The Blood Runs Cold

by Catherine Maiorisi

  “I’ll take this one, Parker.”

  They entered the room but Snape seemed not to notice. He continued to walk and touch, walk and touch. Corelli moved into his path. He stopped short, stepped back, and looked up at her. He wasn’t as old as he’d seemed, but up close he smelled musty and his skin was dry and flaky.

  “Please have a seat, Mr. Snapes.”

  “It’s Snape, one Snape, like snake.”

  Corelli stepped to the table. A little small talk might calm him. “Interesting name. Where does it come from?”

  “It come from Mississippi with me.”

  Not a great thinker, our Mr. Snape. “I meant originally.”

  “Snape ain’t nothin’ but American.”

  So much for small talk. “Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Snape?”

  He glanced at Parker, then Corelli. “You faggot lovers always chasing me ’cause I try to save the faggots souls.”

  Corelli sat. “Detective Parker, please help Mr. Snape into a chair.”

  He didn’t fight Parker when she took his elbow and escorted him to the table. Once he was seated he opened the black book he was holding.

  Corelli waited for Parker to sit. “Mr. Snape?” His head popped up. “Your signs say ‘Death to Homos’ and ‘God Wants Faggots Dead.’ That doesn’t sound like saving souls to me. Isn’t God about love? Why would God want you to kill people you don’t even know?”

  “God has called me to set things right in his name. God says, ‘Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable.’ Leviticus 18:22.”

  Burke was right about unchristian Christians. “How many homosexuals have you killed?”

  He stared into space as if he hadn’t heard.

  “Did you know Leonardo del Balzo?”

  “Yes. The faggot is dead. ‘If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads.’ Leviticus 20:13.”

  “How did you kill Mr. del Balzo?”

  “The homos are bringing God’s wrath down on all of us. They must be punished.”

  “Do you pray with a rosary?”

  “Papist idolatry.”

  “Did you kill Spencer Nickerson, Nardo del Balzo, and Margaret Lerner?”

  “They’re everywhere. They haunt me.”

  “Why did you murder them?”

  “‘Because of this, God gave them over to their own shameful lusts. Even their women exchanging natural relations for unnatural ones. In the same way the men also abandoned natural relations with women and were inflamed with lust for one another. Men committed indecent acts with other men and received themselves the penalty for their perversion.’ Romans 1:26-27.”

  “What about Luther Phelps or Fred Wilpersett? Did they murder them?”

  “They are abominations. God commanded us to save them.”

  Corelli stood. “Let’s go, Parker.”

  They walked to Dietz’s desk. “Hold him. Check his record in Mississippi. Circulate his picture in the victims’ neighborhoods, get a search warrant and see if the gun turns up or the rosaries or anything that links him to the killings. But to be honest, I can’t see any of the victims inviting Snape into their homes for cheese and crackers, much less getting close enough for him to shoot them in the back of the head.”

  He nodded as he jotted down her instructions. “They lost Fred Wilpersett.”

  “Lost him?”

  “Yeah, he asked to use the bathroom before leaving and went out the window onto the roof. They’re still searching.”

  Parker cleared her throat. “Shouldn’t we check to see if Snape made the threatening calls?”

  “Good point. Add that to your list, Dietz.”

  Dietz made a note. “Speaking of phone calls, Parker, you get together with that guy says he’s your daddy?”

  “It’s none of your business, Dietz. I told you to forget it.” Her voice was loud and hard, and she moved toward him fists ready at her side.

  Corelli clasped Parker’s shoulder, hoping to end the scene before it began. Parker tried to shrug off her hand but Corelli held tight.

  Dietz put his hands out, palms up. “C’mon, Parker, just raggin’ you.”

  Corelli heard Parker suck in air and felt her shoulders drop. Then it was over. She nodded to Dietz and steered Parker to the conference room.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Monday – 10:30 a.m.

  “What the hell was that about?”

