Death Never Sleeps

by E. J. Simon

  “We’ll let you look yourself in just a few minutes in case you see something out of place that we might have missed. Other than the monitoring device, there’s no trace that an intruder was here. For all we know, he came in, planted the electronic devices, left the house, and controlled everything, including your phone system, from a car a block away.”

  “Maybe, but we heard someone actually trying to turn the door handle,” Michael said, pointing to the bedroom door.

  Fletcher appeared stymied until he appeared to have a revelation. “It was probably a clever sound effect that they piped through the system.”

  “But, Fletcher, we saw the knob turning,” Michael said.

  Fletcher’s face tightened. “Listen, I have to admit this is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. Even from my days in New York.”

  The unfinished 9-1-1 call was eating away at Michael and, he guessed, at Samantha, too. He was sure Samantha understood that he was perhaps treading carefully, waiting for the right time to pose the question to Fletcher as to how he knew there was an emergency at their home.

  But before Michael had the chance to ask, Fletcher posed his own question. “Michael, when did you get a police scanner, you little devil?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Fletcher smiled, a sarcastic look on his face. Michael recognized the look, the one Fletcher used when he was sure Michael was trying to put something over on him. “Come on, how do you think we got the emergency call? It came through to headquarters on a two-way transmitter, the kind they sell with the police scanners.”

  “But, Fletcher, I don’t have a scanner or transmitter, whatever the hell they are, and I never sent any message to you guys. I did start to dial 9-1-1 on my cell phone, but you called on the house line before I ever finished dialing. I’m serious.”

  Fletcher appeared confused. “That’s impossible. Who called in then on our police frequency?”

  Michael thought for a few seconds, unable to process another strange occurrence. “I don’t know. I can only imagine,” he said.

  Fletcher looked totally perplexed.

  Michael was silent, his mind now wandering back to Queens. He was hesitant to bring up Russell’s murder now with Samantha already in shock.

  “This is just too bizarre,” Fletcher continued. “You know all we get in Westport are either burglaries or kids causing trouble. But this doesn’t fit either of those. Samantha’s jewelry here wasn’t touched, and no burglar is going to call you on the phone and install an expensive monitor in your bedroom—and I can’t even begin to think about how we were notified. It’s all too dangerous and sophisticated for a juvenile prank. This guy was a pro. Who would want to do that?”

  Samantha looked at Michael and said exactly what he was thinking from the moment he realized the alarm system had been disabled, “This has to be connected to your brother.”

  Fletcher jumped in, saving Michael from having to speak. “Michael, you always purposely stayed clear of anything to do with Alex’s business though, didn’t you?”

  Michael knew Fletcher was in a delicate position as both his close friend and a local law enforcement officer. Not that Michael had done anything illegal, at least not yet.

  After an awkward silence, Michael looked at Fletcher, then at Samantha, and said, “We need to talk. There’s another murder I need to tell you about.”

  Chapter 13

  New York City

  November 13, 2009

  The Carlyle had hosted presidents, dictators, kings, queens, divas, and princesses, but tonight it sheltered Donna Nicholas in a junior suite and her private security guard in an adjoining room.

  Michael stood in the lobby and watched as Donna emerged from the elevator, each step loudly announcing her arrival as her heels seemed to prance to a silent marching band on the white marble floor. All she needed, Michael thought, was a baton or a stripper’s pole.

  She was dressed to kill—another short black dress showing off her long, slim legs and thigh-high leather boots with six-inch black-and-silver stiletto high heels. A diamond necklace drew the eye to the center of attention: Donna’s perfect breasts, a triumph of silicone technology and Dr. Simonetti’s genius. As always, she showed just enough cleavage to attract every male set of eyes in the lobby. Her Chanel No. 5 preceded her by just a few seconds and followed her for much longer. Michael took in her scent.

  Until now, he felt he had never really noticed her before. She looked enticing, even seductive. He put that thought quickly out of his mind.

