Fifth Avenue Murder

By Ruby Binns-Cagney

Sex. Betrayal. Murder.

Fifth Avenue Murder.

Glamour Just Got Murderous.

From the Author of 'The Detective Macaulay Murders Trilogy' and 'Pandoras Box' comes a new thriller.

New York Fashionista Revanna Brightmore-Edwards has everything she wants from life.

A wealthy husband.

Private jet to vacation at the house in St Barts.

Her own Couture Fashion Empire 'House of Revanna' and her Spring/Summer 2014 Collection prepped for sale at Saks Fifth Avenue's flagship Store in New York City.

Yet Revanna is unhappy with her life, and seeks out illicit passionate trysts with New York's elite.

When Revanna vanishes from the Couture dressing rooms at Bergdorf Goodman and a dead body is discovered at her mansion in East Hampton, NYPD's homicide Detective Macaulay investigates.

As Macaulay's homicide investigation gathers pace her marriage is threatened as she uncovers horrifying dark truths which put her life at risk.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BinnsCagneyPublishing Co
• Release date: Sep 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301687220

Ruby Binns-Cagney

Keep in touch - sign up for new releases and save on publication day:http://books2read.com/author/ruby-binns-cagney/subscribe/1/41373/Ruby Binns-Cagney is a successful independently published Author who writes women's fiction (chick-lit) and American-based crime thrillers.Ruby's 'Detective Macaulay' crime series has a following on Twitter https://www.twitter.com/detmacaulay (@DetMacaulay)Ruby has a website and blog - read more details of her publishing services.Through her publishing company - BinnsCagneyPublishing Co - Ruby empowers others to become self-published Authors, and her Team also mentor new Authors.Free Marketing Help Signup:http://eepurl.com/3IsJPAdd her to your Google+ Circles https://plus.google.com/+RubyBinnsCagney/postsPlease visit her website:http://author-tales-of-self-publishing-books.blogspot.co.uk

Book preview

Fifth Avenue Murder

Ruby Binns-Cagney

Copyright 2013 Ruby Binns-Cagney

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Ruby Binns-Cagney has asserted her right under the Copyright Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The names and characters are the products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

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

About the Author

Chapter 1

THE RAIN CAME DOWN HARD. Coated my feet. Deep puddles of muddy water pooled around my rubber heels. I ran into the white tent which the Crime Scene team had erected to preserve the ground around the victim.

The victim's body lay face up on the cold ground, mouth open, and had caught the rainfall until the tent had been erected. Female. Smooth, cocoa brown skin. Full lips adorned with smeared brown lipstick.

What do we have, Ron? I said. East Hampton County Medical Examiner Ron Kearney's shoulder length black hair was slicked back from his face. He used a gloved hand to examine the victim’s skull.

Hey, Finkel. Female victim. Aged between twenty-five and twenty-nine. The primary cause of death is sharp force trauma to the head. Brain tissue exposure at the base of the skull. Deep seated contusions suggest the victim endured a high velocity impact. However, from the pattern of blood loss it indicates there was a delay between the force of the impact and death. The victim was hit over the head with a heavy instrument and bled out over several hours. Ron moved the victim's head and it lopped to one side. He moved lower down the long neck. The autopsy would reveal the mechanism used. I moved towards the victim's torso. No engagement ring, no wedding band.

Any identification of the victim?

The neighbour confirmed identification. Revanna Brightmore-Edwards. House of Revanna’s CEO.

What's the discoloration here? I pointed to the victim's navel. Ron shone a thin flashlight into the victim's navel.

A collection of debris. The victim was probably rolled down this slope. Came to rest on this stretch of grass. This was not the primary crime scene.

The victim wasn't killed at this spot. We need to go inside the mansion and check it out, I said.

I felt eyes on me, and looked up at the mansion. Its eerie stillness pierced the crisp evening air. I watched Ron examine the underside of the victim's nails. Dirty. High gloss blood-red nail polish. Matching toe nail polish. Matching Agent Provocateur robe, bra and lace panties. Barefoot. Consistent.

This manicure is recent, but there’s dirt here, Ron said, and Crime Scene technician Derren Cruz bent low and scraped underneath the victim's nails in turn. I took photographs of the victim's face with my phone and emailed it to the NYPD office at Columbus Circle. One of the database techs would run it through the national missing person’s database to establish the victim's identity while we were still at the scene. If that failed I’d get a warrant to check the DMV records for any vehicle owned. I moved to my right to allow the Crime Scene techs to do their work.

