Authors: Michelle McGriff

Blood Relations (11 page)

BOOK: Blood Relations

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Chapter 23

“So she unloaded a .45 into the guy and he survived?” Jim asked.

“No, he didn't, but he was the wrong guy to be dead. The guy Rashawn Ams killed is not who we're talking about,” Ovan explained, showing his frustration at the lack of the detective's understanding of the case.

“I thought you said she killed her rapist?”

“No, the man she thought had raped her, but he wasn't. He was the wrong manâhowever, he was closely connected to the rapist,” Maravel explained.

“But closely connected to a rapist doesn't warrant taking a rapist's bullets. I mean, that's taking the buddy system a bit far, don't cha think?” Jim asked.

“You're not listening. Allen Roman was the man who did indeed attack Rashawn Amsâbut he set up the man who Rashawn ended up killing, basically framed him, by leading Rashawn to believe that Blain Tollome was her rapist and father of her child.”

“How'd he do that? If he was the one who attacked her and got her pregnant, then the kid would look like him ... not the other guy.”

“Not if they were related.” Ovan groaned as if tired of the entire discussion.

“What?” Jim asked.

“Roman and Doc,” Ovan said the name as if it tasted bad in his mouth, “Blain TollomeâDoc ... were brothers. Half brothers.”

“No shit! Wow, man, I would have loved to be on that case!”

“No, you wouldn't have,” Ovan said, digging himself out of Maravel's plush chair and heading into her kitchen.

Lawrence noticed his foul mood and whispered to Maravel, “Why is he so ... ?”

“Because Allen Roman got away,” Maravel whispered, tightening her robe around her.

“So? That happens sometimes,” Jim admitted. “I mean, we do our best but sometimes the bad guy gets away.”

“I understand that, but Ovan has a personal issue with this case,” Maravel explained, keeping her voice low. “And with Allen Roman still alive it just adds insult to the injuries already there. Sure, Roman has been involved with many other things since then but it's that case that Ovan was particularly involved in.”

“That case is closed. Dude was deported. I mean, sure, he's managed toâif indeed he didâhe managed to get out of Jamaica, which was probably illegal, but that case, that Ams case, was closed.”

“Not in Ovan's books. It's the root of his obsession with Allen Roman. I'm not completely sure why but he's in deep.”

“So how is he allowed to work a case he's personally involved with?” Jim asked.

“Not sure ... don't care. I'm just doing my job trying to find the Mad Doctor Roman who's running from authorities.”

“So what is your actual job?”

“We're international bouâ” Noticing Ovan coming back, Maravel placed her finger to her lips.

“Okay, blokes, so where do we go with this? Are you all going to help us catch this fiend or not?” Ovan asked, coming back into the living room with a cup of hot tea. Jim noticed that Maravel had clammed up.

“Well, bloke,” Jim said, sounding a little sarcastic, “providing we believe you, and I'm not saying we do.”

“We don't even know who you are. You could be some vigilante,” Lawrence explained, not having gotten totally into Maravel and Jim's conversation.

“Nah, he's no vigilante, he dresses far too dapper. Oh, I know, he's Maxwell Smart and she's his Agent 99,” Jim retorted with a chuckle. Lawrence fanned his hand as if no longer wanting to hear Jim's voice. Maravel blushed slightly. Ovan showed nothing but frustration and irritation.

“Roman is an international killer. He's been conducting illegal and deadly experiments around the globe. He's here to commit a murder ... so either you're going to help us prevent it, or run around in circles afterward attempting to figure out why he did it. My people had been keeping tabs on Roman for years. Apparently a doctor in Jamaicaâwhere your government deported himâclaimed he died.” Ovan snapped his fingers, remembering the name. “Dr. Ghifleâthat was his name. To continue.” He cleared his throat. “Then as if the good doctor changes his mind he calls our main office, in Johannesburg, to tell us that no, Roman is not dead but planning to visit Johannesburg, however, before anyone can get move a team in any direction, Ghifle dies unexpectedly of a heart attack. Immediately it is deduced that Roman is still alive and had cleared out of Jamaica.”

