Corelli moved toward Gus, wanting to throttle him. Parker must have seen the look on her face. She gripped Corelli’s shoulder and put herself between Corelli and Gus. Corelli took a deep breath and struggled with the urge to beat Gus the way she beat her punching bag.
Gianopolus leaned forward in his chair, cradling his head in his hands. She hoped he had heard the words and could ignore the attack. She waited; they all waited. At last he sat up. “You’re right. I abandoned both my children. I told myself if I tried to get in the middle it would make things worse, but I knew if I objected she would get rid of me. The only way was to leave with them, but I didn’t think I had a chance against her money and her iron will.” He ran his hands over his face. “Go on, finish. The kids and I will be dealing with this for a long time.”
“Gussie.” Corelli knelt in front of the boy and touched his shoulder. “Gussie,” she said, her voice gentle but insistent. “Look at me.”
He raised his eyes. “What?”
“What happened after she got angry and said those awful things?”
His eyes glazed and his voice sounded distant. “I got angry back at her.”
He’s so young and earnest. Corelli fought the urge to put her arms around him. What the hell is happening to me? I need to keep my distance. First Brett, now Gussie.
“I’m really afraid to go to military school,” he confided. “I want to be an artist. So I grabbed the application out of her hand and I tore it up, and I yelled at her. I never yell. I usually cry. I said I’d never go to that school. And she said, ‘If I say you go, you go. So shut up and get the hell out of here.’ Then she started to laugh. And she said it again, ‘You piece of shit. You’ll never be an artist.’ And then, I…I don’t remember.”
“Did you leave?”
“Yes, that’s it. I ran away.”
“And did she say anything when you left?”
“No. She was quiet. There was blood all around. Lots of blood on her face and her head, all over.” Gussie didn’t seem to hear the collective gasp. “So I yelled, I’m not going to military school and I ran out.” He paused. “No, first I dropped the glass thing I was holding. I don’t remember where I got it, but it had blood on it. I dropped it and I ran. My clothes were all bloody too.”
There was absolute silence. Not one of them had expected this. It was hard to take in the full meaning.
“Do you think I killed her?” he whispered.
Finally, Corelli found her voice. “Can you remember how many times you hit her, Gussie?”
“No. I was really mad.” He whimpered, making mournful, convulsive sounds, and the tears flowed. He seemed pathetic, alone. Corelli put her hands on his knees. Aphrodite leaned in close, took his hand, and put an arm over his shoulder, sobbing with him. Cora moved out from behind the counter and wrapped her arms around the two children. Gus stared off into space. Some things never change.
“Did you take the glass thing with you, Gussie?” Corelli asked.
“No. I just ran away.”
“What did you do with your bloody clothes?”
“I put them under my bed.”
Winter’s office must have been like Grand Central Station on Friday, and it sounded like she managed to put every single visitor into a rage. Corelli thought of those old slapstick comedies where people go in and out of doors constantly, just missing running into each other.
“Will I go to prison?” Gussie asked, sobbing. “That would be worse than military school.”
Aphrodite jumped in. “No you won’t. Don’t you worry, Gus. I’ll talk to the judge. It’ll be all right.”
Corelli felt a rush of feeling. Winter was despicable, and while no one deserved to be murdered, it was difficult to mourn her loss. She felt this murderer needed to be comforted, not punished. No doubt she was in the grip of her feelings on this case. “Gussie, I can’t guarantee you won’t go to prison but I’ll do what I can to help. We have to take you down to police headquarters for a while, but we won’t leave you. Your dad and sister will come too. I’ll try to arrange it so you’ll be able to come home soon.”
She turned to Gus, who seemed shell-shocked. “Detective Parker and I need some privacy. Can we use the dining room?”
“Of course.”
In the dining room Corelli turned to Parker. “What do you think Ms. ADA?”
Parker hesitated. “If he didn’t take the pyramid, where is it?”
“Let’s look at John’s timeline.”
