Murder Takes Patience

by Giammatteo, Giacomo

  As Angie would say, I sure knew how to fuck things up.

  CHAPTER 39

  A Morning at the Park

  Mazzetti got out of bed for the third—or was it sixth—time to piss. There had been a time, long ago, when he could last twelve hours without pissing. He’d wake up with a rod like he’d taken Viagra, but at least he got sleep. Now he was lucky if he could go two hours. And people wondered why he was grumpy in the morning.

  In the middle of a particularly strong stream, the phone rang. He hated to stop. Actually he couldn’t stop or he’d piss on the floor. On the toilet seat at best. So he let it ring until he finished. After the ninth or tenth ring he knew it was important.

  Suppose it’s about Donovan.

  That thought forced him to rush through the living room to the kitchen. “Mazzetti.”

  “It’s Sherri. We have more bodies.”

  “Are you shitting me?”

  “Not this early. You want me to pick you up?”

  “Where are they?”

  “Prospect Park.”

  “In the park? What the hell…” Lou turned water on for coffee. “Yeah, pick me up. Give me twenty minutes.”

  “Make it thirty. I haven’t showered.”

  Twenty-five minutes later Sherri pulled up in her red Honda Accord. Lou moved the newspaper off the seat, and tossed an empty coffee cup into a rolled-up breakfast bag from some deli.

  “Nice car, Miller, but it needs cleaning.”

  “Needs cleaning? I’ve been in your car.”

  “I understand, but you’re single. You’ve got to think about the image you’re presenting. Suppose you pick someone up in this. How’s that gonna look?”

  “If I were to pick someone up—and that won’t happen—but if I were to pick someone up in my car, I wouldn’t worry about how clean it is.”

  “All I’m saying is that if a woman picked me up in a car this dirty…I’d have to give some thought to a second date.”

  Sherri laughed all the way to the next corner. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  ***

  Dave Shu was at the scene when Lou and Sherri arrived.

  “Guess you actually have to work now that Kate’s out for a few days,” Lou told him.

  Dave looked around then shot Lou the finger.

  Mazzetti smiled, but it disappeared as he walked up on the first vic—the woman. Blood covered the side of her head. The male vic lay next to her with a forehead shot.

  Lou turned when he heard Sherri gasp. Then he saw the dog.

  “Who the fuck kills a dog?” he said.

  Sherri knelt next to Dave. “You got anything?”

  “Single shot to each of them. Close range. Looks like the guy was facing the shooter when he got it. The woman probably turned to run and caught it in the side of the head. I can’t imagine why he shot the dog.”

  “Who found the bodies?” Lou asked.

  Dave gestured to a lady standing off to the side with her arms wrapped around herself. “An officer who was here said she was jogging early this morning when she found them.”

  Lou looked around. “Where’s the officer?”

  “He’s out questioning people, hoping to find a witness. And he said to tell you he called for additional help on the canvas.”

  “Good luck with that,” Sherri said.

  “They’ll send them,” Lou said. “Too many murders makes the big brass nervous. They don’t want to scare tourists off.”

  “We need to find out where Benning was last night,” Sherri said.

  “We don’t know if this is connected yet.”

  “It’s a couple,” Sherri said.

  “Yeah, it’s a couple, but nothing sexual. And they were shot in the head only.” Lou lifted his hat and scratched his head. “And why did he switch to the park?”

  “Nothing sexual?” Sherri looked at Lou. “She’s naked from the waist up and a makeshift dagger is stuck next to her tit.”

  “Other than that and the note, and that they’re a couple, and…” Lou laughed. “Damn, Miller, learn to lighten up, will you?”

  “I can’t lighten up when I see stuff like this.” Sherri looked at the bodies again. “Nothing else, Dave? No rape, no messing with the genital areas?”

  Dave shook his head. “Shot in the head, and, from what I can tell so far, nothing else. Looks like he shot them and took off. The bodies are where they dropped for sure. The guy doesn’t look like he’s been moved. The killer took the woman’s top off, and her bra, to attach the note, but she’s still in the general vicinity of where she fell.”

  Sherri leaned down and read the note aloud.

  “Her ass was tight and round

  She had a bushy mound

  But the sweat deterred me

  Really disturbed me

  So I put them in the ground.”

  “This is a sick fuck,” Lou said, and looked around. “The way I see it, he came up to them on the jogging trail and just popped them. Why? What the fuck did these kids do to him?”

  “That’s another thing, Mazzetti. The other murders had definite infidelity involved. You might be right about this one being different.”

  “I think he’s fucking with us now,” Lou said. “I don’t suppose we have an ID?”

  “No sexual overtones but it looks like the same caliber gun,” Dave said. “I’ll have specifics after I get them back. As to the ID, we got lucky. The guy had his license attached with Velcro to his sleeve.” He handed Lou an evidence bag with the ID inside. “John Albans. Nothing on her, but they’re wearing matching wedding rings.”

  Sherri looked closely. “Gold and diamonds. Definitely not a robbery.”

  “Keys were in his pocket. I bagged them, too.”

