Elegy in Scarlet Read online

  ELEGY IN SCARLET

  A Scott Drayco Mystery

  BV Lawson

  Crimetime Press

  Copyright © 2016

  Elegy in Scarlet is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, places, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SIGN UP FOR BV LAWSON’S NEWLETTER

  AND RECEIVE A FREE SCOTT DRAYCO NOVELLA

  For information, contact:

  Crimetime Press

  6312 Seven Corners Center, Box 257

  Falls Church, VA 22044

  Trade Paperback ISBN 978-0-9975347-0-2

  Hardcover ISBN 978-0-9975347-1-9

  eBook ISBN 978-0-9904582-9-6

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Gavotte

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  To My Readers

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Special Newsletter Offer

  Connect with BV

  GAVOTTE

  Memories long in music sleeping,

  No more sleeping,

  No more dumb;

  Delicate phantoms softly creeping

  Softly back from the old-world come.

  Faintest odours around them straying,

  Suddenly straying

  In chambers dim;

  Whispering silks in order swaying,

  Glimmering gems on shoulders slim:

  Courage advancing strong and tender,

  Grace untender

  Fanning desire;

  Suppliant conquest, proud surrender,

  Courtesy cold of hearts on fire—

  Willowy billowy now they’re bending,

  Low they’re bending

  Down-dropt eyes;

  Stately measure and stately ending,

  Music sobbing, and a dream that dies.

  poem by Sir Henry Newbolt (1919), music by Herbert Howells

  Chapter 1

  Thursday, February 14

  If the hearing was a farce, it was nicely choreographed. The members of the Board of Appeals and Review looked down on Scott Drayco from behind their table on the elevated platform, two men wearing glasses bookending a woman in the middle. All three sported black suits as if attending a funeral, and in a way it was—the potential death of Drayco’s career.

  The man standing next to Drayco, Benny Baskin, Esquire, wasn’t wearing his usual platform shoes, making him closer to four-six than his usual four-nine. Benny had opted against a black suit, his olive green number reminiscent of a military general dressing for battle.

  Drayco tried his best to look neutral and professional, despite his own charcoal tweed getup that made him itch in the hot, windowless room. He’d be wearing a white flag of surrender, if D.C. Mayor Gavin Kozell had his way—the same mayor who’d been good friends with Andrew Gilbow, now lying in his grave thanks in part to Drayco.

  As if the images of the dying Gilbow enveloped in a wall of flames weren’t enough to hijack Drayco’s thoughts, he was distracted by the odor of the room, like someone had mopped up vomit with a saccharine-sweet cleaning solution. It was a fitting accompaniment to the maroon razor blades that squeals from the heating vents were flinging into his eardrums. He silently cursed his synesthesia and tried to block out the assault on his senses and focus instead on the tribunal trio.

  Board member Saul Bobeck peered at Drayco. “You understand this conference is to refine the issues before your evidentiary hearing? Stipulations, pending motions, approval of prospective witnesses. An assessment of your case’s settlement potential?”

  Drayco nodded. He almost looked around, but there was no audience to see. Benny had gotten his way with that one—no gawkers, no media, just empty seats.

  Bobeck droned on, “Mayor Kozell requested this action due to D.C. Code section 2010.1, pertaining to the licensure of private investigators. And violations of the code, including any offense involving fraudulent conduct in the judgment of the mayor.”

  Baskin spoke up. “May I remind the board my client was not charged with any crimes by the Metropolitan Police Department? And absolved of any foul play in the death of Professor Andrew Gilbow? In fact, they found it was self-defense on my client’s part and decided not to press charges. I can only conclude the mayor is mistaken in his assertion of any alleged ‘fraudulent’ conduct.”

  Bobeck doubled down. “The MPD agreed the bullet in Professor Gilbow’s skull was from your gun, Mr. Drayco, is that correct?”

  Baskin had warned Drayco not to speak unless he gave a quick flip of his left wrist. Baskin’s hand stayed by his side, so Drayco let the attorney answer. “Yes, but the primary cause of death was from the fire. And for the record, it’s Dr. Drayco.”

  “Well then, Dr. Drayco, you admit Gilbow was still alive when shot?”

  Baskin shifted his feet but not his hands. Again, Drayco stayed silent. “The Medical Examiner determined that to be the case, yes. But only barely alive. He would have died within moments, regardless.”

  The woman in the middle, Carlotta Peggs, asked, “This gun was fully registered with the MPD as required by law, is that correct?”

  Baskin flicked his wrist, and Drayco finally replied, “That’s correct.”

  She shuffled through some papers on the desk. “I don’t see any witnesses listed for the evidentiary hearing.” She stopped on one piece of paper. “Ah, here we are. Two names. Detective William Gonzalez of the MPD and FBI Special Agent Mark Sargosian. They were both present at the scene, it says here.”

  Peggs glanced at the other two board members. “I have no objections to these witnesses, do you?”

