Murder Takes Patience

by Giammatteo, Giacomo

“That’s fine. We’re done.”

  “Have a good day,” Lou said.

  As they were leaving, Benning whispered to Frankie. “You’ll regret this. Trust me.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Family Dinner

  “You two going back to the station?” Frankie asked.

  “I have to get my car,” Lou said. “Why, you need something?”

  “I don’t like where this is going,” Frankie said. “We’ve got no gun, no real motive—other than possible jealousy—and no witnesses.”

  “We’ve got a ton of circumstantial,” Sherri said.

  “With the lawyer Benning’s got, that will get us nowhere. We need more.”

  “What do you want to do?” Sherri asked.

  “I still like Benning, but I want to cover all the bases.”

  “The only bases we have are Benning or Stewart,” Lou said. “Krenshaw’s husband has an alibi. As for Stewart, he told us up front he was by himself; he didn’t even try to provide an alibi. Surfing the web is no alibi.”

  “Can we check on that?” Frankie asked. “Is there any way we can get his service provider to tell us if his computer was active on the Internet that night, and at what times?”

  Sherri made an unlady-like, maybe even inhuman-like noise. “They can tell you anything nowadays. I’ll ask Carol to check on it.”

  “Are you second-guessing on Benning?” Lou asked. “If it’s between Benning and Stewart, I know which one I’m voting for.”

  “Covering all bases, Lou. Just because we only see two suspects doesn’t mean there aren’t more. The killer might be somebody we don’t even know about.”

  “It’s a little late to be thinking that,” Sherri said.

  “Better than after putting Benning behind bars.” Frankie said. “See you guys in the morning.”

  ***

  On the drive home Frankie tried to relax, but all he could think about was Benning, and he didn’t like it. If Chad killed Debbie Parnell, wouldn’t he hide the key ring? Wouldn’t he have gotten rid of Krenshaw’s cell phone? Then again, all the circumstantial was obvious—too obvious.

  Maybe that’s his game. Maybe he’s making it so obvious that it’s not believable.

  Frankie’s cell rang. It was Kate. “What’s up, Irish?”

  “Back at you, half-breed. Are you on your way home?”

  “Be there in fifteen minutes. You want to catch a bite to eat?”

  “Cops with kids can’t afford to eat out; besides, I’ve got dinner started.”

  “Okay. See you soon.”

  Please don’t let it be pot roast.

  Alex ran to greet Frankie at the door. Frankie scooped him up and spun him around. “How’d it go at school today?”

  “Good. I didn’t have to worry about CPS. Not at school anyway.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Frankie looked at Alex, then Kate. She gestured toward the kitchen. A business card lay on the table.

  “That was on the door when Alex got home,” Kate said. “It’s from CPS. It scared the hell out of him.”

  Frankie knelt beside Alex. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I called Kate. I can’t go messin’ with murder investigations over something like this.”

  “But you can go messin’ with my autopsies?” Kate said. “So that’s how it goes?”

  “You know what I mean, Kate.”

  She laughed. “I know. You can call me anytime. Don’t even think about it.”

  Frankie lost his smile. “Did you see the CPS card on any other doors, or just ours?”

  “I didn’t look. I saw it and came inside.”

  Frankie patted his back. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. Nothing’s ever okay.”

  “Don’t worry,” Frankie said. “We’ll take care of you.”

  “We’ll take care of you,” Kate said, “but you need to help on that front—like keeping the door locked. I’m surprised CPS didn’t just walk on in.”

  “Shit,” Alex said. “Sorry, FD. I forgot to lock the door again.”

  Kate took the meat out of the oven. “Frankie, how about you slice the roast while Alex sets the table.”

  “Smells good,” Alex said. “I love pot roast.”

  “Me, too,” Frankie said. Once a year.

  “Any breaks on the case?” Kate asked.