Parker flipped to the page in her notebook.
Corelli ran a finger down the list and stopped. She took Parker’s grunt as agreement. “So maybe Gertrude saw him riding away on his bike, realized he killed his mother, and took the pyramid to protect him. We’ll ask her when Watkins catches up with her. Do we need it?”
“We have a confession. We’ll have his bloody clothes.”
“True.”
“But it’s not a solid case,” Parker said.
“I agree. There are too many unanswered questions. I believe Gussie hit her, probably on the right side. She bled profusely and was knocked out. But she was killed by the blows to the top of her head and Gussie is too short to have struck her at that angle with the needed force. Also, how do we account for the bruises from the phone handset and the pre-mortem cut from the silver cross? And if Gertrude took the pyramid, who took the handset?”
“What do we do now?”
“We continue to ask questions until we have all the answers.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Aphrodite protested when Corelli asked Parker to go with her and Gussie while they dressed, but a glance at Corelli’s face silenced her, and she stomped out of the room.
Corelli sat opposite Gus. “We’re convinced that Gussie hit Ms. Winter but not that he killed her. But I need to document his confession, so I’m going to take him down to the station. I suggest you get on the phone and get a good criminal attorney to meet us there. I can’t recommend anyone but I’m sure your attorney can.”
“I’ll call Bearsdon.” He left the room.
Corelli drew into herself.
Ten minutes later Gus returned. “Bearsdon will have an attorney there in an hour.”
“Good.”
“Maybe I should have asked for you to be removed from the investigation,” Gus said, suddenly. “Then maybe I would have been arrested and Gussie wouldn’t be in danger.”
“Why do you say that?”
“At first, I was sure I’d be your quick solution, but after that cop pressured me to call the mayor, I asked a few other cops I know and they recommended that I stick with you. They said you weren’t the kind of cop who goes for the obvious solution, the husband. You dig and dig until you’re sure you have the right person.”
True. Unless I’m attracted to you.
“Who are your cop friends?” Corelli asked.
He gave her the names of four uniforms who worked out of a nearby precinct. “Why?”
“Any of them tall, blond, and mean-looking?”
“They’re all mean-looking, but no blonds.”
Aphrodite held Gussie close as they entered the kitchen, protecting or comforting, or maybe a little of both. Parker had the bloody clothes in a plastic bag.
Gus stood. “I’ll get my jacket.”
A minute later the doorbell rang and Watkins and Gertrude walked in. Watkins hadn’t cuffed her so she must not have fought coming back.
Gertrude sat in her chair and picked up the bagel with cream cheese that she’d left when she walked out. “Ask away.” She looked around. “What’s going on?”
“Gussie has confessed to killing his mother. We’re on our way downtown,” Corelli said. “You were there right after him. Did you take the pyramid, the glass award Ms. Winter received?”
Gertrude opened her mouth but Aphrodite interrupted. “I’m glad you’re back, auntie. I forgot to give you this before.” She walked behind Gertrude. The silver beads tinkled as Aphrodite draped the necklace around Gertr
ude’s neck. “I made a new cross. Please don’t lose this one.”
Corelli moved closer to examine the necklace. “It’s lovely. Where did you get this, Aphrodite?”
“I made it,” she said, grinning at the compliment. “I’ve been taking a silversmith class since the spring. This is the first one I made.” She lifted the necklace she was wearing and leaned over so Corelli could examine it. It was similar to Gertrude’s, but instead of a hammered-silver cross, it had a pendant with a red stone in the center.
“That’s a real garnet. I made this one for my moth…for Connie, but she hated it. We have the same birthstone so I kept it for myself. I finished Auntie Gertie’s Friday afternoon. That’s why I went over Friday night.” She straightened the necklace on her aunt. “And would you believe by Saturday morning she had already lost the cross?”
“That’s unfortunate. Where did you lose it, Gertrude?”
“It’s probably somewhere in the apartment.”
“Did you make a cross for anyone else? Gussie or your dad?”