  “Donna, you look great.” As he said it, Michael wasn’t sure he was comfortable with how it came out. He helped Donna put on her full-length mink coat, which she was carrying over her arm.

  “Well, thank you, Michael. That’s unusual for you to say. I’m flattered.”

  Michael was unsure how to take that remark and decided he really didn’t want to know. He figured it would have something to do with the distance he had always kept from his brother and any of his wives. “Let’s get out of the hotel. How about Cafe Boulud across the street? I have a reservation for us.”

  “Michael, that’s perfect.”

  Fortunately they didn’t have far to walk. Manhattan was bitter cold, made worse by a strong November wind blowing through the streets. As they crossed Seventy-Sixth Street and then Madison Avenue, the entrance to the discreetly elegant restaurant was just a few doors ahead on the left. As they entered under the green canopy and into the small reception area of the restaurant, a breeze of warm air enveloped them. It felt comforting and secure. They were both efficiently relieved of their coats and shown to a quiet and private table in a cozy alcove off to the left.

  The waiter, obviously assuming they were a couple, politely offered to seat them side by side. It was a favorite choice for Michael when he dined here with Samantha. Besides the natural intimacy of the arrangement, they both enjoyed the view of the room and the ongoing show of New York nightlife that paraded by. Before Donna could respond, however, Michael quickly interjected, “No thanks, we prefer to face each other.”

  The restaurant had a full house of well-heeled and smartly dressed New Yorkers. Michael watched as Donna took in the room. “Michael, that’s Regis Philbin and his wife, Joy, over there on your right. Oh God, I see Mayor Bloomberg and Oprah sitting in the back. This place is unbelievable.”

  “I’ve always enjoyed it. The food is great and it’s just quiet and calm, yet it has an East Side buzz about it. I know that’s a contradiction. Anyway, Samantha and Sofia love it here too.”

  “Oh, Michael, I do miss Alex, but he hated places like this. Too many ties, too many suits, too many hushed conversations. He said he didn’t like going to restaurants where everyone looked like they had a rod up their ass.”

  “Alex did have a way with words.” Michael’s sarcasm, he knew, was lost on Donna.

  Michael had called Donna early in the morning and told her exactly what had happened at his home the night before. He expected her to have brought it up for discussion by now. He was anxious to get her thoughts on what she thought was going on.

  “Donna, do you realize all the shit that’s been going on here? This is dangerous stuff.” Michael needed to try to get Donna to focus on the total picture of everything that had happened. “Someone had Alex and Russell murdered, and they’ve got to be connected to whoever broke into my house. Samantha is hysterical. I have private security guards watching the house twenty-four hours a day. Where is your guy, by the way?”

  “He’s having dinner in his room. I told him to just stay there. I figured I’d be okay with you, and I preferred that he keep an eye out on my room instead. He’s also got hotel security watching us like a hawk. Every time I go to the elevator, it seems like there’s a plainclothes security guy somewhere in the hall.”

  “How do you know it’s hotel security if he’s in plain clothes?”

  “Michael, you can’t miss them. They’ve all got radios and earphones in their ears. You can hear the radios going
even from the room sometimes. Either they’re all security, or there’s a goddamned deaf people’s convention at the Carlyle.”

  Touché, Michael thought. “And what about the police investigation? Have you heard anything new?”

  “Not really. They called me this morning. They have gone through Alex’s insurance office and the computer he had there. Naturally, they found nothing unusual. Let’s face it, whatever is happening is not a result of the shitty little insurance brokerage he had. Even the cops know that was just a front. It gave him enough legitimate income so the IRS wouldn’t get suspicious.”

  “What about Alex’s real office?” Michael was suddenly concerned about the police finding Alex’s bookmaking and loan-sharking records—and his handgun in the desk drawer. He was also trying to remember whether he ever actually picked up the gun. His mind raced through the implications of his own fingerprints being discovered by the police.

