Am I the Killer? - A Luca Mystery - Book 1

by Dan Petrosini

  Luca flashed a thumbs-up and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. As the detectives headed to their sedan, Cremora said, “We didn’t get everything we wanted. Judge said there wasn’t probable cause to warrant a full search and limited it to his car.”

  “What? That’s bullshit!”

  “Luc, we didn’t have much to go on. Bristol could’ve denied it entirely.”

  Luca wagged his head. “When are these damn judges gonna help us instead of hinder us?”

  Cremora screeched to a halt behind Johns’ car. Luca grabbed the warrant off the seat and jumped out.

  “You stay with his car.”

  Luca went to the side of the house, skipping down the stairs. He pumped the bell and pounded the door with the heel of his hand.

  “Police, we have a warrant to search, open up!”

  Luca stood on his toes, straining to see anything through the door’s small window as a window above opened.

  “What’s going on?”

  Luca saw Johns’ sister peering out the window.

  “We have a search warrant.”

  “Hold on, please don’t break the door down. I’ll be right down.” The sister disappeared before Luca could respond. Luca could hear the sister’s pleas.

  “Jimmy! Open the door. Please, the police are here. They smash the door down, and you’re out of here. I swear, this is it!”

  A gravelly voice rang out, “All right already, I’m getting it!”

  The door creaked open, and Luca thrust the warrant at Johns, whose bare chest revealed yet another scorpion tattoo.

  “Get the car keys.”

  “Car keys?”

  “The search is limited, for the time being, to your car.”

  Johns smiled.

  “Get moving, before we pry it open!”

  “Uh, hold on.” Johns disappeared into the basement apartment.

  Luca quickly pushed the door fully open and peered in. He was surprised the place wasn’t a pigsty. The detective thought this guy’s not a total junkie. He’s still got a good measure of control. He put one foot in the apartment and craned his neck. He spied the kitchen—no plates piled in the sink, and the counter tops were spotless. He pulled back when he heard Johns’ keys jangling as he headed up the stairs.

  Barefoot, Johns met the detectives at his car and silently turned over the keys as his sister approached.

  Johns followed them, trailed by his sister. “Don’t worry, Jessie, they ain’t gonna find anything. It’s just a bullshit fishing expedition.”

  Cremora said, “Keep back! You move from that sidewalk, and we’ll haul both your asses in for obstruction.”

  The detectives pulled on latex gloves and opened the trunk, revealing a spare tire that was flat, a jack, a hazard light that worked, and a raggedy but neatly folded pair of jeans.

  Expecting a load of items to sort through, the detectives emptied what was there and checked all the nooks and crannies, to no avail. They searched the pants pockets, but also came up empty. Cremora said, “Should we bag the pants?”

  “Yeah, send ’em to the lab. You never know.”

  As they tossed the remaining items back in the trunk, Luca said, “No lug wrench or lever for the jack?”

  “Didn’t see one.”

  “Interesting.”

  Luca took his notepad out as they moved to the car’s interior, which was clean and orderly as well. Luca checked under the front seats and came up with a crumpled tee shirt. He backed out of the car and unraveled the shirt, inspecting it closely.

  “Hey J, check this out. See this?”

  “Looks like blood to me.”

  “Oh yeah! Man, do I wanna nail this guy.”

  Luca opened an evidence bag and gently inserted the shirt.

  “Let’s keep looking.”

  Cremora pulled the back seat out but came up empty. As his partner wrestled to get the seat back in place, Luca checked the glove box. Sitting on top of the owner’s manual was a receipt.

  “JJ, check this out.” He handed the bill to Cremora.

  Chapter 22

  Luca swung out of the busy intersection and into a gas station. He took the receipt from Johns’ glove box and popped his head into the station owner’s tiny office.

  “Philly, got a sec?”

  The affable owner raised a finger and quickly finished his call.

  “Luc, how you doing?” Phil said as he got out of his seat.

  “Good, good. Look—”

  “Hey, I heard you’re back with Deb.”

  Luca nodded.

  “Behave yourself this time,” Phil said and smiled broadly.

