A Bullet for Carlos

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  As I passed the fourth tee, I thought I heard someone calling me. I stopped, removed the headphones and looked around. A man was walking toward me from the tee, dressed in crisp tan slacks and a white shirt.

  “Connie!”

  Who’s that? Who knows me down here? I knew it wasn’t Tip, not at this hour on a Sunday. I recognized Jeff Maxwell as he got closer, and that brought a tingling response that I didn’t like. Soon he was within talking distance. “Connie, it’s good to see you. What a coincidence.”

  The way he said it made it seem as if we were old friends. A shiver raced through me. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the suit.”

  He looked at me as if we were teenagers meeting for the first time. “What are you doing here?”

  “Got up early and decided I needed a run.”

  “Do you live nearby?”

  I pointed toward my place. ”In the apartments down there.”

  “I can’t believe you live that close,” Jeff said. “I play here three days a week. Maybe we could get together for lunch sometime.”

  “I’d love to.” I had jumped the gun, and I knew it. Must have been my hormones answering for me.

  “Max,” someone called from the fairway.

  “Come on, Max,” another one yelled.

  He waved to them without turning. “Looks like I’m being summoned.” He pulled out a business card. “Take this…” he said, then realized I had no place to put it. “I’ll tell you what, call me at the Maxwell building. Say…Tuesday. We’ll grab lunch. I wanted to talk with you anyway.”

  “Come on, we’ve got a game to finish.”

  “Looks like you’re being paged,” I said. “I’ll call you.”

  “Don’t forget, Tuesday for lunch.” And with that he was gone, half-jogging back to his golf buddies.

  I found it difficult to focus on the way home, pissed at myself for saying I’d meet him. I laughed as I ran, emotions running wild. No question I was attracted to the guy, but also no question he was married, and that didn’t fit my style. It reminded me of what Dominic always said: ‘If a married man says he loves you, just remember that he tells that to someone else when he’s not with you.’

  The recollection forced a smile; Uncle Dominic’s words of wisdom held a lot of truth. So with that in mind, sometime between now and Tuesday I’d have to figure out a way to bow out of meeting Maxwell. Still, it was damn nice to have someone pay attention to me. Damn nice.

  Fifteen minutes later I was back in the apartment, getting ready for the day. When the phone rang I almost didn’t hear it.

  ***

  Tip got about two hours of sleep before the phone rang, and rang, and rang. Elena pushed him out of bed. “Get the phone.”

  He inched ahead on his knees until he could reach the phone sitting atop the dresser. “Tip Denton.”

  “Tip, get in here. We got another one.”

  He stood, now as awake as if he had mistakenly drunk Gianelli’s coffee instead of his own. “Who? Where?”

  “Not far from you. Up near Champion’s Forest.”

  Tip took down the address. “I’m on it. I’ll call when we’re done.”

  He turned to Elena. “Baby, you must be bad luck. Every time you’re here something happens.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t come anymore.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. I said you were bad luck, I didn’t say I minded.”

  Tip’s phone rang as he headed out the back door. It was Connie. “What’s up, Gianelli?”

  “Renkin call?”

  “I’m on my way to get you.”

  Chapter 46

  Where is Connie Gianelli

  Tico sat on the edge of the patio chair, fidgeting while he waited for Carlos to finish breakfast. Roberto and Paco stood with their arms folded, and Chaparrito paced. All seemed nervous, and rightfully so, Carlos seldom called early morning meetings.

  “Did you see how Manuelo looked at us?” Paco asked.

  “It was a signal,” Roberto said.

  Chaparrito blessed himself and continued pacing.

  “Let me go in first,” Tico said. “And let me do the talking.”

  Moments later Manuelo opened the door. Tico got up quickly and entered first, followed by the rest of them, Chaparrito last.

  “Buenos días, señor,” Tico said.

  “‘Good morning’ is how we say it in Houston, Tico, or have you forgotten already?”

  “I’m sorry. Good morning.”

