by Walter Marks
“What makes you sure it’s Rosario?”
“Her shoes,” Jericho said. “You can hardly see them because the running pants are draped over them. That’s because the running suit she’s wearing is not hers, it’s Ann Richman’s — so it’s too big for her. But if you look closely, you can see the tips of her shoes. They’re not sneakers and they’re black. She’s wearing patent leather Mary Janes — same as when we found her. A big mistake by Richman.”
“I still don’t get it. Why would Rosario do that?”
Jericho paused and gathered his thoughts.
“Rosario was forced to do it,” he said. “She had to do anything Richman demanded of her, because he said Oleg would kill her mother if she disobeyed.”
“And why would Richman make her do it?”
“Richman knew he’d be a suspect,” Jericho explained. “So he set up this video as proof that he couldn’t have killed his wife.”
Krauss looked puzzled. “But…then the girl would’ve had to get back into the house. Did you see that on the recording?”
“No,” Jericho said. “But there’s a small ventilator shaft leading down into the room where she was held. It’s behind the surveillance camera so she wouldn’t be seen. The shaft is narrow, but Rosario’s skinny enough to slide down it.”
“What about the dog?” Krauss asked.
“My guess is Richman told her to tie it up somewhere, so he could get it later.”
“Okay,” Krauss said. “Assuming that’s true, then when did Richman kill his wife?”
“That’s the really ingenious part of Richman’s plan. He killed her before this tape was made. Probably the day before he reported her missing.”
“Where did he kill her?”
“I’d say — on the beach,” Jericho said. “You know it’s deserted this time of year. And he probably hid her body in the wooded section behind the beach. We may never know the exact details, but it doesn’t matter. The fact is he killed her.”
“And then he acted like she was murdered by a serial killer?”
“Yes. That’s why he cut off her foot.”
“Jesus. A copycat murder! You called that weeks ago.”
“Elementary, my dear Krauss.”
“When do you think Richman planted the foot on the beach?”
“On the morning of the day I found it,” Jericho said. “The medical examiner said it hadn’t been in the water very long. Richman probably soaked it overnight in seawater.”
“So I guess now we arrest Richman.”
“Yep,” Jericho said. “We’ve got him nailed. When Rosario corroborates that this is her on the tape, it’ll be impossible for him to explain this video. And since Oleg’s dead, there’s nothing to keep Rosario from testifying against Richman. With the evidence we’ve got, he’ll be convicted of Forced Imprisonment, Sexual Abuse of a Minor, Rape, and Murder One. He’ll do life-plus in Sing Sing.”
“Jericho,” Krauss said, extending his hand, “you’ve done a great job. I wanna thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Jericho said sadly.
“Why not?”
“Thank Officer Maria Salazar. If it weren’t for Maria…I wouldn’t even be here.”
It was with ineffable sadness that Jericho got in his car and drove to Sag Harbor.
In the past, Jericho often had the painful task of informing families about the death of a loved one. But this was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do — in his work, or in his life.
CHAPTER 74
Two weeks later, Jericho was packing a suitcase when he heard a knock on his front door. As he went to answer it, he noticed, through the living room window, a white panel truck with lettering on its side. It read: “MERRY MAID CLEANING SERVICE — WE DO IT SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO.”
A man sat slouched in the driver’s seat.
The detective walked to the door and opened it.
A woman stuck out her hand. “Oralia Jackson,” she said. “Remember me from the Platt house?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I saw your name on your mailbox — Jericho. Cain’t nobody forget that name. I tol’ the driver stop for a second. Figured maybe you be needin’ maid service. Always on the lookout for new customers!”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Jericho said. “I’m going away for the holidays, but when I get back…”
“Here’s a Merry Maid card. Call and tell ’em you want Oralia.”
The woman smiled and walked away. Then she stopped, turned, and sang out in a soulful gospel voice —
“Joshua fit the battle of Jericho, and the walls…come…a-tumblin’…down.”
CHAPTER 75
The plane was completely full in coach, but Jericho got lucky with an emergency exit seat, so he had a bit more legroom. For the detective, it was a relief to get away from East Hampton for a while, after the trauma and turmoil of his recent cases.
He was cleared by Internal Affairs, but the interviews were tense and painful for him.
He scrolled through the in-flight movie menu on his seatback TV screen and settled on The Sound of Music. He figured Rodgers and Hammerstein’s uplifting songs would keep his mind off the past. Everything was fine till the singing nuns started cheerily wondering how you solved a problem like Maria. The very mention of Maria’s name caused him to ache with loss. He turned off the movie.
He recalled the stunned faces of Maria’s parents and Rosario when he told them she was gone. They just sat together on a couch, nobody saying a word. Jericho tried to ease their pain, saying what a great cop she was, how brave she was, and that she’d saved his life. It didn’t help.
