Old Wounds, a Gino Cataldi Mystery

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  “It’s too early. He said it would be late today or early tomorrow before he could get it. He doesn’t have direct access, so he has to wait for the right time.”

  “I’ll be curious to see who Cybil calls.”

  “Me too,” Tip said. “Of course, you know we won’t be able to use any of this, as it isn’t exactly legal?”

  “I realize that, but it will give us information.”

  “And that’s what we need,” Tip said, then he turned off the freeway, down a few side streets, and into a restaurant boasting original Texas BBQ.

  “I guess it’s lunchtime.”

  “I’m starved,” Tip said.

  An older woman, maybe in her sixties, greeted Tip as we entered. “Tip, how ya’ll doin’?”

  “Darlin’, if I was any better I’d be you.”

  She brushed the comment aside, but her face broke into a smile like it was Christmas morning. “What’ll it be today?”

  “I’ll have two chopped beef sandwiches all the way and an iced tea.” He turned to me.

  “How about you?”

  “I’ll go with the same, but water instead of tea.”

  Tip tossed some bills onto the counter, refusing to accept money from me.

  “Mandy, this is my partner Gino.”

  Another smile popped on her face. “Nice to meet you, sweetie.” She nodded to the young girl next to her. “And this here is Sharon. She’s my niece.”

  “I should have known, pretty as she is,” Tip said.

  Mandy blushed again. “If you keep flirtin’ with me, I’ll leave Earl and move in with you.”

  “I’ll hold my breath until that day,” Tip said, then grabbed a couple of glasses for drinks.

  Half the place must have said hi, or waved to Tip on our way to a table in the corner.

  He stopped and talked so many times I didn’t think we’d ever get to our seats. We weren’t sitting down more than a minute before Sharon came with the food. We got right to the business of eating, then focused on our talk with Cybil.

  “She did everything but accuse the president of killing Camwyck,” I said.

  “And she didn’t have much to say about Ingle, other than he might have been a little shy with the ladies.” Tip took a bite of his sandwich and stared out the window.

  “So why would she cast blame on the president? She has to know how dumb it sounds.”

  “And why mention that whole thing about him in college and stealing Ingle’s girl? That doesn’t give RB motive to kill Camwyck.” I took another bite of the sandwich and looked at Tip. “If we found the president dead, that’d be one thing, but not the girl; besides, Ingle is close friends with the president.”

  “Politics makes strange bedfellows,” Tip said, and then, “Unless Camwyck was the girl from the double date. Remember what Cybil said—that Ingle was still in love with Camwyck.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I looked at him with a question on my mind.

  Tip devoured his sandwich and took out his notepad. “We need to learn a little more about this piece of paradise they came from.”

  “You know how to do that?”

  “A friend of mine, Buddy, used to be a sheriff from that area. He’ll know something.”

  “I thought you already talked to him about the case.”

  “I asked him to check on a few things, but we need him to dig deeper. Get to the heart of the East Texas gossip.”

  Tip called Buddy and told him what we needed and said we needed it now. As he finished the conversation, I finished my sandwich. “This is damn good barbecue.”

  “Almost as good as mine,” Tip said.

  “You make barbecue?”

  “Any Texan worth their salt makes barbecue, but Tip Denton’s famous barbecue might be the best.”

  “Famous?”

  “You’ll have to try it.”

  Mandy was passing our table. She leaned down and whispered to me. “Don’t like to swell his head more than it already is, but he does make good barbecue.”

  Tip smiled, then we tossed everything in the trash and headed out.

  As we were leaving he hollered back to Mandy. “Hey, darlin’, next time I come here, have that suitcase packed and ready.”

  Mandy was still laughing when the door closed.

  “Do you know everybody?”

  “When you’ve been on the same streets as long as I have, you get to know a lot of people—good and bad.”

  A shiver ran up my spine when he said that. I wondered again if it was Tip who asked Chicky about me. I knew I should ask him about it; instead, I cleared my mind and focused on the case.

  On the way back to the station, we discussed what we’d say to Coop. The last time we left her she had forbidden us to interrogate Cybil. And I was certain Coop knew by now that we’d been to see Cybil again.

  We were halfway to the station when Tip’s phone rang. He answered, gave me a thumbs-up about something, then repeated an address. When he hung up he turned to me with shit-eating grin. “That was Roberts. She found the car.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In an apartment complex not far from here.”

  “We’ll need the crime scene unit out there.”

  Tip was already turning the car around.

  “Roberts said she already told Cooper. One’s on the way.”

  By the time we reached the apartment complex, the crime scene guys were set up. Three satellite news trucks had already arrived, which drew a crowd of onlookers and people wanting to see their face on the nightly newscast. We double-parked, flashed our badges, and hurried over to the scene. I recognized Matt Gordon, from the CSU.

  “Hey, Matt, what have you got?”

  “Whoever cleaned this needs a job at the carwash.”

  “You got nothing?”

  “I didn’t say nothing. But so far, no prints, and not much of anything else, however…”

  “Go on,” Tip said, “or do you need a drum roll for this?”

  “Denton, I see you’re still the same old ass. Anyway, we found several brown hairs tucked into the back seats.”