  “You should talk.”

  Phil raised his eyebrows. “So what’s going on with Billy’s case?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He showed him the receipt. “Someone I got my eye on was here the week Wyatt was murdered.”

  “Shit! You kidding me? Who was it?”

  Luca raised a hand. “So this guy, he had his flat fixed. I need to talk to who did it.”

  “Gerry usually does the flats. What day was that?”

  “Wednesday.”

  “Yeah, he’s on Wednesdays.” Phil pulled open the door from his office to the garages. He whistled over the rock music and waved Gerry over.

  Gerry was wiping his hands on a dirty towel when he came in the office. “What’s up, boss?”

  “Detective Luca needs to talk with you about some creep whose tire you plugged.”

  “Philly, can we get some privacy?” Luca said.

  Phil nodded and sidestepped his way out the door.

  Luca showed the mechanic the receipt. “We think a guy named Jimmy Johns brought his car in with a flat on Wednesday, May thirteenth.”

  Gerry sat on a corner of Phil’s messy desk. “Yeah, I remember. He was here. What did he do?”

  Luca shook his head. “It’s an active investigation. So what can you tell me about his visit that day?”

  “He came in riding the frigging rim. Tire was shredded to shit. He wanted his spare fixed.” He shook his head. “Just like him, riding around without a spare.”

  “You know him?”

  He moved the corners of his mouth down. “No more than anybody else. He’s been in here every now and then.”

  “How’d he seem?”

  “I don’t know, he’s kinda a weird dude, druggie type.”

  “He say anything?”

  “Nah, not much. He wanted to borrow money, but I told him I was flat broke and didn’t get paid till Friday.”

  “Friday’s pay day?”

  “Yep, Philly dishes the cash out on Friday.”

  “Cash? You get paid in cash?”

  Gerry nodded.

  “Would Johns know you get paid in cash?”

  “Yeah, I think so, ’cause last time he came in, I lent him, like, twenty bucks. It was a Friday, and he seen me get paid, so I couldn’t say no.”

  ***

  Luca identified everyone in the room for the record, then began his interrogation.

  “Mr. Hill, what can you tell us about your relationship with William Wyatt?”

  I moved my hands from my lap to the table and back again and replied, “I, I, we knew him a long time. He was my brother’s friend.”

  “Did you get along with Mr. Wyatt?”

  I looked at Mr. Edwards, who nodded.

  “Not so much—he was my brother’s friend.”

  “Can you tell me why?”

  The ringing seemed to get louder or maybe higher pitched. I could never tell, so I jiggled my ear. “He did some things, I don’t know, that weren’t nice.”

  “You mean like bullying?”

  Bringing it up still stung. “Yeah.”

  Eddie Edwards interjected, “I’d like the record to reflect that the time frame for the events you’re questioning are more than fifteen years ago.”

  “Noted, counselor. Let me move onto, shall we say, more recent events. Peter, where were you the night of Frida
y, May fifteenth?”

  It bothered me that I couldn’t pin who this detective looked like, so I leaned over to Mr. Edwards and pointed at Luca. “Who does he remind you of? Some actor, right?”

  “Well, some people say I bear a resemblance to George Clooney.”

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s it. He was in that movie, what’s it called, remember . . .”

  Edwards said, “Let’s get back to business, Peter. Detective, can you repeat your question please.”

  “Sure.” Luca looked into my eyes. “I wanted to know where you were on May fifteenth, a Friday night.”

  Averting my eyes, I picked at a cuticle. “Home, I guess.”

  “You guess?” Cremora said, chuckling.

  Edwards raised a hand. “My client has suffered a traumatic brain injury while serving our nation. Please show him the respect he deserves.”

  “I’m sorry if I offended you, Mr. Hill. We’re trained in a certain manner, and well, let’s leave it at that. But I really am sorry if I offended you.”

  Luca looked over at Edwards, who nodded slightly.

  That’s better now, I thought, nearly smiling.

  “It’s okay, just that sometimes my memory is not so good and all.”