Her mother burst out in sobs. Her husband hugged her and Rosario put her head in Mrs. Salazar’s lap and cried too. Jericho crossed to the couch, went to his knees, and embraced all three of them. For a long while, they were joined together in shared grief.
Later, he found some comfort in testifying at Sanford Richman’s grand jury hearing, along with Rosario. Richman’s indictment came swiftly and the DA assured them a trial jury would find him guilty on all counts.
At Maria’s funeral, Jericho spoke of how proud she would’ve been, knowing her police work had given ten young women a new chance at life. What he didn’t say was how close they had become, and that they might’ve had a future together, if he hadn’t put her in harm’s way.
Jericho leaned back, shut his eyes and, after a while, he dozed off.
He was awakened by the sound of the pilot’s voice reverberating through the cabin. “Hi, folks. We’re beginning our descent now. Please put your seatbacks and tray tables in their upright positions, and turn off all electronic devices. In about fifteen minutes we’ll be landing at Sea-Tac International Airport. For those of you who don’t speak airline lingo, that’s — Seattle-Tacoma.”
EPILOGUE
Hark! The herald angels sing,
Glory to the newborn King;
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled…
Jericho stood at the back of the auditorium, watching the finale of the school Christmas pageant. Around a nativity scene tableau, an ensemble of kids were singing their hearts out. They were dressed in white bathrobes, with halos made from gold clothes hangers attached to their heads. Jericho had no interest in the Virgin Mary, Joseph, the baby Jesus, or the Three Wise Men. His focus was exclusively on the second angel to Mary’s left — his daughter, Katie.
She sang with an expressive face, enunciating the words the way the music teacher had undoubtedly instructed her.
The kid’s got talent, Jericho thought.
With angelic hosts proclaim,
“Christ is born in Bethlehem.”
Hark! The herald angels sing,
“Glory to the newborn King.”
The song was followed by wild applause from the audience. The stage began filling with families and friends, congratulating the children on their brilliant performances.
Jericho waited till the crowd thinned
out, then he spotted Katie with her mother and Irwin. He stepped up on the stage and waved till he caught Sarah’s eye. She nodded and said something to Katie. The little girl turned and saw her father. She let out a squeal, ran across the stage, and practically flew up into Jericho’s arms.
“Daddy,” Katie said. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I wanted to surprise you. You sang great.”
“You saw me? Oh, wow.”
He set Katie down and knelt in front of her. She was in stage makeup — eyeliner, lipstick, blush. Suddenly he had a glimpse of what she would one day become — a lovely young woman. It took his breath away.
“Sweetie,” he said, “Mom and I worked this out. You’re gonna spend Christmas morning at home, so you can get all your presents. Then I’ll pick you up and we’ll drive to Seattle. We’ll be staying at this neat hotel with an indoor swimming pool. We’ve got three days together.”
“Alone time?”
“Alone time,” Jericho said. “And we’ll have fun. Seattle has a great children’s zoo, an aquarium, and, of course, the Space Needle.”
“What’s a space needle?”
“It’s this really tall building with an observation deck, where you can see for miles around. Oh, and you’ll get the Christmas presents I brought for you.”
“I don’t need any more presents.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve got my daddy,” Katie said. “That’s the best Christmas present of all.”
And Katie’s words were the greatest Christmas gift Detective Neil Jericho could ever receive.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Walter Marks is a novelist, playwright, and songwriter. Besides his Broadway shows — “Bajour” and “Golden Rainbow”, off-Broadway he wrote the score and book for the award winning “Langston in Harlem” (lyrics by Langston Hughes). His best-known song is “I’ve Gotta be Me”, recorded by Sammy Davis, Michael Jackson, Tony Bennett, Ella Fitzgerald, among others.
He also wrote the screenplay and songs for “The Wild Party” (Merchant-Ivory Films) directed by James Ivory. He is an Emmy winner for the PBS series “Getting On.”
His current project is a musical incorporating the songs of lyricist/composer Johnny Mercer into a book show called “Accentuate the Positive.” Mr. Marks has written the libretto.
His novels include “Dangerous Behavior” and “Death Hampton.”
He lives and works in both Manhattan and East Hampton.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My heartfelt thanks to my wife, Joan, for her unwavering support and perceptive critiques of my work; to TopTier Publishing — Brisa Trinchero and Roberta Pereira, who is also my sharp-eyed and knowledgeable editor; the Van Doren family for providing a creative environment; to John Anderson for connecting me to the detectives of EHTPD; and to Elizabeth Reveiz, for correcting my high school Spanish.
Top Tier Lit
www.toptierlit.com
New York, NY
2015