A Matter of Blood

by Catherine Maiorisi

  Parker raised her eyes but spoke to the empty chair facing them. “Gus had the most to gain by her dying and the most to lose if she lived. And it sounds like he lied about going back to the office. Something fancy and silver would be right up his greedy alley, so let’s check out his car to see if it matches. Gertrude gains from Winter’s death too, and that fat lady sure sounds like her. She said Gus doesn’t have any balls. Maybe she took it upon herself to do her brother’s dirty work and save the family fortune? We should eliminate the two of them first.”

  “She’s got a point, boss,” Watkins said.

  Corelli swallowed her anger, touched Parker’s shoulder and waited for her to make eye contact. “Your instincts are right on the mark. Knowing that Gus and Gertrude lied about being there elevates them to the top of the list of suspects.”

  Parker’s shoulders relaxed but she looked away.

  Corelli studied her. Was Parker angry because of the way she treated Cummings or because she feared retaliation for confronting Corelli about her attraction? She would deal with it tomorrow. She felt too stressed now.

  “We’ll start with Gertrude tomorrow morning. I’d like you there too, Watkins, so meet us outside her apartment building at nine.”

  “No problem,” he said, and stood to leave.

  “Parker, you can stay and follow up on Gus’s car. I’ll—”

  “No way do you travel without me,” Parker said, moving between Corelli and the door.

  Watkins froze at the defiance in her voice. The room crackled with tension. Corelli opened her mouth, closed it, and reminded herself again that the chief had ordered Parker to protect her. She breathed deeply, and once more responded to the words, not the tone.

  “I was about to say, I’ll get a ride home with Watkins.”

  Parker’s shoulders dropped. “Make sure she gets in the elevator, Watkins.”

  He saluted. “Yes ma’am.”

  She looked at Corelli. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  The humid August morning air felt like a weight on Corelli’s shoulders. The air-conditioned car was a welcome relief, but Parker was icy, barely acknowledging her. No doubt Parker was still angry, but Corelli had nothing left to give right now. She’d been asleep less than two hours when she woke up screaming and trembling and drenched in sweat from a nightmare about trying to save Marnie. She’d taken a shower and stared at the bottle of bourbon for a long time before making a pot of tea. Afraid to fall asleep again, she’d run on the treadmill, lifted weights, done yoga and tried to meditate until morning arrived. Now, the worry pooled in her stomach, nauseating her. Her head felt fuzzy. She was on tenterhooks, uncertain about her future and the safety of her family. She needed to wrap up this case and focus on the threat.

  Parker pulled into a parking spot a half block from Gertrude’s building. They found Watkins sitting in his car, head bobbing, hands drumming on the steering wheel. Corelli tapped the passenger window and when he didn’t respond, Parker walked to the front of the car and banged to get his attention. He snapped the music off and lowered the window.

  “Sorry. A new CD. I sort of got lost.”

  “Ready?” Corelli asked.

  “She’s not home,” Watkins said. “Anything new?”

  She shook her head. “Do you know where she is?”

  “I followed her to the bakery and then to Gus’s. Want to go there?”

  “Better yet. Two for the price of one. We’ll meet you there.”

  They walked back to their car. Parker unlocked the doors, cleared her throat and faced Corelli over the roof.

  “Sorry, I forgot to ask if you heard anything. Just wallowing in my own—”

  “Don’t worry. I forgot to ask what you found out about the car.” Corelli opened the door and got in. At the first stoplight, Parker swiveled to face her. “Winter Brokerage leases a silver Maserati registered to Gus.”

  “Good work,” Corelli said.

  Parker nodded and turned her attention to the road, but not before Corelli saw her self-satisfied smile. Corelli bit back the nasty crack that surfaced quickly. Let her enjoy the fact that she bested me.

  As they drove up to the Winter compound, Watkins was parking in front of the house and the guard was moving back into his air-conditioned hideaway. He sauntered over to the car, glanced at Parker’s shield, and made notes in the book he was carrying. “Must be raiding the damn place,” he grumbled, but he walked back and opened the gate.