  Luca took over. “Well, we’ll take it slow. If you need a break, just ask. No problem at all. Would you like something to drink?”

  Unsure if I should ask for a break or not, I wagged my head. I didn’t want to seem too anxious to stop the questioning, but I was getting nervous.

  “Okay, let me clarify the date in question. On May fifteenth, a Friday, we know your brother, Vinny, was away in Texas, and that your friend Tony Burato visited with you.”

  I rubbed my hands as I tried to stop squirming in the chair. I sighed heavily, and Edwards asked, “Would you like a break?”

  For some reason, I shook my head no.

  “Detective, can you repeat the question, and keep in mind that compound questions are more difficult to process for my client.”

  Luca pulled his chin in and raised an eyebrow.

  “I have the psychiatric, er, neurological evaluations, if you’d like.”

  Luca raised his palms. “Understood, no problem, I’ll keep that in mind.” He looked at me and spoke slowly. “Your brother, Vincent, was away on May fifteenth, correct?”

  What’s he think, I’m a retard? I answered, “Yes, he went to Texas. I think he wants me to move there, but my doctors, they don’t—”

  Edwards tapped my arm and gave an okay sign.

  Luca continued. “That same day, did your friend from the service, Tony Burato, visit you?”

  “Uh.” I tugged my ear as a rusty taste hit my mouth. “Yeah, pretty sure.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “Uh, he’s getting married, and there was a party.”

  Cremora exchanged glances with Luca and questioned, “Married? We thought it was his brother’s birthday.”

  I thought about it and mouthed the word birthday. “Oh yeah, right, Tony’s brother’s birthday.” Then I stroked my chin. “You sure he ain’t getting married?”

  Luca pressed on. “Back to that night, his brother’s birthday. The party moved to a bar. What did you do at the bar?”

  I puckered my lips and swallowed. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Peter, think harder.”

  I mean, geez, I can’t frigging remember. I slammed a fist on the table. “Whatever you do in a fucking bar, like drink!”

  Edwards grabbed my forearm. “Let’s take that break,” he said.

  Luca checked his messages and called back Franco. “What d’ya got for me?”

  “Hello, Frank, I’m fine, and you?”

  “Look, bro, I’m in the middle of an interrogation, so I got no time for sweet talk, got it?”

  “All right, all right, look, the blood on the tee shirt didn’t match Wyatt’s, and—”

  “What? How can that be?”

  “Look, Frank, the lab results weren’t a match.”

  “This is fucking nonsense.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that’s what came back.”

  After calling his office, Edwards joined Vinny in the hallway outside the bathroom Peter was using. Edwards filled in Vinny on the proceedings and asked, “He always like this?”

  Vinny shrugged and said, “It’s a day-to-day thing. Sometimes the meds work, and sometimes they don’t.”

  “It’s critical we keep him calm. Being belligerent is throwing red meat to the cops.”

  “I don’t think he can control it. It’s the injury, you know.”

  “Then we’ve got to assemble a full medical accounting of what Peter’s been through and the residual effects.”

  Vinny kept his eyes on the bathroom door. “You’ll need a small truck.”

  “The more the better. They may think this is all an act.”

  “Act?”

  “Peter not remembering. Law enforcement is naturally skeptical. They’ll think it’s convenient he can’t recall events. I’m not making parallels here, but think along the lines of temporary insanity.”

  Vinny pushed open the door. Peter was hunched over the sink scooping running water into his mouth.

  “What are you doing?”

  Peter pulled his fingers out of his mouth. “Can’t take the metal taste anymore. It’s driving me crazy.”

  Vinny dug into his pocket for the chalky candy a doctor had suggested. “We gotta go back in. Have one of these.”

  Before restarting the interview, Luca composed himself by stating for the record the time and the participants. Then he pasted a smile on his face and looked at me.

  “If you need another break, just let us know. We have plenty of time. Okay?”

  I stared at my clasped hands.

  Luca flipped open a file. “All right, so you are out celebrating with your service buddy, Tony, on the night of May fifteenth, right?”

