Uh, yeah, so who wants to go first?” she asked brightly.