  Frankie set the meat plate on the table and sat between Kate and Alex. “We got a warrant for our prime suspect’s apartment, where we found one of the victim’s keys, but nothing else.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Not good enough. We need to have some concrete evidence.”

  “These deaths were gruesome,” Kate said. “Especially the—”

  “Whoa,” Alex said. “Can we cut the body talk while we’re eating.”

  “I didn’t even think,” Kate said. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right.”

  Frankie sliced the meat and put some on Alex’ plate. “How was school? Make any new friends?”

  “Not really.”

  Kate looked over at Alex. “Not really. Is that yes, or no?”

  “I guess it’s no, since I didn’t bring anyone home for dinner.”

  Frankie set his fork down and stared. “I know you’re upset about the CPS thing, but it’s no reason to be an ass.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Whatever. That’s how you treat Kate after she cooks a good meal for you?”

  “Sorry.” A minute later, Alex cleaned his plate, washed it, and put it in the dishwasher. “I’m going to do my homework.”

  When the bedroom door closed, Frankie looked at Kate. “What the hell is wrong with him? Is he that upset by CPS?”

  Kate lowered her voice. “I tried telling you earlier, but Alex was always around. Father Murphy called. Alex got into a fight at school.”

  “What?” Frankie checked the recent calls list on his phone. “Why didn’t he call me?”

  “Alex told him to call me.”

  “What the hell? Am I that much of an ass?” Frankie got up and headed toward Alex’s room.

  “He doesn’t need to be yelled at.”

  Frankie stopped, turned and pecked Kate on the cheek. “You’re right. That’s why I need you here.”

  He knocked on the door.

  “What?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Up to you.”

  Alex sat at a makeshift desk, but he wasn’t doing homework. Frankie sat on the bed. “You want to talk?”

  “That priest rat me out?”

  “That’s his job.”

  “I thought priests could keep their mouth shut about anything. Even a murder.”

  “Only if it involves confession. A priest running a school is no different than a principal in your old school.”

  Alex doodled.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So you were just walking down the hall and a fight spontaneously combusted?”

  Alex held back a laugh. “You’re an ass, FD.”

  “I know. Why don’t you tell me what happened? Then two asses can know.”

  Alex did laugh this time, but it quickly disappeared. “Some kid called me a nigger.”

  Frankie jumped off the bed. “What? Who the hell…” He grabbed his cell.

  “Who you calling?”

  “Father Murphy.”

  Alex reached for the phone. “No way. You can’t do that to me.”

  “I’m not doing anything to you, I’m gonna get this other kid’s ass kicked out.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. You do that, and I’m dead. I’ll have to fight every day.”

  Frankie put the phone away, but he paced. “I’ll be damned if you’ll have to go through this.”

  “I been going through that all my life. It’s no big deal.”

  “Well it is now. I’ll be goddamned if I’ll have somebody treat you like that.”

  Alex looked up at h
im and laughed. “Wasn’t it you who taught me that nobody can make a fool of you but yourself?”

  Frankie looked down at him and smiled as he tousled Alex’s hair. “I guess you’re right. My bad.”

  “Since I’m staying with you now, I think we’ll have to make a recording of that.”

  Frankie sat on the bed again, silent for a moment. “So what are you gonna do when it happens again? You know it will.”

  “I’ll hit whoever says it. If I do that enough, it’ll stop.”

  “And you’ll get expelled.”

  Alex shrugged.

  “Did you tell Father Murphy what happened?”

  “I ain’t no rat.”

  Frankie nodded. “I’ll tell you what. How about I call Father Murphy, and—”

  “No way. I already said.”

  “Hear me out. I’ll call Father Murphy and let him in on what happened, but I’ll make him promise not to mention it to anyone. At least that way, he’ll know what’s causing the fights and won’t blame you.”

  “He’d do that?”

  “He would. We can trust him.”

  Alex held out his hand to bump fists. “Ring him up, dude.”

  “I’ll dude your ass.”

