The Gift

by Kim Pritekel

  Catania studied the Peroni label. “No idea. We’ll have to see if it’s part of the same series as the other five from the Luhan house.”

  “We never got the video from the stores around town where it could have been sold, did we?”

  She shook her head, handing the bottle to the officer so it, too, could be slid into an evidence bag. “Nope. I checked on that last week. They said they needed more time, but they’re afraid it may have been deleted.”

  “Damn. Of course.”

  Chewing on her bottom lip, Catania stepped back from the truck and glanced over at the body that CSU was photographing. “Something doesn’t smell right there, Oscar.”

  “Oh, uh,” Oscar said, clearing his throat as he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “Sorry. I had Mexican for lunch.”

  She glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “No, I did. Sorry.” As if to emphasize his point, he placed a hand on his protruding stomach as a small belch snuck out. “Sorry,” he said again.

  “Linda deserves a medal.” Catania shook her head. “Everything seems too convenient,” she said, getting back to the situation at hand. “I want to know if he was right- or left-handed.”

  “His wife would know, no doubt. We’ll have to get over there.”

  Catania nodded. “God, this is going to be hard. Just when, according to Kevin, they were trying to get things back on track.”

  “Maybe things didn’t work out,” Oscar offered. “Or, I mean the obvious thing here Nia is, what if he was fucking with you in that interrogation room? What if this guy was responsible for those three murders?” He nodded toward the body. “What if his conscience got to him?”

  “Or,” Catania murmured. “What if he thought he was on the verge of getting caught?”

  “That, too.”

  Catania looked to one of the uniformed officers. “Hey, any witnesses?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then who called it in?”

  “Anonymous.”

  Catania and Oscar exchanged a look.

  ****

  Catania opted to talk to Kevin Tanner’s widow alone, dropping Oscar off at the station on the way over to the townhouse on the south side of town. As she pulled the Crown Victoria to the curb in front just past the mailbox, she let out a heavy sigh. Contacting next of kin of was definitely her least favorite part of her job.

  Glancing over at the structure made of river rock and light gray siding, she turned off the car and pulled the keys before climbing out. She let out a heavy breath as she tugged her jacket a little closer to her body. It was getting cold as night fell. It was nearly ten o’clock and only the upstairs lights were on in the side of the townhouse where her business lay.

  Trotting up the few steps to the front porch, she reached out and pushed the doorbell, rocking on her heels as she waited. After a second ring, she heard movement on the other side and, as she always did in situations like this, was very cognizant of where her weapon was. When the door was finally unlocked and opened, a woman stood on the other side, dressed in baggy black sweatpants and an oversized green T-shirt. She was barefoot, and her brown hair was pulled back into a short ponytail.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, looking Catania over.

  “Are you Mrs. Tanner?”

  “I’m Lisa Tanner, if that’s who you’re looking for.” The woman’s brown eyes turned concerned. “Is something wrong?”

  “Ma’am, I’m Detective Nia d’Giovanni. Can I come in for a minute?” Catania asked softly, showing her badge to try to put the young woman at ease.

  She brought a hand up and covered her mouth, eyes wide. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” she whispered.

  “Can I come in?” Catania asked again, voice gentle and understanding.

  Allowed into the cozy home, Catania took in the teal and cream color scheme. The townhouse was small but well-furnished, if not a bit messy. But then, who was she to judge? Lisa Tanner sat on the couch, legs closed tightly together and her arms hugging her compact frame. No instruction, Catania sat in the easy chair that was perpendicular to the couch, her forearms running along her thighs.

  “Mrs. Tanner, or may I call you Lisa?” At the woman’s nod, Catania continued. “Lisa, your husband was found in City Park a little earlier this evening. At this time we’re calling it a suicide.” She waited for the initial wave of reaction to penetrate and the emotion that would follow. It was always so hard for her to not move over to the person and physically comfort them, but she had to keep her distance both physically and emotionally. She had a job to do.