  Watkins rang the bell and relaxed against the railing, face to the sun. Parker fidgeted and glared at the door. “Taking their time about answering,” Parker said. “Maybe they’re locking us out.”

  Watkins laughed. “You are one impatient lady. It’s been less than five minutes.”

  Cora Andrews opened the door and greeted them like old friends. Corelli introduced Watkins.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t leave my pancakes. The family’s having breakfast in the kitchen.”

  “I thought you didn’t work weekends,” Corelli said.

  “Gus thought it might help the kids feel better.”

  Cora ushered them into a dining area in the large kitchen, the only room of those they’d seen that felt lived in and comfortable. Gus, Gertrude, Aphrodite, and Gus Jr. were eating at a large, round table. The kids were in pajamas, but Gus was dressed and shaved. He invited the detectives to join them for coffee and bagels or pancakes. Corelli accepted the coffee and introduced Watkins to Gertrude and the kids.

  Gus was dressed casually but looked crisp and relaxed at the same time. Knowing he wasn’t going to be broke agreed with him. Gertrude appeared thrown together and jumpy. Aphrodite stared at them, sullen and quiet; Gus Jr. picked at his pancakes while working on a drawing of the multicolored tulips in a vase on the counter facing them. The kid was talented.

  Corelli took a sip of coffee and her stomach lurched. She pushed the cup aside.

  “What can we do for you this morning?” Gus asked, all charm, like a salesman in a luxury department store. She liked him better distraught.

  Corelli cleared her throat. “We’d like to talk to you and Ms. Gianopolus.” A small sound from Aphrodite pulled Corelli’s eyes to her face. “Gertrude, that is.”

  “Me?” Gertrude seemed astonished. “Again? Still wasting your time?”

  The three detectives were silent. “Gus, tell them I left with you at five thirty. If you don’t believe us, call Rino, he’ll confirm the time,” Gertrude said, her voice rising. Her hands shook as she lit another cigarette. Finally, Gus lisped in that familiar arrogant tone. “All right. What’s going on here? Do I have to call the mayor?”

  Sure, just what I need right now. “We have some additional questions based on new information. Is there another room we can use?”

  He sighed. “The dining room. It’s right down the hall.”

  Gertrude made a face expressing her disgust and put her hands on the table, the first step in hauling herself up out of the chair.

  Corelli said, “Not you, Gertrude. First Gus.”

  Suspended halfway between sitting and standing Gertrude muttered. “Damn you.” She glared at Corelli. “I don’t understand. Why—”

  “Let it go, Gertrude,” said Gus, getting impatient. As if taking his command literally, she dropped into her seat. Then, making a show of ignoring them, she picked up her bagel and licked the cream cheese jutting out the sides.

  Corelli noted Gertrude’s performance. She’s putting on a good show, but she’s extremely tense. Her eyes are anxious, and she’s breathing heavily. Good. Let her stew while we question Gus.

  They followed Gus into the formal dining room at the end of the hall. The elaborate glass chandelier that dominated the room cast a soft, glittery light over the gleaming wooden table that could probably seat thirty comfortably. The seats of the chairs were covered with silk in soft blue and pink stripes. A pale blue oriental rug sat under the table and chairs, leaving plenty of the wooden floor exposed. T
he room was beautiful, but like most of the house it felt empty and cold and could have been a display in an expensive furniture store.

  Gus sat at the head of the table near the doorway and clasped his hands.

  “Mr. Gianopolus, we’ve gone over your alibi for Friday night several times, but I’m wondering if you left something out,” Corelli asked.

  “You know, Detective, this is very trying. My wife and I had our problems, but she still was my wife and I’m dealing with her death. I’ve told you all I know.”

  “Yes, I understand. Bear with me another few minutes. What car did you take when you drove out to Southampton Friday night?”

  “Mine. A silver Maserati.”

  “So Friday after dinner, you picked up your Maserati and drove directly out to Southampton. Is that right?”

