by Ann Marie
‘The stereo should be on’, Bernie thought to himself. Perhaps if there were some noise, there would be less thinking. Bernie put on some music. He turned it up a bit too loud. He needed to drown out his own thoughts. He went to his bathroom, attached to the far end of the bedroom. He sat on the side of the tub and started the water. Feeling the temperature of the water with his fingers, he closes his eyes and started to relax. Bernie stood and once again tried the buttons of his shirt. He managed the first and then the second. He stopped and dropped his hands to his sides. He felt a sensation of being watched. He did not want to turn around. If he did not move maybe...
Slowly he moved his eyes, without moving his head. He could see into the mirror above his sink. In the doorway stood the same reflection that glared at him in the cab window; towering, dominating Bernie’s bathroom without actually being in it. ‘He knows I know he’s there’ Bernie thought to himself, ‘I am going to die.’
With his large hands flexing by his sides, he took a step in Bernie’s direction. Bernie turned to face his predator. “What? What?” Bernie cried. “What is it you want, please, just tell me.” Another step in Bernie’s direction, his eyes dropped to what lay between his legs. With another step the man was standing almost on top of Bernie. Bernie tried to back away but the wall beside the tub was his only retreat. The man grabbed hold of Bernie’s shirt and ripped it off of his body with ease.
His anger had reached its peak. He could not contain it any longer. This body, this thing he had pinned in a corner, wasn’t worth his time. It aggravated him that he even needed to be in this house. With unnoticed speed, his left hand wrapped around Bernie’s genitalia. With a straight blade and a firm grip, he ripped it from Bernie’s body.
“Ohanoo...” Bernie cried as he slid down the wall to his side. He curled himself into a tight fetal position. “Whyeeee...”
“This!” The man held up his prize, held it out over Bernie, so he could see. Blood dripped from the lifeless organ. Blood dripped onto Bernie’s tear drenched face.
“With this, you...” He stopped himself and bent down to look Bernie in the face. “How did she make you feel? She must be some woman to squeeze a baby outta this.” He shook the flesh at Bernie.
“Baby? What are you talking about? I never touched any woman.” Bernie was whimpering. Bubbles of spit were forming at the edges of his mouth.
He looked down at Bernie confused. “The Dal Santo woman. She was pregnant, wasn’t she?
Anton...yes...not me...Joe...baby...” The stranger stood. His anger had been misspent, which seemed to start the rise again. He looked at the wad in his hand and tossed it angrily into the tub, whose water level continued to rise. He turned to the mirror above the sink.
He walked over and turned on the water. Carefully he washed his hands. Scrubbing like a surgeon to his elbows. He washed his face and neck next. Blindly he grabbed a towel hanging to the side of the sink. He dried his face and stared into the mirror. He continued to stare into the eyes that look back, as he dried his hands and arms. ‘Joe, he said Joe.’ the eyes said to him as he stared. He walked out of the bathroom, leaving Bernie to a certain death. The water had found an escape from the confines of the tub. Starting as a drip, becoming a steady flow. It touched the puddle of blood, which had grown around Bernie’s knees. Almost immediately the two intertwine and the floor of the bathroom became the color of cherry juice.
The stranger walked through Bernie’s bedroom. He scavenged through the pockets of the discarded pants, lying on the bed. A couple bucks and a visitor’s pass from the hospital. The kind you are supposed to return when you leave. He exited the room and headed for the kitchen where he rummaged through the fridge for anything. Finding nothing that pleased him, he searched the freezer as well. A small smile came to his face as he spied, on the side of the freezer door, a zip lock bag containing cash.
He exited through the back door and with Bernie’s keys in hand, locked it shut behind him. Once again outside in the fresh morning air, with the sun on his face, he felt rejuvenated. He pointed his face skyward; with his eyes closed he inhaled deeply. Back to the hospital he walked. A little further this time and his pace slower. He had to rethink, come up with a new plan. He must find this Joe.
Chapter 12
Harold Davis stopped and stared at a portrait of himself and his wife. The portrait had been taken two years before he had retired. The only professional portrait the two ever had done. They had eloped when they were teens. There were no wedding photos at all. He deeply missed her. He was not able to fill the void in his life her death had caused. Who knew someone could hold so very much of you inside of them.
Coming out of his trance, he shook his head to clear the thoughts. Entering his kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, Harold stepped into the puddle caused by the earlier mishap. Cursing to himself he looked down at his shoe. He picked up his foot and looked at the sole. There was a small hole on the sole of his shoe caused from years of wear. The cold coffee had entered the hole resulting in a wet sock. He took a deep breath and continued on his way to the coffee pot. With cup in hand he returned to his office. Again he sat back in his chair. For a moment he just sat and sipped his beverage. He became thoughtful.
Antonia Dal Santo was such a small child when he had first seen her. He had barely found her hunched back in the closet the way she was. She was so frightened, so quiet, so very quiet. This was the one thing that had stood out in his mind, year after year, day after day. Every time he found himself surrounded by silence he thought of that little girl in the closet surrounded by silence.
