"Bright, come to the N"Bright, come to the North Cove Marina." Gil said over the phone. "We have a body."
"I am on my way." He replied, but Gil had already hung up.
It was exactly what he needed. The past two days had been a tortuous onslaught of interviews and legal consultations, marked only by his avoidance of Ainsley and a conspicuous lack of sleep.
Following his lunch with his mother he visited Camille Avery to setup his representation strategy and from there began providing interviews and statements to the FBI Art Crimes division and again with Detective Lawrence at One Police plaza. On her advice he also gave the NYPD access to the security camera footage from his front entrance. It was practically useless as the humidity collected in the lens housing due to the torrential rain. In the end all one could see was the outline of a man in dark clothing who laid the crate against the door and rang the bell.
Malcolm knew following a late call with Detective Lawrence that he had been cleared to resume his work as a consultant profiler with Gil's team. While the detective still had not shared if the painting was the original or another forgery he did not care, much. It was an unsolved mystery but at least he would have something new as a distraction.
The rain had stopped abruptly in the early pre-dawn hours. When Malcolm emerged on Kenmare and Laffayette the cool crisp morning air of late spring had returned. As he ducked down to get into a cab he was immediately reassured in his selection of a thick wool coat. The marina was on the lower west side and he could already feel the wind coming off the Hudson on the back of his neck.
It was a congested drive, crossing the city and navigating past one World Trade Center before the market opened meant competing with all the portfolio managers coming into the financial district from their places uptown or across the bridges. Upon arrival he was confronted with exactly what he had been assiduously trying to avoid, a bevy of reporters and camera crews. At the front of the pack was Ainsley, she stared daggers at him as he exited the car.
"The recalcitrant brother appears."
"Ainsley, I have been busy." He says in an attempt to immediately shut her down, even as he knows it will not work.
"This is a big one. I need a statement."
"I have no comment." Malcolm replied while making his way towards the uniformed officers at the end of the pier. They are sentinels standing at alert in front of a dock currently occupied by a large yacht. As he approaches the vessel one of the guards directs him around the bow where Gil is waiting.
"How are you? Have you had any sleep in the past three days?" He says as while motioning for the young man to follow him through the cabin.
"An hour here, an hour there."
"We're in the stern." Gil's voice was gruff and leaden with displeasure at the younger man's statement. He did not attempt to mask his disapproval.
Walking through the yacht Malcom could see all the hallmarks of a billionaire's toy. Leather upholstery in the staterooms, mahogany woodwork, and a full gourmet kitchen. There was even a saltwater aquarium. As he walked through the bar his eyes locked on something unexpected. It was a cargo stamp with a pointillist illustration of an abstract form affixed to a crate sitting atop the bar. Unfortunately, he knew all too well the symbolism behind the pattern. Tearing his eyes away from the unexpected mark, Malcom looked out the windows to see a body suspended in mid-air, caught up in the yacht's burgee and flags.
"Our vic is a deck officer, the purser." Dani's voice emerged from behind the hanging corpse. Malcolm looked past the body and clocked a departure from her normal uniform of motorcycle jacket and jeans, she was in a long olive wool coat and turtleneck. Today she subtly mirrored Gil's preferred sartorial choices. While the wind coming off the water certainly merited different outerwear, her attire spoke to a desire to be perceived differently. "His name is Magnus Stephenson."
As Malcolm circled the victim, he observed the blood artistically splattered on the crisp white uniform coat. As the garment was not entirely soaked it spoke of control. Whatever wound was the source of the bloodstain, it was not the cause of death.
"Scandinavia?"
"Yes, Denmark."
"You said he was the purser?"
"Managed all cargo, money, and documentation." Dani replied, as Gil and JT walked up behind her.
"The ship just arrived back in New York." JT began, "Prior to docking here it was in the Caribbean on a private charter, and before that in St. Petersburg."
"The playthings of the rich and idle." Gil commented offhand.
"Must be nice." JT said under his breath with a less than subtle glance at Malcolm.
"Do we know how he died?" Malcolm asked.
"Edrisa is still looking for a way to cut him down." Dani replied.
"Sorry to interrupt." Dani, JT, Gil, and Malcolm turned to see silver haired gentleman at the door. He had a broadly Scottish accent and was wearing an icy blue spread collared shirt, gold tie, and houndstooth coat. Malcolm recognized him almost immediately, but Gil was faster.
"And who the hell are you?"
"Simon Hoxley" Malcolm said before the gentleman could respond.
"Thank you, I do not believe we have been introduced."
"How did you get into my crime scene?" Gil replied angerly, while looking through the doors at the officers who had let him slip past.