  Carlos leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. He drummed his fingers on the table while he stared at them. “Where is Señorita Gianelli?”

  Tico looked at the others, then responded. “We haven’t found her yet, señor. The last we—”

  Carlos waved his hand, dismissing him. “Roberto, do you know?”

  Roberto shook his head. “No, señor, I—”

  Carlos jumped from his chair. “How long have we been looking for this cop?” He pulled out a cigarette to light but when Tico offered a match he pushed his hand away. “I gave a simple order to find someone, and after all of this time no one has done it. To make matters worse, our men are getting busted all over town, and my club is raided, and all, I learn last night, based on the orders of this Connie Gianelli.”

  “Señor,” Tico said. “That is impossible. She’s in Brooklyn, New York. She—”

  Carlos moved to him so quickly Tico almost fell over trying to step back. “She is in Houston, Tico. Right here, in this town.” He grabbed Roberto’s shirt and shook him. “How do I know this? Because I met her last night.”

  He crushed out the cigarette he never lit, kicked the chair, then spun around again. “Forget bringing her to me. I want her dead.”

  Tico’s head was shaking before Carlos finished. “You can’t do that, señor. This isn’t Mexico. You cannot kill cops.”

  “She stole from me.”

  “We don’t know if she was involved,” Tico said. “All we know is that Sean betrayed us.”

  Carlos slammed his fist on the table. “She was his partner. And now we know she is under the wing of Dominic Mangini. You think she is innocent?” He shook his head and wagged his finger. “Let me tell you something, mi amigo. There is something between Señor Mangini and this Gianelli woman. I saw it in her eyes when I mentioned the Bronx.”

  “What would you have me do?” Tico asked.

  “Offer bigger rewards for information on Señorita Gianelli and Señor Mangini. Once we have what we need, we will plan something special.”

  Chapter 47

  How Many Must Die

  I was waiting at the curb when Tip pulled up. I jumped into the front seat, still a bundle of energy from the early morning run. “Get anything else?” I asked as I buckled up.

  “An address.”

  “How far?”

  “Five minutes,” he said, then, “Have fun last night?”

  I paused before answering, then smiled. “Yeah, I guess I did. Surprisingly.”

  “You looked damn nice in that dress.” Tip switched lanes, merging into the traffic. “Guess that didn’t come out right. Let me try again. You looked great last night, plain and simple. Had nothing to do with the dress.”

  “Thanks, Tip.”

  “So what do you think we’ll find today?” he asked.

  The image of Patti’s battered body came to mind, and her face. “I hope it’s not like Patti. I’m still having bad dreams about her.”

  “I like to try and guess what the scene will look like. I don’t know why but it makes me think differently once I get there. If it’s not like I pictured it, then I dig deeper. I know it sounds crazy, but it works for me.”

  “All right. I think we’re going to find a girl, naked, on the bed, with no lips. And she’ll be beaten half to death, then killed with a knife.” I almost shocked myself with the assessment.

  “Good, but lots more questions. Is she on her back or belly? Raped? Where are her clothes? How did he get in? Vacuum gon
e?” Tip smiled. “See how this can go? Agreed it doesn’t do any good for us to guess about this now, but it does get you ready to look for anything out of place.”

  “You’re right. What about the computer? Were the doors locked? Windows? Car? Does she have a password? Where does she work? Does this one workout at a gym?”

  “Now you’re getting into it. We already have a few dozen questions and we’re not even there.”

  We pulled up to the crime scene about ten minutes after leaving the apartment. Half a dozen cars were parked outside, including the M.E.’s car.

  “You ready?” Tip asked.

  “I hope. Does it get easier?”

  “Nope.”

  The uniform at the door nodded to us. “Down the hall and left,” he said. “Nasty.”

  I walked in first, a handkerchief in one hand and my notepad in the other. We went through Tip’s routine of checking the rest of the house first, entry hall, kitchen, dining room.

