Chapter 6: The Cavern
24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGKTrN8N6un
Cassidy started her Saturday as usual when it was her day off from work. She attended to home and children with little thought for anything else. This was a well-practiced execution. She cared for her children’s hygiene and health, along with the disposition of the house in a methodical order. Her efforts were greatly simplified when James came over at half past ten and took Cynthia and John out for a play date and lunch. For the next three hours, she gave the house her undivided attention. Shortly before two in the afternoon, Andrea Dixon dropped by and gave her reason to relax.
Andrea was a uniformed patrol officer who came through the academy with Cassidy. Their friendship began there. She was a reluctant bridesmaid at Cassidy’s wedding. She would have preferred to have been the other bride. Despite the difference in their sexual orientation, the two maintained a bond of friendship.
“So, how’s this big case going?” Andrea asked with casual interest.
“I’m not sure,” Cassidy reported as she poured them both a glass of wine. “The more I learn the more twisted it seems to get.”
“One of those,” Andrea countered. “More questions than answers.”
“I think this is different,” Cassidy halfheartedly disputed.
Cassidy understood that Andrea was speaking of mystery cases where one or more elements of the crime are too enigmatic for anyone to understand. These were rare cases that became noteworthy because they continually defied explanation. If they did get solved, it often occurred because a new piece of evidence added something to the investigation that started a chain reaction of explanations. These puzzle-box cases were well known happenstances within the law enforcement community.
“Different how?” Andrea asked with more curiosity.
Cassidy knew that she lacked the experience to say that the case she was working on was unique, but her instinct insisted that it was. She believed she would have heard of other cases that had any similarity to it. After all, cataloging crimes and criminals had been a pastime of hers since her mid-teens.
“This doesn’t feel like some sloppy series of events that defies explaining,” Cassidy hesitantly returned. “I get the feeling that if I can just understand what happened then everything else will fall into place.”
James, Cynthia and John came through the front door of the house while Cassidy was making this diagnosis. The children greeted their mother with a quick “hi” as they raced past the living-room entryway and up the stairs to their bedrooms. This was not an unexpected act. The amusements in their rooms often superseded the social activities of the person they most took for granted: mom. James had no such indifference. Now that they were divorced, he almost always took an interest in Cassidy’s life, and often to her annoyance. He walked into the house just in time to hear Andrea begin to give a response to Cassidy’s analysis.
“Be careful, it sounds like you might be getting lost in this case.”
“Too late for that,” James asserted as he stepped through the entryway between the vestibule and the living-room. “Getting lost in her job is Cassidy’s reason for living.”
“How long has it been since the kids ate?” Cassidy asked her ex with irritation.
“Less than an hour,” James answered, mildly derisive. “I took them to Perkins.”
Cassidy did not respond because she had no reason to complain. In place of speaking back, she chose to ignore his report and wait for him to take the hint.
“You do know that you’re just wasting your time with that Greenbelt investigation,” James added as he moved toward the front door.
“So, everyone keeps telling me,” Cassidy replied with exasperation.
“Maybe you should listen,” James stopped to say.
“Good-bye, James,” Cassidy snidely returned to encourage his departure.
Behind that, James turned and left the house with no further comment. When he was out the door, Cassidy shook off the anger he generated in her with a shake of her head and a few deep breaths.
“You shouldn’t let him get to you,” Andrea counseled. “You’re not married to him anymore.”
“He doesn’t think I should be a police officer let alone a detective,” Cassidy returned.
“You’re good at your job,” Andrea quickly affirmed. “Everyone knows it. Why do you care what he thinks?”
“I don’t, normally.” Cassidy answered. “It’s this case. Everyone is telling me I can’t solve it.”
“And why does that matter?” Andrea asked concerned.
“Because I think they might be right,” Cassidy answered with a downcast expression.
“And the great Cassidy Tremaine cannot live with a failure to succeed, to prevail, to amaze,” Andrea bellowed with exaggerated flamboyance. “You know what your problem is, don’t you? You’re a perfectionist. You always have been.”
Andrea paused to give her remark emphasis.
“No one solves all their cases, Cassidy. It’s not even possible. Stop tearing yourself insides apart. Give it your best shot and move on.”
Cassidy understood what Andrea was saying about her. It was an analysis that she had heard several times from several people. She knew that she had a drive to win, and she knew that she could not solve all her cases. It was a reality that she had faced many times over the past six months, but this case was different.
“I know that, but I fought for this case,” Cassidy explained after a sip of wine. “I feel like I’m on stage—like I have to perform well, or else people will think less of me.”