“And this is deduced how?” Lawrence asked. Ovan cut him a glare for interrupting his diatribe, then continued his story.

“Within minutes, it seems, Roman suddenly appears in London. Enter yours truly.” Oven pointed at himself. “He's posed as a physician named Seymour Liptonâlater we find that Seymour is another physician he's murdered in South Africaâusing the same lethal injection that I'm sure is going to be found in Craven Michaelsâand would have been found in Ghifle had we been able to get anywhere near the body.”

“The injection must be something untraceableâor the autopsy would have shown that, but causes all the symptoms of a heart attack,” Maravel interjected.

“Again, why do you think Allen Roman did it?” Lawrence asked, sounding unconvinced. “So far it just doesn't sound like anything we'd take to the DA.”

“We have our reasons as to why he killed Lipton and Ghifle, but they aren't solid. But we figure that they both had something Roman wanted that they wouldn't just âgive' to him ... so he took it. And now Craven Michaels, another person directly connected with Allen Roman, has died of a heart attack,” Ovan explained.

“Well, it sounds rather convincing, actually,” Jim admitted.

Lawrence frowned. “Not to me.”

“If I can just see the body and if I can prove that that she died due to the same type of injection, would you believe us that Allen Roman is possibly still alive and behind her murder?” Maravel asked Lawrence.

“Hmmm, maybe,” Lawrence answered, noticing Jim smiling at Maravel. She smiled back, blushing slightly. There was an obvious connection.

“Wait, I have questions. What is the big connection with doctors? Why not professors or some other profession?” Lawrence asked.

“These doctors obviously were witnesses or unwilling partners in Roman's unethical medical experiences. We are not all together sure but we are certain at one time, he was using human cadaversâwhich is totally illegal on our side of the world.”

“Well, here too!” Jim interjected.

“But, hey, what does that have to do with Rashawn Ams? You were saying yesterday he could be at her door any day now. Why?” Lawrence asked.

“The same reason he was there the first timeâcontrol,” Ovan answered.

“We believe Allen Roman is planning another experiment. One that again will include human subjects ... last time here, he used his brother. He basically murdered him for his own purposes. This time we're afraid it's even more personal. We believe Roman is planning to become one of his own subjects, and the other one he's planning to use is his son.”

“Kill his own son!”

“Why not, he basically killed his own brother.” Ovan frowned.

Chapter 24

“I know you all can't see it at first glance, but if you look really close ...” Maravel explained, noticing where their eyes were going, “... here. Not on her breast, thank you,” she said bluntly, drawing the men's attention to where her gloved finger indicted. Jim cleared his throat. “... you'll see a little prick mark.”

“Aren't you looking the wrong area for a prick mark?” Jim asked, and then shrugged, noticing all eyes were intensely on him. “Sorrrry, couldn't resist.”

“Ya know, the more hours I spend with you, the more I like your humor,” Ovan admitted, grinning broadly.

“Both of you are sick. Now shut up. Go on Ms . . .” Lawrence began, requesting Maravel's last name. She smiled shyly, again showing her coy side, moving her blond bangs out of her face.

“It's Friggins,” she answered, grinning at Lawrence.

“Maravel Friggins?” Jim asked, and then glanced over at Ovan for confirmation.

Ovan shrugged. “Go figure,” he remarked rudely, adding to his and Jim's frivolity at such an inappropriate time.

Sam, the forensic doctor, leaned closer to the corpse following Maravel's direction. “Wow, I see it as clear as the nose your face now. I had no idea to even look there!”

“It was just a hunch,” Maravel gushed shamelessly.

“Hunch my arse, I've been telling these jokers all day to look closer ... but no, for my troubles and diligence, I get stabbed, shot at, and all the rest.”

“Oh, you haven't been shot at,” Maravel teased. “Yet.”

