Choke: A Thriller (6 page)

The young detective Jay Lenzen punches some numbers into his cell phone.

“Ponko.”

“Got something,” Lenzen tells her.

“Shoot.”

“Rachel Levin.”

After a pause, Ponko says, “Why is that name familiar?”

“She's Keyes’ current hottie.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right.  The one he's been screwing around on with Vicki Lee.”

“Turns out she's got quite a history herself.”

“I'm listening.”

“Arrested for murder fourteen years ago.”

“No shit.”

“Found guilty of intentional manslaughter.”

“Who'd she pop?”

“Pop.”

“What?”

“Her father.  There were rumors of abuse.  Her mother and herself.  Possible sexual abuse.”

“How'd she do it?”

“She hung him.”

“She hung him?”

“Tried to make it look like suicide.  But the truth came out,” Lenzen says.

“What'd she get?”

“Served two years in juvie.  She was only fourteen.  Released afterward.  No trouble since then.”

“Sounds like a girl with some issues.  That how she and Keyes hooked up?”

“I'm checking that.  Just thought you'd want to know about Miss Levin.”

“Let me know what else you find.”

Vincent sits in a plush black leather armchair, drinks from a bottle of beer.  Before him is a top-of-the-line home theater.  The television is tuned to a news station.

“There are no witnesses or suspects at this time, according to police sources,” the newscaster says.  “Again, Demetrius Carr, star center for the Los Angeles Lakers, was murdered in the early morning hours today.  It is the second brutal killing of a famous athlete in the last week.  Vicki Lee, figure skater and Olympic hopeful, was also murdered recently. Authorities have not commented on whether or not the murders are related.”

Vincent shuts off the television set as his cell phone rings.

Unknown caller.

Vincent figures he knows who the caller is, so he answers it.

“Keyes.”

“Hello, Vincent,” a voice whispers. “You know what they said about Demetrius, he always had great hands,” the voice says, then bursts out laughing.

“Fuck you,” Vincent says.

“You did better this time, I'm proud of you.  A little more controlled.  You still panicked, but not quite as badly.  I think we're making some real progress here.”

“Go to hell.  I'm going to find out who you are and then nail you to the wall.”

He hangs up on him just as the doorbell rings, and Vincent jumps, startled.

He crosses the room and opens the door.

It's Rachel.

“I just heard,” she says.

Vincent holds his arms out to her and she steps inside.

Vincent has turned his office upside down.  Files are thrown everywhere and stacked high on his desk.  His computer is on, as well as a laptop on the far side of his desk.  Filing cabinets along one side of the office are opened at random, with more files stacked on top of the open drawers.

Vincent is completely disheveled, his hair is going in all different directions and he has not yet changed his clothes.  Rachel, too, is knee-deep in paperwork.  Files, old photographs, even old bills.

Vincent throws a file back onto his desk.

“Who are you?” he asks the mess of papers in front of him.  “Where are you?”

“Vincent, calm down,” Rachel says.  “We'll figure out who's doing this.”

Vincent picks up another file and starts pacing.

“But we've been over this and over this,” he says.  “The only thing Demetrius and Vicki have in common is me.  Why was I called to try to save Vicki? Why was Demetrius placed in my living room with his fucking hands chopped off?  Who is doing this to me?”

“That's what we're trying to figure out, Vincent.”

He continues pacing.  He is standing with his back to the door, staring at the wall, deep in thought.

Rachel walks over to him and places a hand on his shoulder.

He jumps and whips the gun out from his waistband, and whirls, placing the muzzle inches from Rachel’s face.

“What are you doing, Vincent?  Where did you get the gun?”

Vincent's hand is shaking as he lowers the gun.

“I'm sorry.  I'm going out of my mind.  I bought it when I moved to L.A.  That's what you're supposed to do.  Move to L.A.  Buy a gun.”

He places it back in his waistband, somewhat embarrassed.

“Just be careful with that,” Rachel says, her voice as shaky as Vincent’s hands.  “The only way this could get worse is if you really do kill someone.”

Vincent's shoulders sag.

“Let's start at the beginning and see if we can figure this out logically,” Rachel suggests.

Vincent contemplates for a second.

“The thing with my car when we left the Lakers game.  That wasn't an accident.”

“We don't know that for sure.”

“Come on, Rach.  It had to be.”

Rachel sits down cross-legged facing Vincent.

“He's in here somewhere,” Vincent says.  “This paper represents my life.  From college through my entire career.  Letters.  Appearances.  Correspondence.  Recommendations.  Notes from lectures.  Everyone in my past is here, in this room, on these papers.”

