“Don’t look now, but you sound a lot like my father. I can do without that, thank you very much.” My attitude started to rise, and if I hadn’t been sitting in the car, my hand would have been on my hip.
“Sorry, I know he gave you a hard time. You two were ready to square off there for a few moments.” He glanced over and then took the turn into the Providence Police Department’s parking lot.
I leapt from the seat when the car stopped. Marcus said he’d wait for me. I raced across the lot into the building. Anderson stood on the opposite side of the portal waiting for me to step through. The alarms didn’t sound and he motioned me into the elevator.
“That was fast. Where were you?” Porter asked as we rode to the second floor.
“Having dinner with my family in Cranston. You called at just the right time. My father and I were engaged in a standoff. Marcus is waiting for me outside – will this take long?” I smiled, but my stomach knotted as the door opened. Before he could answer, I noticed that Detective Bellini stood in the corridor.
“Lavinia,” he said with a cool attitude.
“Detective,” I answered in greeting.
The two men stood on either side of me as we headed down a corridor into the detectives’ office area. I’d never been in this section of the building and gawked around to see what I’d missed. Nothing much of interest laid around, just a bunch of desks and phones. An interrogation room sat at the end of the wide unit. It stood dark and empty with thick, glassed-in walls.
“This recording came from the restaurant you went to last night. We recognize you and Trooper Richmond, but need you to view it and tell us where you saw Crisp.”
“Show me.” I settled at the table where a television sat. Anderson pushed the button on the remote and the restaurant parking lot came into view. About half an hour later, I saw my image walk alongside Marcus. We were talking and I tugged his sleeve as we approached the car. A nearby car door opened and a woman got in. I sat up and pointed toward her.
“That’s her. If you can enhance the image you’ll be able to see her more closely, and maybe you can also identify the car.”
“You’re sure that’s the woman you saw?” Anderson asked.
“Yes, it is. Why?” I turned to stare up at Bellini.
“Because she showed up dead today. The clothes, everything is the same.”
“You’re not going to make me identify the body are you?”
Detective Bellini sighed and plunked his butt on the edge of the desk. “Since you are our only witness to this woman’s appearance, we do need your help.”
Thoughts of remuneration flew into my head. Bellini knew if I did this for the PPD, we would be square. I wouldn’t owe him any more favors. I smiled and stared at him. He tsked with his teeth and nodded. I guess mind reading was part of his repertoire, too.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “You win. We’re square if you’ll help us out.”
“Deal.” I reached out and shook his hand even though I’d have helped the PPD anyway. From the smirk on his face, Bellini knew it, but it was part of our bargaining routine. He or I would give in on things occasionally.
We rose from the table and left the room. In the elevator, Bellini explained how the woman had died and that he’d arrange a ride home for me if Marcus didn’t care to wait.
“The MO was the same as the two dead men,” he said. “Shot at close range with a small caliber gun.” I gulped when my stomach clenched. With a nod of understanding, I waited until the elevator doors slid open.
Through the window, Marcus watched me approach the car. When I stood outside, he rolled the window down.
“Now what?” he asked.
“I have to go to the medical examiner’s office with the detectives. Don’t wait for me. Bellini will arrange a ride home.” I leaned in the window and kissed him.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”
“No, I’ll be all right. Call me later, though, huh?”
“Yeah, I will. Who are you going to see?”
I hesitated, and then said, “Nurse Crisp.”
“For Chrissake, Lavinia. There’s a nutball on the loose with a gun and the cops want to make this freak aware of you? Great.” His lips pressed together in a thin line while a muscle twitched in his angry face. He started the car and left the parking lot in pissed-off mode.
The three of us drove across town to the medical examiner’s office. We angled into a parking spot outside the building. I was surprised to see numerous cars in the lot. The night crew had arrived with no secretaries, just case workers – the case workers who worked forensics on the bodies. My stomach clenched again. I breathed deep as we left the car park.
At the end of spotless corridors, we strode toward the bright room where stainless steel cabinets lined the walls. In my mind this was way too many times, in as many days, to be here checking out cadavers. Good God.
The door swung inward. Anderson held it open until we’d entered the room. A tall, lean, bald guy, who reminded me of a walking cadaver, greeted Bellini and opened a door midway down the room. He pulled the stainless steel table forward on silent rollers and then proceeded to remove the drape covering the body beneath.
Deep breaths, take deep breaths. I took a breath and held it as I stepped forward. The cloth moved downward. I stared at Nurse Crisp, dead as a doornail. The austere features were more so now that the woman was dead and cold on the slab. The small bullet hole in the center of her forehead was clear of blood, but ugly. Kind of like a bellybutton gone awry.
It only took a second for me to nod and look back at the two detectives. They stepped forward. Anderson took my arm and we moved toward the exit. I guess I must have been white as the sheet that draped Crisp. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on a bench. Bellini handed me a paper cup of water.
The cold liquid slid down my throat. I glanced at the two guys and tried to smile in an effort to show them I was fine. Instead, I choked on the next sip of water and nearly croaked on the spot. Gasping for deep breaths of air, my eyes teamed with tears and ran a river down my face. Dang, I hate when that happens.
