Chapter 48
“I would have preferred dinner, to be honest,” Detective Ray Ryan said as he watched Nelson Rupert’s driver being taken away in an ambulance.
Police had surrounded the area. Fortunately, no one in the nearby mansion had been hurt. The family vacationed in Austria this time every year, so the rounds had only impacted nearby trees and some of the windows in the front.
Jane shook her head. “What the hell is going on, Ray? They didn’t attack Nelson Rupert. They tried to gun down his driver?”
“And didn’t succeed. The guy is good. He nailed all four assailants with headshots while moving. Only got scraped with a bullet to the shoulder. Our guy is a pro.”
“So were they.” The men who’d fired on Alvin Richert, Nelson’s driver, didn’t have fingerprints on file but carried state-of-the-art weaponry, real top-of-the-line stuff. She knew what a Heckler & Koch MP5 was, as Joe, one of her many honorary uncles, loved it.
But the shooters’ weapons left behind were lighter and smaller, the magazines plentiful, the range of fire and optics impressive.
Ray looked the guns over and smiled. “Pretty. I wonder if anyone would be upset if one went missing.”
Jane looked at him, and he grinned.
“I’m glad one of us can laugh,” she muttered. “I just talked to Nelson Rupert not an hour ago at Matthew Scott’s funeral. Now someone is attacking his driver?”
“More like bodyguard. That boy is big.”
Jane didn’t know what to think. Alvin Richert had a permit for his pistol, which they’d taken into evidence.
Richert had no problem admitting he’d returned fire. “Check my dashcam,” he’d said in that gritty voice, seeming not at all bothered by his altercation with the gunmen. When asked why anyone would want to shoot at him, he’d said with amusement, “Tough city, Seattle.”
“What do you think this is all about, Jane?”
“Kaminski and Rook playing games.” She glared at Nelson Rupert’s mansion in the distance, at the forensic team working to round up spent ammo, blood and bodies. “Hey, they don’t need us here for this, do they?”
Ray rubbed his chin. “I don’t think so. Hold on.” He jogged to the lead detective. After a short chat, he left the guy. “We’re good. Manuel is on it. Now how about that dinner I promised you?”
Jane sighed. “Yes, please.”
An hour later, Jane groaned with contentment at Ray’s dining table, stuffed. “Thank you so much, Alex. I was dying out there. Best meal I’ve had all day.”
“Why am I thinking only meal you’ve had all day?” Ray murmured and grabbed his husband’s hand as he passed, kissing the back of it.
“That’s right. Remember, buddy. You owe me one. Plus, I got the kids to sleep over at my sister’s house tonight. Win-win.” Alex, a handsome older man with dimples, smiled and patted Ray’s cheek. “He acts like he can’t cook. He just pretends and thinks I don’t know.”
Ray looked hurt. “Hey. I do dishes.”
Alex muttered under his breath and continued on his way to the kitchen.
Jane groaned. “I’m so sorry. I totally meant to bring dessert, but the shooting distracted me. I have a marionberry pie at home on my counter.”
“Bring it the next time we question someone. Probably tomorrow,” Ray teased. “Now tell me again. What do you think’s really going on?”
Alex didn’t return, and Jane paused. “Alex doesn’t have to leave the table, does he?”
“He wants to. He’s not a fan of cop talk. After twenty-three years—”
“Twenty-four,” Alex corrected from the other room.
“He’s earned it. So shoot. What’s going on?”
Jane filled Ray in on everything. She spoke long enough that it took two cups of coffee and a glass of water to soothe her parched throat. She conveniently left out the parts about her personal relationship with Matthew. But other than that, she’d shared everything she knew about the case.
Ray being Ray, he took notes.
When she’d finally wound down, he stared at his notepad. “We have the Collective working for a mastermind. We have no idea what they want. Though if you can believe Nelson Rupert, who insists he’s not part of it, it’s to make the world a better place as only rich people can.”
“Yep.”
“Then you have an FBI agent murdered. He’s the son of a senator and grandson of the rich guy who’s above the Collective.” He tapped his pen on his notebook. “Kaminski and Rook are on the outs while Rook’s brother—”
“Cousin.”
“Cousin, murders everyone because he’s a nutbag.”
“Yes, yes, and yes. What does it all mean?”
“It means I need more coffee.” He got up to pour himself a fresh cup then sat down with her once more.
“I don’t know, Jane. You ask me, this reads like a gang war.
From the beginning, we have Kaminski in charge of the Collective.
They have an agenda we don’t know about.
But we don’t have to know it. We just know members are dying. ”
“Cue the home invasions.”
“Then we have Rook, Kaminski’s number one guy, deciding he doesn’t like what Kaminski is selling and gets mad.”
“Or gets even. Let’s say he kills some of Kaminski’s Collective. Because let’s be honest. August is a quiet criminal. Victor Bednarek can’t control himself. He steals crypto, but he murders violently and loudly.”
“Right. So August is pissed.”
“And so is Rook, who for some reason turns against his boss. He’s been working for the guy for years, is super smart, even infiltrated the FBI and only got caught because he wanted me to know.”
“After selling out his boss. He gave you files linking August to Castle Capital.”
“Okay. Which one killed Senator Scott’s aide?”
Ray tapped his notebook again. “I say Rook did it because he pinned it on August. Remember, that notebook had August’s name in Louis Miller’s blood.”
“Right. But then Matthew was found holding a rook chess piece. Does that mean Rook was making a statement?”
“Or did August fight back by framing him?”
Jane sat for a moment, sipping the last of her water.
Ray got up and returned to pour her a new cup of coffee.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime. Thoughts?”
“The home invasions,” she said, focused. “That’s our case. We know Victor is murdering families. He’s doing it for August, or he was. We just need to find him to arrest him.”
“Then we pull him in to tell us all about August. I doubt he’ll turn on his cousin.”
Jane nodded. “Right. But I bet it won’t take much pressure to get Victor to turn on August. Especially if we make sure he knows we don’t care about Casimir, who we consider a pawn in August’s game.”
Ray brightened. “Ah, pawn. I see what you did there. Well? Let’s find this guy, Jane.”
“We’re trying. He’s on every watchlist there is right now. And I guarantee you he’s not hiding anywhere but in the city.”
“How do we shake him free?”
“I wish I knew.” Jane sipped her coffee, an idea forming. “But maybe we don’t have to. Maybe, with the right motivation, he’ll come to us.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Something a little birdie once told me.”
“Birdie?”
She smiled. “More like a rook.”