Provoked Read online

  Adam hoped Peter’s drug operation would have died with him, but Andy and another tenant kept the operation going. Another asshole who created more domestic dispute calls to the police. Adam could tell he had his wife, Kris, addicted to so many drugs that she didn’t know better. He referred to her as Crazy Kris. At times she’d run through the halls screaming, sometimes half-naked. She worked at the diner with Beth and Lisa, too. As Adam’s luck had it, he couldn’t evict any of them. Their drug business always paid the rent, so he couldn’t get them on nonpayment. The continuous domestic violence calls to the police only infuriated him because their girlfriends never pressed charges. The only thing he hoped to help evict them; their illegal drug operation, but Adam needed proof to get the cops involved. The one reason why Adam didn’t like cops: they never seemed interested with small-time drug dealers; or so he thought. Adam didn’t want to spend the money to put in cameras if the cops wouldn’t do anything to help him.

  Adam knew how Andy’s operation worked. He’d watched one night from his cleaning closet across from the elevator. The buyer would get in the elevator, the door would close but it didn’t go anywhere. A couple of minutes later, the door opened and the person left the brownstone. Then he’d notice the elevator door close and head to the third floor. He waited. The elevator stayed on the third floor until Adam called it back to the lobby. So he decided to investigate. The next time he noticed the buyer enter the elevator, Adam took the stairs to the third floor and stayed in the staircase. From the corner, he could see through the small glass window of the stairwell door. Andy came out of his apartment and went in to the elevator. He reached up into the ceiling tiles and pulled out an envelope. Andy took money from the envelope and replaced it with what Adam believed to be a small plastic bag—probably drugs. Adam figured out how the operation worked. When he reported it to the police, they told him they needed proof this was happening. That meant Adam had to spend the money and put cameras in, or hire security, but that didn’t guarantee the outcome he’d want. Adam laughed at that thought. He’d given up fixing the security buzzer because the damn tenants continued to break the lock, so the door would remain slightly open for them.

  Not long after Peter died, there was another reported death at the brownstone. Andy’s new partner in crime, Rick; his death was reported as an overdose. Adam was more than pleased when he heard of Andy’s death. He remembered when the police came to the brownstone to question Andy’s girlfriend, Beth. Adam took them to the apartment and after a knock or two on the door, Adam let them in. He mentioned he saw Beth the day before when she’d come home sick from work. He mentioned to the police that maybe she returned to work. He gave them her work address but he never heard back. Two days later, Adam reported her missing. With a missing person’s report, he knew he could post a vacancy sign within a certain time frame.

  Adam didn’t report Lisa missing when Peter died in April. Though she left suddenly and didn’t empty the contents of her apartment, she wasn’t listed on the lease. The cops didn’t question Peter’s heart attack. In fact, Adam remembered they hadn’t even asked about anyone living with him. It had been Adam who reported the death. That permitted him to list the apartment as vacant. By June, Adam posted another vacancy. Crazy Kris gave him notice she was moving after her boyfriend died of an overdose. Two of Adam’s three problems had been solved. When Andy’s death was reported, the drug operation in Adam’s building had been eliminated.

  Adam never bothered much with his other tenants. As long as they paid the rent—he didn’t bother them. His father had taught him that. He never worried if he didn’t see them after the rent was collected, except for Mrs. Clarke whom he liked to see daily. Deaths and missing persons didn’t bother Adam. His concern was how long he had to wait to post a vacancy sign. Except for Beth, she’d left an ache in his heart.

  Adam didn’t find it unusual that the cops were not that interested. They never had much interest in the people in this area, who were mostly low-income drug dealers and users. Most of Adam’s tenants, over the years, had a criminal record. Mostly of misdemeanors and drug possession, and a prostitute Adam remembered, but drugs eventually took her life too. Adam thought nothing of his tenants. He just collected the rent. He usually made his decision of a new tenant by the cash in their hand.

