The Case of the Murdered Chessplayer
by The WifeWatchman
The order of my stories to read is:
Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series.
Case of the Murdered Lovers series.
Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series.
Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.
This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.
There are several sex scenes; the big ones are towards the end.
Part 8 – Identification and Interrogation
At 5:00am I walked into Police Headquarters. I was freshly shaved and felt happy to be free of the formal uniform. I was wearing gray slacks, matching gray sport coat, and a black pullover mock turtleneck. My badge in it’s leather holder was clipped to my belt. I knew my mom liked me in a uniform, but this felt better and allowed much more freedom of movement.
To my surprise, the Chief was in his office, and wasted no time calling me in.
“We have all four of your suspects in custody.” the chief growled. “Baptiste has been arrested and booked. The other three were arrested at City International Airport, all of them trying to leave the country. Federal marshals are bringing them to us, and they should be here by nine o’clock.”
“Great!” I said. “But that’s not why you called me in here. And how long have you been here, by the way?” Only a couple of lamps lit the room; the overhead fluorescent light was turned off. It was not yet light outside.
“All night.” the chief said. Sitting back in his chair, he started in. “I’ve had three meetings with Internal Affairs. Daniel Allgood interviewed the desk sergeant yesterday afternoon. The sergeant told us that Sergeant Carroll and Senior Patrolman Delmar had been sent to the location last night.”
Sergeant Carroll was short and stocky, with auburn hair. He relentlessly worked his body into peak physical condition. He was a mean-spirited man who was driven to become a Vice Detective, and word was that he was Ikea’s successor not only as a Detective but as the biggest asshole in the “clubhouse.”
Patrolman Delmar had always seemed like a competent officer, but there was always this undercurrent that he couldn’t be trusted, and that certainly he would throw anyone else under the bus to advance his own position.
“And why didn’t they file a police report?” I asked.
“I’m getting there.” said the Chief, and I felt his unspoken admonition for me to have patience. “Allgood thinks the desk sergeant is fine; he made the report, the one that got scrubbed, and he readily spoke what he knew. He didn’t seem to realize there was a problem until we told him.”
“The problem came with Sergeant Carroll. Allgood interviewed him with me, Captain Malone, and Captain Charles present. Carroll only gave the most minimal of answers, would never expand on them even when asked to. Delmar looked scared shitless, but wouldn’t say anything when Carroll was in the room glaring at him.
“We separated them, and Delmar spoke a little bit. He admitted they’d gone to that location, that he’d talked to the guy who had lived there, finally remembered the name ‘Kurchitov’, which is close enough, and said there were several others in the apartment, but he couldn’t see any of them.
“When we asked them about not filing the police report, Delmar said that Carroll told him that he, Carroll, would handle it. When we asked Carroll, he wouldn’t answer. When I threatened to suspend him, do you know what he did?”
I shook my head, then the Chief answered with exasperation: “He invoked the Fifth! He asked for a lawyer!”
“Wow, just for that?” I asked, then a thought struck me. “Who was in the room interviewing him?”
“Allgood, Charles, Malone and me.”
“And the Delmar interview?”
“Just Allgood and me. Malone and Charles stayed with Carroll during that time.” the chief said, then continued the story. “So Carroll is suspended without pay pending an investigation, and Delmar suspended on half-pay.”
“Where are they?”
“Released on their own recognizance.” the Chief replied. “we can’t hold them in protective custody just for not filing a police report. By the way, Allgood insisted that Myron no longer pursue the logs issue; I.A. will handle that themselves. Allgood was not really happy that Myron gave him the names of the officers before he had even interviewed the desk sergeant, and then Myron wouldn’t say how he got the names other than vague and evasive answers. Allgood is pissed with you about that, also.”
I smiled. “Hasn’t Allgood figured out that we magicians don’t tell our magic tricks?”
The Chief smiled back, but it was not a cheerful almanbahis smile. “That man has no sense of humor. He needs to get laid. Even better, he needs to find a good woman and marry her.” I guess my look of near-shock at the chief saying that was too clear, as he laughed sardonically. “So, Crowbar… tell me what you think of all this.”