"He's from INTERPOL." Malcolm interjected.
"I believe, this murder may relate to my investigation." Hoxley replied.
"And what investigation is that?" JT said.
"I am looking into a murder, the murder of Nicholas Endicott." Hoxley said in a haughty tone.
"Why do you think this body has anything to do with Nicholas Endicott?" Dani queried.
"Nicholas Endicott's head surfaced in the Gulf of Finland two weeks ago. This ship was docked in Copenhagen last fall. I believe your victim had a hand in transporting the body to the region." He said, enunciating each word. The timber of his voice combined with the lilting northern accent was almost Shakespearian in its delivery. This was a rehearsed speech directed from one profiler to another. Hoxley may have been informing Gil about his presence at the crime scene, but his intent was to put the younger man on alert and to direct the NYPD to a new line of investigation into possible motives for Magnus Stephenson's death.
"How did you know Magnus Stephenson was dead?" JT asked suspiciously. In that moment Malcolm was grateful for JT's generally untrusting nature towards overeducated erudite men.
"When I arrived today, it was with the intention of questioning the gentleman about his customs paperwork, it appears I will not be able to do that at this time."
"No." Said a voice from above. Malcolm looked up to see Edrisa and one of her technicians peering over the upper deck. "We can't cut him down until you move."
"You need to leave." Gil replied continuing Edrisa's commentary.
"I will escort him off ship." Malcolm volunteered. Gil nodded in acknowledgement and motioned above his head to Edrisa.
"I will be in touch." Hoxley supplied as Malcolm motioned for him to return to through the hull of the ship. Dani made eye contact with Malcolm before he departed. From her look, he knew he would need to brief them on Hoxley.
His own experience with the man was purely by reputation; Hoxley pursued criminal masterminds around the world and had been involved in just as many questionable detainments and interrogations as Malcolm had during his tenure with the FBI. Interpol did things a little differently than the FBI, they had wide jurisdiction to investigate, but relied on the support of local law enforcement to apprehend and prosecute. Hoxley was an outlier within the organization; he only operated and investigated in the grey areas of enforcement. Malcolm knew that his presence in New York and any investigation into Endicott was a probable precursor to trouble.
As they made their way off the ship Hoxley spoke up. "I was surprised to see you on board, Mr. Bright."
"I have been known to provide my expertise to the NYPD on occasion."
"Of course." He paused and turned to face Malcolm. "It is quite fortunate that you are not too overwhelmed by your current artistic entanglement." Malcolm knew that Hoxely was trying to elicit a reaction, but he also noted how the older man did not try to make eye contact, instead he looked just over his shoulder to the crate on the bar.
"I gather the agency has been informed about my recent delivery. I wondered when someone would be knocking on my door." He said, while pressing forward so that he could lead Hoxley more directly away from the crime scene.
"Things filter through the grapevine." He said with a chuckle of triumph in his voice. Malcolm knew in that instant that Simon had recognized the stamp on the package just as he had.
It was an Ishihara pattern. While abstract, the dots, when examined under the right conditions, would reveal a location. The map could only be understood by the intended recipient, someone who was colorblind or had the right glasses to see the pattern correctly. It was used for smuggling, something Malcolm had only discovered a few months ago when he needed to move his own cargo discretely out of Manhattan. Unfortunately, Hoxley's recognition of the symbol was further confirmation that he had been looking for ways to connect the sudden appearance of Endicott's body in Estonia to organized transnational crime.
"Well, then you are better informed than I." Malcolm replied in a conciliatory tone. "I was quite astonished to receive the crate." As Malcolm emerged at the bow of the ship, he saw the news crews on the dock, his sister at the front of the pack, anxiously awaiting the latest morsel of information.
"Yes, I imagine you would be." Hoxley replied as they made their way to the staircase and dock below. "It is odd, to receive so singular a package with no idea as to the recipient or purpose. Perhaps someone is trying to connect you to some unsavory activity."
With this statement Malcolm had the confirmation he needed; the Van Gogh was designed to implicate him in a crime. Hoxley had selected his words too carefully, he made a point to wait to share that he knew about the existing investigation into Malcolm's own life. It was more than a coincidence that the investigator spoke of customs, transportation, and Scandinavia.
"Ahh the press." Hoxely commented as he stepped around Malcolm. "It would be good to make them aware of the scope of the investigation. I have found their journalistic zeal to be invaluable to the investigative process." He finished with a slight chuckle, a wink, and a smile as he stepped away from Malcolm and down to the group of reporters waiting at the end of the pier.