  Adam entered his bachelor apartment at the end of the third hallway. It was a small apartment and unkempt. Adam took care of the general cleaning and maintenance but never painted or changed the carpets since his father died. He felt it wasn’t worth it. The tenants were mostly low-income and he barely increased their rent. They paid. Why fix what isn’t broken? Another lesson from his father he remembered.

  He’d never married. He never had a serious relationship either. Adam’s heart had been stolen by the girl he knew back in Manhattan. His broken heart never healed. She had been the only one to capture his attention, until Beth. Adam was a loner. He didn’t get out much; given the fact that he lived and worked in the same building, but he liked it that way. He enjoyed living a solitary life and had been used to it. After his parents died, his contact with the world consisted of his tenants, the store owner next door, and his visits to the diner around the corner. It was close by and the food was cheap. Unfortunately, his tenants worked there but they never seem to bother him. He knew they referred to him as the creepy superintendent. He knew they laughed and made jokes about him. He just ignored them and kept to himself.

  Adam opened the door to the small terrace off his main living area. The cool autumn breeze filled the room quickly. He walked onto the balcony and set his coffee on the small iron patio table. He unfolded his paper as he sat down. The view from his third floor displayed a busy New York street of people heading to work. Adam watched the bustling rush of the morning. Sometimes he just sat and imagined what everyone was up to. His dream to be a published writer kept him watching and kept him writing every afternoon. He looked down to notice the autumn leaves had begun to fill the small yard at the front of the brownstone. Adam made a mental note to go out and rake up the leaves that had fallen from the big oak, which sat at the edge of the sidewalk and his property. Being outside, the fresh air always helped clear his thoughts whenever he experienced writer’s block. He then opened the paper, to the headlines of the day, to read about any recent homicidal activity in New York. This was his daily routine in hopes of obtaining an incident to help provoke more writing. Adam had finished a psychological thriller but still hashed through it with edit after edit. He called it a work-in-progress and didn’t want to rush it. He wanted it perfect so it would be a bestseller.

  His phone rang as he had grabbed his jacket, ready to head out and tackle those leaves.

  “Crawford Property,” he answered by the third ring.

  Great. Just what I need.

  Adam told the detective he’d be at the brownstone all day. Not that he knew anymore about Beth’s disappearance than he’d already told the cops. He figured after six weeks, with no news and the missing person’s report, he could rent the apartment. Adam cursed under his breath as walked down the corridor of the third floor. He glanced at the door at the end of the hallway before he entered the staircase. He wondered if they’d find Beth’s body.

  Adam liked Beth. She reminded him of Sara. The girl he lived next-door to in Manhattan, the same girl who broke his heart when she betrayed their friendship and his love for her. That same night, he’d arrived home to a police car in his driveway. His mom had been killed in a car accident. He found his devastated father in tears. Since that night, Adam was alone and lost with no one to talk to. His father began to drink heavily and lost his job. Within months, the bank foreclosed on their home, and they were forced to leave Manhattan and move into the dingy little apartment at the brownstone.

  Chapter Five

  Riley pulled up in front of the brownstone and called Adam’s number.

  “Crawford Property”

  “Mr. Crawford, Detective Riley; we spoke earlier.”

/>   Riley’s words were as brief as Adam’s greeting and response.

  “Third floor; apartment number three.”

  He opened the front door and walked in. Riley looked at the buzzer board on his way through and turned to Kennedy.

  “Guess he’s not big on security.”

  Kennedy nodded. He didn’t look impressed.

  Riley missed Steve. He missed the action he’d been used to in the undercover drug operations. He belonged on the streets and not at a desk in Missing Persons. His life had changed suddenly and not for the better. Kennedy irritated him with one question after another on their way over. Riley could easily tell that Kennedy had been stationed at the thirty-seventh precinct since he graduated from the academy and had never left. He didn’t have the street smarts that Riley developed over the years. He only hoped the man would keep his mouth shut and follow his line of questioning with Adam.

