“Out with it!”

              “Er, he runs some betting circles. Sports betting and such. He’s a bit of an amateur, but business has been booming, or so I hear, eh Phillips?”

              The cop looked like he wished he could sink into the floor. “It was just a one-time thing. I thought I had a sure bet on the Knicks.”

              Kim waved this off, her eyes boring into Alex. “You mean you know someone who runs a betting ring and you never told me? We’re chasing a case where the vic is involved in poker, and you didn’t even think to mention your little secret? I don’t know what’s worse, the ex-wife thing or this.”

              Alex shrugged, grimacing exaggeratedly. “Er, well, it’s not poker, not that I’m aware of, anyway.”

              “It seems interesting to me that you’re supposed to be covering for this Sampson,” put in Jacob. “Why the secrecy?”

              Alex studied his beer. “He likes to keep that side of his business off the books,” he said reluctantly. “I don’t need to spell it out for you.”

              “Well, someone’s going to have to, starting first thing tomorrow morning when we pay Sampson a visit. You still like this detective stuff, Kane?” said Kim.

              Alex stared morosely into his drink. “Honestly, the bubble bath was a much better idea.”

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven

              If Sampson was angry about Alex’s last appearance, he definitely wasn’t pleased to see him accompanied by three cops.

              “Blast it, Kane!” he bellowed. “I do you a favor and now you’re hauling the whole goddamned NYPD to my doorstep. Well, what is it? I’ve got about eight million complainers to see today with barely a moment to unscramble my brain in between.”

              “We’re a little more interested in your other business, Mr. Sampson,” said Kim coolly.

              Allen Sampson froze and then smoothly folded himself into his desk chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

              Kim rolled her eyes. “And I’m Lara Croft, Tomb Raider. Mr. Movie Star here spilled the beans that you work as a bookie on the side.”

              Allen crossed his legs, blinking rapidly. “A perfectly harmless little pastime. Officer Phillips himself has been to see me,” he said, nodding at the cringing cop in the corner.

              “Cool it, Sampson. We’re not here to send the IRS after you, as long as you play nice. You know a woman named Virginia Winters?”

              The psychiatrist started. “She was a patient of mine.”

              Jacob pounced on this. “Was?”

              “Sure, she only came in for one session. She hasn’t been in contact since.”

              “That’s because she’s dead,” Jacob said evenly.

              Sampson stared at him, bug-eyed. “She’s dead? How can that be possible?”

              “It’s very simple, doctor. Someone put a knife in her back,” Jacob said straightforwardly.

              The psychiatrist continued to look at him in shock. Kim intervened.

              “Why did Miss Winters come to see you?”

              Allen drew himself back up into professional mode. “Listen, detectives, you’ll need a court order to get her full details. But I can tell you that a certain actress, a Charlene Stryker, was blackmailing her, and she needed a lot of money quickly. She was extremely distressed. I told her that she needed legal counsel, not a psychiatrist.”

              Kim and Jacob looked at each other knowingly. Alex made a sound of disgust. “That woman! What did she have on poor Virginia?”

              “Apparently Miss Winters worked as an escort when she lived in Las Vegas. She didn’t want it getting out. She said it would hurt her chance to become a serious actress. This Charlene person said she had some kind of evidence. Anyway, I thought the problem would work itself out.” He paused then, oddly, and clamped his mouth shut.

              Jacob immediately asked, “And why did you think that, Dr. Sampson?”

              The psychiatrist twisted his hands together anxiously. “Well, I offered her a bit of a unique solution.”

              “Which was?”

              He sighed deeply. “I received a request from an anonymous source. Said he knew I was in the bookie business and that he was starting up a new poker ring for bored rich types. They wanted an amusing young woman to play with them. The pot would be ten thousand dollars with no pressure for the lady to contribute. Sounded a bit odd, especially since the contact wouldn’t reveal who he was. I assumed he was part of a group of skirt-chasing oligarchs who wanted their privacy. I knew Miss. Winters was desperate so I passed along her contact information. Probably not the most scrupulous thing to do, but it seemed like a great piece of serendipity at the time.”

Alex, who was used to his guru’s unethical ways, chuckled darkly. Kim, Jacob, and Phillips, on the other hand, were struggling to conceal their horror.

              “Sir, did I hear you correctly – you referred your patient, who came to you for emotional support, to an unknown gambling ring?” said Jacob.

Allen Sampson swiveled impatiently in his chair. “Yes, you’re not deaf, Detective. Look, am I going to get in trouble for this?”

“Dr. Sampson, Virginia Winters is now dead thanks to your unique method,” said Kim severely. “Whether or not you land in hot water depends on the extent of your cooperation with this investigation.”

Sampson looked put out. “Listen, I really can’t be faulted for taking a creative approach. She was a sweet thing, and I wanted to give her something more meaningful than some psycho-babble. How was I supposed to know it would all go bad?”

“I don’t think the American Board of Psychiatry is going to look favorably on your creative problem solving,” put in Jacob.

              “It’d be an easy thing, too. The board has been trying to take away his license for years,” said Alex.

              “Hang it, they can have my bloody license. All I want is to retire and put my feet up somewhere hot, not listen to a bunch of bloody whiners day in and day out.”

              “He’s charming,” Kim said to Alex. “Your ex-wife, and now this character? You really know how to pick them.”

Alex shrugged apologetically. “Even Humphrey Boghart had his faults, Officer.”

              “Most notably his persistent smoking and drinking that led to his early death…” started Jacob.

              “Focus, gentlemen!” Kim butted in. “We’ll need the contact, Sampson, and all of your correspondence. We have to get on this guy’s trail before it goes cold. You been in touch with him recently?”

              Allen shook his head. “Not for a couple of weeks, since I first referred Miss. Winters.”

              Kim sighed heavily. “At least it’s something. A lead is a lead. We’re going to close this case even if it kills me.”

**

              The cops gathered by Officer Phillip’s desk as he scrolled through the encrypted emails.

              “These messages are sealed up tighter than the Pentagon,” he said. “Impossible to trace, at least right now. We’ve got a real professional here.”

              Alex hung back, sipping stale coffee from a paper cup pensively. Kim shot him a questioning look.

              “Finally grasping the gravity of the situation, Bogart?”

              He looked at her dead on. “Were you serious when you said you’d close this case even if it killed you?”

              Kim frowned. “I was speaking rhetorically. But yes, I’m serious about finding the killer, if that’s what you’re asking.”

              Alex breathed in deeply. “Well, I hate to be the one to say it – but why don’t you do a Virginia Winters?”