CHAPTER TWENTY
If they weren’t under such time constraints, Jessie would have strung the woman out even longer.
As it was, they let Valentina Russo sit alone in the interrogation room for a half hour, getting increasingly fidgety before finally joining her.
It turned out that Russo had indeed gone to her office at Arresting Affairs and snuck out with the masquerade ball mask design memo. In fact she was driving to the station with it when the squad car that Susannah sent pulled her over on the side of the road.
Nonetheless, the officers removed her from her car, handcuffed her, and transported her to Central Station in the back of their vehicle. They wanted her unsettled, even scared, and from her expression, visible through the one-way mirror, it had worked.
“Hi, Valentina,” Jessie said warmly when she and Susannah entered the interrogation room.
She wanted to keep the young woman off balance for this conversation. Acting as if everything was normal and friendly, while Russo’s wrists were cuffed to a metal hook on the metal table bolted to the floor, was one way to throw her off.
“Why did you have me arrested?” Russo demanded angrily.
“We didn’t have you arrested,” Susannah informed her. “We just had you detained so that we could better assist you in meeting your obligations. You promised us that you’d bring in that memo first thing this morning and we got concerned that you might be in danger, so we sent some officers to help you out.”
“I was on my way here,” the woman protested. “You put me in handcuffs.”
“Only to make it look legit in case anyone was watching,” Susannah lied with a wave of her hand.
“Can you at least uncuff me now?” Russo pleaded.
“I have to say—I’m more than a little disappointed,” Jessie told her, ignoring the request. “You weren’t totally honest with us yesterday, and being deceptive with law enforcement is a big no-no.”
Technically, Russo was under no official obligation to be completely forthright with them. Lying to the police was a misdemeanor. But merely holding back potentially relevant information wasn’t as clear a violation. Still, creating the impression that she might have crossed some line could keep Russo on her heels.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the woman insisted.
“Sure you do,” Susannah said.
“I really don’t.”
“Yesterday, you told us that those wild, secret parties were a thing of the past,” Jessie replied. “But that wasn’t strictly true, was it? They might not held at abandoned warehouses and empty mansions anymore. But they’re still happening, aren’t they?”
Valentina Russo looked crestfallen.
“You have to understand,” she pleaded, “I was just protecting myself. I know you said the NDA didn’t apply, but I wasn’t sure you were being straight with me, and I didn’t want to risk getting sued for everything I have. Besides, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. I don’t know if the jewels on those masks were stolen or if there are mountains of cocaine or sex shows at these parties or what. But I figured it couldn’t be that bad if you let me go.”
“That was our mistake,” Susannah said.
“Actually, it was my mistake,” Jessie corrected. “We should have just gone with you to get that memo last night and brought you straight here. But I misjudged you; I thought I could trust you. I won’t make that mistake again, especially because what we’re dealing with here is a very big deal.”
“What do you mean?”
“We didn’t reveal this last night but I’m going to tell you now,” Jessie said, leaning in close so that her face and Russo’s were only inches apart. “Two people were found dead—murdered—wearing those masks. And in the time since we last saw you, a third person was killed, also found in a mask.”
“Oh god,” Russo muttered.
“Yes,” Jessie continued, “and while we don’t know this for sure, we think there’s a good chance that they may have attended these parties. Of course it’s possible that they didn’t, but it sure seems like at the very least, their killer did. So you can see why it’s important that we learn as much about them as possible.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about people being murdered yesterday?” Russo asked. “If I had known how serious this was, I would never have kept anything from you.”
“We didn’t know if we could trust you,” Susannah told her, “not until you brought in that memo. How could we be sure you wouldn’t go to your boss or your client with what we said?”
Russo shook her head in frustration.
“You don’t get it,” she said. “My boss doesn’t know any of the particulars about this account. The guy is seventy years old. He is semi-retired and lets me handle all my accounts how I see fit. He knows the business gets cash payments for securing some fancy masks and helping coordinate some fancy parties for a client. Other than that, he’s in the dark and happy about it. He doesn’t want to ask any questions that could mess up this money regularly coming in.”
“What about the security guys?” Susannah wanted to know.
“My boss employs them, but they basically answer to me,” Russo explained, “and as much as possible, I keep them in the dark too. I didn’t want to inadvertently reveal something that could put the account at risk. So I keep everything close to the vest, not that there’s much to keep. I know a little more than everyone else, but not much. Like I told you, everything is done in cash. There are no names used. I rarely meet with the same person twice. It’s all cloak and dagger, which is another reason I don’t ask too many questions. It’s a little scary.”
“But you do know more than that,” Jessie reminded her. “You know where these parties are being held now. And it’s time that you told us.”
Russo squirmed uncomfortably, adjusting herself as much as she could while handcuffed to a metal table.
“Okay,” she said, sounding defeated. “All the parties in the last two months have been held at the same location. There’s a large, twenty-four-hour spa in Koreatown called Elite Spa. It’s very popular. I’ve been there myself once, for a bachelorette party.”
“This doesn’t sound like the kind of place that could offer the privacy that these party attendees would want,” Jessie noted.
“That’s what I thought too,” Russo said, “especially based on my personal experience. But it turns out that there’s more to this place than meets the eye. There’s an entire, hidden back area of the spa that’s not open to regular customers. It has its own entrance and is used for special, private events. I didn’t know it existed until my contacts for the parties showed me. There’s no way you would ever know it was there unless you had specific instructions and knew exactly where to go. I was only given that information because my team has to dress the location when we learned about a party that night.”
“So tell us about this place,” Susannah said.