  “We got wine glasses, wine bottle, nothing cleaned. Little different than the last scene,” Tip said.

  “Let’s see how different the body is,” I said.

  As we moved toward the bedroom I heard the voices of the crime unit people discussing the details of the case.

  I went through the bedroom door two steps ahead of Tip, and even though I had prepared to see another human being naked, and dead, it was still shocking. She was lying face down, with her head turned. Even from across the room I could see her lips were missing. Blood was everywhere.

  Why was she lying face down? The others were face up. “Was she face down when you found her?” I asked.

  “Just like you see her,” Ben Marsh, the M.E. said. “We were about to turn her over. Are you ready?”

  “Do it,” Tip said.

  I stepped closer, mustering enough courage. Despite the preparation I wasn’t ready for what I saw. “Goddamn.”

  “Oh shit,” Tip said, and stepped back.

  “What’s the matter?” Ben asked.

  “Tip, that’s Mena.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch.”

  “You know her?” Ben said.

  I held back for a moment. “We don’t really know her, but we were with her last night at a charity event.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch…” Tip said.

  I got closer. Somehow knowing this victim, even for a moment, made it personal. Took the sick feeling away and replaced it with anger. “My God, she was gorgeous last night. Absolutely gorgeous.”

  Tip was silent for a few seconds, then his jaw tightened and he got a hard look on his face. “Now we can do something about your friend.”

  I looked at Tip. “Carlos? No way he did this.”

  Tip looked to the M.E. “What have you got so far?”

  Ben finished entering some comments into a tape recorder then addressed Tip’s question. “Pretty much the same as last time. Brutally beaten, ribs and nose broken. Vagina torn, so it was likely rape, but there is one big difference—he didn’t use a wrapper this time.”

  “So you’ve got semen?” Tip asked.

  Ben nodded. “Indeed we do.”

  Tip looked around the room, opening drawers, checking the bathroom. “How did we get it so early?”

  “Called in by a neighbor,” Ben said. “That’s what Bobby told me.”

  “Maybe we got lucky this time.”

  “This guy doesn’t make mistakes,” I said. “Doesn’t sound right.”

  “A killer can’t control the crime scene,” Tip said. “A neighbor peeks out the window at the right time and bingo, we’ve got a witness.”

  “Maybe.” I focused on examining the rest of the room. “Ben, anything else you can tell us?”

  “Not yet.”

  Tip called to me from the bathroom. “Connie, get in here.”

  “Check this out. Clothes in the hamper like before, and a towel. Did he catch her in the shower, too? He’s got to be watching, but from where?”

  I spent a while looking through her clothes and make-up. “This lady lived large. She had money. I mean money.”

  “Did you look at the house?”

  “I know. The house is one thing, but these clothes and this make-up and jewelry…”

  “We need to find out what she did.”

  “If she worked for Carlos, she probably pushed drugs.” I came out of the closet with envy oozing out of me. “I’d cut off a few fingers to get hold of that wardrobe.”

  “I’ll ask the lieutenant if you can have it.”

  “While you’re at it, ask if I can have the jewelry too?”

  “Nah, I’m taking that myself,” Tip said, then looked in the other closet. “Take a look here. Men’s clothes.”

  I walked over and checked them out. “These aren’t clothes Carlos would wear.”

  “Not a chance,” Tip said. “But somebody spent a lot of time with Filomena. I wonder what Señor Cortes thought about that.”

  “I guess we’ll have to ask him.”

  Before leaving, Tip talked to the head of the crime scene unit. “Call me when you get everything processed. And don’t forget the computer.”

  “You got it. We won’t be long.”

  As we left, I grabbed Tip’s arm. “What time did that call come in last night?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll get the details when we get to the station. Why?”

  “I was thinking, we left the ball pretty early, but Mena and Carlos were still there. Even if he stayed for another half an hour, by the time he got her home, and…well, assuming it was him who had sex with her…”

  “You’re right. Timing is going to be crucial.” He made notes on his pad.