“No one will think less of you,” Andrea disputed.
“Thanks,” Cassidy replied with a smile followed by another sip of wine.
Andrea gave her a suspicious look followed by a scowl.
“You’re not listening to a word I say.”
Cassidy laughed briefly to herself before responding.
“I’m listening. I am, but I can’t stop being who I am.”
“Don’t I know it,” Andrea returned with a chuckle. “So, what are you going to do, detective? Can you figure this one out?” Andrea queried.
“We’re going to canvass some clubs tonight,” Cassidy answered without enthusiasm.
“You’re taking the kids to your parents?” Andrea asked more than stated.
Cassidy answered with a “yeah” and a nod.
“Oh, I was wondering why you weren’t cooking,” Andrea said, suddenly aware. “You don’t sound thrilled about this plan,” she continued with a new awareness.
“I don’t know what I’m looking for, Andrea,” Cassidy confessed. “I don’t even know if there’s anything there to find.”
Andrea had no reply, and Cassidy had nothing more to add. They spent the next half hour conversing about more entertaining things before Andrea excused herself and left for home. Cassidy devoted the next three hours preparing herself and her notes for the work she planned to do tonight. She then took Cynthia and John to her parents in time for dinner there. When she finished eating dinner with them, she said her good-byes and took off for the 122nd Precinct, and from there on to Manhattan.
Alan did not care for her plan. He believed their expedition would produce little if any results. He thought that the necessary parts of their routine investigation, so far, have proven unproductive. This evening’s gamble was no different. What bothered him about this outing was the fact that it took him away from his weekend diversions. He expressed his feelings several times, and Cassidy endured his sullen demeanor without response or apology.
The sun was several minutes below the horizon when Cassidy and Alan entered the first nightclub. They questioned the manager and the staff for any memory of their nine victims. They inquired about security video on the dates the victims went missing. They inquired about complaints from patrons concerning other patrons. The answers to the first two questions were no to memories of the victims and no to videos for those dates. The answer to the third was too numerous and varied to be useful. After less than half an hour of canvassing, they moved on to the next nightclub.
Cassidy and Alan concentrated on the nightclubs in Midtown Manhattan that at least two and as many as five of their nine victims were known to patronize. The missing person’s investigations showed that no nightclub that the victims regularly patronized was common to them all. It was Cassidy’s hope that canvassing these midtown nightclubs would produce a witness or evidence that connected all nine to a single location.
It was just past midnight when they finished questioning employees in the last of the ‘possibly suggested’ nightclubs within Midtown and Lower Manhattan. They finally agreed that they had not learned anything worth knowing, which was no surprise to Alan. He was simply glad to be done canvassing. Cassidy was not surprised by the result either, but she was terribly disappointed that a new piece of evidence capable of unlocking this mystery had not popped up.
“This was always a long shot,” Alan declared less than a minute out of the last nightclub. “A serial killer is not likely to stalk his victims in nightclubs that he frequently visits.”
Alan’s statement startled Cassidy and caused her to quickly turn and look at him with amazement.
“Turnaround, go back,” Cassidy instructed.
Alan’s comment had pinpointed the flaw in her thinking.
“Go back? Go back where?” Alan asked with a stunned expression.
“We’re going to The Cavern.”
That destination did not immediately register with Alan. Cassidy reminded him that The Cavern was not picked as a nightclub that any of the Greenbelt victims frequented. The fact that it was dismissed by all the acquaintances of the nine is what made it stand out in Cassidy’s memory.
Cassidy and Alan flashed their badges to get past the teller and bouncer at the door. When they entered The Cavern, it was clear to them that it was different from all the other clubs they had visited tonight.
Upon entering the vestibule of The Cavern, both Alan and Cassidy felt slightly claustrophobic due to the lower than normal ceiling and dim lighting. The area was not large—no more than ten yards across from the front entrance to the opposite wall. At the right end of the vestibule was a cloakroom; on the left end was a small ticket booth. Entryways to the main room were located at either end of the wall opposite the front entrance. Cassidy and Alan entered the main room through the entryway on the left.
Where the other clubs concentrated on high energy club music mixes, DJ’s, light displays and a sizeable dance floor, the main room of The Cavern sported a festive jazz/cabaret motif tonight with matching decorations. Cassidy and Alan were buffeted with the sounds of talking, laughter and music as they entered. They stopped several feet inside the main room to take in the atmosphere.