  “I don’t like people poking in my business, that’s all,” Parker said, lowering her eyes.

  Corelli sighed. “So is this the source of all the talk about fathers abandoning their children?”

  Parker picked at her cuticle. What do you know about not having a father; you’ve got that big Italian family. But then again, your father looks right through you, like you don’t exist. Like the Senator did to me.

  Corelli probably wouldn’t let it go. And she could easily get the details from Dietz. Might as well control the narrative. “Yeah, I guess. This guy Randall Young saw my picture on the front page of the Daily World after the Toricelli thing. Anyway, he showed up the other day and left a message with Dietz saying he thinks he’s my father.”

  “What does Senator Daddy have to say about this?”

  There was no sarcasm or nastiness in the question, just a request for information. The other would have been easier to handle. Tell or don’t tell?

  Parker shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “And you believe this Randall Young? A guy who walks off the street and says he’s your father. Jesus, Parker, you don’t think you should discuss this with your father? Or, at least your mother?”

  “It’s not Dietz’s business. And it’s not yours either, Corelli.”

  Corelli’s voice was hard. “It is my goddamn business when it interferes with your doing your job, which, I might remind you, is to keep me alive. Mooning around about fathers like you’ve been these last few days and being so on edge you want to slug somebody, is distracting you from the case as well.”

  Parker turned, her voice accusing and angry. “Look who’s talking about being on edge. Don’t tell me you haven’t studied my file looking for ways to dig into me? You’ve done nothing but harass me since day one.”

  Corelli stood stock-still, staring at Parker. “I make my own decisions about people. I’ve never opened your file so if there’s something in there I should know please let me in on the secret.”

  “Why the fuck should I tell you anything. You’ll just use it against me.”

  “Because we’re partners, that’s why.”

  “Partners? You treat me like I’m an annoying insect that’s bothering you.”

  Corelli grinned. “Well, I’m just taming you and training you to obey me.”

  “Partners are equals.”

  “Yes but one partner has to be more equal than the other, especially in the beginning.”

  “You are one fucking fucked-up bitch, Corelli.”

  “Ah, I see I’ve finally managed to cut through your shit. Now tell me why you haven’t spoken to Senator Daddy, or your mom about this guy.”

  Parker squirmed under the intensity of Corelli’s stare. She looked away. Was she ready to share the story of her life with this strange woman? Maybe. After all, not only had Corelli invited her into her family, she also trusted her with her life every day.

  Parker looked Corelli in the eye. “Senator Daddy is my uncle, my mother…Anyway, he and my aunt adopted me when I was about seven. I don’t remember my mother and I was led to believe no one knew who my father was.”

  “Well, I’m happy for you. I mean, that the senator is not your father. I’m just sorry you had to grow up with him. Have you checked this Young guy out?”

  Understanding. Not the taunts Parker expected. She relaxed. “I met him at Hattie’s last night. Jessie was there in case he turned out to be a nut.”

  “And?”

 
“He seems all right. He said except for the hairstyle, I could be Tasha, the girl he got pregnant and would have married when he got back from boot camp if she hadn’t disappeared. He had some pictures of a young girl who looked exactly like me and he sounded like he was telling the truth, so Jesse and I went and found my grandmother.”

  Parker hesitated, not sure how much to reveal, not sure if it would turn Corelli off. Then Parker realized Corelli hadn’t read her file because she didn’t want to be influenced by other people’s opinions, and there was no way Corelli would judge her for her grandmother’s behavior.

  “She’s a drunk, has been as long as I remember. I haven’t seen her since I went to live with the senator. She’s living in some shithole in the Bronx. She thought I was my mother, called me Tasha. Turns out she had three boxes of my mother’s stuff and never once mentioned them when I was growing up and asking about my mother.” Her voice caught.

  “What about Randall Young?”

  “My grandmother’s drunken jabbering confirmed what he said. And it looks like a younger him in the pictures.” Parker removed the envelope from her pocket and handed it to Corelli.