“I woke up an hour and a half ago thinking about it.” I said. “What’s clear is that Sergeant Carroll and perhaps Patrolman Delmar have been visiting that location for some time. That location has been a place where large quantities of drugs have passed through, so it’s not hard to figure out that connection. What we don’t know yet is if these cops are on the take and taking bribes, or if they’re extorting from the drug-runners, or if there’s a much deeper involvement. What we also don’t know is if this is just Carroll and Delmar, or if they’re part of something larger.”
The chief had been watching me very carefully as I was talking. “That last part… do you think there might be more going on? Something involving other cops?”
“That’s what woke me up this morning.” I said. After a pause, I said, “I *do* think that there is… something… in this police department, but I can’t define it. I thought it might be the racial issues, and there’s no doubt Malone is the leader of that faction. But that’s not illegal… well, it may be a civil rights issue, but it’s not illegal… but beyond that, I’m just trying to see… it’s like… it’s as if I’m seeing pieces of a puzzle, but they’re not connecting together…” I paused. “I just can’t see it, not yet.”
The chief just smiled, this one more encouraging. “You’re doing fine. Meanwhile, you solve the chessplayer’s murder and I.A. will handle the Carroll case. And Don… keep up the good work.” he said. I knew he meant more than just the murder case and my work. And, for the first time… I began to get a glimmer of understanding of why he wanted to hire me into this Police Force.
——————————
At 6:45, I was in I.T., reading the information on our four arrested suspects. There wasn’t much, but I did note that each had a chess rating in his own country, though none were particularly high. That was important, I thought to myself.
At 7:00 am, I went upstairs to MCD and turned on the TV. How could I not start my day without Bettina?
“This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!” blared the pretty redheaded reporter. I was actually happy to see Bettina back on the job after her brutal ordeal at the hands of my nephew Ned and his hired perps. I was not as happy to hear what she was saying.
“Channel Two News has learned that there have been arrests in the murder of Russian chess master Vladimir Kurchikov.” Wurtzburg reported. “A French national, Jean-Paul Baptiste, was arrested late last night and is being questioned by police. There has been no official comment from the Police Department at this time.
“In another story, Channel Two News has learned that a Town & County police officer has been suspended without pay.” As she named Sergeant Carroll, I gasped in shock. “Sergeant Carroll was suspended without pay for allegedly not filing a proper police report after a domestic disturbance the night before last. The Police Department has not confirmed nor had any comment on the investigation of Sergeant Carroll, which is being handled by the Internal Affairs Department.”
My mind was in total turmoil. This was hugely instructive, but I struggled to see the context of it. I was interrupted from my reverie as Tanya Perlman, looking sweet in her blouse and skirt, came up to me with the chess book.
“That’s the white pawn’s move on Kurchikov’s board.” she said, pointing to the diagram. “But I haven’t found the black pawn’s position yet.”
“Do you know chess notation?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“Well, you are spot-on about the diagram and the picture. So…” I added, “based on this, which suspect do you want to interview today?”
Tanya looked at the page, puzzled for a moment, then she broke into a smile.
————————-
We began our interviews with the Frenchman Jean-Paul Baptiste. He had demanded a lawyer and representation of the French Consulate from the City when Hugh Hewitt tried to interview him upon his arrest the night before. He was left overnight in a holding cell to think about things.
Then I learned that as the Federal marshals brought the three prisoners from the airport, unfortunately in the same vehicle, they were followed by officials of the various consuls of their native nations. We were a local police department trying to solve a local murder, but now there were not only national but international implications. I just loooove my job…
Cindy Ross and I walked into the interrogation room. Baptiste was there with a representative of the French Consulate in the City. He was a slight, slender man with a very French goatee. His clothes were dirty and he absolutely could have used a hot shower and some almanbahis giriş deodorant. “I will not tell you anything. You are cretins, you police!”
“Monsieur Baptiste,” I said, “Let me explain the picture to you. We have established proof that you were at the apartment of a man within minutes of the time that man was murdered. We also have others, and when one of them cuts a deal, you might well be getting the death penalty for the murder.” I looked hard at him. “Now I suspect that you are not the guilty party, but I cannot prove that without some help.”
Baptiste only would say “I will say nothing more.”
That story was repeated with the other three.