Ainsley was out in front as usual, and Hoxley walked right up to the reporter next to her, pointedly ignoring her waiting microphone. Malcolm held back, while he wanted to keep as much distance between himself and Ainsley as possible, this development was unfortunate.
"What can you tell us about the crime that occurred today, Mr. Hoxley and why is INTERPOL interested?" A reporter, with a French accent, to the left of Ainsley asked.
"There are still many unknowns." He said haughtily, "But, I believe this murder may relate to my investigation into the murder of Nicholas Endicott."
Malcolm could see that Ainsley was surprised by the investigators statement. While she quickly recovered, to the practiced observer all subterfuge was lost.
"Why did you come to New York to make your inquiries? I thought he was last seen in Estonia?" Another reporter
"Yes, but a new piece of evidence surfaced a few weeks ago." Hoxely said with relish. "It is no longer clear that he was killed in Europe."
"How does your investigation connect with the NYPD investigation here today?"
"Mr. Endicott had rented the ship you see before you in the past." The statement was said this with great zeal, but Malcolm could hear the lie. Hoxley was not telling the press the truth, but for what purpose Malcolm could not yet ascertain. "While I am here, I will find who killed Nicholas Endicott." He concluded with a statement of finality.
Ainsley finally found her voice and asked the one question Malcolm wished she had not. "Are there any suspects?"
"No comment." Hoxley stated, while staring her down. "For now."
Following his final word, Hoxley walked back to Malcolm. "Thank you, I will be in touch," he started while extending his hand to the younger man, "and please do let me know if there is anything the NYPD might require from my own notes."
Malcolm reciprocated by extending his own hand and took the final word. "Of course. I would only be too happy to support your inquiries. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to assist your investigation." He managed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but the statement was not sincere.
After releasing his hand, the investigator turned and walked to a waiting car on the opposite end of the pier. As Malcolm watched his departure, he hit send on his phone. It was imperative that the family standoff end as soon as possible. Looking out at the press corps he saw Ainsely reach for her phone. They made eye contact immediately and she quickly departed with her camera crew.
Malcolm walked back through the ship to see that Edrisa and the technicians had successfully extracted the purser from the snarled knot of standards, he only wished his own entanglement were as easily resolved. "So, do we know what killed him Edrisa?"
Edrisa immediately turned around and smiled at him "Hi, I did not know you would be returning." She said quickly and breathlessly. "
"Yes, I was anxious to know if you can provide an explanation for the lack of blood."
"Of course." She replied with a smile. "But, we will not have cause of death until we get back to the lab."
"Do we at least know when he died?"
"Yes, sometime in the early this morning. Rigor mortis has not yet set in throughout the body."
"Could he have died of asphyxiation?"
"Hard to tell, given how he was strung up. The rope indentations from suspension would mask any signs of strangulation." She said with a smile, "I would say it is possible but not probable."
"Why?" he queried. The technicians were working diligently to enclose the body in a transport bag. They could not wheel him out on a stretcher through the narrow corridors.
"The blood on his jacket was spit out." Edrisa said with a grin following her team out the doors. Malcolm was immediately curious and confused, and he let his disquiet bleed through his expression. "He would not have been coughing blood if something else was not going on."
"You think he was poisoned?" Dani said coming up behind them both.
"To soon to tell." Edrisa replied.
"Well, he dose work on a yacht." Malcolm stated, "Cabin crews are notorious for indulging in illicit drugs while in international waters."
"Clearly something illegal was going on." JT commented as he emerged from the lower stairs, a large box held aloft in front of his body. "We found all sorts of goodies below deck. Caviar without papers, drugs, cash. Whoever chartered this boat was either up to something shady or had no idea the crew was smuggling to pad their salary."
"Edrisa, I want cause of death as soon as possible." Gill said as they stepped off the ship. "JT, you and I will reach out to the captain and other crew. Dani, you and Bright go and talk to the owners."
"Actually, I have to go." He said this under his breath to Gil. Immediately Dani and JT turned and looked at him with shock and confusion. He knew that it was uncharacteristic to depart in the middle of the investigation, but he was certain Gil would consider this diversion essential. With a meaningful look, he continued, "I received a message about another investigation that I need to follow up on."
"Of course." Gil said quickly and without further comment. "Dani, you and I will track down the owners, JT get in touch with the crew."
While Dani continued to stare enquiringly at him, Edrisa replied with a hint of disappointment, "See you later at the morgue." He grinned at them both and walked away from the ship, taking the long way around the pier so that he could avoid the press on his way to Liberty Street.