The neighbour had called 911 when he was unable to rouse the victim. He had rung the doorbell for more than fifteen minutes as a dog barked incessantly at the rear of the residence. He stood with a male who had dark brown eyes and brown curly hair which sprouted from beneath a New York Yankees baseball cap.

He wore mechanic’s dungarees with patch pockets. I approached them, identity badge in hand.

Detective Sergeant Finkel Macaulay, Homicide. Who called 911? I looked at the two men.

That would be me. I’m Marcus Belancourt.

What is it that you do for work, Mr Belancourt? Notepad and pen in hand.

I'm a Corporate Head Hunter for a private firm. We’re based downtown.

Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt the victim?

God, no. Revanna was loved. She often had a string of guests here. Of all kinds, but I doubt any of them would want to harm her. I had keys to her house but she asked for them back two weeks ago.

When was the last time you saw the victim?

Yesterday morning when she arrived with a hot man in a black Buick.

Can you describe him?

About six-three, 250 pounds, muscular. He had on a t-shirt that showcased his pecs and arms. White hair. I didn’t see his eyes, he wore wayfarers.

Had you seen the victim with this man before?

All the time. She spent a great deal of time out here because she was miserable in Geneva. Her fashion line is produced here, and it made sense for her to be based here. The guy was always in tow. More or less.

What time did the guy leave?

I think it was around eight. I was at the window about the close the curtains. I saw his tail lights as he drove between the electronic gates to exit the property.

Did you see the licence plate?

Of course. I’ll give it to you. I made a note of the plate. We’d get a warrant to use the GPS to get a fix on the location. We would need to interview him.

What do you know about the guy?

Not much. Owens something. Introduced himself once, months ago. My suspicions were confirmed. Owens had last seen the victim alive at the residence.

What line of work is he in?

Futures. Stock market-related. He invited my husband Beresford and I to an event at the Jacob Javits Conference Center a few weeks back. We couldn’t make it.

Who is your husband and where can I find him?

Beresford Calhoun. At the office downtown. I was home alone. The victim’s housekeeper also cleans my house. She was with me until three then she went to cook dinner for Revanna and her guest. He looked up at the bedroom window of the residence and pointed.

The housekeeper. She stared down at us. I would interview her next.

I’ll be in touch, I said, and palmed him my card. I went inside the residence and the housekeeper greeted me within a few feet of the entrance doors.

Detective Sergeant Macaulay, NYPD Homicide. She looked at my badge.

Who are you? Notepad and pen poised. She looked at me silently. Arms folded.

Rhonda Du Freitas. Attitude in her tone rankled me. So you hate cops. Big deal, lady. Move along.

Want to tell me what happened?

I finished serving dinner at six, and went up to my room. I heard them have sex. Heard glass broke. It was louder than usual. Turned my television up really loud. Didn’t hear much afterwards.

What time did the victim’s guest leave?

I’m not sure. I came downstairs around nine and his car was not parked outside.

Fits the timeline the neighbour had given me.

Was this the first time the guest had visited the victim? She paused. Held her wrist.

He caught me in her jewelry box once. Hurt my wrist badly. He was violent. She had bruises down her neck some mornings. I noted it down. Liked Owens for the homicide. Wanted Nick’s input on it first.

Thank you. If you remember anything, here’s my card. She walked away and I joined the crime scene techs out in the gardens.

Detective Ray Guthrie had finally arrived at the scene and pulled on an NYPD cap to shield his hair from the violent rain.

Ray, I motioned with my gloved hand.

Finkel, Hey, Ray came towards me.

I appreciate the text message to say you were running late, I said.

What have I missed so far? He smelt of beer and cigarettes.

Just about to search the residence. Are you good? He was.

We headed into the house and joined four uniforms to search the six bedrooms. Up on the first annexe we saw the crime scene. The bed had a plastic bag on it. Discarded in the struggle. I walked closer and photographed it. Two faded patches on the wall above the iron bed frame. Two nightstands either side of the bed were bare. Visible patterns in the dust told me there had been something placed there until recently.

Crime scene tech Donovan Slater leant between us and took photographs of the entire bed area, the nightstands, and the wall above the bed. I looked at the wooden floor. Discarded condom. Empty. Unused. Watched as a tech bagged and tagged it.