  Tip looked excited. “That might help.”

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “Found her purse on the seat, with a note inside.”

  Tip perked up. “Let’s see it.”

  “I already sent it down with the other evidence, but I know what the note said, because I found it odd:

  Do you believe in MAGIC? “And magic was in all caps.”

  I looked at him. “That’s all. Do you believe in MAGIC?”

  “That’s all it said. Maybe you’ll find something when they process the note, but I doubt it based on how this guy cleaned up.”

  “But he left hairs,” Tip said.

  “I doubt they’re his, and if they’re hers that doesn’t help. We’ve already got her DNA. They might be the killer’s hair. We might have gotten lucky, but I don’t think so. Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’ll see ya’ll next time.”

  The way he said it was so casual, like we knew there would be another murder, another butchering, another “next time.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see you then,” Tip said. “Thanks.”

  I turned to Tip. “‘Do you believe in magic?’ What’s that mean?”

  “What’s the fascination with magic?”

  “Matt said this one was in caps. I wonder if the Dallas note was. Santos didn’t say.”

  “Call him.”

  I dialed Santos. He must have been sitting on the phone. I told him what we had and that we’d send it up. “How did your victim spell magic? Was it in caps?”

  “It was spelled like a name, with just the M capitalized.”

  “What do you think it’s about? And the riddle part, do you believe? Got any ideas, Santos?”

  “Nothing, but we’ll toss it around. And don’t worry, I know the drill. Nobody but my partner and my captain will hear about this.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it tight.”

  We stayed
around until everyone finished, questioned some of the onlookers, and then assigned a unit to go door-to-door looking for witnesses. As Tip liked to say, it was a snowball’s chance in hell, but it was one we had to take. We came up empty and headed back to the station.

  We were almost to the station when Tip’s phone started.

  “Buddy, how are you?” He paused then, “I’ve got my partner here so I’m putting you on speaker.”

  “I told you I’d get back to you soon,” Buddy said.

  “Good thing, too. We’re stuck.”

  “You ready for some East Texas tales, because I got a pocket full of ’em.”

  “I know how it is when you get started,” Tip said. “Let’s stick to what I asked about.”

  “All right, well about that one thing you mentioned, the night in the motel you mentioned, when they were in college? Tom Marsen ended up spending the night with both of them girls.”

  “How do you know?” Tip asked.

  Buddy laughed. “You’re not the only one with connections, Tip.”

  “I hear you,” Tip said, “That’s good information, but it won’t do us any good. Some people might call that immoral, and others enviable, but it isn’t illegal.”

  “I know that, Tip, but what about abortion?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Supposedly one of them girls got herself a big belly after that night.”

  Tip and I both stared at each other. “Son of a bitch!” he said.

  “There’s more. The problem is most of this is based on rumors or word of mouth.”

  “I’ve come to believe in small-town rumors,” Tip said.

  “The people I talked to said the girl left town in a hurry. And the ones in the know back then said it was to get an abortion. And the ones really in the know said it was because Tom Marsen, our squeaky-clean president, was the father. You remember Tom Marsen—the one who rode into the White House on the anti-crime, anti-drugs, and anti-abortion campaign promises.”

  Tip looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “Do we know who the girl was?”

  “Not yet. But I’m diggin’.”

  “Keep at it, partner. I need this.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get it. And then you can bring me one of those beautiful women who love you so much.”

  Tip laughed. “It’s a deal you can count on. And while you’re waitin’ for me to show up, see what else you can dig up, like you said.” Tip cleared his throat, then, “Buddy, I gotta tell you, this could mean trouble. We’re dealing with powerful people.”

  “Dealt with powerful people before, besides, I got nothin’ else to do. Might as well do some good.”

  “Well all right, partner. I’ll see you at the gravesite.” Tip turned off the speaker, made sure it was hung up, then cast a quick glance in my direction. “If Tom Marsen’s girlfriend had an abortion…”

  “And Camwyck was blackmailing him?”

  Tip nodded. “How pissed off would he be?”

  “Enough to commit murder?”

  “I don’t know, but fifty dollars to a doughnut says that sneaky bitch Cybil had something to do with this. We need to find out what.”

  CHAPTER 38

  FOLLOW THE MONEY

  Tip headed back to the station, driving what seemed to be two hundred miles an hour half the way there, and me pissing my pants all the way.

  “Tip, things are going great today so let’s not press our luck. In other words, slow the fuck down.”

  He let the speedometer drift down to eighty, a speed reasonable enough to allow me to release the imaginary brake on the floor and the death grip I had on the armrest and door handle. “You’re a maniac. I’m driving from now on.”

  “I’m just itchin’ to see good old Captain Gladys Cooper. She knows something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know what, but you don’t grow up in an East Texas town without knowing what goes on. I’ve had a feeling all along that Coop’s been stonewalling us.”

  Tip parked the car and we headed inside. On our way to the coffee room, we passed Julie and asked if she had any updates.

  “No updates yet, but hang on. I’ll be back in a flash. I’ve got to give something to Captain Cooper.”

  “Don’t tell her we’re here,” Tip said.