  “Nice place,” Kennedy sarcastically mentioned, as they entered the lobby to the brownstone.

  Riley took in his surroundings and nodded. “I’ve seen worse.”

  “I can’t believe some people actually live like this,” Kennedy continued to ramble.

  Riley walked in front of him and rolled his eyes. Riley had been to places in worse shape than this. At least this brownstone appeared to have a mopped floor. Riley remembered some places he’d want to wipe his feet on the way out. He could easily tell the old brownstone hadn’t been kept up over the years. The tenants were probably low-income and likely, drug dealers. Not the ones his team would investigate. They went for the big-time dealers; the ones who supplied the small-time dealers that would live in a place like this.

  “Mr. Crawford,” Riley said to the man who opened the desperately-needed-to-be-oiled door. “Detective Briggs, and this is Detective Kennedy.”

  “Come in,” Adam answered hastily and held the door open. “As I said on the phone, I already told the cops everything I know.”

  “I just have a few questions, Mr. Crawford. There might be something that was missed.”

  Riley figured he was probably wasting his time and Adam’s, but at least he’d been able to get away from a desk. The man’s uncompassionate tone had confirmed his thought.

  “She was a tenant. I don’t get personal with tenants.”

  The man not only appeared to be a creep but an inconsiderate one. Then again, Riley took notice of the way Adam maintained the building and his apartment.

  “Was? Do you believe she’s dead or just gone?”

  Riley walked toward the table near the balcony. The air smelt better near the opened door. The stench that lingered in the apartment definitely confirmed to Riley that Adam never paid attention to a regular cleaning detail.

  “Is Beth dead?”

  “I didn’t say that. Just curious as to why you used the past tense when you mentioned she was a tenant?”

  Riley noticed the piled paper on the table. His eyes traveled to the title at the top of the page, The Perfect Poison. Intrigued, he picked up the title page and read the typed words.

  “That’s private,” Adam said and grabbed the paper from Riley’s hand. He set it down with care on the pile. He snapped at Riley, “I’m a writer not a murderer.” Riley shrugged and made a mental note to check out this character. His suspicious mind wondered if Beth was dead and not missing.

  “And to answer your previous question, Beth has been gone for six weeks. I assume she’s not coming back. I have rent to collect and need that apartment filled.”

  Adam no longer appeared calm. Riley speculated he’d become a little furious with the recent implication.

  “Is it possible for us to see Beth’s apartment?”

  Riley shrugged off Adam’s defensive comments. He had a job to do. Well, it was more so his curiosity that brought him to the brownstone. His gut now told him something didn’t sit right with this woman’s disappearance.

  “Sure. It’s just down the hall.”

  Riley and Kennedy followed.

  Adam unlocked the door. Riley stepped in. “It’s empty”.

  “Like I said before, I need tenants that pay rent.”

  Adam’s tone told Riley he didn’t really give a shit about Beth or any tenant. He’d met too many landlords like him through his work with rundown buildings, and the only thing that mattered was the rent. Then again, most tenants in these low-income, decrepit buildings didn’t care about the upkeep as long as the rent was cheap.

  “Did someone come to claim her things?” Riley questioned Adam. He hoped perhaps there may be another lead to follow up with.

  “No. I donated what little salvageable furniture there was in here to the Goodwill down the street. Personal items I boxed and the rest I tossed in the dumpster.”

  Adam stood by the opened door.

  Riley turned, “Where are those boxes?”

  “In the boiler room; if you want them you can have them. No one has come for them,” Adam offered.

  Riley nodded and followed Adam’s lead.

  Adam led them downstairs to the boiler room. Riley began down the old wooden stairs and turned back to tell Kennedy to watch his footing. The old staircase cracked more than Adam’s doors. This building definitely needed to be fixed up. Riley’s eyes watered with the stench that swept in through his nostrils. He wasn’t sure what he smelled. He assumed it to be a mixture of dirt and a hint of bleach that filtered the air as soon as he hit the last step.