  Talking about that night made me real nervous and brought back the images, or whatever they were, of Billy getting hit on the head. I took a couple of quick breaths as my hand began to tremble.

  Edwards said, “Mr. Hill is not disputing that he was at the Lincoln Lounge with his friends on the night in question.”

  Edwards turned the mic off and whispered into my ear.

  “Okay, counselor. Peter, do you know a Mary Rourke?”

  “You know I do. What’re you playing fucking games with me for?”

  Edwards brought a finger to his lips as Cremora said, “Trust me, Mr. Hill, this is no game.”

  Luca fired, “And what is the nature of your relationship with Ms. Rourke?”

  My breath quickened. “We were going out, you know, for a long time. She was my girl—” I still couldn’t believe she cheated on me and shook my head—“until that bastard stole her.”

  Edwards leaned over, put his hand on my forearm, and whispered for me to calm down.

  “So you hated Wyatt and went to his house to confront him over Mary?” Cremora said.

  I put my left hand on my right arm to try to quell the tremor. “I don’t know.”

  Cremora slapped a hand on the table. “You don’t know? Well, let me remind you, we have a witness that put you at his house the night of May fifteenth.”

  Witness? Holy shit, they know I did it? Tugging my collar, I said, “Uh, maybe I was there.” Then turning to Edwards. “I don’t remember, Mr. Edwards. I really don’t.”

  “That’s okay, just tell the truth. We’ll see how credible their witness is.”

  Cremora leaned forward, but Luca shoed him back with a hand, asking, “Now Peter, that night in the bar. Is that when you learned that William Wyatt was going to marry Mary Rourke?”

  I rested my cheek on my hand, looked at the table, and responded, “I knew somethin’ was going on. I’m not a jerk, you know. She was acting strange and all, if you know what I mean.”

  “Not really, why don’t you tell us?”

  “She hardly ever came over.”
I pawed at my ear with a shaking hand. “And when she did, she ran out real fast. Always had an excuse.” I felt my eyes narrowing. “I didn’t believe her.”

  “So, you knew she was seeing someone else?”

  I shrugged. “Guess so. Maybe it was me, getting banged up and all. But everyone said I was doing well.”

  Luca said, “I understand you’ve come a long way, Peter.”

  Ripping off my glasses with a trembling hand, I raised my cane with the other. “Yeah, just doing fucking great!”

  Edwards asked, “Peter, please take it easy. Would you like to take a break?”

  “No, let’s get this shit over with.”

  “Can you tell us what you did when you drove up to the Wyatt house?”

  I closed my eyes. I didn’t think I knew, so I wouldn’t say anything. That’s what Mr. Edwards would say.

  Cremora pressed, “Did you get out of the car?”

  I looked at Mr. Edwards as the metal taste roared back. “I, I donno. I can’t remember.”

  “Didn’t you get into a fight over Mary with Billy Wyatt that night?” Cremora asked.

  All eyes shifted their focus to the amplified shudder in my right arm. I grabbed my wrist, trying to control the shaking, but both arms shook instead.

  “We’re going to have to call an end to the interview. Mr. Hill’s physicians had provided strict parameters to adhere to in order to protect his health.”

  ***

  “Hill’s lying.”

  “I don’t know, JJ.”

  “Come on, Frank, what’re you, fucking blind?”

  “We’re dealing with a touchy thing here,” Luca replied.

  “He’s hiding, giving us that bullshit he don’t remember. Geez, what a crock of shit. I’m surprised, no make it shocked, that you’re buying it.”

  “Hold on, I’m not buying anything. Fact is, with these brain injuries the memory doesn’t work normal. Seems crazy, I know, but I did a lot of research last night.”

  “Yeah, well kinda convenient he remembers things about Mary, but when the night Wyatt ended up dead comes up, he starts shaking like a leaf.”

  “Tell me about it. It sounds strange, but there’s actually a lot of data out there.”

  “Yeah? And a ton of cases where defendants block out what they did.”

  Luca nodded. “I know. I keep reminding myself.”

  “If we didn’t have a witness, Hill would be saying he didn’t go to Wyatt’s that night.”