by Owen Parr
“No, they were from a variety of fields. We found no correlation there.” Lucy was reading from her notes again.
I covered my face with both hands, thinking for several seconds before I concluded. “If our killer is tied into one, two, or more of these murders, then most likely he’s changing his signature so that he can be untraceable.”
Johnson added, “You think this guy, our killer, is in law enforcement. Right, Mancuso? If that’s the case, he may be doing that on purpose, knowing full well that we can research this kind of thing.”
“Lucy, did you give us the cities in chronological order?”
“Yes, I did, honey. Why?”
I replied, “As soon as we have a suspect if we can place him in any of these cities at the time of the serial murders, boom, we have him.”
The captain got up and walked around the table. “Assuming he’s involved in these other killings, why is he only killing ladies in law enforcement related fields now?”
I pushed my sandwich plate aside, “Something triggered the need to go after law enforcement. Some frustration, maybe a new infatuation of some kind.”
Mr. Pat walked in with a tray of cortaditos. “Hey gang, it’s three in the afternoon: official Cuban time to drink espressos or cortaditos. How’re you all doing?”
“Hey, big guy, thank you, and how do you know that?” asked Lucy.
I was deep in thought, but I replied, without looking up, “He’s been hanging around Marcy too long.” Then, I thought of something else. “Lucy, all our victims are brunettes, late twenties, or early thirties, good looking—both faces and bodies. What about the other victims? Any correlation?”
Lucy put down her cortadito. “No, they don’t necessarily match our victims. There was no one outstanding feature in the group. Just, good looking females in the same age group, and all white females, except for the two in D.C.”
All I had pictured in my head was an unfinished puzzle. The frame was mostly intact, but the pieces were scattered, not to mention it was the wrong color scheme.
“Joey, I’m going to have to get back to the precinct,” Johnson said. “I think we made progress.”
“I agree, Captain. I was hoping to show you the new club before you leave? Do you have a few minutes? How about a cigar for the road?”
“I’d love to see it. I’m going to pass on the cigar for now since Mrs. Johnson doesn’t like it when I walk into the house smelling like a stogie.”
Mr. Pat, in service mode, chimed in. “No cigar for Captain Johnson. Joey, I’ll get you one. How about you, Mrs. Roberts, do you smoke cigars?”
“No baby, thank you,” Lucy replied.
We walked through a set of double doors towards the front of the office. I was very proud of our new enterprise that was about to open.
“Wow, this looks nice, Joey. How big is it?” asked Johnson.
“We have just under two thousand square feet. Look to your right. Those French doors with the opaque glass, they lead to the pub.”
“So, anyone at the pub can walk in here?” Lucy asked.
“Only, if they’re members and have their key card,” I replied.
The captain looked around, “You kept the same dark plank flooring as in the pub, but with a lighter stain. Man, this is like a huge living room. So cozy; I love it.”
“All the seating is in leather; the sofas, the club chairs. We set it up, so there are five different sitting areas. We can move things around to accommodate a big group.” I added, “you’ll notice, no overhead lights, just table lamps.”
“I love the ambiance. You know who’s going to like this place?” Lucy asked, smiling.
“Sergeant-Major, Harold. Your hubby,” I said, pointing at Lucy. “By the way, Lucy, the Captain thinks I made up the story of you folks naming your three sons, Frank, Dean, and Sam, after the Rat Pack.” I have a feeling he needs to hear it straight from you.
Lucy laughed, “Yes, we did. Harold, loved Sinatra, Martin, and Davis Junior.”
“That’s so funny,” Johnson said.
“However,” I interjected as I faced Lucy, “being the top-notch investigator that I am, my deduction has always been that … ” I paused for effect, “ … you got inspired at conception. So, to keep the fantasy alive, you, named them accordingly. Am I good, or what?”
The room broke out in laughter.
“Lucy bantered, “You’re so full of shit, Mancuso. Well, I got work to do, so I gotta get moving. Thanks for lunch and the tour.”