  I sat at the table in the coffee room, and pulled out our notes on the case. At the top of a new page I wrote ‘Do you believe in MAGIC?’, then looked to Tip. “It was in caps here, but not Dallas.”

  He pulled up a chair and sat next to me. “What does that mean? What does any of it mean?”

  “I have no idea, but it sounds familiar.”

  Julie was just coming around the corner. She must have heard our conversation, because she said, “If ya’ll are talking about that note in the car, it’s a song from the sixties.”

  I looked at her puzzled. “It didn’t take you long to get to Coop’s office.”

  “I told you I’d be back in a flash.”

  “Just how fast is a flash?” Tip asked.

  Julie smiled, and her bright white teeth, coupled with purple tinted hair and rainbow fingernails, made for a unique sight in a cop station, at least for somebody not being questioned.

  “A flash is quick. And as far as that song goes, I think it was from ’67 or maybe ’68. The Lovin’ Spoonful did it.”

  Tip looked surprised and continued looking that way for several seconds before he said anything. “How do you know that? You weren’t born yet. I don’t think your mother was born then.”

  She giggled and went about her duties. “If you need to know anything else, you call.”

  “Whoa, hold up a minute.” I said.

  She turned around expectantly, and I said, “Can you get us the lyrics for that song. Maybe this wacko is playing a game with us. I guess you can Google it or something.”

  “No need to, Gino. I’ve got the lyrics on my computer.”

  Julie left, and, true to her word, she returned only a few minutes later. I didn’t know if it would constitute a “flash” or not, but it was quick. We laid the printout on the desk between us and looked it over.

  It talked a lot about magic, and about girls. I think freedom was mentioned, but then again the song was from the sixties. And I think the word groovy was flung around a few times…but like I said…

  I read it twice, then scratched my head and read it again. “Tip, you get anything out of this?”

  “Other than a hankering to go smoke some weed—no.”

  “So why did he leave this clue at both scenes?”

  “Maybe the guy’s into old hippie songs, but we don’t have time to mess with it.”

  “We can’t ignore it,” I said.

  “I’ll tell you what we ought to do, buy about two dozen glazed doughnuts and give them to Charlie along with some hashish brownies. We let him stew for about half an hour then slip him this song and see what he makes of it.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. He might figure it out.”

  “He might solve the mysteries of the universe, but it will only cost a few bucks, so we should do it. We’ll tell Julie to put it in motion.”

  “I’d be worried if I thought you were serious, Tip.”

  “I’m sure you’ve been worried before,” Tip said.

  I shook my head. “I assume we have to go see Coop.”

  “Unfortunately, we do,” Tip said.

  As we walked past Julie’s desk, Tip handed her the lyrics. “Give this to Charlie with the case files and tell him to figure it out, but do not give him any brownies. We might end up being sucked in by a black hole.”

  “And that’s it?” Julie asked. “What’s that about brownies? What are you talking about? And what’s this about black holes?”

  “Just tell him there’s an endless supply of bagels with strawberry cream cheese at the end of the rainbow.”

  Julie shook her head as she looked at Tip. “You’re about as loony as they come, Mr. Denton.”

  We w
alked into Coop’s office exhibiting a confidence neither one of us felt.

  “Hey, Cap, how—”

  “I don’t have time for your nonsense, Denton. Tell me about the car.”

  I decided to jump in and save Tip, because sure as the sun shines, he was going to get himself in trouble. “The car was clean except for a few hairs, which they’re running. They dusted for prints and got nothing, not even hers. The victim’s purse was on the seat and there was a note inside that read, ‘Do you believe in MAGIC?’ Magic was in caps.”

  Coop was good at hiding emotions, but when I said “magic” there was a slight reaction, a twitch of the lips. “Does that mean something to you?”

  Coop must have known I noticed something. She shook her head. “It struck me as odd.”

  I didn’t pursue it, but I didn’t buy her explanation one bit. I glanced over at Tip and from the look on his face, and the subtle shaking of his head, he wasn’t buying it either.

  Cooper stared at us, one at a time, holding her glare. “I see what you two are doing, and you don’t fool me. I know you went to see Cybil. I told you then, and I’m repeating it. Get another suspect. Cybil didn’t do it.”

  I couldn’t believe she kept insisting on us leaving this alone. “How are you so sure?”

  “I’ve known her since we were kids. Cybil might be a lot of things but she’s not a cold-blooded killer.”

  I decided to play it risky. “I noticed your reaction when I mentioned the magic note. You know something, and we’re not leaving here until you tell us.”

  She balled her hands into fists and didn’t utter a word. After a long silence, Tip spoke up and he made it sound as nice as I imagined he could. “Gladys, you can tell us what you know…or I can go see Chief Renkin.”

  Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened, but then she seemed to relax. She knew that Tip and Renkin used to be partners. Things could get bad for her if it went that route.

  I decided to try another angle. “Coop, we love you. If you’re in trouble…I mean if you somehow got mixed up in something and you’re finding it tough to get out, we can help. Please, let us help.”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Sit down, boys,” she said, then pressed the intercom button for Cindy. “Would you please bring me some tea?” She looked to us.

  “Coffee?”