Blood Runs Cold

by Catherine Maiorisi

  A fresh-faced, curly-red-haired young woman who looked like her breakfast was reversing its course and Gerri Murray, the WNYN camerawoman, remained where they were, against the iron picket fence. Murray, nicknamed Bear because of her size and her reputation for growling and snapping, looked more like a shaggy brown mama bear today, one arm around the young woman’s shoulder, a hand holding the young woman’s hand, speaking into her ear. Interesting.

  Parker slid into the car.

  “You okay?’ Corelli asked, trying to head off Parker’s scrutiny.

  “Whoa, what’s all that blood? Somebody cut you?”

  “A bloody nose. I’m a little shaken, but fine.” She dabbed her nose with a clean tissue and showed it to Parker. “See, no blood.”

  “Who did it?” Parker said, looking ready to kill.

  “Hard to tell. But really, I’m fine. Relax, it’s not your fault.”

  “All that noise and the flashbulbs, did you have a flashback?”

  “No,” she lied, not wanting Parker on her case. “They pressed in on me, making it hard to breath.”

  “Jesus, they tore your shirt and jacket.”

  Corelli lowered the window to speak to her guardian angel, still standing next to the car. She cleared her throat. “Officer.” The young blond, crew-cut officer who had been standing at the del Balzo’s door got down on his knees so she could see him. “Good work.”

  “Sorry about this mess, ma’am. Are you okay?”

  “Fine. Thanks to you. Remind me of your name, please.”

  He straightened his shoulders. “Officer Jamie Twilliger.”

  “I’ll remember, Twilliger. Who’s the other officer who helped you with the crowd?”

  “Mallory. The duty sergeant. This is my first day on the job and he told me he would come by to see how I was doing. He musta come after the riot started.”

  Actually, she had seen him pull up just before she ran down the steps.

  Twilliger glanced at the patrol car. “I think he’s upset with those three.”

  “Would you retrieve my bag? It’s there.” She pointed. “And then tell that reporter by the fence I want to talk to her.” Maybe Captain Winfry was right. Throw them a little something to distract them. Maybe a one-on-one with a TV reporter would do it. “And when Mallory is finished, ask him to come here.”

  Twilliger returned with her bag, spoke to Bear and headed back to his post. The camerawoman stomped to the car, fists at her side, lips tight. “Leave the kid alone, Corelli. She wasn’t involved. In fact, this is her first time out and the whole scene scared the shit out of her. Child can’t stop shaking.”

  “Me either. Bring her over, Murray.”

  Murray frowned.

  “Come on. You know my report card always says, ‘plays well with others.’”

  “Yeah, and it always says, ‘excels at kicking ass’ too.”

  “I promise I won’t hurt her.”

  “Don’t even think about it.” Murray waved the young woman over.

  “Detective Corelli, Darla North, WNYN’s newest reporter. Darla, this is the fabulous, incredible, infamous, Detective Chiara Corelli and her associate, Detective P.J. Parker.”

  The girl was pearly white and still shaking.

  “Relax. I don’t bite. Well sometimes I do, right Parker? But I’m not going to bite you, Darla.”

  “Sorry. I’m just overwhelmed. I’ve never seen anything like that, the way those reporters attacked you.”

  “I’m a little overwhelmed myself. I’d like to talk to you without my press entourage, get to know you a bit. Are you available for lunch?” She smirked. “I mean, have lunch with us, not be our lunch.”

  “Very funny, Corelli,” Bear said.

  “Parker and I will be eating at Café Buonasola at the South Street Seaport. You’re both welcome to join us—off the record, of course.”

  Darla looked at Murray. The camerawoman nodded. “That would be wonderful, Detective Corelli.”

  “What’s your cell number? We’ll call you when we know about what time we’ll be there. If we’re not there when you arrive, tell the maitre d’ that you’re waiting for me. See you then. Make sure you’re not followed. And don’t waste your time following us now. I’m not giving anything.”

  “Thanks,” Murray said. “Let’s go, Darla.”