  Corelli studied the four pictures contained in the envelope. “She does look exactly like a younger you. And he resembles the boy?”

  “Yeah, older, heavier, but you could see the boy in him. I didn’t have time to go through her stuff, but there were letters to her from him so he’s probably telling the truth. He asked if I would do a DNA test.”

  “And?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure I need a father now.”

  “Might be nice to know, especially since I gather you and Senator Daddy aren’t close.”

  Parker shrugged. “I’ve done all right without him. What if I don’t like him? And he has two daughters, one’s a lesbian.”

  Corelli laughed. “You mind having a lesbian half-sister? How did that come up, anyway?”

  Parker felt sheepish. “You know, seeing how families feel about their gay and lesbian kids made me think. I asked him how he would feel if I was a lesbian, just to get his reaction, to learn something about him.”

  “And?”

  “He told me about his other daughters and said he just wanted his kids to be healthy and happy.”

  “He passed the first test so why not do the DNA test and be sure?”

  Parker looked down. “I’m thinking.”

  “Take your time. There’s no need to rush into anything after all these years. Are you all right, Parker?”

  Parker considered. Yes, she was okay and she felt relaxed with Corelli in a way she hadn’t before. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Good. And, speaking about parents dealing with gay children, let’s pick up Simone and Nicky and go to Brooklyn. I might as well face Patrizia and get it over with.” Corelli made a face when she mentioned her oldest sister.

  Parker had seen Corelli’s older sister in action so she was sympathetic to Corelli’s desire to avoid an attack by her. Not only did Patrizia feel that being a cop wasn’t a proper job for a woman, she felt a woman’s only job was to have children and to spend her life serving her husband and their offspring as she did, and their ancestors had done for centuries. Corelli was the rogue in the family, and therefore, responsible for any disturbance of the family tradition. Corelli was a lesbian, ergo, Patrizia would hold her responsible for Nicky being gay.

  Corelli appeared exhausted and Parker wasn’t sure Corelli had the strength to stand up to an attack today. Parker knew Patrizia would not air family problems in front of her, a virtual stranger, so she felt comfortable taking Nicky home to get his things without Corelli. “I could drive them myself if you want to stay here and work.”

  Corelli didn’t hesitate. Parker knew she’d promised Nicky she would be there to support him, and no matter what she was feeling, his needs would take precedence over hers. Besides, she’d mentioned earlier that she feared Patrizia would try to bully Nicky into staying home and given the situation, she couldn’t let that happen. “Thanks, but I need to be there to support Nicky,” Corelli said. “Let’s go pick them up.”

  Nicky talked nonstop and fidgeted during the drive out to Bensonhurst. Everyone else was quiet, spaced out, letting him fill the car with his chatter but not attempting to engage. As they pulled up in front of his house, Corelli turned to face him. “Nicky, I think we should wait to tell your mother about your being gay. I don’t have the time to deal with her today and I want to be there to support you for as long as necessary when you do tell her. How about we pick up your stuff and tell her the three of us are going to hang out this week?”

  The look on his face said it all, but he gave a casual, if that’s how you want it shrug. “Sure, no problem,” he said, as if he was doing her a favor.

  To everybody’s relief, Patrizia was out. Nicky rushed about gathering his books and notebooks and throwing clothes into a small bag. He wrote a note and tossed it on the table. “Let’s get out of here before my mom gets back and we have to answer a thousand questions.”

  They picked up Simone’s things and stopped at the restaurant so she could tell her parents she and Nicky were spending the week with Corelli. After fifteen minutes, Corelli was fuming. “Go drag her out, Nick.” But before he could respond, Simone staggered out of the restaurant weighed down by two huge shopping bags.

  Nicky jumped out and helped Simone into the car.

  “Okay, Parker, let’s go,” Corelli said. She turned to Simone. “I guess they’re afraid I’ll starve the two of you.”