  Alex laughed. “Thanks, FD. You’re the best.”

  Frankie kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll call Father Murphy in the morning. In the meantime, let’s say we tackle this homework you seem to be having a tough time getting to.”

  “I can do this shit, it’s just—”

  “Alex, I know it’s tough to change things, but we both need to work on our language. It’s one thing when you’re out with friends, but let’s make a deal where we can curse around each other, to an extent, but you can’t when you’re around other adults or women.”

  “Not even around Keisha?”

  “She’s a woman isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, but she doesn’t care.”

  “No exceptions. I’ve got a secret for you. No matter what a woman tells you, they like it when you respect them. Someday that will pay off.”

  “So how come you curse around Kate?”

  Frankie raised his eyebrows and sighed. “Caught my ass there, didn’t you?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Okay, starting tomorrow, I’m gonna work on no cursing around Kate.”

  “So who taught you all this shit—stuff? Your mom?”

  Frankie laughed. “No way. It was actually a friend of mine, a guy named Nicky.”

  “That Rat guy you talk about?”

  Frankie looked down at Alex and rubbed his head. “Yeah, that’s him. The Rat.”

  “I thought he was some bad dude.”

  Frankie hesitated. “I guess you could say that, but you know what, Ace? I’ve found out that you can learn something good from anybody in life. All you have to do is look.”

  “Wasn’t nothing to learn from that bitch mom I had.”

  “Don’t call her that.”

  “Why not?”

  “She was your mom. That’s reason enough.”

  Alex opened the lid on a cigar box that Frankie had given him and slipped something inside. It was where he kept his special things.

  “What have you got?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Looks like a piece of paper to me.”

  “Bitch can’t even spell. I’m glad she’s gone.”

  Frankie sat next to him, his arm coming to rest gently on Alex’s shoulder. “I think you already know that it makes no difference if a person can spell, or write, or read. It’s what’s inside that counts.”

  “Wasn’t nothing inside that bitch.” He grabbed the paper and handed it to Frankie. “Take a look at this.”

  The paper had been torn in half, but the bottom was still there.

  No mater wat you think, Alex, I love you. I just cant be a mom. I do love you tho.

  Mom.

  Frankie let Alex seethe for a moment. “I know it might seem like she didn’t care, but somewhere deep inside, your mom loved you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Her problem was that she didn’t love herself.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.” Alex turned to him. “Why you trying to cover up for her? I know you didn’t like her.”

  “Because for whatever else she is, she’s still your mother. That means something.”

  “Not to me.”

  “It might not mean anything now. Hell, it might not later. And I’m not telling you to love her. All I’m saying is that for the time being…don’t hate her. If you hate somebody long enough, you’ll end up hating yourself.”

  “I know I ain’t never gonna be like her.”

  Frankie thought for a moment. Giving advice to kids was not something he was used to. “Try to remember those days when your mom was feeling good. When she was off the junk, and she was happy.”

  “I remember them.”

  “I know you do. And I could always tell because you were so happy those days.”

  Alex smiled.

  Frankie squeezed his shoulder. “That’s what I’m talking about. When you think of your mom, think of those times. Remember her for the days she was good.”

  Alex nodded his head. “Guess so, FD. Anyway, don’t worry about this homework. I’ll get it done.”

  “Okay. And whenever you want to talk, let me know.” As he left, he turned back to Alex. “Don’t forget to lock the damn doors from now on.”

  CHAPTER 25

  The Fruit Stand

  Jan Morris got out of bed then threw on a pair of jeans and her favorite top, the one with the glittery butterfly. Today was going to be a good day even if she had to force it. She put water on for tea, decided to trade in her sneakers for sandals, then shuffled around the kitchen humming an old Louis Prima song. Her father used to listen to him all the time. She stirred an Equal into her tea and drifted to what she had to do today. She thought of calling her dad—he’d waited so long for grandkids—but it was still too early to call. He’d gotten to be a late sleeper in his old age. She’d wait a few hours and then call and tell him the wait was over.