The main room of the club was long and spacious and filled with patrons dressed in outfits and costumes befitting the current jazz/cabaret motif of the evening. Compared to the vestibule, the main room felt almost cavernous to Cassidy and Alan. Its high ceiling allowed for a balcony on the upper level that ran along the sides of the room and provided standing room only. There was also a small dining area over the vestibule. The lower level sported a well-stocked bar along the wall that separated the vestibule from the main room. Twenty small round tables filled the center of the room. Each table was just large enough to accommodate four chairs. Five red leather upholstered booths ran along the left and right walls: two on the right and three on the left. The booths could uncomfortably seat ten people; with the addition of chairs, they could easily handle as many as fourteen individuals. Located at the far end of the room was a small jazz band performing on a 12 by 16-foot rectangular stage raised about a foot off the floor. There was no dance floor between the patrons and the stage. A second kitchen entrance was to the left of the stage in the form of double doors.
The room was filled to capacity. The music barely held its own against the patrons’ loud conversations and laughter. The tables appeared to be the club’s main priority—for food and drinks. The employees were smartly dressed in white shirts, black vests and black skirts or slacks. The patrons were far less restrained in their choice of apparel. The sign outside the club advertised a half price discount for theatrical attire befitting the theme of any given night.
“Now I see why none of our victims came here,” Alan commented with a chuckle. “It definitely isn’t pandering to a conservative crowd.”
Cassidy declined to respond to the comment. After a short period of study, she and Alan walked over to the bar. Cassidy flagged the closest bartender and displayed her badge.
“I’d like to speak with the manager.”
The bartender looked at her badge before responding with an “okay.” He picked up a phone from behind the bar, pressed a speed dial button and waited a moment for an answer.
“There’s a couple of NYPD detectives at the bar who want to speak with you.”
The bartender listened for a moment and then hung up the phone.
“He’ll be right out,” the bartender informed Cassidy and Alan with a point toward the entryway to their left.
Cassidy and Alan looked toward the indicated entrance and waited. Almost a minute later, a lone man came through the entryway and approached them. He appeared to be between his mid to late twenties. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie, seemingly groomed to perfection by Cassidy’s estimation.
“Are you the detectives?” The young gentleman asked after stopping in front of Cassidy and Alan.
Both Cassidy and Alan produced their badges and ID’s as he spoke.
“Detective Mercer, NYPD,” Alan announced with a practiced ease.
“Uh, Detective Tremaine,” Cassidy followed less deftly.
At first sight, Cassidy was momentarily stunned. She thought him to be an exceptionally attractive man. She was distracted to the point that she had to shake it off to concentrate on her purpose for being there. Alan took a comical view of this boyish-looking nightclub owner.
“Detectives,” the young gentleman responded with a hint of a head and shoulder bow. “I am David Burrell, proprietor of The Cavern. How can I help you?”
“We’re canvassing all the clubs in Midtown Manhattan,” Alan explained. “We have reason to believe that several missing persons were in one or more of these clubs on the nights they disappeared. We would like to show your employees some pictures.”
David gave the request a second of thought before responding with a hint of surprise.
“May I suggest we use my office for this?”
“Yes, you may,” Alan answered with a bit of mockery.
David smiled then led Cassidy and Alan back through the entryway he came from. They entered a darkened hallway. Turing right toward the front end of the hall, was a door labeled Office. Just prior to the office door was a door on the left wall labeled Personnel Only. Looking back further down the hall, Cassidy and Alan noticed patrons entering and exiting the men’s and women’s rooms also on the left wall, and all the way down at the opposite end of the hall was a doorway to the kitchen. There was another entryway from the hall to the main room just outside the kitchen door. David led Cassidy and Alan through the door labeled office.
The office was a moderate size room that opened out to the left of the door. There was a single desk and chair workstation with computer monitor and keyboard, and two guest chairs in front. A four-drawer file cabinet sat against one wall, and a two-person sofa rested against another.
“I’m sorry for appearing hesitant to help,” David explained while directing Cassidy and Alan to the open chairs in front of the desk. “I started to think how it would look to my patrons seeing detectives questioning my employees.”
“That’s quite alright, Mr. Burrell,” Cassidy returned pleasantly. “We’ve being doing these interviews in kitchens, hallways and storerooms. The last thing we want to do is cause you any inconvenience.”
Cassidy felt some discomfort when their eyes met. She feared he would see the attraction she felt for him. This thought immediately steeled her against this man that dared to fluster her with a look and a smile. But in spite of her newly fortified resolve, she turned her eyes away from his and set them to the task of retrieving her tablet and stylus.
“I’m glad to hear it,” David returned with a frown and a smile that looked to be holding back a laugh. “How long will this take?”