Keith Dill-Worthing was a stereotypical Englishman, with a square face, brown hair and light skin, wearing a three-piece suit and expensive shoes. He also refused to say anything to me and Tanya Perlman, and haughtily demanded to be immediately released. His consular representative also protested Dill-Worthing’s arrest, but said nothing more when ADA Paulina Patterson, who had just arrived, told him that she was going to expedite a grand jury to bring formal charges against Dill-Worthing. I gave my speech urging Dill-Worthing to cooperate before someone else cut a deal.
The Spaniard Juan Gomez was just sleazy. His black hair was greasy, his clothes unkempt, and his eyes shifty. He first tried to pretend he knew no English, and his consul representative stated he would not agree to accurately translate, but that got shot down when Patrolman Diana Torres, who I had asked to accompany myself and Tanya to the interview, began speaking directly to him in Spanish. With his attempt to use language as a barrier defeated, Gomez refused to speak further, and I had Patrolman Torres translate my little speech that I had given to Baptiste.
Finally we talked to Vince Rossoliano, a Sicilian and the perfect example of the stereotypical young mobster. He talked tough, but his consul representative quickly told him not to answer any questions. He actually seemed the most willing to talk after I gave my little speech.
Back in MCD, I told everyone “Let them stew awhile. One of them will see the light shortly.”
————————
After going through security to get downstairs, I was just heading down the hall to the I.T. room when I saw Daniel Allgood come out of I.A. clutching a sheaf of papers, opened the I.T. door and yell “Not funny, Milton! I’ll have your badge for this!” He could not retreat because I came up behind him.
“Bring it on, Allgood!” I heard Myron yell back. “If you’re going to spy on me, expect more of that!”
“My office, Daniel.” I said to the I.A. Detective, gently but firmly guiding him on into the I.T. room. “Myron, you stay put.”
Once in my I.T. office, Daniel showed me some messages on his computer that had come from Myron…on the trace line I.A. was using to watch what Myron was doing. One said “Good morning, Danny!”, another said “What do you want for breakfast?” and a third said “How do you like your coffee?”
I could not hold back, I began to laugh. Allgood got redder in the face.
“Come on, Daniel. This is what we nerds call ‘humor’ around here.” I said.
Then I got serious. “I told Myron not to search further into the logs and to let your people handle it, as you requested. Did he disobey my orders?”
“Not that I can tell.” Allgood admitted.
I bore down: “Then if you’re going to spy on my man, expect things like this to happen to you. I might even suggest a couple of phrases myself for him to send. So how DO you like your coffee?” I was grinning.
Allgood did not smile, but he calmed down as I changed the subject. “Speaking of that, did you find any more log erasures?”
Allgood looked at me for a moment, considering something, then said, “Yeah, we think so. Some might be anomalies, but some look like the real thing.”
“There is nobody in the State outside the FBI that would be better at helping you with that than that guy right out there.” I said. “And you should use that resource instead of pissing him off and spying on him.”
“I’ll consider it.” Allgood left the office and did not speak to Myron on the way out of the IT room. I came out and broke down laughing again, joined by Myron and Lainie…
Part 9 – Information By Degrees
“My client is prepared to assist you with your inquiries,” the English lawyer for Keith Dill-Worthing said, “in exchange for full immunity from any prosecution.”
“Tell us what you know, and then we’ll see.” Perlman said. I looked at Dill-Worthing, trying not to laugh as I remembered Tanya calling him “Dill Pickle” in the MCD room.
“Not good enough.” the lawyer said. “We must have written immunity first.”
“No deal, then.” I said, getting up. As Tanya and I headed for the door, I said “Let us know when you’re ready to talk. Time is growing short, and I’m talking to the others. And Dill-Worthing…” I said, my voice menacing, “since you’ve just wasted my time, I’m more likely to take almanbahis yeni giriş one of their deals than anything with you. Think about it, buddy.”
Tanya and I walked out of the room. As we exited through the door into the Department side (the other door went to the jail side, and perps were brought in through it), Cindy Ross came out of the second interrogation room. Seeing us, she motioned for us to come in.
Inside was the Sicilian, Vince Rossolimo, his consul rep with him. I refused his offer of a deal, but when I suggested he talk first and we’d consider immunity later, he agreed.