“Everyone from your professional life.  What if it's someone who has nothing to do with psychology?”

“Most of my personal acquaintances have something to do with psychology, too.”

“Here's what I think.  I've been through all of these files and from what I can see, there's only one person who has been a constant throughout your entire life.  Only one person who knows you as well as this madman apparently does.”

Vincent looks at her.

“Dr. Melahmed.  Your own psychologist, Vincent.  Think about it.  This crazy guy said he wants to help you be the best that you can be, right?  And didn't you say Melahmed said he was envious of you?”

“Yeah, he said it, but you're taking it out of context.”

“That's the only name that jumps out from all of this.”

“No.”

“What do the cops know?”

“They don't know Jack Shit, except how to point fingers at me.”

“At you?  Why you?  It's obvious you're being set-up.”

There's an awkward silence as Vincent stares at the wall above her head.

He walks forward and faces Rachel, having come to his decision.

“Vicki and I...”

“What?”

“Vicki and I were seeing each other.”

“I know, she was your patient.”

“She was more than that Rachel.”

Realization floods across Rachel's face.

“You were fucking her, too?”

“I'm sorry, Rachel.”

“For how long?”

“Don't do this.”

“How long?”

“A little under a year.  But not steady, it...it just sort of turned into something more.”

This pushes Rachel over the edge and tears openly fall from her eyes.  Vincent tries to go to her to console her, but she pushes him away.

She walks to the door, then turns back.

“You're a real piece of shit, you know that don't you?”

Vincent doesn't answer.

“Asshole,” Rachel spits out at him.

She walks out the door.  But before the door can close all the way, a young man enters.  He has thick, dark hair and is dressed in a jogging suit.  He has the kind of duffel bag that carries lots of tennis rackets.  He steps aside as Rachel barrels out the door.

“Miles, this isn’t a good time,” Vincent says.

“Hi, Dr. Keyes.”

He takes in Vincent's appearance.

“Is something wrong, Doc?”

“Yeah, I'm afraid I can't do our session today.  Didn't Nancy call?  I told her to call everyone and cancel.”

“Oh, I was at the courts, gearing up for the tournament.  Who was that I passed?”

“She's...”

He is momentarily at a loss for words.

“I'll make another appointment,” Lucas says.  “It's just that the tournament's in two weeks and I decided to play doubles as well as singles, so I wanted to talk to you about it.  Fix some stuff up here.”

He taps the side of his head.

“Just call Nancy, and we'll set something up soon.”

“Okay.”

“Sorry.”

“No problem, Doc.”

The young man leaves, and Vincent stands back in his office.  His eyes stray to the wall where there's a picture of himself and Dr. Melahmed.  Vincent stares at it for a beat.

Vincent punches numbers into his cell phone.

“Hi Kay.  It's Vincent.  Good, how are you?  Is Josh in today?”

He listens.

“Working at home today, okay.  Thanks, Kay.”

Vincent drives to Melahmed’s house, pulls up the drive and parks.  He opens his glove compartment and pulls out the gun.  He checks the magazine, and tucks it inside his sport coat.

He gets out and approaches the door.  He's about to press the doorbell when he hears screaming.

It sounds like a young girl.

Vincent tries the door and is surprised to find it unlocked.  He rushes inside.

The screaming has stopped and he listens briefly.  Another scream erupts and Vincent heads for a spiral staircase directly ahead. 

He races down the stairway and across a hallway to a door.  The screaming is coming from inside.  The door is locked, so Vincent throws his shoulder into the door.  It gives and Vincent bursts into the room where Dr. Melahmed, stark naked, is making love to a young woman from behind.  The woman is tied in an elaborate harness.  When she sees Vincent, she starts laughing.

Vincent looks around the room.  There is bondage gear everywhere.

Dr. Melahmed steps out from behind the young woman and makes no attempt to cover himself.

“What are you doing with a gun, Vincent?”

“I'm...what am I doing with a gun?  What are you doing?”

“We're copulating, Vincent.  Surely you know what that is.”

“What is all this?”

“Come on Vincent, I know you studied anatomy.”

The girl laughs out loud at this.  Vincent looks closely at her.

“How old are you?”

“Oh, good God, Vincent,” Melahmed says.  “What are you doing here?”

“Someone's trying to set me up, Josh.  I was wondering if it might be you.”

Dr. Melahmed reaches for his robe and puts it on.  The girl easily unties her own hands from the restraints and stands up.