“But now, one problem: there are no drugs in this woman's body,” Sam insisted.

“There wouldn't be, she died of an embolism,” Maravel explained. Sam's head went back with the revelation.

“Ahhhhh,” he gasped.

“Ahhh what? What is an embolism?” Lawrence asked.

“Death by air bubble,” Sam confirmed. “She's good.” He grinned, nodding his approval at Maravel's skill. “I'll have to check it out, but it sounds like a âdone.' ”

“Hmmph,” Ovan grunted, sounded as if too full of “hateraide” to even speak. He didn't like her comment about him not having been shot at yet.

“But now, this under her nails ... unnoticed by the naked eyes or anyone not looking for murder. I'm going to run a sample, under the scope and have more information for you later today,” Sam informed them.

“Great! I have a sneaking suspicion that you'll find her killer under there,” Maravel said, sounding proud at her work.

“Well, cats, it's like, tomorrow already. And so that makes me off ... again,” Jim announced.

“Didn't you just have a vacation?” Maravel asked.

“Sorta, kinda,” Jim hedged.

“You find murder, Sam,” Lawrence said, pointing at Sam and then at Maravel. “We'll find you a murder. Until then, our hands are tied. You can do what you do, but âbloke,' ” Lawrence said, now pointing at Ovan, “you cross our lines and we're gonna do what we gotta do. Until something points to something other than natural, hands off this Hap guy, and this Allen Roman guy, who I still don't even believe exists anymore.”

“Fine,” Ovan agreed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Hap is not on my list of things to do ... even though he tried to kill me.”

Everyone groaned and headed out of the lab. Reaching the elevator doors, Ovan patted his pockets. “Hang on, gang. I forgot something. Better yet, go on, I'll catch up,” he told the group, who continued out and into the elevator. He then dashed back in the lab to speak with Sam privately.

Sam looked up from his work. “Did we forget something?” he asked.

“Yeah, umm Sam, how about you give me a call after you run those samples thereâthe ones from under her nails.” Ovan winked.

“I'd planned on it.”

“No, really, because I'm certain she raked off a bit of my buttocks, tiger that she was, and I'd hate to be thrown in with the batch of suspects.”

“Ohhh you were ... Ohhh!” Sam gasped twisting up his face a bit. “You slept with her?”

“I was, um ... collecting a little bit of information and, well, you know, things happen.” He pointed at the lifeless and less-than-beautiful corpse of Craven Michaels. He took a closer look. “But then, somehow, she used to look a little better than this. Ya know.”

Chapter 25

“Roman wants me to take care of his son ... humph, what am I now, a glorified babysitter?” Hap shook his head in disgust. “I'll take care of that kid all right. One step outta line and ...” Hap pulled a large syringe from the drawer and held it up threateningly. “Bam! Just like that guy last night. Who was that guy anyway? Why would Roman want him dead? He acts like everyone is disposable. Like Craven I guess. Bastard!” Hap thought about Craven and her sexual appetite. He could only imagine her going for a guy like Roman. Roman and the reputation he'd left behind. Anybody would do whatever to work with a genius like him, and apparently Craven had. Besides the fact that Hap knew he could never satisfy her. Roman's prowess had preceded him as well. It wasn't as if journals weren't written by him while he taught at Moorman and even more interesting articles once he started writing about DNA, heredity, and sex. Yes, yes, the things he'd had done in the name of scienceâthe
Sex Experience
was the biggest, most well read journal out there. It wasn't as if it was reviewed in medical schoolâno wayâbut you could get a copy of the piece if you visited the not-so-hallowed halls of students of medicine. There, you could learn all about what Allen Roman had done in the name of science. Mind control, wild sex studies, it was rumored he'd even murdered and gotten away with it, in the name of science. Some believed he was just a power hungry control freakâa criminal who should have been executed by the law. While others believed he was a genius. They believed his work with human participants in studies on human nature was phenomenal. Hap's verdict was now outânow that he'd killed Craven. Why did he have to do that? Craven was a woman out for her own interest and pleasures but surely she didn't deserve to die.