He looked down at the fourth and last pile in front of him. With a deep sigh he removed the photo, paper clipped to the top paper. A photo of what should have been a woman’s face. A woman with deep rich auburn hair and eyes as green as jade. A woman who could very well have made the cover of every magazine in the country, possibly the world, in Harold’s opinion. But she came from poverty. She never knew the world or imagined herself as anyone. At the age of sixteen, she had found herself married to Salvatore Dal Santo. Her own father had used her hand for payment of a loan.
Juliet never made it to her twenty fifth birthday, a victim of a savage beating. Her own husband had left her with no recognizable features. Even dental records could not prove her identity. Salvatore had punched her repeatedly until the front of her skull was nothing more than a cavern.
She had called the station that afternoon. The afternoon of her death. She called to report abuse at the hands of her husband. She had said she feared for the safety of her daughter. Harold had asked her what time her husband was expected home. He had instructed her to leave, perhaps come down to the station. Juliet had no means of transportation. The Dal Santo house was set back off the main road by about a mile. There were no markers and you could only find the place if you knew where it was or stumbled upon it accidentally. Harold did not have the man power at the time to send someone out to pick her up. He had promised to send someone out as soon as it was possible. For this Juliet had thanked him. He could hear the relief in her voice.
He should have gone for her himself. Had she mentioned the type of abuse...perhaps if she had mentioned more about her daughter...he had never forgiven himself for not sending someone out there in time. His Inspector instincts should have forced him to follow up on the phone call immediately. That was why he had personally gone to the house the next day. Why he felt it was his responsibility to find the child, in whatever shape she may have been in. Honestly, in his heart, he had feared her dead. His instincts though, had led him to believe she was still alive. So he searched for hours until he had found her.
This, he told himself, was why he had followed her every move throughout her life. The difference, between a stalker and himself, in his mind, was that he cared about her. He was not obsessed with her, he was concerned for her. He felt responsible for her life. He had passed the phone to an officer at the desk outside his office. He could not even remember that officer’s na
me. He had assured Mrs. Dal Santo that he would send someone out and handed her off to someone else. He did not even read the report from that phone call until after reading the report from her death. When he read of the abuse, his knees gave out and he was forced to sit. He read of the sexual assaults against the mother. The physical beatings and the prison like camp he had kept them in. But when his eyes had fallen on the section of the report, regarding the sexual abuse of the child, he became solidified. He could not breathe or swallow. He could not move, although all he wanted to do was get out of the station. It was as if some outside force were holding him against his will keeping his eyes locked on the paragraph which read, ‘repeated sexual intercourse’.
Salvatore Dal Santo had started abusing the child at approximately the age of one. Sexually, he started abusing her at the age of four. Three years, almost daily, according to Juliet’s report. Juliet had admitted she had to apply makeup on the child’s face and do the child’s hair up in an adult fashion. Salvatore wanted the child to look like a younger version of the mother. They were to dress the same as well. When asked why she had not reported the abuse earlier, Mrs. Dal Santo replied that she had not thought about it. When asked to explain, her response had been that she did not know she had the right. The report continued on to say, that it was her daughter who had requested she make Salvatore stop. She did not know what else to do, so she called for help.
Harold again cleared his head. Placing the photo down on the desk, he picked up the paper work on the father. Salvatore Dal Santo. A record from the age of ten. Sentenced to twenty five to thirty years at State. Murdered in prison after serving twenty years by another inmate during a dispute. He had been stabbed repeatedly with a sharpened broom handle. The reason for the dispute was reportedly unknown. Salvatore’s temper had not subsided while locked away. He was frequently reported in brawls and arguments. He gambled and lost a lot while in prison. It was not clear if this was a habit formed outside and brought in with him.
Chapter 13
Josephine grabbed her keys off of the kitchen counter and headed out the foyer door on her way to the garage. Thinking perhaps it may be a long morning, she decided to grab a cup of coffee to take with her. Turning back to the kitchen she jumped at the sight of an officer standing behind her.
“Sorry ma`am, didn’t mean to frighten you. Lieutenant Barsky would like for you to come down to the station and answer a few questions.”
“Sure, yeah, whatever. Tell him I’ll be there.” She walked around the officer towards the kitchen. The officer followed her.
“Ma`am, the Lieutenant, she would like you to come in this morning. Will that be all right?”
Josephine glanced at her watch. She wanted to see Anthony. She wanted to be there when she woke up. She wanted her to know that everything would be alright. Dammit, she cancelled all appointments so she could do just that. “Fine, tell her. Tell her I will be in directly, OK? Will that be soon enough?”
“I will notify her now ma`am, thank you.”
“Shit.” Josephine said to the air in her kitchen, as she poured herself a travel mug full of coffee.