  “That’s not it,” Simone said. “You know Mama always sends all your favorites.”

  Her father’s rejection was bad enough, but it pained her that her mother followed his lead blindly, acted as if she wasn’t a person in her own right, never voiced her own opinion, and resorted to using food to show her love. If ever Corelli doubted her commitment to her career and a non-traditional relationship, she reminded herself of her mother’s subservient second-class status. Her parents worked as equals in the restaurant, but at home her mother catered to her husband’s every need or whim and served him like a slave. It irked her to see her mother jump at his every command. “Get me a glass of water, get me wine, cut my meat, get me the salt.” She knew at an early age, even before she knew she was a lesbian, that catering to a man was not for her. Later, of course, Gianna and Marco had demonstrated that marriage did not have to be like that.

  Conversation was more animated as they drove back, probably the relief of not having to deal with Patrizia. Corelli’s phone rang.

  “We’ve got Fred Wilpersett,” Dietz said. “He’s dying to meet you two.”

  “Then he won’t mind waiting a little longer. After we get the kids settled we’ll come in.”

  An hour and a half later, with Simone and Nicky safely ensconced in her apartment, they headed back to interview Fred Wilpersett.

  “How do you think Patrizia will react when she hears Nicky is gay?”

  Corelli snorted. “Badly. Very badly. She’s one of those people who makes everything about her. You know, how could you do this to me? As if the kid had a choice or set out to be different. Maybe it comes from being the second child, when the first is adored by everyone.”

  “I thought she was the oldest,” Parker said.

  “Our brother Luca was older. He was handsome, smart, and kind. Everyone adored him. Patrizia was a year and a half younger, but old before her time, like you see her now. She craved attention and got it by being the antithesis of Luca—whiny, rigid, mean-spirited, and controlling.”

  “Luca was a mafia hit, right?”

  Corelli hesitated. She trusted Parker with her life. Why keep her family history secret?

  Sensitive, as always, Parker picked up her hesitation. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

  Corelli opted to trust. “He was killed by a bullet through each eye, mafia style, when he was nineteen. For years I blamed Toricelli but I recently found out it was a dirty cop and not the mafia. Luca wa
s collateral damage, an innocent bystander who saw something he shouldn’t have.”

  “Sorry,” Parker said.

  “Thanks. It was a long time ago.”

  “Poor Nicky, having to face Patrizia.”

  “Yeah. Patrizia is tough. But she loves Nicky and I don’t think she’ll chance losing him. She’ll bounce back after the initial shock. Nicky’s father, Joseph, may have a harder time with it, but if the rest of the family backs Nicky, he should be fine.”

  “I hope so. He seems like a good kid.”

  Chapter Forty

  Monday – 2:30 p.m.

  Before entering the interview room to interrogate the religious fanatic who had gone out a bathroom window to avoid being questioned by the police, Corelli and Parker observed him through the two-way mirror.

  Gawky, with pointy rat-like features, Fred Wilpersett was younger and not agitated like his roommate Orrin Snape, but he had that same clean, down-at-the-heels, underfed look as Snape. As they watched, Wilpersett removed his wallet from the back pocket of his pants and counted the bills, raising a question in Parker’s mind. “It looks like these fanatics don’t spend much on food and their clothes appear to come from a charity bin, but even apartments in run-down neighborhoods like theirs are expensive in New York City, as are utilities and transportation. How do they support themselves?”

  Corelli glanced at her. “According to Dietz, one of the hate-mongering churches funds them.”

  They observed him for a few minutes more. At first glance he appeared relaxed but his eyes flicking to the two-way mirror and his leg beating a steady rhythm, telegraphed his tension. Parker tried to fathom why Wilpersett was so filled with hatred for gays and lesbians, but there was nothing she could see; he looked normal. Well, relatively normal.

  “What do you think, Parker?”

  “I can’t see him being invited in for wine and cheese.”