Finally, I managed to get control of my breathing and stood up. Escape from the morgue and the dead folks, was uppermost in my mind. The detectives got the message and we hustled along the silent corridors. Whoever worked there, did so behind closed doors.
Chapter 14
The ride home in a clearly marked police cruiser was the last thing I’d expected. My neighbors were sure to talk. Soon the town would be rampant with gossip over the fact I’d arrived home escorted by the cops. At the least this was another affirmation: my life was never mundane. We all need to thank the Big Guy in the sky for the little things.
Once in the house, I roamed around turning on lights and then started the gas fireplace. A cold November wind rattled windowpanes and howled around the eaves of the house. The temperature had dropped and snow seemed a likely possibility.
The goody bag from my mother had been set in front of the kitchen door. I realized Marcus had dropped it off. He could have kept it. I’d never have known until mealtime rolled around.
Unable to relax, I poured a glass of wine and picked up the sketch pad in the living room. Settling in front of the fireplace, I turned on soft music and flipped the sketchbook pages to stare at the illustrations. Questions flooded my overactive mind while I leaned back and sipped the sweet beverage.
What was the purpose of killing those three people? Was it the fact that they were connected to one another through the clinic and health center? Who was behind the killings? I’d never seen another person and couldn’t imagine these three as a fraud ring of any sort. They didn’t seem smart enough for that. Though, perhaps they were involved in medical fraud. They’d fooled me into believing I’d suffered a grievous injury cured only by torture – in the form of physical therapy.
The pad slipped from my knees. I picked it up and tossed it aside. My thoughts turned to Giovanni and stolen artwork. Another situation I wanted to avoid, with no hope of doing so. I rose and went toward the phone. The address book lay close by. I found the listing for Lena and Nate. I punched in the number, waiting as the phone rang on the other end.
A decrepit voice answered as my eyes fluttered toward the clock on the desk. It was still early, so I shouldn’t feel guilty for waking an old woman.
“Hello?” her voice creaked out the word.
“Hello Auntie, how are you? This is Lavinia, your niece.”
A brief silence met my statement before she cleared her throat and said, “Whaddaya want, Lavinia?”
“My mother and I are concerned for you. I wanted to apologize for my behavior at the funeral home during Great Uncle Nate’s showing. I’m sorry if I caused you any added grief.” I fibbed. “I wondered if I might stop by tomorrow to visit with you for a short time?”
“You never came by much in the past. Whaddaya wanna come by for now?”
The woman was brutally outspoken and rude, I’d give her that much. But I had a mission and refused to fail.
“It’s just that Great Uncle Nate meant so much to us. I thought maybe it would help me get over his death if I could come by to visit with you for a while. I’m sure you must realize how much a part of our lives he was.”
Yeah, right. We’d tried to avoid the man whenever possible in public, but I must admit we’d had some good times with him at family gatherings. Nate was a thief, but not a bad guy. It’s a confusing statement, but true nonetheless. If anyone was in need of a shirt, Great Uncle Nate would offer his. There was only the worry about who he’d stolen it from and if they would come after it.
A sigh crossed the phone line. I heard her mumble something under her breath. It sounded like ‘freakin’ relatives’, but I wasn’t sure.
“Come by around four. We’ll have a cup of tea and a light snack. You remember the address, don’t you?”
“Indeed I do. You still live in the blue house on Magnolia Street, in Dean Estates, right?” The Edwardian house was gargantuan. Why she lived there alone was beyond me. Though, if I had her money, I’d probably consider it as well.
“Yes, I do. I’ll see you at four. Don’t be late.” The line went dead.
I placed the receiver in its cradle then picked it up once again and dialed my mom’s house. Giovanni answered the call on the first ring. I guessed he’d been sitting waiting for me to call.
“Gio, it’s me. I’ve been invited to Lena’s tomorrow at four for tea. If this woman poisons me, I’m gonna hunt you down, understand? You owe me, big time.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I spoke with Jill tonight. She has suggested a separation until we can get things straightened out.”
Yikes, did that mean my brother, Saint Doctor Giovanni Esposito, would move back to Rhode Island? Please God, I won’t lie by omission anymore, I prayed silently. I love my brother, but….
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, and hoped he was.
“No, she’s downright serious. I have to wonder if she’s been doing more than holding art for Great Uncle Nate. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who has connections to the underworld of fencing stolen art would you?”
That was more than I could handle. I held the phone away from my ear and banged it on the desk top a few times.
“Oops, sorry. I dropped the phone. Did you say something?” I asked.
“No, nothing,” he said and made a mournful sigh.
This whipped-dog attitude of Gio’s was circling my last nerve and I snapped at him.
“Giovanni, smarten up for Chrissake. You have a wife who’s been involved with a cat burglar. What are you thinking? She’s in this up to her violet eyeballs and you’d better cut her loose as soon as possible or you’ll hang with her. You know about guilt by association? Duh?”
“Wait a minute here,” he said. “This is America – you don’t have to prove your innocence.”