  Lou copied the address from the license while Sherri called Carol. “See what you can get me on a John Albans and his wife.” Sherri read off the address, which was in Park Slope.

  Lou got Morreau to authorize leaving a few uniforms at the park entrances so they could question people, though he didn’t hold out much hope for it. If anything, they’d get lucky tonight. Joggers tended to run at the same times, so maybe one of the nighttime crowd saw something. Lou also put a couple of uniforms on questioning people from victims’ neighborhood to see if anyone knew if they ran every night and at what time.

  Sherri pulled out her cell. “We need to find out where Benning was.”

  “Call his lawyer,” Lou said. “We can’t talk to Benning.”

  “That’s who I’m calling.” Sherri looked up the number, and a few seconds later she was on the phone with his attorney. “We’d like to ask Mr. Benning a few questions. No, it’s not about that. This is another case, and I think you’ll want to be there for this.”

  She hung up and looked at Lou. “He said he’d be at the station at 2:30.”

  “Good,” Lou said. “I can’t wait to take another shot at him.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange that his lawyer was ready for this? He didn’t even have to check with Benning to see what time he’d be available.”

  “Almost as if he was expecting the call,” Lou said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Don’t worry, Miller. We’ve got the right guy.”

  Sherri shook her head. “We better, because there’s nobody else.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Dealing with the Consequences

  I drove away from Mangini’s in a pissy mood. Things had not gone well; in fact, they’d gone worse than I expected. I checked the rearview mirror for the millionth time, something I’d be doing a lot from now on. Dominic had given me twenty-four hours, but Fabrizio would be following me sooner than that.

  The first thing I did was get a rental car. I opted for a small agency run by a guy I knew from Queens. He could keep his mouth shut. Besides, he knew my reputation, and he wouldn’t tell anyone unless Dominic had his balls in a vise. He stashed my car in his private garage, promising it would be safe. I headed to the hotel after that, parking a few
blocks away and making damn sure I wasn’t followed. Even so, I circled the block a few times on foot, checking everything that moved and especially the things that didn’t.

  I thought about checking out of the hotel, but went with my first idea and opted not to. If I passed the deadline Fabrizio would come looking for me. It would be better if he thought I was still there. Might buy me some time. I followed the same routine to get back to my car, grabbed my stuff from the room, then searched for a new place to stay. After a lot of driving I decided to stay in a dump in Staten Island, a place where nobody knew anybody. The manager of the place was so high he wouldn’t know who he had as guests.

  Once inside the room, I used the burner to call Lou. He answered after a few rings.

  “Yeah, this is Mazzetti.”

  “It’s Fusco. Anything on Bugs?”

  “I don’t know. I have two more bodies. Call Kate. You need her number?”

  “I’ve got it. Thanks.” I hung up and called her, but there was nothing new on Bugs. He was stable, but hadn’t talked yet.

  I thought about what Lou said—two more bodies—and wondered if they were connected. Never one to believe in coincidences, I figured they were. By the time I got to the hotel, I’d heard plenty of news about the joggers. It was all over the radio.

  I went to the room, set the copies I’d made of the case files on the bed. What I really wanted to do was take a shower, eat a nice meal, and go to sleep. But I had to review these files. I couldn’t afford to waste time after what happened today. With that in mind, I called Angie. I let it ring ten times, which was against my principles. No answer. Now I was worried.

  I grabbed the notebook and made a list of what Alex told me.

  The guy came into Frankie’s apartment and waited. Just waited. He knew Bugs wasn’t home and was confident enough to break into a cop’s apartment. And he didn’t bring a weapon. Or if he did, he decided to use a knife from the kitchen instead. Adjusting on the fly. This was no amateur.

  The cops coming must have scared him off. Otherwise, Bugs would be dead. Or maybe he’d thought Bugs was dead. Either way, he had the presence of mind to take Bugs’ gun.

  Two days later he killed two joggers, who appeared to be random targets.

  Why? If it were me why would I do it? Why kill the joggers?

  Even as someone who had killed people, I couldn’t think like that. And why kill the dog?

  Alex had said the guy was singing in the apartment. “It’s a Beautiful Morning.”

  Does that tell me anything?

  I had a lot of questions, but nothing else. I opened up the folder containing the case files and looked at the notes:

  No signs of rape with either victim.

  No forced entry at hotel or the second victims’ apartment.

  No witnesses.

  Both women worked at the same building.

  Both were young professionals and in a relationship—one married, one engaged.

  One lived alone, one with her husband.

  One killed at home, one in hotel.

  Didn’t go to same hairdresser.

  Not same nail salon.

  Didn’t get to work same way.

  Didn’t shop at same stores, even online.

  According to their iTunes lists, they didn’t even listen to the same music. One Country, one hip-hop.

  They only had two things in common: they worked in the same building, and they both had a relationship with Chad Benning.

  I had to admit that Benning looked good as the primary suspect, but I wanted to see what else the cops had.

  Benning called Krenshaw’s phone, or alleged phone, several times the week before the murder.

  He was seen by the doorman at her apartment the night of the murder.