Hap paced his office, thinking about what Allen Roman had told him and what he had implied about Craven and how he would frame him for the murder due to the missing money. Where was the money? It wasn't in her safeâhe'd checked that right after that run-in with that crazy guy who had broken in.

Had he been betrayed by Craven? Was she really planning to edge him out of this project and keep the money all to herself? He trusted her and assumed they truly did have something going onâsomething that went deeper than the physical. Even she had said itâwhile he was choking her, “we're soulmates.”

“It wasn't as if I caused her pain,” he said aloud, thinking of what Roman had told him. Suddenly greed shoved regret out of his mind. “Where is that money?” He held up the key to her wall safe where he assumed the money was. “I need to get back over there and look harder.”

Just then the receptionist paged him. “Dr. Washburn, there's two homicide detectives here to see you.”

“Homicide?” he asked, hoping to hide the instant unnerving in his voice. “Certainly, let them in.”

The door opened and homicide detectives Lawrence Miller and Jim Beem walked in and introduced themselves. Jim, a shorter white man with thick blond hair and surfer boy tan began to immediately roam around looking at pictures on his wall. He kept his hands in his pockets. That fact struck Hap as odd. “Hello?” Hap asked nervously.

“Hello, Dr. Washburn, this is just a routine visit. It's common when there's been a unclassified death. Now, you knew Ms. Craven Michaels, correct?”

Hap audibly sighed relief. What a fool. Here he was thinking that these police officers were here about murder. No one was even thinking about murder and besides no one would be able to trace Craven's death back to him, not unless they had reason to suspect him. Allen Roman? Maybe he put on one of his many faces and spilled the beans. Hap instantly grew nervous again. “Unclassifed?” he asked.

No. Roman wouldn't say anything. He himself was supposed to be dead. Why would he come from the dead just to betray and ruin everything they had planned? Why would he tell? He was down to only one surgeon now for this project. Roman wouldn't betray him, not now that Craven was dead. Roman had no choice but to work with him, right? But then ... who was that guy last night? “Yes, of course. I'm the one who called and reported her murderâI mean, death,” Hap stumbled.

“So you suspect murder?” Lawrence asked, refusing to disregard the slip of the tongue.

“No noooo, but you're homicide, I mean, you must suspect something.”

“No, actually. This is routine. As we said, her death hasn't been classified. Hey, why don't you have any pictures of her up on your wall? She had plenty pictures up of the two of you,” Jim stated, still not taking his hands out of his pockets. “After the break-in, we decided we needed to look around so we got a search warrant ... it's procedure.” Hap didn't believe that, not at all. They suspected something. Hap was getting really nervous now.

“I don't know, maybe it's a girl thing.” Hap chuckled.

“Hmm, yeah,” Jim said, nodding.

“Had she ever complained of chest pains since you two were in a relationship? Were you aware of any medical problems she was having?”

“No and none, but as you know heart disease is a number one secret killer of women these days,” Hap said, sounding as if quoting directly from a manual.

“Uhhuh,” Lawrence mumbled. Hap was starting to sweat. He wanted these men to leave.

“Do you know Allen Roman?” Jim asked abruptly. Hap's stomach flipped.

“I've heard of him. Wasn't he a prominent scientist who apparently got too full of himself and started performing some illegal experiments and got himself deported and then died?”

“You seem know a lot about him,” Jim noticed.

“Everybody in the scientific medical community knows about Allen Roman,” Hap said, hoping his admiration didn't overshadow his pretense at ignorance. Just then the phone rang. It was Roman. Timing couldn't be worse. He let the phone ring twice.

“You gonna get that?” Lawrence asked.

“Umm ... sure,” Hap said, nervously answering his private line. “Helllllooooo,” he called into the phone.

“You sound chipper,” Roman said.

