Old Wounds, a Gino Cataldi Mystery

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  “When we look at the players involved, there’s one thing in common—they all knew each other. Tom Marsen, Bob Ingle, Cybil, Camwyck, even Coop.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, Tip. All the pieces fit, and yet, somehow they don’t. Sort of like a broken puzzle.”

  “You’re right. That’s exactly what it is—a broken puzzle.” Tip got up and paced. “We need to take this back to the Piney Woods. That’s where it all started.”

  “Sounds like we’re taking a road trip tomorrow,” I said. “If we’re driving to East Texas, I’m behind the wheel.”

  Tip headed for the fridge. “Pick me up early.”

  “See you at six,” I said.

  CHAPTER 58

  THE MAYOR’S WIFE

  The next morning, I pulled into Tip’s driveway a few minutes before six. I half expected him to be sleeping, but he was sitting on the sidewalk waiting.

  “Thought you’d be early,” he said, and got in the car.

  “Directions?”

  “I’ve been thinking about this all night. It might be good if we pay Cybil another visit. She’s got to know something.”

  I put the car in reverse and backed out into his circular drive. “No question she knows something, but the way I see it, it’ll be a cold day in hell before she tells us.”

  “Probably,” Tip said. “But it’s worth a shot.”

  “She won’t be in her office this early. You got anything in mind for the next few hours?”

  “I was thinking we’d be on our way to East Texas,” Tip said. “But I’d prefer we see Cybil first. Since she’s not in yet, I was thinking breakfast.”

  We stopped at our favorite spot, and while I thought we’d be wasting time, we actually accomplished something. We determined once and for all—at least in our minds—that Ingle couldn’t have killed Camwyck and Richards. Not without help. We had come to this conclusion earlier, but today we confirmed it.

  “That leaves our prime suspect as Reggie Grage,” Tip said.

  “The problem is, he’s dead.”

  Tip signaled the waitress. “Hey, darlin’, can you get me another order of sausage, please?”

  “And more coffee,” I said. “Please?”

  Tip smiled. “Damn we’re polite.”

  We finished stuffing our faces, filled our guts with coffee, and then finished a slow commute down a traffic-jammed freeway to Cybil’s office.

  I parked in the garage, then we headed into the lobby.

  “May I help you?” a young girl at the desk asked.

  Tip leaned close and gave her his best smile. “Darlin’, if you could tell Cybil that Detectives Denton and Cataldi are here to see her, I’d surely appreciate it.”

  “Of course, Detective. Have a seat,” she said, and showed a wide row of white teeth.

  “I’ll be right here, Darlin’. Don’t forget me now.”

  She blushed. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got fresh coffee.”

  “I’ll take you up on that. Cream and sugar, please.”

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, and disappeared through a door behind her station.

  Tip turned and stood beside me. “I wonder if Cybil breeds pretty young things like her, or just has a damn good recruiter to hire them for her.”

  I didn’t acknowledge his speculation, but in either case, I had to admit somebody was doing a good job. A minute later, the sweet thing from the front desk returned with our coffees, but before we could even sip it, Cybil came out.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Is there someplace we can talk privately?” I asked.

  “This way,” she said, and walked down a long corridor, her ass pushing each side of a tight skirt, threatening to break through at any moment. Cybil was still a looker for her age.

  About ten yards down a long hall she opened a door and stepped aside. “Did you boys enjoy the show?”

  I blushed.

  Tip smiled. “I did,” he said. “Thanks. It would have been nicer if the hallway was longer though.” He brushed past her and took the nearest seat.

  Cybil closed the door behind us. “I hope there was a reason why we needed to speak privately.”

  “Where were you when Patti Richards was killed?” Tip asked.

  “Who?”

  “Patti Richards, the woman who was murdered in Dallas shortly after Barbara was killed.”

  Cybil looked at Tip as if he’d lost his mind, and I have to admit, I was thinking along those lines myself. “I have no idea.”

  “Did you know Richards?”

  Cybil made her way to the bar, grabbed a glass, and mixed a drink. She looked in my direction. “One for you, Detective?”

  “Not now, thanks. My liver thinks it’s a little early to start with the booze.”

  “Mine too, but I pay it no mind.” She turned to Tip. “Where were we?”

  “Did you know her?” Tip asked. “Richards, I mean.”

  “I don’t believe I did.”

  “Funny. She had your name in her address book. Your maiden name.”

  Cybil paced while she drank.

  “Patti Richards. Let me think. Richards…Was that a married name?”

  “I think you know it wasn’t. She was a prostitute.”

  Cybil’s eyebrows reached for the ceiling. “Oh my.”

  “You seem to know a lot of prostitutes.”

  Cybil stopped and held Tip fixed with a hard look.

  “What are you implying?”

  “I’m just stating it straight out. You seem to know a lot of prostitutes. From what I’ve heard you used to run a ring of blackmailing whores to get dirt on politicians.” Tip set his glass on the end table and cocked his head. “How’s that for speaking plainly?”

  She slammed her glass on the bar top, splashing the drink. “I think you should leave.”

  “Fine, but if I walk out that door without any answers, everything I know about the old days is going to hit the papers.”