  The two men shook their heads, and the third member, Douglass Scarpato, finally spoke. “I think we know why we’re here. Professor Andrew Gilbow was an esteemed member of the academic community. A nationally known consultant in high-profile court cases and on television.” Was there a hint of sarcasm in his voice? Drayco couldn’t tell by looking at the man’s blank face. Best not to read anything into it.

  Baskin added cheerfully, “You forgot the part about being a serial killer. Whose horrific actions my client,” Baskin nodded at Drayco, “unmasked, thereby preventing any additional murders. In my opinion, this bo
ard should be convening to offer him a medal, not grilling him on baseless charges.”

  Scarpato coughed and hid his mouth behind his hand, making it hard to tell if he were frowning or trying to stifle a laugh. Perhaps Scarpato was on Team Drayco. Just, as it seemed, was everyone except the mayor. Benny had hit the ceiling upon learning about the mayor’s “bee-up-his-butt vendetta” and fought to get the mayor’s case dismissed. No dice.

  Benny had also told Drayco earlier he thought he could count on Scarpato and Peggs. He wasn’t as sure where Bobeck stood since Bobeck and the mayor were a lot closer than the other two board members. That suspicion was borne out when Bobeck continued the questioning, “It’s the preferred procedure to capture a suspect alive, is it not? To give his side of the story, perhaps prove his innocence?”

  Drayco almost jumped into that one, but Baskin beat him to it. “And if law officers are killed first, their side of the story will be silenced. In the heat of battle, they hardly have the luxury for a meeting like this before taking action to protect themselves.”

  Benny grabbed a stack of documents and waved them at the board. “The evidence against Gilbow is overwhelming and verifiable beyond any shadow of a doubt. Had he lived, he’d be warming a jail cell right now and facing life in prison. His survival would not have changed that cold, hard fact.”

  Peggs leaned forward in her chair. “My colleague makes a valid point. However, I disagree with its intent or relevance. Do you have any motions to present on behalf of your client at this time, Mr. Baskin?” The frown on her face at the mention of her colleague was interesting and made Drayco sit up straighter. Maybe Team Drayco just added another member?

  Baskin tossed the papers back into his briefcase. “I’m requesting a dismissal of the case on the grounds it is fundamentally baseless and unfair.”

  Not surprisingly, Bobeck was the one to reply. “There must be complete agreement on that count. And since I do not agree, your request is denied. The evidentiary hearing will go forward.” He looked at his watch and jumped up.

  Drayco joined him in standing as did Peggs and Scarpato. But before his exit stage left, Bobeck added, “The hearing will be held on February the twenty-first. I expect to see you there.”

  The man didn’t glance at any papers or digital calendars before making his pronouncement. Which could only mean one thing—he’d decided before the hearing started that Drayco should be forced to endure a protracted legal battle. The mayor wanted a scapegoat, Drayco was the target, and Bobeck the facilitator.

  Drayco waited for the remaining two board members to depart, leaving him and Benny alone. The air vent whistled and started blowing out hot air again, making the sweet-vomit smell grow stronger. Either that or Drayco was having a stroke. He flicked his wrist at Benny and rocketed past the rows of deserted khaki chairs toward the exit and much-needed fresh air.

  Chapter 2

  Once out in the hallway, Drayco leaned against a wall and waited for the cooler air to evaporate the sweat at the back of his neck. A glance at an old-fashioned wall clock made him laugh at the little hand pointing to three—merrily ticking its way toward technological obsolescence above the people absorbed in their sophisticated cellphones.

  Baskin stopped bouncing on his feet to gaze up at his client. “I thought it went okay, but not that well, boy-o.”

  Drayco shook his head, not bothering to explain about the clock. Maybe he was just in the mood for absurdities.

  Benny continued his bouncing. “This whole pre-hearing conference thing is a sham, anyway.”

  “That’s not what the board thinks, is it? Or I wouldn’t be here.”

  “You did shoot an important man. Albeit an almost-dead one who tried to kill you. Still, self-defense, yada yada.”

  The face of that almost-dead man, the only part of him not engulfed by fire at the time, kept rising up from the mental lockbox in Drayco’s subconscious where he tried to keep it buried. It was the man’s eyes—those eyes trapped in a living hell—that would haunt him forever. But Drayco wasn’t sorry for what he’d done and damn the consequences.

  Benny stopped bouncing to cross his arms over his chest. “The mayor had to look like he was doing something. I’ll bet my third-born grandchild the board won’t suspend your P.I. license. Or gun carry privileges. Besides, even if they do suspend you, we’ll appeal. And you can still do consulting—that doesn’t require a license. It would just be a teensy bit of a black mark on your record.”

  “Who would hire me?”

  “Plenty, with your background and brainiac reputation. You’re a damned fine crime consultant. Hell, I’d hire you, you know that. I’d find a way to make it all nice and legal. Natch.”