  I hope it’s a girl.

  She told Jeff last night at dinner and then they celebrated before he caught a late-night flight. Jan patted her stomach, smiling. It was still taut, but not for long. After a little cleaning, she made a list of what had to be done. A visit to the fruit stand was high on the list. She had to start eating right.

  ***

  The killer took his time at the fruit stand, waiting for the crowd to leave. He hated touching people, getting their germs on him. He once read about a decontamination gun in a science fiction novel. Ever since, he’d wanted one for himself. It would have saved a lot of showers.

  When the last person left, he stepped up and selected a few Jersey tomatoes, instantly dreaming of a tomato sandwich with garlic and basil.

  A woman brushed against him, said, “Excuse me,” and went about rummaging through the zucchini, selecting a long, fat one. He wondered what she planned for it.

  Perhaps her husband is away, he thought, and that brought images of Susan. I know what Susan would have done with it—shove it between her legs.

  Whenever he thought of Susan, he pictured a man’s head buried between her legs. He tried shaking the memory, but it was always there. Haunting him. Burned in his mind.

  The killer shot the woman a parting glance, thought about doing her, then dismissed it. He shook his head. The killing was over. He was done. The cops were too close.

  He picked two apples, praying they’d be crisp. Selected a few spears of pencil-thin asparagus, then moved to the peaches. The woman bumped into him again, the chocolate-brown one. Her eyes sparkled, her voice—so velvety smooth—enchanted him. He glanced down to unpainted toes. Good. He hated painted toenails. Best of all, there was no chance that this one was blonde. He despised blondes.

  “I’m so sorry. I’ve been a klutz all day.” She flashed a smile that seemed practiced.

  He smiled back, bu
t thought, What decent woman would flirt with a man like that? Still, she was attractive. He moved away, resisting temptation, but he kept his eyes on her. That much, he couldn’t resist. She picked out a cantaloupe, held it in her hands, caressed it, sniffed it. Smiled at it.

  Before he knew it, he was next to her. “I hate to bother you, but I never can tell when one is ripe.” He flashed a smile the warm, friendly kind that women liked. The kind that said I’m harmless, take me home with you. Let’s snuggle under the covers.

  “It’s easy,” she said. “If you press on the end, right here, it should give a little, but not too much. If it’s too soft, that means it’s overripe; too firm, and it won’t have any taste.”

  “Oh, is that all?” No need to worry about firmness, dear.

  She blushed. “Actually, I prefer the smell test.” She brought the fruit close to her face, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Ah…smell that,” she said, and handed him the cantaloupe. “Now that is a ripe melon.”

  The killer held the cantaloupe an inch or so from his face, closed his eyes, and breathed in. “You’re right. I can smell it. Thanks, this will save me a lot of time and money.”

  “Not a problem,” she said, and put the one she’d selected into her basket.

  He watched her walk away, her tight little ass dancing in her jeans. He debated whether her ass cheeks were doing the rumba or the samba. Either way, she was cute, and very damn sexy. She oozed sex. The killer wondered if she tasted as good as she looked. Like a Hershey’s bar. He restrained an urge to lick his lips, but he vowed that when he got her alone he’d sniff her to see if she was ripe. She’d appreciate that.

  Maybe I’m not done. One more would put the icing on the cake, so to speak. Her last smile made up his mind. He’d soon find out if she tasted as sweet as chocolate.

  CHAPTER 26

  Chasing Leads

  Frankie finished breakfast then went to Alex’s room. He was fixing his hair, but taking his time about it. He looked worried.

  “Better hurry up,” Frankie said. “Don’t want to be late for school. You might miss a fight.”

  Alex smiled. “You know what you are?”

  “Yeah, I know. But you can’t say it because we have a new agreement about cursing in the house.”