  Cybil shot Tip a look that I’m sure had made big men cower. It made me want to hide in a corner. “If you slander us, I’ll—”

  “No need to go on,” Tip said. “I know all of the things you’ll do, but the fact remains that Rusty has an election to win, and if this hits the papers, we both know he won’t win.”

  “Nobody would dare print garbage like that.”

  When Cybil said that, Roberts came to mind. She’d have the balls. As I thought that, I realized that it just might get printed.

  “If you’re arrested, they will,” Tip said. He pulled out his handcuffs and approached her. “In case you’re wondering, these aren’t for fun and games, Ms. Johnson.”

  She half-laughed and took a few steps back. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Turn around, ma’am. You are under arrest for the murder of Patti Richards.”

  When Tip said that, I almost lost it. I knew he was crazy, but I didn’t imagine he’d carry things this far.

  Tip and I walked her back down the hall in cuffs. When we exited into the front office, Cybil looked to her left and said, “Amy, get Ben Sanders. Tell him I’ve been taken to the police station. And call my husband.”

  Tip led her out the front office door leading into the walkway leading to the garage. Cybil turned and hollered before the double doors closed, “And tell Rusty he better get his ass there fast!”

  Tip removed the cuffs before we got in the car.

  “Not worried about me overpowering you?” Cybil said.

  “That was just for show,” Tip said. “But the rest is real.”

  It didn’t take long to drive to the station from Cybil’s office, but during that short drive she used every curse word I knew at least a dozen or more times, and 90% of them were directed at Tip. She threatened him and all of his living, and, dead relatives, and swore a curse upon all future offspring.

  When I reached the parking lot, Tip said,

  “Pull over, Gino.”

  “Where?”

 
“Any empty spot.”

  “I knew this was bullshit,” Cybil said. “But you’re still going to suffer for it.”

  Tip turned around in his seat, facing Cybil.

  “This is bullshit. I’ll grant you that, but just so you know what you’re facing—we have your hair on Patti Richards’ body and your name in her address book. Your maiden name. And you were in Dallas at the time Richards was killed.”

  I watched Cybil closely, looking for reactions. The way she raised her brows and then narrowed them made me think this was news to her. She could have been faking it, but I didn’t think she was.

  “That’s absurd,” she said.

  “I think so too,” Tip said, “But Ingle and Camwyck are both dead, and that doesn’t leave us with a lot of suspects. Besides you, there’s our captain and the president.” Tip paused, and said, “See how it looks? Someone is going out of their way to make it seem like you had something to do with this.”

  “This is bullshit!” Cybil said again.

  “I agree,” Tip said. “So we can continue this bullshit, or you can tell me what I need to know.”

  “What do you think I know?”

  “Why was Camwyck killed?”

  Cybil shrugged, then looked at me. “Are you recording this?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She took a moment, then breathed in deeply. “I don’t know who killed Barbara, or why. But my guess is she fell in love with the fool, and by fool I mean Tom Marsen. She always was a sucker for him, even after he raped her.” Cybil shook her head. “She must have done something to really piss him off.”

  “You’re saying the president—”

  “Killed her?” Cybil shook her head. “I know he didn’t do it himself—he’d never dream of getting his hands dirty—but he’d have no problem getting somebody else to do it. That’s the special kind of son of a bitch that our president is.”

  Tip shot her a look. “You’re trying to convince us that the president had her killed?”

  “Who else?”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Cybil shrugged again. “Barbara was a damn fool. It’s only speculation, but I guess she was blackmailing Tom for things he did in the old days.”

  “Blackmailing the president sounds pretty stupid,” I said.

  “If you knew Barbara, you’d understand. She wasn’t the kind of person who gave up on anything. And once she got her hooks into someone, she never gave up.” Cybil shook her head. “Never.”

  “That’s good to know,” I said, “But what would have gotten her killed?”

  “I don’t know. It must have been something from the old days. Maybe having to do with her abortion. Tom wouldn’t like it if that got out.”

  “We tried digging into that,” Tip said.

  “People back in your home town are pretty tight lipped, especially when it comes to anything dealing with the president.”

  I remained silent. Tip’s line of shit didn’t stop at flirting, it seemed. We’d never talked to anyone about Marsen.

  “No surprise there,” Cybil said. “You’ll have to find out where she went afterward. Get a record of that procedure and you’ll have something to discuss with Tom.”

  “Where did she go?” Tip asked. “I mean after the procedure.”

  “All I know is that Barbara left town after she got pregnant. I left shortly after that and came to Houston. About a year later, she called me and said she was looking for work.” Cybil hit the button to roll down the window, and breathed in fresh air. Since it was a personal car and not a patrol car, she could do that. “I told Barbara if she was willing to do whatever it took to get ahead, then I had work for her. I gave her the number for an old cop named George—”

  “I know him,” Tip said.

  “Good. If he’s still alive he can probably tell you where he picked her up.”

  Cybil looked at Tip, then me. “I told you all I know. It’s your turn to deliver, and by deliver I mean keeping things quiet. We can’t afford this kind of publicity during Rusty’s campaign.”

  “I’m not promising anything,” Tip said.