“Well, I have company,” Hap said, looking at Jim and Lawrence and smiling. He held up his finger and then turned his back to them as if that would grant him privacy.

“Who?”

“The police.”

“What do they want?”

“Nothing ... they are just following up on dear Craven.”

“Oh, dear Craven, the woman you killed.”

“Well, I wouldn't say that too often,” Hap said, glancing over his shoulder at Jim and Lawrence, who seemed again to be busying themselves with the dÃ©cor.

“Whatever. Get rid of them and call me back. I have a problem I need you to see if you can take care of for me.”

“I'm already working on one of your problems so I doubt it,” he said, hanging up the phone. “Now, Detectives, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“What's this big project you and Craven were working on? She told Ovan Dominguez that she was working on this big secret project?”

“Ovan Dominguez?”

“You know him. You stabbed him in Craven's home last night.”

“Stabbed?” Hap's chest was on fire.

“You know, with the knockout juice?” Jim said, pulling a syringe out of his pocket. “You always walk around with one of these in your pocket?” Ovan had described the needle and it didn't take much for Jim to find one that could possibly resemble it. “Is this what you and Roman use toâ”

“I don't know what you're talking about. But that man was in my girlfriend's house trying to steal something. I don't what, but I'm sure it was a robbery. Craven has lots of nice things. I defended myself the best way I knew how.”

“You always carry a tranquilizer with you?” Jim asked again.

“No. That was a coincidence. I had been at the lab. He scared me and I just used what I had. I thought he was going to kill me.”

“He was unarmed and said he was asking you about Allen Roman.”

“Well, he's a liar ... and that's all I have time to talk to you.” Hap rushed over to the door. “I think if you have more questions you can contact my attorney.”

The men meandered out. Lawrence then noticed the one photo of Hap and Craven hanging by the door. “Nice cabin,” he said, pointing at the two of them. “You two look real cozy.”

“That was our love nest. It's just outside Klamath in Oregon. Beautiful place,” Hap rambled for a moment.

“Looks lovely, and ya know, I saw this very same picture at Craven's house. It was right in front of an open, empty, safe.”

“Empty?” Hap's heart droppedâhad he forgotten to shut it? “Look, I've just suffered a great loss so you two need to know that your visit today was heartless,” Hap said, shutting the door behind them. Quickly he snatched the picture of him and Craven off the wall. “Ovan Dominguez, huh ...” Hap said, immediately imagining Craven sexing him too.

“You want this case to turn into murder just as bad as I do,” Jim said, holding off his full grin while he and Lawrence climbed back into their sedan. Lawrence said nothing. He just frowned up his lip and furrowed his brow.

“What? So that little twerp can get his chase on?”

“You're just jealous. When you found out who he was, you got stone jealous!” Jim poked.

“No, I didn't. I'm a legitimate cop and I like that about me. I'm legit.”

“As opposed to setting your own standards, running the close line between good and evil, catching the bad guys on your own terms,” Jim went on, glorifying Ovan's profession.

He and Lawrence and spent the better part of the night hunting down Maravel Friggins. She seemed an easier mark than Ovan Dominguez. She popped up after only two clicks into the back door of the Interpol associate's sub-list. After a little technical dancing around, she came up as one of those working within the ten supporting coroner's offices for Her Majesty's Coroner in Sutton. She'd done a little moving around after leaving there, eventually hooking up with Ovan . . . and finding out any more about that guy stopped there. That bothered Lawrence a lot, but Jim seemed okay with Ovan at least associating with legitimate people. It at least gave him a sense of legitimacy.

“Well, okay, I'll say this much, I'll watch this Hap guy when I have a minute or two, but I'm not crossing any lines until we get some kind of something that he's doing something illegal,” Lawrence conceded.

“Deal. But frankly, Hap walks, talks, and smells like a killer.”

“Yeah. He does.” Lawrence hated to admit it, but Hap acted as guilty as sin. Guilty of what, who knew. All they could doâlegallyâwas wait.

BOOK: Blood Relations

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