Malcolm was able to hail a cab quickly, but despite the easy ride back to his apartment he was unable to control the spasm in his right hand. For the past two hours, following the appearance of Hoxley, he had clasped his hands together to keep the errant fingers from betraying his unease. Now that he was alone, he was free to let the tremor persist unabated. He was not looking forward to his discussion with Ainsley, and the stress of a new avenue of investigation into Endicott's murder would only further complicate his life.
When the cab dropped him off in front of his building, he was surprised to find Ainsley waiting by the door. Boundaries were important in a relationship, and while she would always be his younger sister and someone he would always protect, lately she had invaded his space for her own designs too frequently for comfort. Clearly the distance of the past couple of days had been beneficial.
"Where have you been?" She asked upon seeing him emerge from the car.
"Let's talk inside." He replied as he opened the door and headed up the stairs to his apartment. "I need to talk to you about a package I received." As Malcolm stepped into his apartment Ainsley's phone rang.
Looking down at it she was not surprised. "It's Dad, I have to answer it, I have already ignored him twice this morning."
Malcolm stared at her incredulously. His father had never repeatedly called Ainsley, it was disconcerting to know that after he had ceased communication with his father, she received his calls.
"Hello?" She answered. Malcolm motioned at her to put it on speaker and let Dr. Whitley know they were together. "I'm here with Malcolm."
The Surgeon practically crowed in elation with his response. "Both my children, in the same room, at the same time. To what do I owe this delightful, albeit unexpected, happenstance of chance?"
Malcolm took the opportunity to respond. "Simon Hoxley."
He was pleased at the silence that came through. Clearly Dr. Whitley was startled by this response. After the momentary lapse passed, his father questioned "What is Hoxley doing in New York?"
"Yeah, what is he doing in New York?" asked Ainsley. "Shouldn't he be in Europe if he is with INTERPOL?"
"He is investigating the death of Nicholas Endicott." Malcolm replied to them both.
"INTERPOL has broad jurisdiction to investigate cases across multiple jurisdictions as long as they are connected to transnational crime." Martin interjected. "Have you told Ainsley about your recent delivery Malcolm?"
"What delivery?
"Not yet. Malcolm replied. "I was just going to talk with Ainsley about that when you called."
"If you want to get ahead of Simon Hoxley, you're going to have to be ruthless."
"Thank you, Dr. Whitley, I will speak with you later." He said and hung up. Malcolm walked around the island at the center of his kitchen, opened the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water.
"What is going on?" Ainsley asked. He passed one of the bottles of water to his sister and took a long sip out of his own before he embarked on explaining the occurrences of the last two days.
With his recount of events complete, it was easy to note that Ainsley remained alarmed. "This could all lead to us."
"I know." Sunshine chirped merrily in her cage, but all Malcolm can see are the bars surrounding the tiny bird, keeping her locked inside.
"What are we going to do?" Ainsley asked her gaze also fixed on the little bird in the large cage.
And for the first time in his life Malcolm knew that taking no action was the only action that made sense. "We wait."
"Wait for what."
"Cause of death."
"What?"
"The purser." Malcolm replies. "We need to know how he died and what his role in the operation was before doing anything."
"And what about Simon Hoxley?"
"I will support him in whatever way I can." He says to Ainsley's astonishment. "If he wants my help with the investigation, then that means he wants to get close. It's better to know what he is looking for."
"What should I do."
"Go to work, continue to do your job. Carry on as always. It's the only thing you can do that won't make you suspicious."
"Then I have to go. I dropped a follow up to come here." As she speaks she pulls her coat off the back of a chair and shrugs into it. "I am still staying with Mom. Drop by later."
"If I can, I will." He replies following her to the door. "And Ainsley, not a word to her about Hoxley."
"Fine. Goodbye." She comments sullenly while closing the door behind her.
Hearing his phone buzz in his jacket, Malcolm walks back to his kitchen counter. Instead of immediately reaching for the device, he elects to pick up one of the daily affirmation cards. Today, of all days, he needs reassurance that the current situation will improve. Unlike his affirmation from a few days ago, this one is not the calming statement he was seeking.
I am grateful for the lessons I have learned from my family.
Tearing up the card in exasperation, Malcolm grabs his phone with the hope that it will contain an update on the case. To his surprise it is an important message, just not the message he was expecting.
Mr. Bright, I think it is time we met.
Please come to 800 Food Center Dr, Bronx, NY.
I will meet you at the 3rd North Gate.
M.
So, having a plot diagram did not help me write any faster, if anything it made me make things harder than I had originally anticipated. But, I feel better with where things are today than I had with anything else I have written over the past week. As always, my mistakes are my own. Please let me know what you find and if you have any recommendations or suggestions, I am always anxious to hear them.