  “I knew it,” Lisa eventually said, tears flowing freely down her cheeks and her voice thick with emotion. “I knew it.”

  Feeling it was the least she could do, Catania snagged a tissue from the box on the end table and handed it to the crying woman. “Why do you say that? Was he suicidal recently, Lisa?”

  Lisa accepted the tissue and wiped her nose. At the question, she stared at Catania like she’d lost her mind and shook her head. “No. There’s no way he did this himself, Detective. Not a chance.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  A fresh bout of tears erupted, Lisa pulling her legs up as she seemed to be curling in upon herself.

  “Lisa, we can do this later,” Catania said, her heart going out to the woman. “If you can give me a good time to—”

  “No!” she exclaimed, looking up from her hands, which she’d buried her face in moments before. “No. You find him, whoever he is. You find the son of a bitch who was following my husband. Kevin told me he felt afraid. He had for weeks.”

  Catania was stunned by this information. “Did he ever call the police?”

  She shook her head, tossing the crumpled tissue aside and reaching over to grab another one. “No. He said he didn’t feel like you guys could do anything. He told me he felt like he was a target.”

  “Did he ever tell you why? What any of this was about?”

  The younger woman shook her head. “No.” Fresh tears began. “He said he had something to tell me and we were going away this weekend to talk.” The tears turned to sobs, again her face disappearing into the cocoon of her hands.

  Oh, man. “Lisa, did you know anything about Kevin’s involvement with Anastasia Luhan?”

  Lisa looked up, eyes puffy and red. “What? Isn’t that the woman who was murdered?” Her eyes widened as she slowly shook her head. “You’re not saying he had anything to do with that—”

  “No. No, I’m not, Lisa. But, according to him,” she said, feeling the disclaimer was important. “He knew Anastasia Luhan and they briefly had a sexual relationship.”

  “What?” the woman asked, shock in her voice. “When did he talk to you? Why?”

  “He came to talk to us after the murders happened. I think he wanted to try and clear his name before we found out. The only reason I’m telling you this is because I need to know if and how much you know about that. If you can add any information to this situation, Lisa. This is hard and I’m so sorry.”

  Lisa let out a heavy sigh as she returned her hands to hugging herself. “I just can’t wrap my mind around any of this. I mean, like I said, I knew he was scared about something, about someone.”

  “How long was that going on?” Catania asked, reaching into her jacket to pull out her ever-present notepad. Clicking her pen into point, she jotted the date and time across the top of the first empty page she came to.

  “Maybe a week or so ago. No, I want to say two weeks. But, things intensified in the last week. He was getting really awful texts, threatening texts. And, he felt he was being followed. One night he used the word stalked.”

  “Okay. Did he ever show you these text messages?” Catania asked quietly, pen poised to write whatever Lisa’s response would be.

  “No,” the new widow said just as quietly. “He just told me his life was threatened”

  “Okay. And, what about these stalking claims? Did he see anyone? A face? Male, female…?�
��

  Lisa took a cleansing breath, wiping her nose again. “He talked about seeing a figure in the shadows, like outside his job, that kind of thing. Oh, and there was a white car. He mentioned that a few times.”

  Catania’s eyes shot up to look at her. “A white car? Did he say what kind?”

  Lisa shook her head. “No. He just said an older white car.”

  Catania could tell the poor woman was done. She got to her feet, as did Lisa. “Listen, Lisa, again, I’m so sorry about Kevin. If you can think of anything else or if you need anything else, you give me a call, okay?” She flipped the cover of her notebook so she could grab a business card that was paper clipped to the underside.

  “Okay, thank you,” Lisa said numbly, taking the card.

  Catania headed for the door followed by her unexpecting host. “Oh,” she said, turning to meet Lisa’s eyes again. “Two last questions for you. First, did Kevin own any weapons?”

  Lisa pointed to an antique cavalry sword hanging on the wall over the dining room table. “He got that from his dad. Belonged to his grandfather or something.”

  “No guns?” When Lisa shook her head, Catania continued with her last question. “Was he right-handed or left-handed?”