  “They don’t know about his other office. You know, only the Lesters and a few others of his closest guys were ever allowed into that place.”

  “But, Donna,” Michael interjected, “the cops know Alex was a bookie; they’re going to want his records. They’re going to need to know who he was doing business with, who may have wanted him dead—”

  Donna interrupted. “Of course the cops know Alex was a bookie. Some of his best customers were cops. I just said he was an insurance agent as far as I knew. I played the dumb wife who knows nothing about her husband’s business—or businesses. These guys have all seen The Sopranos. They believed what I told them, or it was what they wanted to believe. I also gave up Alex’s home computer.”

  “I’m sure they’ll go through that pretty thoroughly. Do you know if there’s anything on it?” Michael had not really thought much about Alex’s computers, and he had never even been to the insurance office, which was just a few blocks from Alex’s home. He knew that Alex rarely spent any time there.

  Michael felt better, seeing that Donna appeared to be pretty well informed now that her mind was focused on the situation.

  “Well, Alex was no fool. His insurance office computer was strictly for his insurance records—and the cops found some porn sites. Alex would be bored stiff, excuse the pun, whenever he went to that office. And to be honest, I was never sure what he had on his home computer. The police said all they found on it was a lot of seemingly innocent personal stuff and a lot of sports.

  “Michael,” Donna continued, “the police are not going to solve this. The answers are only going to be found where the cops aren’t going to go—Alex’s real business. We can’t let them go there.”

  “I think I know the answer to this, but just out of curiosity, why can’t we let the police go down that road? Maybe they can solve this thing—find out who killed Alex and Russell and who’s out there who can kill us.”

  “Michael, well, let me think.” Donna placed her hand on her forehead, a mocking gesture as though she had a sudden revelation. “Why wouldn’t we want to just open everything up to the cops? Could it be that Fat and Skinny Lester would be arrested? Maybe I’d be too. Maybe even you, Michael. Or could it be that if the guy behind all this is more than a little crazy, then we both might wind up dead too?

  “And then there’s the money—the money Alex’s clients owed and the cash that Alex has probably hidden somewhere in our house. And I know your situation is different, but I need that money. By the way, I have torn the fucking house apart. All I’ve found so far is about a thousand bucks—pocket change—that Alex had in various places.”

  Michael had already thought of all the reasons Donna just set forth, but it was unsettling to hear it from her lips. He also knew that the slightest publicity linking him to any sort of scandal would mean a swift end to his career. As he began to sink into some sense of despair, Michael’s cell phone rang. It was Skinny Lester.

  “Michael, we’ve got trouble. Mr. Sharkey wants to meet. He wants his money. Now.”

  Michael’s first thought was to question why this had now become his problem. But he knew he had somehow walked through a door, one that had quietly but permanently closed behind him.

  “What did you tell him?” Michael asked.

  “What do you mean, what did I tell him? I had to tell him we’d meet—on Thursday.”

  “And Lester, who exactly is ‘we’?”

  “You, me, and Fat Lester. Anybody else you wanna bring is okay with me, Michael.”

  Chapter 14

  Whitestone, Queens, New York

  November 13, 2009

  For Michael, Grimaldi’s would always be his brother’s final resting place.

  And tonight, as Michael walked into Grimaldi’s, a stunned Maria met him immediately. She was standing, frozen, in front of the bar. She had apparently been on her way to the kitchen and, as she passed by the front door, saw Michael walking in.

  “Oh my God, Michael, I thought I saw a ghost. I never realized how much you resemble your brother. When I saw you walk in I thought I was going to faint. I swear, I almost lost it.” Maria ran up to Michael and hugged him tightly.

  “I’m sorry, I should have called to let you know I was coming, but I was on my way back to Connecticut from dinner with Donna and thought I’d just drop in. There’s something I wanted to talk with you about.”

  “Of course, Jesus Christ, please, sit down. How about a drink or something to eat?”