We were walking back to the office when Agnes almost ran into us. “We have a hit on one of the social media groups. Some guy wants to meet up with Angela. Tonight.”
15
Our sting was on. Everyone was excited and hoping our first bite could land the big one.
I asked Agnes, “Is Angela ready with her cover story?”
As we all moved back to our office, Agnes replied, “She is Carmela Navarre, law student, working for the District Attorney’s office in Manhattan, as an intern. We are using her own background story, born in Barcelona, et cetera.”
Mr. Pat asked, in his Irish brogue, “Couldn’t you have picked a name that I didn’t have to roll the r? Come on, now. Give the lad a break, why don’t you?”
Everyone cracked a smile. I know Mr. Pat was trying to lighten the mood, but not now. We needed to keep focused.
Captain Johnson added, “Joey, I have the cooperation of the DA’s office. We set up a bogus employment profile for her, just in case our unsub has access to it.”
“Where does she live?” I asked.
“I have that covered also,” said Johnson, “we have her staying at a suite hotel near our precinct. One we use for witnesses and the like. We have cameras, microphones—the works. Plus, Detectives Farnsworth and Charles will be positioned next door. She’ll be safe if we get that far.”
I nodded, “Let’s hope we get that far, and we can nab this guy.”
Lucy added, “We need a little luck on our side. So far, our unsub is like ‘The Invisible Man.’ ”
Looking at Agnes, I asked, “Who is this person that contacted Angela? What does his profile say?”
Lowering her head to the laptop screen, and reading from the Facebook page, Agnes replied, “According to this, his name is Peter Gruntel, a law professor at NYU. No pictures of his face, but photos of the campus, library, and some classrooms. Age forty-two. He posts quotes from Socrates, Aristotle, and the like. Nothing very personal.”
Mr. Pat asked, “Does such a person exist?’
“Yes, Mr. Pat, there is a professor with that name at NYU, I checked. But, keep in mind, just like we added some bogus profiles, I doubt, if this is truly our unsub, that he would use his real identity. It’s effortless to copy someone else’s profile and start a new page.”
“But,” Lucy questioned, “is there another profile for a Peter Gruntel?”
“No, just the one,” Agnes responded.
I looked at the captain, but, before I said anything, he said, “I’m on it, Joey. I’m dispatching two other detectives to check up, and follow Mr. Gruntel. I’ll tell them to only observe, for now, no contact.”
I nodded.
Lucy inquired, “What happens if this is not our guy, and he’s just there for a date that might, or might not, lead to sex? Just asking.”
We all looked.
Looking at each other in bewilderment, I offered a possible response. “I guess we’ll leave that up to Angela, right?” I made eye contact with everyone in the room when I said that. All I got back were blank stares. There seemed to be more questions than answers.
The questions continued, this time from Mr. Pat. “If this Gruntel proposes sex, Angela can just say no, right.”
“Problem is,” I began replying, “how do we know that he’s our guy if she says no?”
“Okay, I got it,” said Mr. Pat.
Lucy quipped, “Sure sweetie, but what about the cameras?”
Agnes said, “Perhaps Angela can have a wo
rd, or phrase, to alert us to turn off the cameras.”
I said, “Look, from what we think, our killer proposes the sex before he gets to the vics’ apartments. That’s how they go directly to the act without any foreplay. So, Angela will have plenty of warning before she gets in the room. I’m not worried about that,” I said, and asked, “Where are they meeting?”
Agnes replied, “Interesting enough, this guy picked Ernie’s at seven in the evening. I messaged back and forth with him, pretending to be Carmela, and he said, if we hit it off, maybe we can have dinner.”
Johnson asked, “Joey, do you think Larry and Harry are a good fit for this assignment, or should I get two others?”
“Captain,” I began, “Larry and Harry are as inconspicuous as their names. No one will know they are there. Trust me. By the way, is Angela going to be wired?”