Cassidy was instantly offended by the smile. She worried that she had done something that made her look foolish.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Burrell, we’ll be out of your business in no time,” Cassidy spoke with an enunciation of cold sternness.
“No, the only reason I ask,” David explained with a dismissive shake of his head, “is because we’re getting close to closing time.”
Cassidy had no response. Alan broke in and spoke in her silence.
“We just want to show your staff some pictures and see if they recognize anyone. It shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes.”
As Alan spoke, Cassidy set her tablet on the desk in front of David.
“Do you recognize anyone in these pictures?” Cassidy asked following Alan’s last word.
David picked up tablet and began to flip through the pictures. He momentarily studied each picture before moving on to the next. When he finished going through them, he extended the tablet back to Cassidy.
“No, none of them are familiar,” David answered with a suspicious look at Cassidy. “Are you saying all of these people disappeared after going out to a nightclub?” he continued.
Both Cassidy and Alan hesitated to answer. But after a moment of thought, Cassidy replied.
“We are investigating that possibility.”
“And you think they all might have come into my club?” David challenged with a look to both Cassidy then Alan.
“Mr. Burrell, we don’t know where these individuals went after they left their homes,” Alan explained to ease David’s concern. “We’re just investigating possibilities.”
David thought about everything that was said. Cassidy and Alan studied him as he did.
“These people aren’t missing, are they?” David asked at the end of his deliberation.
“Not anymore,” Cassidy answered. “Their bodies were discovered three days ago.”
“The Greenbelt,” David returned knowingly. “So, this is a murder investigation.”
“The people in those pictures frequented nightclubs in this part of Manhattan,” Cassidy explained. “And we have reason to believe they went out to a club on the night they disappeared. If you have security video from seven months back, that would be a great help.”
“Seven months ago, that’s the previous owner,” David explained as he pondered the question. “I can’t speak for what he did, but the system I have erases surveillance data every two weeks.”
“How long have you owned this club?” Cassidy asked, clearly surprised.
“It will be three months in another week,” David answered after a thought. “So, there’s no way I could have seen any of these people.”
His answer did not add up for Alan. He saw no reason why he had to be the owner of the club to see one or more of the nine victims. He immediately became curious as to why he thought that way.
“Why not?”
“I’ve only been in the states for five months now,” David returned without hesitation.
“Five months and you already own a nightclub?” Cassidy questioned out of curiosity.
“It’s old money,” David declared with a bashful smile, “an inheritance from my grandmother. My family is—financially secure,” he spoke modestly. “I have commercial property in London and Northampton. I have a small estate outside of Caen, and now I own a nightclub in New York, New York,” David finished with a smile.
“You’re quite the businessman,” Alan responded with an articulation that suggested he found the subject tedious.
David was clearly amused by Alan’s remark.
“I hope so; this is a big investment for me.”
“How did you come to own a Manhattan nightclub?” Cassidy queried with a plain expression and a fixed stare.
“Doris Farber, she’s a close friend of my aunt,” David answered as he returned her stare. “She elected to sell it after her husband passed and I took it off her hand.”
“I see,” Cassidy responded with a look of comprehension. “So, if we could interview your employees, Mr. Burrell.”
“Would you need to interview everyone, or can the kitchen staff be excused from this,” David asked with a steady look to Cassidy.
“I can take care of the kitchen staff,” Alan quickly assured as he stood up. “There’s no need to bring them in here.”
Alan was motivated by a desire to be around the food and not the preparers.
“Okay,” David agreed with a smile and a nod. “I will send them in one at a time,” he finished with a questioning inflection.
Cassidy agreed and began interviewing the employees of The Cavern a few minutes later. David remained in the main room and directed his employees into his office one at a time. The interviews lasted three to five minutes each. Cassidy saw no need for them to be seated. She met each new employee at the office door, had them look through the pictures and sent them back to their jobs when it was over. A couple of the employees were not even working at The Cavern seven months ago, and all could not recall ever seeing any of the nine inside the club. When Cassidy inquired about hostile occurrences five spoke of separate anecdotal events. When asked about strange regulars all spoke about the group that frequently occupied booth number three.
“How long has this group been coming here,” Cassidy asked Jerry Adams at the back end of the interview.
Jerry Adams was a bartender at The Cavern. His employment there went back five years.
“Oh, that group has been coming here longer than I’ve worked here,” Jerry answered.
“Is that normal?”
“I’ve seen other people who become fixtures at bars and restaurants. What makes the beautiful people unusual is that it’s not just one or two regulars; there’s six of them. That’s not normal in my experience.”