“Set you up how?” Melahmed asks.

“The murders,” Vincent says.  “Vicki Lee.  Demetrius Carr.  My patients.”

“I saw on the news...I have nothing to do with that, Vincent. Come on.  You're upset. Maybe even delusional.”

“I don't think this is a delusion.”

Vincent gestures toward the young girl in the S&M gear.

“This?” Melahmed asks.  “It's pretend.  Play-acting, role-playing, you know how it all works.  Becky here isn't hurt.”

“Hi,” Becky says.

“She's just a very naughty girl.”

Becky giggles.

Rachel is reclined in a luxurious bubble bath.  Her eyes are closed.  Soft classical music is playing in the background.

The phone rings and her answering machine picks up.

“Hi, I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message at the beep and I'll try to get back to you.”

Rachel listens from the tub.

“Hi, Rachel, this is Detective Lori Ponko.  I'm the lead investigator in the murders of Vicki Lee and Demetrius Carr, you've probably heard about them on the news.  We think they have something to do with Dr. Vincent Keyes, and would like to ask you some questions.  Fairly routine.  As soon as you get this message, please give me a call so you can come into the station and talk to us.  Or, we can come out and see you.”

Rachel suddenly looks scared.  She opens the tub drain with her foot to let the water drain, then stands and begins toweling her body.

As she's toweling off, the steam from the shower surrounds her.

Rachel continues to dry off; she's bent over, drying her legs.

When she straightens up, mist clears a bit from the mirror and now she looks into it as she towels her hair.

She finishes, straightens her hair with her hand, then wraps the towel around her body.

Rachel opens the bathroom door and is about to step through it when a hand clamps around her throat.

Vincent pulls in front of his house on the circular drive.  Detective Ponko's unmarked squad car is already parked there.

As Vincent walks to the door, Ponko intercepts him.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, so do you.”

“A bit touchy.”

“I've got nothing to say to you, Detective, without my lawyer present.”

Vincent unlocks his door and walks inside, but he leaves the front door open. Detective Ponko follows.

Vincent throws his keys on the kitchen table.

“Okay, that's cool,” Ponko says.  “Just wanted you to know that we're in the process of bringing in your girlfriend Rachel Levin,” she says.

Vincent turns quickly, his eyes flashing in anger.

“Rachel.  Why?”

“What exactly do you know about Miss Levin?  Other than what she looks like naked.”

“I know that Rachel has nothing to do with this.”

“She wouldn't hurt a flea, right?”

Vincent doesn't respond.

“I'm guessing by your silence that you know all about her murder conviction.”

“Manslaughter.  And that was a long time ago.”

“Have you rehabilitated her with your dick?”

“You know, I'm sick and tired of your tasteless, crude jokes.  And I’m not answering any questions without a lawyer.”

“Sorry, sorry.  I had a troubled childhood, that's why my mouth and mind are always in the gutter.”

Vincent grabs an iced coffee from the fridge, doesn’t offer anything to Ponko.

“Rachel was abused by her father,” he says.  “She tried to get help, she tried a lot of things.  Yes, she killed him, but she was only fourteen years old.”

“Once a killer...”

“That's bullshit.  She's got nothing to do with this.”

“Did she know about you and Vicki?”

Vincent shakes his head, "No."

“Are you sure?”

“I just told her this morning, she was pretty upset.”

“Maybe she was acting upset.  Maybe she already knew, and that's why she strung up Vicki Lee.  Just like her Daddy.”

“In this scenario, Rachel killed Demetrius Carr?  All seven feet, three hundred pounds of him?  Come on, even you can do better than that.”

Ponko laughs at the jab.

“Well, despite your diagnosis, Doctor, we've got a car going to her place to pick her up.”

“You're wasting your time.”

“Maybe.  Maybe not.  At least you know your tax dollars are hard at work.”

She leaves and Vincent stands at the kitchen sink, his hand on the edge of the counter, his head hanging down.

The phone rings.  Vincent crosses the room and picks up the receiver.

“Hello.”

“I think I've figured out who's doing this.  And why,” Rachel says.  Her voice is high-pitched and Vincent can hear the fear in her voice.  “Come to my place, right now, Vincent.  I think I'm in danger, too.  Hurry, and make sure no one follows you.  I think we're both being watched.”

Her call is cut off by a dial tone.

“Rachel!...Wait, Rachel!...Shit!”

Vincent thumbs the disconnect button on the phone and runs for his keys.