  “Wait. May we take a few frames of those bloody tissues?” Darla tipped her head toward the dashboard. “And your bloody shirt? It would be great if you could step out of the car and hold the tissues to your nose.”

  Corelli hesitated. “Sure, why not. Not too long, though.”

  Mallory strolled over as the reporters walked away. He was frowning. “They bothering you?”

  “Not them. I asked them to come over.”

  He nodded. “Sorry about this morning. It won’t happen again. Not on my watch. And I’ll make sure every shift change understands the rules.”

  “What you do with those three is your business. But Twilliger saved my life. I’ll write something for his file about him taking the initiative this morning. I hope you’ll do the same. And thank you for your help as well.”

  “It shouldn’t have happened. You let me know if any of my guys gives you any trouble,” Mallory said, and headed for Twilliger who was back at his post on top of the steps.

  Parker started the car. “This is getting really bad. I tried to stay close, keep them away. If it wasn’t for that uniform, they would have crushed you. Can we get a restraining order or something? I mean somebody’s going to get hurt if this keeps up.”

  “You need a course in arm flapping, Parker.”

  “I,” she frowned, took in the amusement on Corelli’s face, then glanced at the young officer now back to his post. “It would help to have arms like airplane wings. What is he? About six-five? Maybe I can get myself stretched.”

  Ah, Parker, finally you get a joke and joke back.

  Corelli laughed. “If those three goons had been doing their job and keeping the crowd back, it wouldn’t have happened. Let’s go before the piranhas get curious.”

  As Parker pulled away, Corelli looked back. “Mallory blocked the street with his car. Let’s go to my apartment so I can wash up and change out of these clothes.”

  “You’re going to talk to that reporter?”

  “We’ll see how it goes later.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thursday – 11 a.m.

  Corelli called Rosina Frascetti to let her know they were stopping by for the names of everyone at the dinner the ambassador had attended the night his son was murdered. Frascetti directed them to the Swedish delegation, which had hosted the meeting. The list of well over a hundred names included the lead representative, multiple subordinates and staff people from twenty delegations, plus the doorman, waiters, and other worker-bees. After interviewing three Swedes, none of whom could say when del Balzo left the dinner, she folded and pocketed the list. “Let’s go to lunch, Parker. Following up with all these people is going to take a lot more time than we have. I’ll have Dietz assign a team to do the interviews.”

  The maitre d’ at Buonasola had seated the reporter and the camerawoman at Corelli’s favorite table out on the deck. They were facing the water, leaving Corelli and Parker their usual places facing the door. Once greetings were over and they had ordered, all eyes settled on Corelli.

  “Is this where you hang out?” Murray said.

  “The fact that you’re here is a privilege, Bear.” She smiled at the two women. “I have faith that you’ll both respect our privacy and erase it from your memories the minute you leave.”

  Bear sipped her iced tea. “Since when do you trust anyone in the media?”

  “My trust is limited to present company. Thus, the request for privacy.”

  The waiter arrived with their food. After a few bites, Corelli noticed Darla was just pushing her salad around on the plate. Must be too nervous to eat.

  “So, Ms. North, you must be wondering why I asked you
to lunch?”

  Darla nodded, cleared her throat. “Call me Darla, please.” She raised her eyes to meet Corelli’s. “And, yes, I am curious. I gather it’s not every day the reclusive Detective Corelli invites a reporter to lunch.”

  “I think we can help each other.”

  Darla shifted in her seat, glanced at Bear, then Parker. She sat up straighter and glared. “Let’s get one thing straight, Detective. I report the truth as I see it. So if you think I’m so desperate for a story that you can use me, forget it. Let’s go, Bear.” She threw two twenties on the table and pushed her chair back. “By the way, by the time you noticed me shaking and cowering this morning, we had already taped a segment. Catch it on WNYN’s six o’clock news.”

  Ah, she liked women with backbone. She touched Darla’s arm. “I’m not interested in using you or anybody. That’s not how I work. But I think our needs might coincide.”

  “What did you tape?” Parker asked.