The garage held four cars comfortably. It presently housed both Josephine’s silver two door convertible 2000 Mercedes Benz and Antonia’s metallic sky blue 2001 Mini Cooper. The latter was a birthday present from Josephine to Antonia. Also in the garage, a 1980 Harley Davidson FLH, motor and trans powder coated pearl, as were the frame and tanks. The seat was a Corbin custom, done in the softest leather possible, pale blue in color with matching accents. It was Antonia’s pride and joy. Josephine hated the bike, which was a major reason behind the purchase of the Cooper.
Chloe’s 1998 Oldsmobile Cutlass Cruiser was parked in the far drive. It was the one vehicle which moved on a daily basis. Billy never parked in the garage. He opted to leave his car in the driveway.
Josephine turned on the car stereo before exiting the garage in the hopes of drowning out whatever reporters happened to remain. As she backed out of the drive, her car was flanked by police vehicles from the front and back. The officer, who met her in her hallway, came over to explain that they would escort her to the station. One officer would remain on duty outside her dwelling for the remainder of the day.
She was slightly irritated by the police presence. Somehow she did not feel that they were there for her protection. She felt intimidated somehow, as if she were being accused of something. She picked up her cell phone and hit the number one, the speed dial for her attorney.
After explaining her situation, Justin Pictella, Josephine’s attorney for the past twelve years, instructed her not to exit her vehicle until he arrived at the station. He assured her that he would follow her inside and sit through all the questioning that may take place. In his opinion, the questioning was just a follow up to the report processed the evening before. Josephine explained that she was not there for the report, that it had been Billy whom had gone done to the station last evening.
Confident that the only thing needed from her was an agreement to Billy’s statement, Josephine proceeded to the station. Justin had somehow miraculously arrived before Josephine and her police escort. He came to her car as soon as she pulled it to a stop. He circled the vehicle and entered into the passenger side. One of the two escorts had gone into the squad car parking area. The other had remained fixed behind Josephine’s Benz.
“Is there anything about last evening I should be made aware of before we proceed?” Justin wanted to cover all areas.
“I don’t really remember much. Most of it I only know from watching the video Billy gave me.”
“Video?”
“Yes, video. Billy said some reporter was parked out on the water videotaping the party. He went after the guy and got the video.”
“Was the shooting caught on tape?”
“Every bit of it.”
“Did Billy give a copy of the tape to the officer last night?”
“I have no clue.”
“I wish I had known about this tape before we got here.”
“Why, you said it was just a simple question and answer session.”
“Well I hope that is all this is. You’re telling me that Billy was out on the water when the shooting took place?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Look. Justin, you’re making me very uncomfortable here. What is it your thinking and not telling me?” Justin glanced out the side window for a minute. And then he looked through the rear view mirror towards the police cruiser which was still at its post.
“Why don’t you stay here in the car a minute and I will run in and see what this is all about. Chances are we’re going to need the video. And, I for one would like to see it before they do.”
“For crying out loud Justin, I want to get to the hospital and see Anthony. What the hell good is it gonna do for me to wait out here. I’m going in with you now and get it over with. Come on.”
It was more of a demand than a statement. Justin hurriedly rushed after his client.
“Josephine...” He ran to catch up with her. “Ms. Ferrero, please wait a second.” He had to grab her arm to stop her. He let go of it as soon as he saw that he had her attention. “Listen; just do me the favor of not saying anything. OK? We’ll go in and find out what they want. We will listen, understand?” Josephine looked back over her shoulder towards the officer who used to be in the car, but who was now standing quietly not more than four feet from them.
“Justin, what’s this all about? Am I being accused of something here? Did I do something wrong? I got shot at for Pete’s sake. Someone tried to kill me. What? What is your concern? Tell me now before we go inside.” Justin grabbed hold of Josephine’s elbow and directed her off to the side. Hoping they could speak privately a moment. He made eye contact with the officer. Understanding the message clearly, the officer stepped off to the station entrance and waited by the door.
“How did Billy give a statement if he wasn’t there? What could he possibly have said that you can collaborate? W
hat happened on the video? Why wasn’t it turned over right then and there? I’m not saying you did anything wrong. Your reputation is at stake here. Your career, your investors, everything must be taken into account. The press will eat you up alive if word gets out that you alone hold the one piece of evidence that could have aided in the capture and arrest of Antonia’s shooter. You know how the people feel about her. Josephine, I need you to tell me what happened. Give me the shortest version you can, but leave nothing out.”
“There is nothing I can say really. My back was turned to the gunman. I hit my head when Anthony tossed me out of the way. I couldn’t hear or see anything real clear until after I arrived at the hospital. Even then I kept passing out. I only know what I know from the video.”
“What about the video, Josephine. How is it you ended up with it?”
“Billy gave it to me when he came and picked me up at St. Bart’s. I didn’t give it any thought last night. I think he said, no, he didn’t say anything. Just that it was a video from the party and that I should look at it.”
“And did you look at it?”
“Yes, this morning, just before I left the house.”
“And what was on the tape?”
“Justin, why not watch it yourself. If you think I want to go over it again in my mind, you’re nuts.” Josephine started to walk towards the awaiting officer. Justin again had to run to catch up with her.