DISCLAIMER - Still not mine, despite crossing all my fingers. Darn.
A/N - OK, after the praise for rapid updating, I then take a break - sorry! Was a little discouraged - there seem to be plenty of people reading, and a core of you reviewing. Love the reviews, but need more of them, to be sure I'm taking this in the right direction! Anyways, work and life have gotten in the way, but finally here's chapter eight. Enjoy.
Donnelly's face twitched into uncertainty when Flack walked in alone. The detective had spooked him more than he liked to admit. He hid a smile, thinking of the female CSI who had confronted him at Pharoah's. She had been a real piece of work. Donnelly kept a carefully blank expression as Flack sat down.
"Mr Donnelly." he said. "Want to tell us what's going on at your club?"
The Armani-clad club owner shrugged. "I mostly keep behind the scenes. Rossiter keeps the place under control."
"Obviously not, because while you've got dollars on the brain, there's a brawl going on downstairs. And then a girl turns up dead in your VIP room." Flack paused for breath. "Want to try again?"
"I think you really ought to speak to Rossiter."
"We did."
Flack leant forward, fixing Donnelly with a cold gaze. He didn't like the guy any more this time round than he had at Pharoah's.
"According to Rossiter, this isn't the first time an underage girl has somehow gotten past your bouncers."
Donnelly ran a hand through his hair. "It's a constant problem. Fake I.D.'s are getting better all the time."
Even Flack had to sympathise there. The proliferation of good fakes had exploded with the spread of the internet. He had managed to catch a few kids trying to buy alcohol in his local store a few weeks previously. If he hadn't already known them, there was no way he would have been able to tell the I.D.s they had weren't real.
"I understand that, Donnelly. What I want to know is what you know about that night."
"I got there late. At first I went up to my office, and started working on some proposals for another bar me and my partners are planning." Donnelly said. "Then I hear this noise from downstairs-" He cleared his throat. "Usually, I can't hear a damn thing, but my door was open a little. I went down to investigate, and there's a brawl going on."
He looked the detective directly in the eye. There was a glint of worry creeping into the man's demeanour. For the first time, Flack felt himself beginning to believe the club owner.
"Detective - the first I knew about any of this is when Ozzy and the others picked up that goddamned curtain."
"You ever seen that girl before?"
He shook his head. Flack hadn't really expected him to say yes. After all, thousands of people went through the club's doors every week. The detective tapped his fingers on the battered old table.
"Ozzy is bringing in the security tapes. They're not very good, but - they're yours to do with as you wish." Donnelly sighed. "Now - about my ex-wife-"
Flack shook his head, abruptly cutting the other man off. "Not my case. Wait here, someone will come and talk to you."
He rose to his feet and left a much quieter Donnelly slumped in his chair.
Elsewhere in the building, Mac eased the bandage off his sore shoulder. He winced at the sharp pain that shot through the joint. It was stiff now. Rotating it carefully, the CSI boss decided that he would take his painkillers immediately after work. They were becoming an increasingly attractive option.
"You OK, boss?"
Mac turned towards his door. Danny was leaning against the doorway. "Fine. Come in."
The younger man obliged. He took a seat, managing to look as if there were no bones in his body. Mac tried to remember if he had ever looked that relaxed.
"You're done?"
"Nothing else I can do." Danny said.
Mac nodded. "Got another robbery for you. Details are-" he picked up a piece of paper from his desk, and handed it to Danny "-on here."
"Lindsey?"
"She's helping the techs clear some of the backlog." Mac explained.
Since the CSI was technically still supposed to be on vacation, her return could not be sanctioned under the new rules the brass was enforcing. They had, however, allowed that she might help out as an "unpaid consultant". Lindsey had been good enough to agree.
"What's going on upstairs, Mac?"
Mac shrugged, and nearly swore. "Uh - they went over budget. This is their way of overcompensating."
Danny shook his head. "It's stupid."
"I know. Don't you have some work to do?"
The younger man took the hint, and took off to process the crime scene of his latest case. Mac slid the bandage back onto his shoulder. He checked his watch. Flack should be finishing with his Donnelly interview now, the CSI thought. My turn to figure this guy out.
Donnelly was a much more subdued figure when Mac walked into the interview room with Detective Bradwen. The detective introduced them both, but the club owner barely looked up. It was dawning on him how much trouble he could be in.
"So, Mr Donnelly. Why did you change your name?" Bradwen asked.
He bit his lip. "Aida wouldn't."
It had been a messy divorce. Donnelly had been cheating on his wife for years, with various women. He had been found out when one of them sent a picture of herself to his cell-phone. Aida had taken their daughter, and moved into the apartment left to her by her elderly aunt.
"She refused to change her name, because she was a pain in the ass." Donnelly said. He bit at a fingernail. "I didn't want to be associated with her anymore."
"You had a child together." Bradwen prompted.
"Yeah. Yeah, we did - do - and believe me, that was the only thing that made me stop and think. But, I figured, name change or not, she's still my kid. So, I changed my name."
According to Donnelly, the problems after the divorce were Aida's fault. She had been difficult about allowing him to see their daughter. In the meantime, she had spread stories about him to all their mutual friends. Even his parents had ended up siding with her.
"I visited them once, up in Vermont. She was with them - and they wouldn't let me in the door." Donnelly spat angrily. "So yeah, I hated Aida." He softened for a second. "But I didn't always hate her. Our daughter was a reminder of that. No way I'd hurt Aida."
Mac studied the club owner. He had seemed such a brash, carefree man, but clearly there was more to him. The complex relationship between Donnelly and his ex-wife was going to complicate the investigation - his word against those of a dead woman.
"When was the last time you saw Aida?" Mac asked quietly.
Donnelly sighed. "The night she died." he admitted. "I went there to talk things over with her. Tried to - I don't know - apologise for my part in things." He looked both detectives in the eye. "Look, I know I'm an ass. Comes with the territory. And, yeah, I'm not the most faithful guy. But I did love her once, and I'm not a killer."
"We'd like to take fingerprints and DNA samples." Mac said.
"Go ahead. If it'll prove me innocent."
Mac raised an eyebrow. "The evidence will speak for itself." he said.