  Darla sat. “The feeding frenzy, with all the other reporters looking like wild beasts. Our producer was very happy. It was only after we taped it that I fell apart. Right, Bear?”

  Bear beamed like a proud mama. Her baby had stood up to the ferocious Corelli. “Damn right. Damn good work,” she said, then went back to her steak.

  Darla picked up her fork. “I’m listening.”

  “Has Bear filled you in on my background?”

  “I did a little research after we talked. I know a little about your career, about your serving in Iraq and Afghanistan, and a lot about your undercover assignment and the aftermath.”

  “Good. As you witnessed this morning, the media is stalking me. And I think it’s going to get worse because of the del Balzo case. So I want to give you an exclusive now, and depending on how that goes, maybe other interviews later.”

  “Why me? Do you think you can manipulate me?”

  Corelli thought for a moment. “When I saw the look on your face this morning, I knew you had empathy, that you understood what the quarry feels like, that you couldn’t bring yourself to act like a rabid dog. I sensed strength and integrity, and I felt I could trust you to be fair and honest. You just confirmed the strength.”

  “You got all that from seeing me cowering like a frightened baby.”

  “You don’t survive patrol in Iraq and Afghanistan or being undercover investigating cops if you can’t read people and situations quickly.” Corelli put her hand on Darla’s arm. “You might have felt like a baby, but that’s not what I saw. I’m not comparing the two situations, but you reminded me of soldiers when they first arrive in Iraq and see the horrors they have to deal with. It’s hard to take it in. Want to think about it?”

  Darla glanced at Corelli’s hand, then at Murray and Parker. She smiled. “Are you kidding? I just need a little time to prepare. Can we do something for the ten o’clock news tonight?”

  “Great. But let’s set some ground rules. First, nothing personal, nothing about my family, nothing about my love life, real or imagined. Second, I won’t answer questions about the del Balzo case so you can ask, but unless it’s something I want to get out there, I won’t comment. Third, we limit it to five minutes or less.”

  “Okay, how about this? I clear any questions about your family before we begin to tape and you decide whether we include them. Everything else is up for grabs, including any previous cases and the undercover assignment.”

  “That’s fair. Except I can’t give you too many actual details about the undercover work.”

  “I’m more interested in your feelings than the details.”

  “You can ask, but I may not answer.”

  “How about a series of three- to five-minute sketches over the next week or two? And you give me a heads-up on anything that’s breaking on the del Balzo case.”

  “The series is fine but no promises on del Balzo. We’ll have to see how things unfold. Do we have a deal?”

  Darla’s eyes were shining as she extended her hand. “Deal.”

  “I’m depending on you, Darla.”

  “Unless you’re trying to use me, you’ll be happy. I promise. You want to come to WNYN for the taping?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “The police station? Your apartment?”

  “Someplace neutral. Give me a second.” As she picked up her cell phone she directed a question to Bear. “Downtown Brooklyn, Atlantic Avenue near Court Street okay for you?”

  “Sure.”

  “If my friend doesn’t object, I’ll use her office.” She pressed the speed dial number for her friend, private investigator Tess Cantrell. “Tess, can I use your office tonight for a TV interview?” She looked at Darla. “What time?”

  Darla checked her watch. “We’ll go back now and do the background. Seven?”

  “Seven. See you.” Corelli closed her phone. “Parker, give them Tess Cantrell’s address.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Thursday – 2:30 p.m.

  They went to the conference room. Corelli gathered the reports that had come in since the morning meeting and handed half to Parker. Detective Joey Forlini’s report caught her eye as she thumbed through her pile. Forlini had managed to catch up with two more of Nardo’s neighbors. The man directly across the street said he went to check the door and window locks before going to bed at eleven thirty and noticed a tall man dressed in black ringing the bell. Didn’t see much since the man was wearing a hat and facing Nardo’s door, but he had a lit cigarette. The door opened and a bare-chested Nardo hugged the man and let him in.