  A delivery man from a flower shop bumped into Drayco, and the vase of yellow and pink roses the man carried slipped out of his hands. The man caught it in the nick of time, but some of the water from the vase splashed onto Drayco’s sleeve. The man mumbled an apology and moved on.

  Drayco had forgotten it was Valentine’s Day. One thing he didn’t have to worry about. Then he winced when he thought of Darcie and made a mental note to wire her flowers as soon as he got a free moment. Velvety red roses to match her velvety red voice. He stifled a sigh. Darcie deserved better, in more ways than one. With his record of failed relationships, maybe every woman deserved better.

  Behind Drayco, a different feminine voice tinged with a familiar coppery shimmer said, “Here are the files you asked for, Benny.”

  As Drayco spun around, Benny nodded from him to the woman. “I believe you know Deputy Nelia Tyler? She’s doing some work for me while she gets her J.D.”

  Drayco’s feet turned to concrete as Benny’s words registered. The concrete moved up his legs and through his spine, turning him into a statue.

  He hadn’t seen Nelia since the incident with Gilbow and the warehouse fire. Her look of shock and disapproval that day over his actions still hung like a cumulonimbus over him. Since then, not one word from her. Not that it was all her fault. He hadn’t sought her out in her stomping grounds in Cape Unity when he’d visited Darcie or other friends there. Why should he be surprised at bombshell news like this?

  He willed away the concrete. “You resigned from the Sheriff’s Department?”

  She shifted the files to one hand, using the other to finger her blond, braided hair. “Sheriff Sailor is being generous with a staggered work schedule. And I’ve heard you going on about Benny Baskin for so long, I thought I could earn extra money doing legwork for him.”

  “You didn’t tell me you’d decided to get your law degree.” He didn’t mean for it to come out like an accusation, but the defiant glint in her eyes told him it had.

  “I wasn’t aware I needed to inform you first.”

  Benny looked from Nelia to Drayco and raised an eyebrow. “Now, now, children. If we’re going to be one big happy family, we need to get along.”

  Drayco didn’t want to give Benny the satisfaction of knowing he’d struck right at the heart of the problem with his “getting along” comment. Besides, Drayco had used up his absurdity quota for the day. “Tell you what, Uncle Benny. Buy us some balloons and ice cream, and we’ll have a nice sing-along to seal the deal.”

  Nelia gritted her teeth and thrust the folders into Benny’s hands. “‘Happy families’ isn’t something I’m very good at right now.”

  Drayco couldn’t help himself. “And why is that?”

  “For starters, I notice I wasn’t added to the witness list for your hearing.”

  A sideways glance at Benny showed the attorney’s one good eye had grown as wide as the black eyepatch over his other. Drayco replied, “Maybe it’s because we didn’t know whether to list you in the defense or prosecution column.”

  She gave Drayco a frosty glare as she said, “Benny, is that all you needed for the moment?”

  Benny didn’t answer either one of them. He was looking beyond Drayco with his face formed into a mask of wrinkles, all pointing downward. “Thought
you said your father wasn’t coming today.”

  “He’s not. A crucial deposition with the McDonald case he’s working on.”

  “Then that must be his doppelgänger heading our way.”

  Brock Drayco strode up to them, dressed in his usual elegant, tailored clothes with a silver tie that matched his hair. And as usual, the smell of his favorite musk cologne preceded him.

  Drayco couldn’t contain the groan that escaped his lips. “The meeting’s over, and—”

  “I’m not here about that.”

  Drayco took in details of his father’s appearance he’d missed at first, a twitching eyelid, hands clenched into fists, and a posture so rigid, it resembled rigor. Well, more rigor than usual.

  Brock was never partial to polite niceties. “It’s about your mother. And murder.”

  Drayco rubbed his temples. The day’s absurd-o-meter had just pegged the top of the scale and zoomed off into the Twilight Zone. “Her body was found after all these years, I take it. How did they make a positive ID?”

  “It’s pretty easy to make a positive ID when someone is very much alive.”

  Drayco stared at him. He must have heard his father wrong. Alive? His mother couldn’t be alive. “You told me she was dead. Years ago.”

  “I believed she was. All signs pointed in that direction.” Brock held out his hands to his sides. “But there’s no question in my mind it’s her. Guess we’ll know for certain after the DNA tests come back.”

  “Then what did you mean about that murder bit?”

  “She’s the one who’s charged with murder.”

  The hands on the wall clock seemed to stop as if somebody opened a rift in spacetime, trapping Drayco in an alternate universe where nothing was what it seemed. He caught a glimpse of the concerned faces of Benny and Nelia out of the edge of his suddenly burred vision.

  Brock said, “Let’s go grab some coffee.”

  Drayco followed, surprised his feet actually seemed to work. No matter what Brock told him, the orderly arrangement of everything in his little corner of the universe would never be the same.