  He was having an affair with Debbie Parnell and, apparently, with Sandy Krenshaw, though that hadn’t been confirmed with any of her friends.

  Had a key to Parnell’s apartment.

  His hair found at the scene.

  Apartment cleaned excessively, as if to get rid of DNA.

  No alibi for night of Krenshaw’s murder. Later he claimed he was with Parnell that night.

  Notes left at scenes.

  Benning not only looked good, he looked too good. I approached this case using Sister Thomas’ rules. She taught us to consider all options, eliminate the impossible, then choose from what remained. According to her method there were only two or three primary paths to solve any problem. Each path might have many branches, but using this method the first decision involved a maximum of three choices. Even when it appeared there were only two, she encouraged us to look for the third.

  There is almost always a third choice, she said.

  Since I was absolutely certain it was Benning, the first order of business was to disprove it. I learned that from killing. When you plan a killing you figure out how you’re going to do it, and then you take every step of the process to see what’s wrong with it. You presume that something will go wrong, then adjust. I used the same methods for Benning.

  I saw this as black and white. Either Benning did it, or he didn’t. Two choices. As I jotted down the pros and cons to each, Sister Thomas’ voice haunted me about a third choice. I stopped and looked at the situation again. I had four dead bodies, all connected, plus an attack on Bugs and two joggers killed. All of it pointed to Benning. Two choices—he killed them, or he didn’t.

  Sister Thomas’ voice nagged me until I saw it. Lurking in the gray between the black and white was another option. Someone could be framing him. There were still only two choices—he did or didn’t—but this third “choice” would affect how I looked at the evidence.

  With that in mind, I went back over the notes even though I felt as if I had forced that third option. I still saw it as two: he did or didn’t.

  The first thing that raised a question was why Krenshaw’s disposable cell phone activity started only one week before the murder. And why for God’s sake, would Benning leave that damned incriminating message on her phone, and then leave the phone where it could be found so quickly?

  Which brought up another point—was the “Do Not Disturb” sign at the hotel turned the wrong way by accident…or was it part of the plan? It was Benning’s voice on the phone message. He said it was business. Was it? If so, who set him up?

  If I assumed the killer was Benning, and he was smart enough to leave no clues, how was it he was stupid enough to be seen by the doorman at Parnell’s, who Benning knew could recognize him?

  The affairs might have given him motive in a perfect world, but if he was such a Cassanova, why would he care about other women getting it on with one more person? One was married and one engaged, and he already knew that.

  It doesn’t add up.

  The key to Parnell’s apartment was nothing. If they had a relationship, she’d have given him a key. The hair they found—same thing; it could easily have been there from innocent visits. However, and this was the big thing, I didn’t buy that only his hair was found. It looked more like a plant than a coincidence or an oversight.

  I thought about the apartment being cleaned. Again, I asked myself why. It wasn’t to get rid of his DNA, which could easily have been explained by the affair. But the excessive cleaning made it look like that was the reason.

  And the bars alibi didn’t fly. He had to know they’d check with patrons and bartenders.

  I looked at the notes found at the scenes, and came to the conclusion that they were left to distract the detectives. Make them think the killer was crazy. Unless something popped up to show me differently, I’d go with that theory.

  I thought about the sequence of events. After they arrested Benning, Frankie was attacked, and then the joggers killed. The attack on Bugs and the killing of the joggers were different, and yet, oddly the same. He used the same weapon as the first two killings, but the pattern didn’t fit.

  A few hours ago, when I started this, I had Benning pegged for the murders. Now I wasn’t so s
ure. I didn’t like it when cops made assumptions, which a lot of them tended to do. I picked up my notes and looked at Benning from the opposite angle—if he was guilty he wouldn’t have left the phone where it could be found so easily; he wouldn’t have been seen at the scene with Parnell; and he wouldn’t have left his own hair at the scene? It didn’t add up and I didn’t like it. If Benning didn’t do it, I was back to square one. And I only had one day. I looked at my watch. Twenty hours to be exact.

  CHAPTER 41

  A Convenient Alibi

  Lou leaned back in his chair, feet on the desk, trying to catch a short nap before Benning and his lawyer arrived. He was getting too old to get up early and go the whole day without some kind of rest. Fortunately, all he needed was a ten- or twenty-minute snooze to recharge. Unfortunately, about five minutes into the nap his phone rang. He snatched it from the desk, cursing himself for not putting it on vibrate.

  “Mazzetti.”

  “You sound agitated, Detective.”

  He looked at the caller ID. It read Unknown. “Who the hell is this?”

  “It’s Nicky Fusco. I wanted to see how Bugs is doing.”

  Lou pulled his feet off the desk and planted them on the floor. “You just woke me from much-needed sleep.”

  “Sorry. I tried Kate but couldn’t reach her.”

  He sighed. “Last I checked he was the same. A little more stable maybe.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “I didn’t say he was going to a dance, Fusco. I said a little more stable.”

  “I heard you.”

  Lou looked around the office to make sure no one was near. “How about you?”

  “I’m still reviewing things. You have anything on those bodies this morning?”

  “We’re bringing Benning in for an interview this afternoon.”