“Not yet. These necklaces are a lot of work. Besides, I’m only interested in women’s jewelry. I’m designing a whole line to sell.”
The autopsy report said the cut from the cross was pre-mortem, so Connie was definitely alive when Gussie left.
Gus returned. “What’s going on?”
“We’re having a jewelry fashion show,” said Gertrude.
“So this is the only cross you’ve made?” Corelli asked, pointing to Gertrude’s necklace.
“Yup, that one and the one she lost,” Aphrodite said.
“You made that?” Gus asked, incredulous.
Aphrodite smiled, a sweet fourteen-year-old smile. “Yes. Like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” he said, and started toward her.
“Better have a seat, Mr. Gianopolus. There’s been a change of plans,” Corelli said.
He sat without comment.
“Aphrodite, did your aunt put the necklace on Friday night?”
“I put it on her.”
Corelli sat next to Gertrude. “Detective Parker, please read Ms. Gianopolus her rights.”
By the time Parker finished, Gertrude was wide-eyed.
“Now what?” Gertrude asked, panic creeping into her voice.
“When did you notice that the cross was missing from your necklace?” Corelli asked.
Gertrude took a drag on her cigarette, glanced at Aphrodite, who had sat across from her, made a non-verbal appeal to Gus, and exhaled. For once Gus was quiet.
“I didn’t. Aphrodite noticed when she came over Saturday morning. What’s this about?”
“You said you got home about six o’clock on Friday, ordered Chinese takeout and remained in for the rest of the night. Is that correct?”
“Yes. Why would I lie?”
“That’s a good question, Ms. Gianopolus. Why did you lie?”
“I didn’t. I did what I said I did.”
“A witness places you at Ms. Winter’s office around eleven Friday night. Can you explain that?”
Gus sat up, alert.
“I didn’t see…” Gertrude reached for her coffee. Her mouth was tight when she looked at Corelli again.
“You didn’t see what?”
“You’re putting words in my mouth. No one could have seen me because I wasn’t there.”
“If you’re going to stick to that story, we’ll have to go downtown to continue this conversation, and maybe put you in a lineup,” Corelli said.
Gertrude lit another cigarette. “Well… I, er…Who is this witness?”
“No one you know. The cross was found in Ms. Winter’s office. Actually, the cross was in her clothing, and the Medical Examiner determined she was alive when she grabbed it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that Gussie didn’t kill his mother and that she was still alive when you got there.” Corelli heard a gasp from someone. Gertrude took another drag and exhaled before nervously smashing the hardly-smoked butt into the already overflowing ashtray.
“Let’s try this, Gertrude. Gussie’s blow stunned Connie, maybe knocked her out, and caused profuse bleeding, even a superficial scalp wound will cause a tremendous loss of blood. When you arrived shortly after he left, you thought he had killed his mother. You leaned over to make sure she was dead and she came out of it and grabbed the necklace. You were frightened and you pulled back, leaving the cross in her hand. She was dazed, but you had to get rid of her, so you picked up the pyramid and hit her over and over until you were sure she was dead. Sound right?”
“No. That’s not what happened. I’m not a murderer,” Gertrude said, tears streaming down her face, “I’m not a murderer.”
Although focused on Gertrude, Corelli was experiencing the same heightened awareness and sensitivity as she had felt in her first meeting with Brett Cummings, but this wasn’t sexual. Every feeling in the room flowed in—Cora’s horror, Gus’s anxiety, the pain of the sobbing teens, the intensity of Parker’s and Watkins’s concentration, but most of all, Gertrude’s fear.
Gussie went to his aunt and put his arms around her. “Leave her alone. It was me. I killed her. Please don’t hurt her,” Gussie said, appealing to Corelli.