“Not in a perfect world, but reality is not that pristine. I told you, people are looking into your business. It doesn’t take much for something to be misconstrued and before you know it, you’re up the river hanging out with Bubba the Bumboy.”
“Vin, you’ve been hanging around with the cops too much. You’re as crude as they are.”
“No, this is a reality check … and you’d better listen to what I’m telling you,” I remarked. He’d been out in the cornfields of Nebraska too damned long. His quick wit and natural acuity had diminished over time and now I was left with Giovanni the Stupid-o. God help me.
“Fine. If you think I should wake up, then I will,” he said, his voice rising. “I simply find it almost impossible to believe I’ve been married to this woman for so long and still do not know everything about her and our lives.”
“Don’t put the blame on your shoulders, Gio. She’s a big girl who knew what she was getting into. By the way, to add more to the story, she has a couple additional pieces of artwork sitting up in the loft. I found them after you left the other day, but didn’t have the heart to tell you.”
“Oh, but you tell me now though. Right? When I’m down, you’re gonna kick me. Right?” He sputtered angrily into the phone.
Anger rolled through my system. “I don’t know how this became my fault or my responsibility, but you better smarten up or I’m gonna kick your ass so hard, you won’t need a ticket for the airline ‘cause you’ll be airborne and land on your ass in the cornfields of Nebraska.” My hand on my hip, I yelled at my brother with an attitude the size of Montana.
Silence filtered through the line for a few moments and then Giovanni sighed.
“I’m sorry. I’m a bit overwhelmed, is all. I’ve got to go, I have an early lecture tomorrow and I’ve volunteered to introduce the speaker. Stay in touch, okay?”
My temper was still close to the surface. I choked it down. “Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night and we’ll talk?”
“Sure, what time?”
“Around six ought to do it. I’m sure I’ll be done with Lena by then.”
“See you then,” he said, and hung up.
The phone clicked into the charger as it slid from my hand. I wandered back into the kitchen with the glass and replenished my wine.
Once in the living room again, I stretched out on the sofa. Relaxation didn’t come and I felt wired to the gills. The things we do for family, I thought with chagrin.
Chapter 15
Warmth from the fireplace permeated the room as I opened my eyes. The empty wineglass lay clutched to my breast. Grey light poured through the windows and a wild wind continued to hurl itself against the house. I glanced at my watch. I would be late for class if I didn’t get moving. No time to shower, just enough time for a quick wash.
The car roared down the road. I passed everyone who got in the way. Cars pulled into the slowest lane when I moved close behind them, a heavy foot on the gas pedal. Route 95 teamed with traffic as I entered the morning rush. It took serious maneuvering to get across the lanes of the Interstate 195 heading east, but I managed it. Horns honked and middle fingers flipped me off when I crowded into spaces between cars to get where I needed to go.
Onward, across the George Washington Bridge, I raced. I was as exhilarated as always when speeding. The traffic never slowed. I weaved in and out of the lanes to make as much headway as possible. The clock ticked and the students waited. That was when I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the same car that had kept pace with me from the onramp of Rte. 6, about fifteen miles back.
I glanced at the vehicles around me. Tractor-trailers loaded with goods, cement trucks with their barrels in mix mode, and cars of every kind rumbled along in the lanes. I slowed a bit and the car behind me slowed. I repeated the action and dropped down
to fifty miles per hour. The other vehicle did the same.
In Rhode Island, when a person drops their speed to what might be considered slow, there’s a lot of horn blowing accompanied by rude gestures and yelling from other drivers. The offended parties then zoom past in a fit of rage, gesturing again and yelling some more. This car did none of that, but maintained its place.
Sweat gathered in my armpits and rolled down my body. I’d had an accident on the way to the university a couple months before and nearly ended up dead. The vehicle that caused the accident had belonged to a man I’d managed to send to the Adult Correctional Facility. He probably roomed with a big dude named Bubba.
My nerves tightened and my foot slammed the gas pedal as I made for a break in the traffic.
Near the exit to the university, I slid across three lanes and onto the off ramp. My glance darted to the mirror again, only to see the vehicle still in pursuit. I slowed to take the curve and caught the license plate number.
I rummaged around for the cell phone in the bottom of my handbag. My thumb hit the speed dial button for Marcus and I listened while the phone rang.
“Trooper Richmond.”
The rich tone reached my ear. I started to speak, only to hear the call cut in and out.
“Marcus, take this number down. I’m being followed by a car.” The make, model, and license plate number of the vehicle rattled off my lips as fast as I could say them. I wasn’t sure if he got all the words, but hoped so.
“Where are you?” he asked in a calm voice.
“Nearly at the university.” My forehead was moist and sweat dribbled down the back of my neck from under my hairline. How could he be so cool?
“Got it. I’ll take care of this. Just get to class and don’t leave the building alone. Understand?”
“Right.” I disconnected.
A few minutes later, I approached the grounds of the school on my right and flipped my directional signal to take the turn. The car behind me sped past. Before I lost sight of the main drag, a grey State Police cruiser followed it with lights flashing.
Dead Wrong Page 11