  “I’ve got something to trade.”

  “I can’t imagine anything that you have to interest me.”

  A smirk popped on Cybil’s face. “How about your mother’s killer?”

  Tip turned in the seat, his face white, and blank.

  “I know you’ve been on that case a long time,” she said.

  “You don’t know shit about my mother’s case.”

  “Can we work something out?”

  “What do you know?” Tip asked, but then he shook his head. “I can’t, and I wouldn’t even if I could. But if you know something about who killed her…really know something…”

  She reached over the seat and patted his shoulder. “Screw you, Denton. I hope you never find him.”

  Tip’s hands balled into fists. He looked like he wanted to hit her, but then he turned and faced forward. “Gino, I’m going inside. Take her back and get her ready for processing, will you?” He slammed the door when he got out.

  ***

  Tip wondered about what Cybil said as he walked into the station and up the steps. How did she even know about his mother? Who told her? Why? And the worst thought of all—did she really know something? Or was she bluffing?

  Charlie met Tip at the top of the stairs.

  “Coop wants to see you.”

  In a couple of minutes, Tip was sitting in Coop’s office. “You wanted to see me?”

  “I heard about Cybil. What the hell is going on?”

  Tip didn’t answer right away. When he did it was with some hesitation. “I was hoping we’d get information from her.”

  “What kind of information? Isn’t this case wrapped up?”

  Tip leaned forward, resting his hands on Coop’s desk. “You know this case isn’t over. Ingle’s dead, and his bodyguard is dead. But nothing adds up, Gladys, and you damn well know it doesn’t.”

  She let out a grunt of some sort. It sounded like disgust. “Close the case, Denton.

  Rusty is putting pressure on the chief, and he’s pressing me.”

  Tip slammed his hand on the desk. “I’m not closing a case because some damn politician wants it closed. That makes me more suspicious than anything. I may not follow all the rules, but I’m not bending over for anybody. This case is getting solved, and it’s getting solved the right way.”

  Coop leaned back in her chair. “Don’t tell me about suspicions. I’ve been getting pressure on this case since it started, which is why I told you to lay off Cybil to begin with.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us you were under pressure?”

  Coop laughed. “And if I did? Would you have quit? Besides, I mentioned it more than once. What the hell did you want, a billboard with a plea for help?”

  “Coop, you know me by now. I would have done what I had to do. Nothing less.”

  “Just like you and Gino didn’t go to Cybil’s when I told you to lay off.”

  Tip gazed into her eyes, refusing to back down. “Kind of. I thought we had to do it.”

  “And you didn’t care that I instructed you not to?”

  “Not really.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Coop removed her glasses and set them on her desk. “There’s a lot more to this job than catching bad guys. When you’re at my desk, it’s all about bullshit and politics.”

  Coop shook her head. “I admire what you’re doing, but let’s stop dreaming. You know nothing good will come of you embarrassing the mayor.”

  “I know,” Tip said, “But we might put enough pressure on Cybil to get some answers.”

  “More dreams.”

  “Maybe so,” Tip said, “But we’ve got to try something. I’m not closing this case with what we have. We owe it to Camwyck and Roberts to find the real killer. If it’s Ingle, fine. If it isn’t, let’s find out who it is.”

  Coop stood and paced. “Fair enough. Push Cybil, push anyone you need to,
as long as you know it will be a rough ride.”

  Tip smiled, and stood. “You got it, Captain. Thanks.”

  “Sit down, Denton.”

  She stared at him. “I’ve been straight with you, now tell me what’s going on with Gino.”

  Tip knew this day was coming. Now he had to do something. “Nothing.”

  She sat back in her chair again. “More bullshit.” She stared at him for a long time, head cocked, eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  “Not unless you were in bed with me.”

  For a moment Coop looked as if she might get pissed, but then she laughed. “You are a pain in the ass, but for some reason I like you.”

  “Thanks, Cap. I kind of like me too.”

  “Get the hell out of here. And make sure you do everything right with Cybil. Her lawyers will be looking for loopholes.”

  “I’ll keep you posted,” he said, and moved toward the door.

  “You realize if you don’t get me info on Gino, someone else will.”

  “Nothing to get,” Tip said.

  “We’ll see. Go finish this case. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “One for the records. That’s for sure.”

  “An awful lot went on in that town where we came from,” Coop said. “I guess it’s like Cybil said—that place bred a lot of ambitious people.”

  “A lot goes on in all towns, and all houses, we just don’t know about it until it comes out.”

  “You getting philosophical?”

  “Yep, that’s me. And you better be careful, Coop; now that I know all it takes to be captain is bullshit, I might be after your job. I can do bullshit pretty good.”

  Coop laughed. “Get the hell out of here.”

  CHAPTER 59

  THE PINEY WOODS

  I got back to the station and found Tip at his desk. Papers from the case file were spread all over. “What’s up, partner? Looking for something new?”

  “New or old,” he said. “Just looking for something. By the way, are we going to see that ex-cop you know?”

  “You mean George? No sense in driving over there,” Tip said. “We’ll give him a call.”

  Tip put the phone on speaker. After about six rings, George picked up. “Yeah?”