Gertrude shuddered. She patted Gussie’s arm as if to reassure him, but she couldn’t suppress the sobs convulsing her body. Gussie was sensitive and soft, but there was a strength there that wasn’t readily apparent. That same inner strength had made it possible for his mother to survive a brutal childhood, but, unlike Connie, Gussie had not only survived, he had retained the ability to love and be a generous human being. Gertrude was sensitive too, and her hurt had made her bitter and critical, but she loved Gussie and Aphrodite, and they loved her.
“You know, Gertrude, Gussie may not go to jail, but are you going to let him go through life believing he murdered his mother?”
Gussie pleaded with Corelli. “Please. I confessed. Send me to jail, not her.”
Gertrude used her napkin to dry her tears. “No, Gussie. She’s right. I killed your mother. It wasn’t what I meant to do, but I did it.” She took his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be all right.”
“What happened, Gertrude,” Corelli said.
“When I got there, Connie and her office were covered with blood but she was alive and trying to stand. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling on the necklace. She ordered me to get a doctor. I pushed her down in the chair and told her to relax, that I would call for help. But when I picked up the telephone, she started cursing Gussie, calling him all those foul names. She said she would punish him, send him to jail, cut him off without a cent, and make sure his life was miserable. I guess I lost it. I had the phone in my hand and I hit her in her face, two or three times until she was dead. It wasn’t about money. After I realized what I’d done, I took the phone. And when I saw the new will and the divorce papers under the blood on her desk, I knew they would incriminate Gus, so I took them.”
“My god, Gertrude,” Gus interjected. “How could you?” He stared dumbly at his sister.
“Gus, I swear, I went there to try to convince her that it was a mistake to send Gussie to military school. He’s an artist. I know what it’s like when your art isn’t taken seriously and when you’re forced to do things you hate. I was trying to protect him. Something snapped.” She patted the kids’ hands, blew her nose in her napkin and turned to Corelli. “What happens now?”
“Did you hit her with the pyramid after the phone?”
“No.”
“What did you do with the pyramid?”
“I left it. I wanted to take it in case it had Gussie’s fingerprints on it. But it was disgusting, covered with blood. I almost threw up. I went to the men’s room because it was closer, washed the blood off my hands, and got a wad of paper towels, so I could pick it up without getting blood on me.”
“What did you do with it?”
“You’re not listening. I left it there. When I opened the door of
the men’s room to go back for it I saw this guy going into her office. I heard him say, ‘Shit, what happened here?’ and I knew he would call the police so I ran out as fast as I could.”
“What did he look like?”
Gertrude shrugged. “I only saw his back for a few seconds. But he was tall, had short blond hair and was dressed all in black. Black leather jacket, black pants, and black shoes with a heel, possibly boots. And he had a black gym bag over his shoulder.”
Corelli exchanged a look with Parker and could see from her expression that she got it too. If Gertrude hit Winter with the telephone and not the pyramid, then she didn’t kill her either. So they were back to the mysterious man—or cop.
Gertrude cleared her throat. “Um, what happens now?”
All eyes were on Corelli. “You sit tight at home while we search for this mysterious visitor. You can come here to be with your family but don’t leave the city. Understand?”
“You’re not going to arrest me?”
“Not now.” Corelli glared at the four of them. “Is there anything else any of you haven’t told us that we should know?”
No one said a word.
Chapter Forty-Three
Corelli, Parker, and Watkins left the Gianopolus clan huddled together, comforting each other, a start down what would be a long road to healing. Although Gertrude had hit Winter in the face with the handset of the desk phone, bruising her and probably knocking her out for a few minutes, it was the blows to the top of the head from the pyramid that had killed her. Corelli was confident that Gertrude was not the killer. But, how would they find this mysterious man?
They picked up lunch and settled at their desks at the station house. “We need some quality thinking time,” Corelli said. “And while Parker and I contemplate the universe, Watkins, I’d like you to get an update on the status of the Righteous Partners research.”
“You got it, boss.” He finished lunch and took off.
“We’re going to think this through, Parker.” She placed a clean narrow-lined yellow pad on her desk and Parker placed her notebook on her desk.
A Matter of Blood Page 27