  “That’s what I’ve told you over and over. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is a witness saw you park your Maserati and go into your wife’s building Friday night around ten.”

  Gus jumped up. “Is this some kind of trick? What witness?”

  “We’ll produce the witness when it’s appropriate, sir. Would you like to explain?”

  He started for the door.

  “Mr. Gianopolus, need I remind you that this is a murder investigation? It’s our job to ask questions and eliminate suspects, not to incriminate them. We can do this at the precinct, if you like, but I thought it would be more pleasant here.”

  He stopped, still facing the door. They waited. Corelli’s mind wandered to Righteous Partner’s ultimatum and suddenly her heart seemed too big for her chest. Each beat echoed in her head. I can’t play games with this pompous ass while my life is going…

  He turned. “Who saw me?”

  When Corelli didn’t answer, Parker jumped in. “No one you know.”

  Gus walked to the table and sat down. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Over dinner I realized that waiting for the ax to fall was making me a nervous wreck, so I decided to confront Connie. I stopped at the office on my way out of the city. I said, ‘We need to talk.’ She said, ‘I have nothing to say.’ I asked if she was filing for divorce. She ignored me and kept working, as if I wasn’t there.” He got up and started pacing.

  “I said, ‘Let’s try to work things out for the kids’ sake.’ She said, ‘I’ll worry about the kids.’ Then I got angry. I said I would fight for the kids and make a laughingstock of her. She walked over to her safe, took out a large envelope and threw it at me. She said, ‘Who do you think will be the laughingstock?”’

  He looked at Corelli. “The envelope was filled with pictures of me with other women. She’d had a private detective following me for months. She’d told me to find sex somewhere else and now she was using it against me. I was stunned. She started working again and wouldn’t acknowledge me. I felt invisible. I was enraged. I screamed but she acted like she didn’t hear me. I wanted to hurt her but I didn’t know how.”

  They waited for him to complete the story.

  After a minute of quiet, Corelli said, “What did you hit her with?”

  “What? I didn’t hit her. I did what any coward would do. I took the pictures and ran. I thought of how I had prostituted myself to her, of what I’d become, and I felt sick. I was in a rage at her and at myself. I needed to get away. So I drove like a madman out to Southampton. On the way, I called Bearsdon and left a message about filing for divorce. I knew I would probably lose, but I wanted the kids to know that I fought for them.” He sat as his story ended.

  Corelli leaned in close and spoke softly. “Come on, Gus. Don’t tell me you let her get away with treating you like that. You were in a rage and without thinking you picked up the nearest thing and hit her, and hit her, and hit her.”

  Gus pulled back and stared at Corelli as if she had lost her mind.

  “What did you hit her with?”

  “I didn’t hit her. I told you I ran away.”

  “Why should we believe you? You lied before.”

  “I lied because the husband is always the prime suspect. And I was right. You think I did it, don’t you?”

  No one said anything.

  “You’re not off the hook yet, but let’s hear what Gertrude has to say.” Corelli stood. “Let’s get Gertrude, Parker.”

  “Where’s Gertrude?” Corelli asked in the kitchen.

  Gussie was involved in his drawing, but Aphrodite looked up from the newspaper she was reading. “Gonzo.”

  “Gone to the bathroom? Gone home?”

  Cora turned from the sink. “She walked out after you went with Gus. Said this was a waste of her time. Didn’t say where she was going.”

  “Parker, get Watkins,” Corelli said, sitting at the table.

  “What’s up?” Watkins said, as he entered with Gus right behind.

  “Gertrude has run off. Find her and bring her back. Cuff her if necessary.”

  Watkins left and they sat at the table.

  “Gertrude’s not a killer. She’s scared,” Gus said.

  “She has a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Are you going to arrest Auntie Gertie?” Gussie was shaking.

  “I don’t know, Gussie, but her running away makes me think she’s hiding something.”

  “You can’t arrest her. She didn’t kill my mother.” He started sobbing and rushed from the room. Aphrodite started to follow but changed her mind. The room was silent.