  Maria brought two chilled glasses of wine and joined Michael at a quiet table off to the side. “Here, try this. I know you enjoy your wines. This is a new sauvignon blanc from Chile.” They both took a generous swallow. Michael noticed that Maria seemed to be staring intently at him.

  “Maria, do you remember, right before Alex was shot when he was on the phone with me in Paris? He said he had something to show me, something important, that he couldn’t discuss over the phone.”

  Maria’s expression was pained, as though she knew right away she didn’t have the answer. “Yes, I was waiting for you to ask me. It was odd when he said it because Alex never used those words, you know, that something was important. He wasn’t into secrets, either. In fact, I was going to tease him, ask him what it was about, as soon as he hung up but …” Her voice trailed off.

  “I know, you never got the chance.” Michael could tell he had brought her back to a painful memory, but he needed to push a little further. “And he never hinted what it might have been?”

  “No, Michael, I’m sorry.” Her hand gently brushed Michael’s arm. It was a simple but touching gesture.

  “I know. It’s okay, Maria, I just thought I’d take a shot that he may have said something.”

  “Michael, you know your brother was the sweetest guy I ever knew. He did so many things for people around here, people in trouble or just going through a rough time. He’d rarely talk about it. In fact, you just missed someone who said she knew Alex from high school. Her name was Germaine, Germaine Strauss.”

  “Oh my God,” Michael said, “I remember her.”

  “She knew your brother in high school. She was a … small person.”

  “A dwarf. We used to call them midgets back then, I guess. I lost track of her completely.”

  “Well, she’d been in Florida and just came back and heard about Alex. So she came in here, and we talked for a while. She told me about how Alex was this great-looking jock in school and how, despite having his pick of any girls, he took her to the prom. He knew she wouldn’t have a date. I mean, it’s so nice it sounds corny. Yet, never once in all these years I knew him, did he ever even mention it.”

  “I remember her so well. She had a tortured life because of her condition. I think Alex always kind of protected her.”

  “You know, he’d come by here a few times a week. We’d sit together, have dinner, talk. There was something so different about him. So tough on the outside but like a little boy underneath. He always had this crankiness about him, yet all of a sudden, he’d make some wisecrack and then break out into one of his mischie
vous grins. I just loved it when he’d show up.” Maria’s voice was breaking. She stopped speaking as she struggled to regain her composure.

  “I’m so sorry, Michael. It’s just so strange to one night be sitting across from a person at dinner, having an intimate conversation, and then just a few days later, see them at their funeral—not moving, not smiling, in a casket.”

  “I know, Maria, I just try not to think about it.”

  “I’m sorry to do this to you, but Alex was such a character. I loved him. It’s funny, too, I always felt so safe around him. I knew he would protect me—against what, I don’t even know. But Alex watched out for the people he cared for.”

  Michael knew he had to ask. “Were you guys, ever, uh …” but as he began, he lost his nerve. Maria was an open person, it appeared, but he could tell there was a private side one didn’t go to without either knowing her better or having her permission.

  “Were we ever together? It’s okay, Michael. You can ask. No, we never went to bed. It’s probably how we managed to stay good friends for so long. I think we were both attracted to each other, but we both knew better than to ruin it by going any further.”

  “I think you were one of the few women that he trusted.”

  “Thanks, Michael.” Maria stroked Michael’s arm again. “Your brother really loved you. He never actually said those words to me, but I could tell. Whenever he spoke about you, I knew. He had a certain sparkle in his eyes. He was proud of you. I hope you know that.”

  “I do, thanks, Maria.” As Michael looked at Maria and felt the warmth from her hand on his arm, a touch that seemed to deliberately linger for an extra second or so, he felt an odd sensation that Maria was attracted to him, but not because of any sex appeal of his own. He looked at Maria, into her dark eyes; they seemed to be searching. Michael knew she was searching for Alex.