“You access it through an alley behind the spa,” Russo explained. “The door says, “staff entrance.’ Once you’re inside, there’s a long hallway that leads to a real back entrance to the spa. Before you get there, about halfway down the hall is a door that says, ‘utility room.’ But it’s not a utility room. I mean, it looks like one when you first go in. There are cleaning supplies and mops and stuff like that. But all of that is just for show. I don’t think those mops have ever been used. There’s an inner door inside the room next to a metal cabinet. That’s what leads to the secret space.”
“What does that mean exactly—secret space?” Jessie pressed.
“It’s basically like a private nightclub,” Russo said. “It’s huge, with multiple rooms. There’s a bar in the large central open space, with about a dozen high-top tables. Then are a half dozen other rooms of varying sizes that extend off the main one, like sections of a spider web. Each room is furnished differently. One is all loveseats and couches. Another has small round-tops, like you’d finds in a comedy club. Others are a mix of the two. One room was completely empty until we added to it.”
The way she said that last line, with a hint of embarrassment, piqued Jessie’s interest.
“What did you add?” she asked.
“Beds,” she said quietly. “We brought in five rollable twin-sized beds.”
Both Jessie and Susannah were quiet for a moment. It was the detective who spoke first.
“So when you say that these are wild parties, what you really mean is that they’re orgies.”
“I don’t honestly know,” Russo said. “I’m called on the morning of an event and told to prep the place. I’m supposed to have everything done by mid-afternoon. I’ve never been there when the actual events take place. But like you, I’ve drawn a few conclusions.”
“Okay, but you have to be able to do more than just guess,” Jessie countered. “Not to be gross, but when you collect all the stuff you’ve dropped off, isn’t the furniture…soiled?”
Russo winced at the question.
“One of the items we’re tasked to bring to each event is a collection of plastic coverings. Imagine giant shower caps big enough to cover couches and beds. Having said that, we are also instructed to have a professional cleaning service care for every piece of furniture the following day. I don’t typically ask those cleaners questions, and they don’t share any details with me.”
“Okay, let’s set that tidbit aside for now,” Jessie said. “You don’t have the guest list, right?”
“No,” Russo said. “We have no idea who attends these things, but we do provide a car service that picks up the guests. But they don’t go to people’s homes. They are assigned to specific pickup locations that I assume the party organizers also share with the guests. My understanding from talking to some of the drivers is that the guests are required to leave all their possessions—phones, car keys, etc.—in the vehicle, which picks them up at the spa at an assigned time at the end of the evening.”
Jessie looked over at Susannah excitedly.
“That’s why Jamil couldn’t lock in on their location last night,” she said, relieved to have at least that question answered. “While they were at this party, their driver was just tooling around town until it was time to pick them up again.”
“That solves one mystery,” Susannah agreed before turning back to Russo. “How many town cars are we talking about?
“It varies,” Russo said. “Once, it was only ten. Usually it’s between twenty and twenty-five total.”
“So depending on how many people are in each vehicle, individuals or couples, we’re talking a maximum of about fifty people at any given event?” Susannah surmised.
“I couldn’t say for certain, but that sounds reasonable.”
“Do the cars remain there?” Jessie wondered.
“No,” Russo answered firmly. “They are instructed to leave immediately after drop-off and only return five minutes prior to their designated pick-up time.”
“That would explain why Jamil hasn’t been able to make a connection between our victims yet,” Jessie said excitedly. “They didn’t drive themselves to these parties, and the cars that took them were only at the spa briefly. The GPS location data wouldn’t have looked suspicious until he did a deep dive.”
“Yeah,” Susannah agreed. “I’m sure he would have eventually noted that there was an overlap in their location, but if it was only a couple of times in the last few months, it wouldn’t jump out at first.”
“How many events have there been at this place?” Jessie asked.
“Five so far,” Russo answered in a tone that made Jessie wonder what the woman wasn’t sharing. But before she could follow up, Susannah jumped in.
“So if you were only informed of a party on the morning of, and you don’t have a contact phone number for the organizers, how did you communicate on such short notice?”
“The same way I imagine they informed the guests about an upcoming party,” Russo said. “They established an e-mail account and gave me the login information. When the time came for a party, they would write an e-mail but not actually send it. They would leave it in the ‘drafts’ folder. When it was complete, I would get an alert saying to check the e-mail account. I would read the instructions in the draft e-mail and respond within that same draft. That way, there are no actual e-mails being sent and no way to track them without the login.”
Now, Jessie asked the question that had been on her mind since Russo had aroused her suspicion moments earlier.
“Valentina,” she said, using the woman’s first name again, only this time it wasn’t to establish rapport. It was to create a feeling of intimate dominance. “You just said that there have been five events so far. I want to know when the next one is.”
The woman looked at her sheepishly.
“That’s what I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now,” she said, “but I was scared to because of this whole ‘being handcuffed in a police station’ thing.”
Jessie reached over and uncuffed her.
“No excuse now,” she said.
Valentina Russo rubbed her wrists nervously as she looked at the table instead of Jessie. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet.
“They’re actually doing an event today,” she said. “ I got the alert extra early this morning because they’re doing something new.”
“What?” Susannah demanded.
“They’re having a party in—,” she looked at the clock on the wall, “five hours. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been so anxious. I’m supposed to have the place fully prepped by noon, which is much earlier than usual.”
“Why the change?” Jessie asked.
“I don’t know,” Russo said. “Maybe they just wanted to shake things up. At least that’s my guess, based on the name they gave the party.”
“What name?” Jessie and Susannah asked in unison.
Russo closed her eyes as she answered.
“Afternoon Delight.”