Moved on to the next bedroom.

Over one hour later we came up empty and returned to the gardens where the M.E worked over the corpse.

Ray moved closer to the victim's body and started to gag.

That's ripe, he said, and held his hand over his nose and mouth.

Let's move over to the far side of the gardens while the techs do their work, I said.

We walked up the steep grass slope towards the guest house.

First dead body, Ray? I watched as Ray stared towards the crime scene.

Is it that obvious? I had just partnered up with Ray. He was Eric's replacement. Eric, my partner of three years was abducted by members of a political faction, the Igneta Group and was put in a casket, which was then floated off into the East River.

Two trawler men saw the casket and pulled it onto their boat. They had eagerly prised the lid open, in their search for pirate’s booty, only to find Eric inside. Even though it had been three years since the incident I still missed him. Every day.

I'm originally from Kentucky. I worked the booking desk prior to promotion to Detective, Ray said. I would need to show Ray the way I operated. Breaking in new partners was one of my favourite duties.

Welcome to the Detective life. It's a blur. When you're scheduled on a day off don't be surprised if you get called in. Homicide is at an all-time low in New York City, but that's not to say it's uneventful working out of the Columbus Circle Field Office. We cover the five Boroughs. At any time you could get a call to any part of the City. Ray was silent. Mulled over the work cut out for him.

Do you have any family? I said. Ray looked at his feet. Had I asked an inappropriate question?

I just signed my divorce papers today. That's why I was late. Damn.

I'm sorry to hear that. Ray looked up at the house.

Are you married? he said. I looked at Ray properly for the first time since he had arrived at the crime scene. He was tan. He'd obviously had time to go on vacation. There were no faded tan lines, so he had travelled recently. His neck showed skin lifted around the neckline of his shirt collar. He wore an Eddie Bauer windbreaker and brown Dockers chinos. His feet were clad in Rockport boots with brown and orange striped laces.

I'm married. Yes. I left it at that. Ray seemed uncomfortable.

Head clear now? Let's go back, I said, and walked back down the slope. Ray languished behind, and I caught the scent of tobacco.

Ray, no smoking at the Crime Scene, I said. He looked embarrassed, and then dropped the cigarette on the ground. His size fourteen boot stomped out the cigarette, and he picked up the cigarette butt. I stretched out my hand and he dropped it into my gloved palm.

This has to be logged so it doesn't get mixed in with evidence we collect from around the victim. We were back beside the corpse on the ground. Dignity covered by blue tarp.

Who was the victim? Ray's blond hair crowded my view of the body on the ground.

We just took the fingerprints and sent them in for an identification to be made, Crime Scene investigator Derrin Cruz said. He returned to his camera and snapped off ten shots in quick succession.

Let's roll the body, Ron said. Three techs helped him start to slowly roll the body onto its side. The crime scene techs took a sample of the ground underneath the body as soon as the Medical Examiner moved the body.

That's enough! Ron threw up his right hand. All action stopped immediately.

No wounds, abrasions, or contusions to the back of the victim's body. Everyone rolled the victim onto its original position on the ground. Ron scribbled notes onto the clipboard's sheaf of papers, and drew his sketches of the victim's body and its injuries.

We should have the final autopsy report by mid-morning tomorrow, Ron said, and stood.

Ron, this is Ray Guthrie, my new partner, I said, and watched Ray as he stepped forward and shook Ron's hand. The sound as glass crunched under foot alarmed us.

What was that? Ron said, and we all crouched low and looked at Ray's boot.

He raised it and we all looked at the sole. Between the ridges of the boot's rubber sole there were remnants of glass.

Where did it come from? Ron said.

It must have been underneath the victim. When the body was rolled it must have released the glass object, I said.

Derrin, here a moment, please! Ron called out.

Hey Finkel, Derrin said.

What you got, Doc? he said. I motioned hey to Derrin. He winked his left blue eye at me. Cocoa skinned face with a day’s growth of stubble. The navy blue jacket he wore bulged in the chest region. Derrin was stacked and packed. Sharp instincts. Would make a good Detective partner.

Glass fragments. We think it was a glass object which was uncovered when we rolled the victim's body. Can you collect a sample? Ron said. Derrin looked in the stainless steel case at his feet. He lifted the lids on several small containers until he found one which was the right size and depth to hold the remnants.

Hold still, he said, and scraped the crushed glass fragments into the container and snapped the lid