  She handed the report to Parker. “Could be Leonardo was the tall man. On the other hand, it doesn’t sound like father and son were on hugging terms.” She shuffled through some reports and scanned the list of items forensics took from the scene. “The tall man had a lit cigarette when he went in but the forensics’ list doesn’t mention a butt in the apartment or outside. He must have flushed it or taken it with him.”

  She picked up Forlini’s second report. The other neighbor, an older woman two doors down across the street from Nardo’s apartment, noticed a young man sitting on her step watching Nardo’s door. She had seen him on her step two or three times before. Last week she’d mentioned him to Nardo and he’d asked her to call him if she saw the guy again. So she did. She thought it was about ten thirty but Forlini was checking her phone records. Said the guy was slender, young, with straight chin-length dark hair, and she’s pretty sure he wore glasses. After she talked to Nardo, he came out and called to the young man. They both went in the house. Nardo was bare-chested.

  Corelli sat back. “Parker, look at this one.”

  “This sounds like what’s his name, the teary guy from the delegation,” Parker said, stretching.

  “Ginocchioni. That’s what I thought. Maybe he was crying when we interviewed him because he killed Nardo. He hasn’t been in the office today and doesn’t pick up his phone. How about we go to his apartment about six tomorrow morning and bring him in?”

  “Nothing I’d rather do then get up at five and confront the little twerp.”

  And no problem for me since I never sleep. Corelli picked up another report.

  Darla, Bear, and Tess were chatting like old buddies when she and Parker arrived. Corelli glared at them. “Nice. I turn my back and find you three schmoozing and talking about me. What did you tell her, Tess?”

  Tess Cantrell laughed. “Watch out for her, Corelli. She’s wicked, made me tell all your dirty secrets.”

  “Quick, Bear, get her on film.” Darla giggled. “I want that evil look for the lead-in. Hey, you didn’t say friends were off limits.”

  “I should have. Arrest them, Parker.”

  “What?” Parker tensed. Then, taking in the smiles, she realized it was a joke, and relaxed. “Okay, hands behind your backs.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Darla said, “but y’all made a bargain with the devil so we’d better do the interview first.”

  “And you’d better double check everything Te
ss told you. PI’s are disreputable liars.”

  Bear stood. “All right kiddies, playtime is over. If we’re gonna air this at ten, we need to get started.”

  Corelli looked around. “Where do you want me?”

  “That chair,” Bear said, pointing to an easy chair positioned in front of the bookcases, next to a small table with a large arrangement of flowers.

  “Thanks for the flowers, Tess.”

  “Thank WNYN,” Tess said.

  Bear studied Corelli. “Your cheek is purple, your nose is swollen, and your eye is black.”

  Corelli gingerly touched her face. “Can you cover it?”

  Darla lifted Corelli’s chin and eyed the bruises from several perspectives. “We’ll be leading with the attack on you so I’d rather not cover the bruises. Unless you’re self-conscious.”

  “I’m fine with leaving it.”

  Bear adjusted the lighting and checked various camera angles to get the best shot, while Darla fussed over Corelli, arranging her collar, straightening her jacket, and clipping on a mike. Finally, Darla sat facing Corelli. “We’re going to go right into the question and answers, Detective Corelli. Bear and I will edit and fill in the intro and anything else we need back at the studio. All right?”

  “Yes, but I thought we’d agreed you could call me Chiara?”

  “I’ll be more formal on camera.” Darla addressed Parker and Tess. “If you want to stay, you need to be quiet. No comments, no giggling, no noise, or you’ll ruin the take.” She adjusted her clothes, turned to face Corelli, and nodded at Bear.

  “Good evening. I’m Darla North and my guest this evening is Detective Chiara Corelli.” Darla smiled. “It is truly my pleasure to meet you, Detective Corelli, I’ve heard so much about you.” Her voice was strong and tinged with hints of the south.

  Corelli smiled. “I’m sure you have, Ms. North.”

  “Detective Corelli, I understand you are currently leading the investigation into the murder of the son of Ambassador Leonardo del Balzo. Given that the ambassador is considered the likely successor to the current Prime Minister of Italy, I imagine this is a very sensitive case with a high priority.”