  “Uh,” Lisa said, rubbing her eyes. “He did everything pretty much with both, but he would write with his right hand.”

  “Okay.” Catania gave her a warm smile and brief squeeze to her arm. “Goodnight.”

  ****

  Emotionally exhausted, Catania made her way up the walkway to the front door of the police station, fresh from Lisa Tanner’s house. She was surprised to see someone standing off in the shadows. Realizing it was Squirrel, she smiled and walked over to her.

  “Hey, kid. What did you do this time?”

  “Aren’t you cute.” The teenager reached into her windbreaker and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Offering the pack to Catania, who turned it down, she took one of the smokes out and tucked it between her lips before the pack disappeared again. “Waiting for a friend to finish up inside,” she said, nodding her head toward the building. Most of her face was hidden in the deep shadows, but as she brought out the white matchbook Catania had given her, she peeled off a match and within moments the tip of her cigarette glowed bright orange.

  “Yeah? What friend?” Catania asked, hand on hip. She was trying to peer into the dimness, concerned Squirrel was trying to conceal something from her by how far back she was standing, trying to be hidden.

  “What, are you the friend police?” Squirrel asked, taking a deep drag.

  “No, just the regular police.”

  Squirrel chuckled. “Her name is Turn Right At None of Your Business Lane.”

  Catania chuckled as well, nodding as she waved the expelled cigarette smoke away from her. “Okay, okay. Are you okay, other than waiting for said friend? Are you hungry?”

  “Nope. Just cold.”

  They both turned as the glass door opened and a teenage girl walked out, all leather, dog collar, and dark makeup. She glanced over at Catania before turning away with all the attitude that went with no life experience.

  “Later,” Squirrel said, scurrying from the shadows.

  Catania watched the two teenagers vanish into the darkness of the late night. She shook her head as she headed for the door. She’d seen Oscar’s car still in the parking lot and was glad, as she wanted to talk to him.

  “Hey, Nene…”

  Catania whipped around, looking for the owner of the voice, who had sounded like Squirrel. The girls were nowhere to be seen. “Squirrel?”

  “Do your job.”

  She stood there, staring out into the parking lot and night beyond. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, she quickly went inside.

  “Hey, Rodney,” she said, waving at her colleague on her way back to her desk, Oscar sitting at his.

  “We’ve got a problem, Big O,” she said, tossing her notebook to her desk before shrugging out of her jacket and flopping down in her chair.

  He glanced over at her, looking over his reading glasses which were perched precariously on his nose. “We got a problem, Nia.”

  She grinned. “I’ll show you my big problem if you show me yours.”

  He chuckled. “Okay. CSU called a bit ago. There are no prints on that gun. Now, what’s your big problem?”

  “I forgot,” she said absently, staring at him. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she sat forward in her chair. “What, are we chasing a goddamn ghost?” She let out a heavy sigh and ran her hands through her hair. “Okay, your big problem kind of matches up with my big problem. I just visited with Lisa Tanner, Kevin’s wife, and she pretty knew exactly what had happened the second I introduced myself. She believes he was murdered.”

  “By who?”

  “By whoever was scaring the hell out of him the last two weeks of his life. We need to get his phone records and copies of his text messages. She didn’t read them, but I guess he told her he was getting some seriously threatening ones. And,” she said, clasping her fingers behind her head as she lightly rocked in her chair. “He was being followed. At least he believed he was,” she added. “And guess by what?”

  “The Casper Mobile?” Oscar asked with raised eyebrows.

  Catania shook her head. “An older-model white car.”

  “Nia,” he admonished, shaking his head

  “I know, I know. It could be total coincidence. There are a thousand older white cars in this town. But,” she said, holding up a single finger. “Don’t you find that a little strange? I don’t know, Oscar, my gut is telling me it’s intriguing, if nothing else.”