“Okay, here’s what happened” he said, which I summarize here, cleaning up the vernacular.
There had been six people there, five men and one woman. Vince said he did not know the name of the woman, but she was an American, and it was the first time he’d seen her. The group was playing cards, contract bridge. Sometimes the person in dummy would play or talk chess with Kurchikov, as they all were amateur chess players.
Sometimes they got loud, and yes the police had come, as someone not minding their own business must have called the cops. The police had come that night somewhere in the 8:00pm timeframe. No, there had been no drugs at the party, nor any talk of drugs, they were just a group of friends that got together at times. They had all left around 11:00pm, maybe later, but at the same time. When he had left, Vince said, Vlad Kurchikov was alive and well.
“Vince,” I said, “so far you’ve spoken the general truth… but I can’t give you immunity with you leaving out so many details.” I said. “We know there were drugs there, we have some of it in our evidence room.”
“That’s the story, Officer.” Vince said.
I laughed. “Vince, if you really expect me to believe that there are six people of six different nationalities that just get together at times to play contract bridge, when we’ve found drugs, when we know drugs are dealt… and one of your group ends up dead… I was born at night, Vince, but not last night.”
The others, except Dill-Worthing, also tried the same tactics with the same story: just friends playing cards, no talk of drugs, played bridge, got loud, cops came, and no one had seen the woman until that night. The Frenchman Baptiste did say that he remembered the woman’s name as “Elizabeth”, so I had one confirmed clue.
Back in the MCD, I said to Paulina and the detectives, “They’re going to keep playing this game with us, giving us as little as they can until someone gets immunity.”
“Who would you give immunity to, if we only give it to one person?” Paulina asked.??
“Vince Rossoliano.” I said. “I think he is not the murderer, and would be the most convincing to a jury on the stand.”??
“Oh, not the Englishman Dill-Worthing?” Paulina asked. I just looked at her, meaningfully.
Tanya piped in. “He’s been the most arrogant and demanding, but also recalcitrant, of the group.” she said. “I wouldn’t give him a damn thing if he doesn’t do a one-eighty.”
“I’m tired of his attitude, also.” I said. “But to be clear: Paulina, do NOT offer Keith Dill-Worthing immunity under any circumstances, for now.”
“By the way,” Paulina said, “How do we know they weren’t all in the room when the murder happened, or that they all didn’t participate in it?”
“I don’t, not for sure.” I said, “but I strongly believe that they did leave, then one of them came back and killed Kurchikov.”?
“Why?” Paulina asked.
“First, I think they’d all be trying to finger each other if they knew who to finger. But all of them, except the murderer of course, weren’t there… so they don’t know what happened and they don’t know what we know.
“Second, because of the most important clue that was left in the room: Kurchikov’s dying message, telling us who his killer was. Isn’t that right, Tanya?” I said, smiling at my best detective.
“Yes sir.” she said, beaming. Paulina looked at both of us, totally confused.
Part 10 – Into Heaven’s Passion: Ceremony of Acceptance
“Disrobe the Candidate!”
As The Leader’s commanding voice echoed in the room precisely at midnight, two beautiful women, clad only in filmy dark blue negligees, came forward and eased the bathrobe off of Todd’s muscular young shoulders. The room he was in was filled by eleven other young men, all dressed only in bathrobes or gym shorts. The fifteen women, all beautiful, all of various ages from 20 to 40, were dressed in Grecian tunics, Roman togas, or clothing fit for a BDSM party; every woman was wearing high heeled shoes or boots. No one in the darkened room was allowed to wear any underwear. Only candles lit the room, which had a small raised stage at one end.
The atmosphere was that of a ritual ceremony of a Secret Society, like the Freemasons… but vastly different as Todd stood naked before the assemblage, his huge penis hanging heavily in front of his large balls.
“Prepare the Candidate.” The Leader ordered. A gorgeous woman, perhaps in her late twenties, with a long mane of strawberry blonde hair, came forward and knelt beside Todd. He turned so that he was in profile to the assemblage, and they watched with relish as the woman kissed the head of Todd’s big cock and then opened her mouth to devour his massive man-snake.