“The beautiful people?” Cassidy questioned with a look of incredulity.
“Yeah, that’s what the waitresses call them. When they’re here as a group, they sit together in booth three.”
“Always?”
“Yeah,” Jerry answered with a go figure look. “They usually reserve it for every Saturday night across two or three months.”
Cassidy took a moment to consider his answer and expressed an opinion.
“That sounds expensive.”
“Five hundred dollars a night,” Jerry returned with emphasis.
Cassidy responded to this report with a slight shake of her head and a look of disbelief. Shortly she turned her thoughts to another aspect of this group.
“So, I take it that the members of this group are attractive?”
“Not overly so,” Jerry countered. “I wouldn’t say that they’re any more attractive than many other people that come here.”
Cassidy was instantly confused by his answer, and she just as quickly questioned it.
“Then why do the waitresses call them the beautiful people?”
“Oh well, that’s because they often entertain other people at their table,” Jerry explained as if he had forgotten to mention it before. “And they are always very attractive.”
This remark intrigued Cassidy more than anything she had heard before about this group.
“Booth number three?” Cassidy queried as though trying to make sure she heard him right.
“Yeah, there’s two of them there now,” Jerry replied with an affirmative nod of his head. “They like to stay late. I hear that they even like to throw after parties at their homes.”
Jerry emphasized the words after parties with air quotes. Cassidy had no trouble understanding what he meant by that. She would have entertained ideas about the possible natures of those parties without the air quotes. Cassidy closed out his interview behind his last remark. Jerry Adams was Cassidy’s third from last interview. It took her little more than half an hour to complete them all. Over the course of these interviews, she took note of the six regulars that regularly sat at booth three. Collectively, the employees of The Cavern were able to provide her with the names of all six. She recorded them in her tablet and placed question marks behind each.
For the duration of Cassidy’s interviews, Alan was in the kitchen. He finished his interviews there in far less time, but the chance of dining on food generously provided by the kitchen chef was too enticing for him to pass up. After David walked Cassidy back to the main room, he sent a waiter to the kitchen to summon Alan. While waiting for Alan’s arrival, Cassidy scanned the occupants of the club. David noticed her interest.
“I hope you will return someday when you’re not on duty,” David proffered with a pleasing deportment. “It would be my pleasure to entertain you as a guess.”
Cassidy ignored the invite and spoke of what was on her mind at that moment with a stern delivery.
“Which booth is number three?”
David was caught off guard by the question. He pondered the question for a moment and then answered it while nodding towards the booths on the left.
“Along the left wall, the booth in the middle.”
Cassidy immediately found the booth and the four-people sitting there, two men and two women. She could see that all four were somewhere between their mid-twenties and earlier thirties, but she could not discern from their looks which of the four were the two regulars. The woman she thought to be the most attractive of the two was wearing a blue-violet, thigh-high dress. Her long brunette hair was braided to one side and dangled to a length that stopped just below her breasts. Her eyes looked to be brown and she had a light tanned complexion. She was adorned with dangling gold color earrings and a gold colored bracelet. The other woman in the booth, two spaces to her left, was attractive as well. Her hair was blonde, unencumbered and fell to a length just below her shoulders. She was dressed in a thigh-high strapless dress and adorned with a pair of diamond stud earrings. The clean-shaven man seated to her left was a little less than average height, a little on the thin side with short, well groomed, dark brown hair. He was dressed in a dark gray suit and a black tieless shirt. The man seated at the opposite end of the booth was slightly above average height and had a mildly athletic build. He had thick, dark brown hair that draped over the top of his ears. His face sported visible stubble. His suit was an almost metallic looking light gray. Beneath it he wore a white shirt with a light blue patterned tie.
After studying the occupants of the booth for several seconds, Cassidy thought to query David about their identities when the blonde woman at the table turned her attention directly at Cassidy. Her look held without waiver. Her expression was bland. Cassidy could not help but wonder if this woman knew who she was or why she was there. Shortly into this visual exchange, the thin clean-shaven man seated to her left leaned over and whispered into her ear. A second later, he turned his eyes to Cassidy and held his stare. Then the blonde woman whispered back to the man while holding her gaze on Cassidy.
"Are we ready to go?"
Alan's question gave Cassidy a start. She looked around quickly and found him standing behind her.
"Yeah," Cassidy responded with a confused expression.
Before moving Cassidy looked back at booth three. No one there was looking at her anymore, but that did not stop her from thinking that there was something strange about the regulars that frequented that booth.
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and then Add to home screen.