  Corelli could feel Parker’s gaze on her, but she didn’t say anything until she’d thought it through. “Cora, I’d like to talk to Gussie. Please take Detective Parker to his room.”

  Gus stood up. “Leave my children out of this.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Gianopolus, but I need to ask him some questions, and I hate to repeat myself, but it’s either here or downtown.”

  Gus cleared his throat. Corelli waited for his pronouncement, but whatever momentous statement he was about to make vanished as Parker entered with a reluctant Gus Jr. shuffling behind. Cora moved past the table and leaned against the sink.

  Gussie slipped into the seat next to Aphrodite, pulled his feet up and wrapped his arms around his knees. With his chin on his knees, his face red and puffy, and tears dripping, he snuffled.

  Corelli smiled at Gussie and said in a gentle voice, “I think you could help us. I was admiring your drawing but how are you going to draw the yellow tulip?”

  “What?” He sounded puzzled by the change of topic.

  “Where are your green and yellow pencils?”

  Parker sucked air and the others shifted in their chairs. Parker must think she flipped.

  “I lost them.”

  “You went to her office Friday night, didn’t you?” She was guessing that he was the boy on the bicycle who left as Gertrude arrived, that the two colored pencils found under her desk were his. He whispered. “Yes, to beg her to not send me to military school.”

  “How did you know she would be there?”

  “Heard my father talk to someone, his girlfriend I think. He said he was going to the island alone because she was going to be working all weekend.”

  Gus’s head jerked up. “You knew I—”

  A cold, hard sound issued from Aphrodite. It could have been a laugh or a quick intake of breath or perhaps a growl, but whatever it was, Corelli prayed she would never hear a sound like that from any fourteen-year-old niece or nephew of hers.

  “Of course, he knew,” Aphrodite spat out. “Connie knew too, but she didn’t care.” She pointed at her brother. “Gussie did. He was afraid our happy family was going to be split up.”

  Before Gus could respond, Corelli interjected.

  “What did your mother say about the school, Gussie?”

  “What she always said,” he sobbed.

  “Is this necessary?” Gus said. “Don’t make him repeat—”

  “Mr. Gianopolus, I assure you I have no need to hurt anyone, especially a child.”

  She turned to the boy. “Gussie, can you tell me
what she said?”

  He glanced at his father and not hearing any prohibition, recited the litany in a cruel voice. “You worthless piece of shit. I wanted to abort you or give you away when you were born. I made a mistake then. I won’t make another one now. Military school will make a man of you, or if the boys like you, maybe they’ll make a girly boy of you.”

  Gianopolus jumped out of his chair in a rage. “I won’t allow you to put him through this. Get out of here. He’s too upset to talk about it. I won’t allow it.”

  Corelli was astounded. She tried to hold back, but she was too exhausted to rein in her feelings. She spoke in her normal voice, edged with the effort of control, but the anger and contempt came through loud and clear. “Now you want to protect your son? Protect him from us? Where have you been for the last fourteen years while your wife abused him?”

  Gianopolus staggered as if she had hit him.

  “Your wife’s mother died in childbirth and her father used almost those identical words to torment her from the time she was born. There was no one to stop him, no other adult, just two small boys who joined in the torment to protect themselves.”

  She was aware of Parker’s eyebrows just about floating off her face in surprise. She knew she was losing it, but she couldn’t keep herself from tearing into Gus. “I assume you and Gertrude heard Connie abuse him. You should be ashamed. You were adults. You could’ve intervened, but you stood by and watched, too concerned with your financial well-being to take care of a little boy.”

  “Heard it?” Aphrodite screamed. “Of course, they heard it. She never let up on him. No matter what he did, it was wrong. It’s not fair. He was the one who loved her and she was horrible to him. They heard it, but they never tried to stop her.”

  “Be quiet, Aphrodite,” Gus ordered, the anger making his voice hard and cold.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t like to hear it?” Aphrodite challenged. “Don’t want strangers to know? Screw you. You never stood up to her like a real father would have. I hated her and I hate you. Always begging for money. Nothing is as important as the money for you.” She began to sob.