  “For such a filthy basement, why do I smell bleach?” Riley coughed from the odor.

  “Must have spilled, I don’t clean down here.”

  Adam’s comment came across as a very defensive one.

  Kennedy whispered to Riley, “And he cleans upstairs?”

  Riley chuckled through a cough. He wondered why Adam’s tone in his last comment came across with such defense. Was he hiding something or just irritated because Riley mentioned filth?

  Adam picked up the boxes and handed them to Riley.

  “Just the two; it’s hard to determine what’s personal and what isn’t. Most of the stuff in that apartment seemed to be junk to me. But in case someone did show, I wanted to have something to give them.”

  “Thanks.” Riley took the boxes from Adam and almost dropped them.

  “You okay? Here, let me take one of those.”

  Kennedy reached for one of the boxes. Riley worked out daily and knew he had strength but those boxes were heavy. It surprised him how easily Adam held both, as if they were empty. Riley made a mental note of Adam’s strength as he climbed the stairs.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with today? I have to get back to my daily chores.” Adam turned to them when they reached the lobby. Kennedy rolled his eyes.

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Crawford. If you think of anything else, or should someone stop by for Beth’s personal items, please contact me.”

  Riley handed him a business card with his name and private cell number on it.

  Adam nodded and held the front door open for them.

  “He’s one strange, creepy character,” Kennedy remarked after they put the boxes in the trunk.

  Riley looked over at the rundown brownstone. “You got that right. I think he’s hiding something.”

  “Like what?” Kennedy enquired.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s just a creep, like you said. Something doesn’t sit well with me.” Riley shrugged and opened the driver’s door. Kennedy took a last look at the brownstone and got in the car.

  Back at the thirty-seventh precinct, Kennedy searched records to see if there’d been any missing persons reported from the brownstone address before Beth. Riley checked for any crime activity at that address. He knew there had to be some connection between the drug deal gone bad the night his partner was killed and Beth’s missing person’s report. Riley always followed his gut. He knew he wouldn’t have reached for that particular file if it had no meaning. It was a clue to him and he definitely was going to figure out what that it meant.
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  “There have been no other missing person’s reports filed from that address in the past ten years. You need me to go back any further?” Kennedy took Riley from his recent thoughts.

  Riley thought about it for a minute then nodded. “Not now. I believe the connection I’m looking for is fairly recent.”

  “What can I do to help?” Kennedy offered his assistance.

  Riley got the vibe from his tone that he sounded excited. Maybe the man wasn’t so dull, after all. He’d just been locked up on a desk job too long. Riley knew he had to follow protocol to get the heck back to his post on the street, but he convinced himself he was indeed working the case of a missing person and following leads. To be safe, he needed to find this connection fast; before the boss thought he wasn’t doing the task at hand. He was sure Dr. Richards would be checking in with both his lieutenants. At least Lieutenant Lis wasn’t one of them. To mention their night of passion wouldn’t help him at this point. Then again, with her cold front that morning, he figured he was safe. If he could only learn to follow protocol, then he wouldn’t end up in these predicaments. He looked up at Kennedy and smiled.

  “Yeah, there is. Can you run a check on this name?”

  Riley wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it to Kennedy.

  “Who’s this? How far back do you want me to go?”

  Kennedy eagerly accepted the task.

  “The man I shot six weeks ago; the same man that killed my partner. Just the past ten years is good. Thanks.” Riley’s response jolted Kennedy.

  The expression of excitement left, replaced with shock and horror. Kennedy leaned in on Riley’s desk so no one heard him. “What’s this have to do with the missing person’s case? Is this going to get me in trouble?”

  “Andrew O’Donnell was shot a block away on the same night Beth went missing. I believe there might be a connection. ” Riley didn’t want to admit it was just his gut instinct. It appeared Kennedy liked to play by the rules.