  “Yes, I’ll give you that. You know, I’ve been thinking about something, Nia,” he said, eyebrows drawn with the seriousness of his thoughts. “As you know, per capita, Pueblo has the highest murder rate in the state, even above Denver and Colorado Springs. Lotta gang bullshit here. Even so, we had a whopping thirteen murders or so each the last couple years. Not a lot, but we’ve only got a hundred thousand people here, give or take.”

  “Right. We’ve covered this before, Oscar,” Catania said, not following his logic.

  He sat forward in his chair and clasped his hands between spread knees. “We’ve had five people dead in less than a month,” he said, holding her gaze. “Well, granted Megan Murphy had been dead for some time, but you get my point.”

  She met and held his gaze, even as her thoughts began to spin. At length, she nodded. “Okay. Are you saying you think we’ve got a problem here?”

  “I am. Potentially a big one.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Exhausted after an all-nighter, Catania stumbled into her apartment, doing her usual striptease as she passed through the kitchen headed to the bedroom. She stopped short, noticing for the first time the small bouquet of roses Ally had left the previous day. She’d smelled them, but she hadn’t looked at them as they’d gone directly into self-defense moves and into disaster after that.

  There were three roses in a glass vase, two white and a single red bundled in. She let out a sad, tired sigh. Taking the entire vase in hand, she brought the small bouquet to her nose and close her eyes as she inhaled the heavenly fragrance. So beautiful, like the woman who had left them for her.

  Putting them down again, she continued toward the bedroom. Her intention was to grab a nap, a quick shower, then head back to work.

  ****

  Catania stood at the counter in her kitchen slapping Miracle Whip on two pieces of bread. She quickly spread it, cursing under her breath when she accidentally tore one of the pieces. Finished with that, she tossed the knife into the sink and grabbed the bottle of yellow mustard, the bottle making obscene noises as she squirted the golden goop into a zigzag pattern on one bread slice.

  The truth was, she wasn’t thrilled about making herself a lunch to take to work. She just couldn’t bring herself to go to Randy’s as she and Oscar often did. The bigger truth was that she was being a coward. The events with Ally had happened two
days before, and though Catania hadn’t done anything wrong, she just couldn’t take seeing that hurt in Ally’s eyes.

  Peeling a few pieces of smoked turkey from the lunch meat package, she placed them on one slice of bread and two slices of sharp cheddar on the other.

  “Ta da,” she muttered sarcastically, pressing the two layered pieces of bread together to make a sandwich. “Magic.”

  She finished packing her lunch then headed toward the hall, running her fingers through her drying hair. She glanced at the news on the TV as she passed, intending to change from her shorts and tank top into work clothes. She stopped mid-stride when she heard the loud echo of someone knocking on the metal back door.

  Her stomach clenching as nervous butterfly wings began to beat at her ribcage, she padded over and unlocked it, pushing it open. To her surprise, her youngest brother stood on the other side, and he wasn’t alone.

  “Oh my god, Leo! What happened to your face?”

  The teen entered the apartment, followed by a second young man who had also been roughed up. She closed and locked the door behind the two boys, only realizing the unknown one was a fellow student with her brother at the high school because he, too, wore a letterman of green and gold.

  “What happened?” she asked again, leading the two farther into the kitchen. “Sit down. I’ll get some stuff to clean your faces.”

  She hurried down the hall to her bedroom and snagged her phone off the dresser before heading to the bathroom. As she gathered a few basic first aid components, she flashed off a quick text to Oscar to let him know she may be a few minutes late.

  “Alright, Leo, you’ve got some explaining to do,” she said in her “cop voice,” eyeing him. She unloaded the items in her arms onto the butcher block island.

  “I’m sorry to just show up on your doorstep, Nia,” Leonardo said, sitting dutifully on one of the three stools that lined the backside of the island. “Three guys jumped us.”

  “Jesus, that’s terrible,” she said, eyebrows drawn. “Who? Why? And, who is this?” She indicated the other teen. Looking at the two boys, if you removed their minor injuries, they could easily be mistaken for two young men who had stepped out of the pages of a teeny bopper magazine.