“Not wired, what we’ve done is configured our listening devices with a wireless Bluetooth phone headset. She’ll be wearing that. It allows for two-way communication. Even if she takes it off, we can still hear her.”
“What about us? Are we going to be outfitted with listening devices?” I asked.
“Yes. We’re all going to have the same Bluetooth devices. I’ll get ‘em to you before we start the sting,” Johnson replied.
“Okay, that sounds perfect. Here’s what I think we should do, if you agree, Captain. You and Lucy pair up and hang outside in your car. Mr. Pat and I will do the same. In case they get in a car, we can follow them. Larry and Harry will be inside Ernie’s at six-thirty, and Farns and Charles, at the suite hotel. Works for you?” I asked, looking at the captain.
“Works for me. Has anyone called Angela?” asked Johnson.
“Yes, I did. She’s ready,” Agnes replied. “I also called Larry and Harry. They’ll be here at five-thirty to get briefed.”
There was something I wanted Agnes to check on, but for the life of me, I was drawing a blank. She noticed the confused look on my face.
“Joey? What’s on your mind?”
I slapped my hands, “Got it! I want you to check up on the two uniforms that were first, on a couple of the murder scenes, officer Sanchez and Edwards. The captain can get the full names.”
She looked surprised. “You want me to do a full 'cybernoscopy'?”
I loved that word! That was Lucy’s term for doing a complete search, whether legal or not, about a subject. “Yes, please. Just start with where they’ve been before New York. Pay attention to the locations of the other serial murders. Do that for now, then we’ll see.”
“On it, boss.”
Lucy came over to me, and asked, “I haven’t seen your sweet brother, Father Dom, where’s he, at? He would love to be involved in this.”
“I know, El Padre is at a parish retreat designed for couples. He’s stuck in a Holiday Inn somewhere.”
The captain abruptly cut in. “Okay everyone, we’re all set. Keep your fingers crossed.”
Lucy and the captain left the office. I had about an hour before our duo of inconspicuous PIs arrived for their briefing. That brought me time to touch base with Marcy. I promised her that I’d call and inquire about her firearms dry-run test at the range.
Marcy answered, “Hi, Joey. How’s your day?”
I sat back and put my legs up on the conference table. “My day just got exciting. But, I called to hear about your day, not mine. Tell me, how did it go at the range?”
She sighed, “Wow, Tony worked my ass off—”
I interrupted, “Excuse me?”
“You’re such a pervert, Mancuso, he—”
I interrupted again, “Perhaps, but that’s an interesting choice of words, considering the case I’m involved in. Go on, sorry I interrupted.”
“I was going to say; he put me through the entire test, all phases; short arms, long arms, the works. I think I’m ready.”
“I don’t want to rain on your parade, but I was hoping to hear, I know I’m ready, as opposed to I think. You know what they say: if you think, you don’t know. Which is the hardest part? I’m guessing the shotgun, right?”
“It has been because of the pumping action required, but, I was still able to do it in the time allotted. My right arm is killing me though.”
“It’s easy for me to say this, but I think you should wait a couple more weeks before taking the test.”
“You’ve said that. I’m just anxious to get back to work. I can’t stand sitting on my ass. It’s been almost a month.”
“Fine, you’re a better judge than I am. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Is Special Tony there now?”
“No, he dropped me off about two hours ago. He said he had a date tonight.”
“A date? Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Can I stop you?”
“No, but I’m serious. Is he still coming on to you? I know you’ve said he'd asked you out a few times.”
There was silence, no reply.
“Marcy?”
“No, he doesn’t stop asking. And, frankly, it’s bothering me a whole lot. If it weren’t for the fact he’s been helping me on the range … ” her voice trailed off.
“Has he been rude about it?”
“I don’t know about rude, but he assumes that there is a relationship that doesn’t exist. He’s like possessive about me. He even asks about my relationship with you.”
“I told you from the get-go that this guy is an asshole. I don’t like him one bit, and it has nothing to do with you. He’s too fucking perfect.”