  ‘What time did Carlos leave the ball?’

  ‘Anyone see him get home?’

  ‘What time did call come in about murder?’

  ‘Time of death, according to Ben.’

  “We’re going to nail the bastard this time. This is our jurisdiction.”

  “Tip, I want this guy as much as you, maybe more, but like I said, there is no way Carlos did this.”

  “I know that, but the district attorney doesn’t. And this sure as shit gives us cause to go after Señor Cortes.”

  “That’s a dangerous line to cross, Tip.”

  “Sometimes I have trouble seeing the lines.”

  “Don’t tell me things like that.”

  “You said to be honest. You want me to lie?”

  I thought about it. “Nah, let’s go get him.”

  Chapter 48

  Interviews

  It had been a damn long day already. It didn’t seem possible that I started out the day talking to Frankie, then seeing Maxwell at the golf course. So much had happened and it was only noon. And we still had a full day or more of work to do. We had already interviewed four of the people from the ball, trying to learn anything we could about Mena and Carlos. No one seemed to have known her, though they were aghast upon hearing the news. The men we talked to had nothing good or bad to say about Carlos, but both of the women thought he was the epitome of old-world charm and elegance. The one thing all of them agreed on was that Carlos left somewhere after midnight and before 1:00. The two women, who seemed more reliable, both had him leaving close to 12:45, claiming to know because when he said good night, they were shocked he was leaving so early. Emily, one of the women we spoke to, said, ‘it didn’t end until 2:00, you know. I made note because it was unusual for Carlos to leave early.’ She insisted that she’d seen Carlos say goodbye to Virginia at the door, then he returned to bid them a farewell. ‘He always kisses my right cheek’ one of them said. ‘what a gentleman.’

  “Where to now?” I asked. “I hope it’s somewhere close to a food joint.”

  “Skip the food. We need to talk to your new friend.”

  “Maxwell?”

  “Yeah, Maxwell,” Tip said. “I called earlier, and he said he would be at his office today.”

  “On Sunday?”

  “That’s what he said. Got some big projec
t they’re trying to finish.”

  Tip called him when we got to the parking lot.

  “I’ll have someone meet you at the door,” Maxwell said.

  A reasonably attractive woman who looked to be in her thirties greeted us. “Mr. Maxwell is expecting you.” She had a strong drawl, and she stared at Tip with a smile that said, ‘here’s my number, call me tonight when I’m naked.’

  Tip had that effect on people. When his face twisted in a certain way—especially when he smiled—it caused odd reactions. Women seemed to like it, entranced by the whole scar thing; with friends it made him seem warm and likable; but when he combined it with a hard-eyed glare—and he kept several in reserve—it just plain scared the shit out of people.

  A few minutes later Jeff Maxwell emerged from an elevator looking as good as he did last night at the ball. Last night. It seemed like days.

  “Connie, I didn’t expect to see you this soon.”

  I extended my hand, but he ignored it, opting instead for an embrace. Then he turned to greet Tip, shaking his hand. I felt a little uncomfortable with the embrace. If it bothered Tip, he didn’t let it show.

  Maxwell led us to a room with a small table and four chairs. Tip grabbed a seat across from Jeff.

  “Thanks for meeting with us, Mr. Maxwell,” Tip said in his too-polite Texan voice. “I hate to interrupt your Sunday.”

  Jeff brushed his hand in the air. “Please, Tip. Call me Jeff, or Max. Anything but Mr. Maxwell. As for the Sunday thing…you’ll find me here almost every Sunday.”

  He faced me with a smile. “After golf, that is.”

  Tip never flinched as he watched the interplay. “We’re here to ask about Carlos Cortes, one of the guests at the ball. What—”

  “I heard. What a sin about that woman. And she was so beautiful. My God, I must have talked to her for half an hour.”

  Tip waited to make sure Jeff was finished, then asked, “How did you hear about it so fast?”

  Maxwell laughed. “Connections, Detective. I have a lot of them.”