“Listen, the sooner I get back to work, the better. I’ll be done with him at that point, and, for your peace of mind, I’m not partnering up with him. I can assure you of that.”
“Marcy, I’ve got to get ready for a little sting at Ernie’s bar we have planned for tonight. I’ll share more tomorrow with you. I did want to alert you that one of the similarities all of our victims have—and don’t be alarmed—is that they all physically look like you.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m afraid it’s true.”
“What are you saying?”
“All I’m saying is, I want you to be aware of your surroundings. The other similarity is that our vics are all in some form of law-enforcement-related work.”
“That’s freaky. At least I’m not socializing out there.”
“I’m glad to hear that, for more than just that reason.”
“By the way, I’ll be visiting my parents in Jersey for a few days. Mom’s birthday is coming up. I think my brother wanted to take the family for a couple of days upstate.”
“Sounds wonderful. I’ll call you. Say hi to the family. When is this trip happening?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Great, have a wonderful time. I love you, Marcy,” I said, again hoping for a like response.
There’s was a momentary silence, then I heard a faint, “Me, too.” And the line went dead.
I closed my eyes, sat back, and smiled at her response. Even though she had said it in a low and very timid voice, I heard it loud and clear, as if she had shouted it from the top of the Empire State Building down to the sidewalk. I had made up my mind right then and there, and for the third time in our relationship, to bring up the marriage. This short period we had been apart convinced me. I was hoping it also assured her that we belonged together. I mean, all I did during the day was long to be with her. And it was not just our sex life, which was great and exciting. No, it was my need to be with her. We just enjoyed each other’s company, even if we were just sitting together at a movie and occasionally rubbed arms. I needed to be in her space. End of story.
I was relaxing at the conference table with my legs on top of the conference table when Larry and Harry walked into the office. While I was dealing with the maddening tingling sensation that comes with your legs falling asleep, I was trying to figure out who was who. It’s like walking into an accountant’s office with twenty identical-looking accountants lined up in twenty identical cubicles. That’s equall
y maddening.
Grunting, I said, “Hi guys, I need to brief you on our operation, have a seat, please. First off, Larry—”
“Yes?”
It was very fortunate that the guy on the left answered. While I proceeded to explain Larry’s role and then repeated the process for Harry, there was one thought that niggled in the back of my mind: whether or not we could successfully pull this off and finally nab our perp.
16
The surveillance mission, was on. I was genuinely hoping this guy who contacted Angela’s Facebook page was our perp. It was a long shot though. How lucky could we get?
We sat and waited. I wasn’t comfortable wearing this crap in my ear. It felt like it weighed a pound, and I had this picture in my mind that my ear was drooping down from its weight. I thought of those photos in National Geographic of people from African tribes who wore big ass earrings in the lobes of their ears, the size of a fifty-cent coin. I turned to my left and looked at Mr. Pat. He was sitting in the driver’s seat wearing the same Bluetooth earpiece. His, however, seemed miniscule—natural, even— against his large face covered with his bushy red beard and mustache. Of course, it also helped to be six-foot-plus.
Our surveillance was on two sides of Ernie’s’ bar. We were parked on 9th Avenue, a one-way street heading south, about one-half block away at the corner on West 38th and 9th Avenues by Il Punto Italian Restaurant. The captain was on 38th Avenue, which is one-way going east. The idea was that we would be ready to follow Angela if she and her date got in a car.
We had a perfect view of the bar even though it was dark outside. Patrick’s eyes were fixed on the front entrance of Ernie’s. Without looking at me, he asked, “What’s bothering you?”
“This shit on my ears,” I replied, ripping it off.
“After a while, it’s like wearing an earring. You don’t feel it. Put it on, laddie. You need to be connected.”
“I don’t wear fucking earrings, do you?”
Patrick turned his face to look at me, and in a severe tone, replied in his Irish brogue, “Only when I wear high heels, but, don’t tell anyone.”