Crimes on Latimer: From the Early Cases of Marco Fontana

by DeMarco, Joseph R. G.

  “I’ll see what I can tell you, but promise me that when the case is settled you’ll come back and take a lesson or two? I might just make your portfolio fatter than you can imagine.” He pointed a bony finger at the screen. “It’s all there, if you know what to look for. And I do.”

  “Deal.” I smiled. The guy wasn’t wacky, just lonely. His money could buy him whatever he wanted except someone who really cared about him. It was a deal I’d keep, not for the money because I had none to invest.

  “You say this man was a boyfriend of Preston Flaherty? Tell me again what the young man looked like.” Clyde idly kept his hand on the mouse of his computer, sending the arrow skidding around the screen.

  I explained again and watched as he closed his eyes in an effort to recall his memories.

  “What did you say his first name is?”

  “I didn’t. I was hoping you’d remember without my telling you. Makes it a bit more certain for me if you remember.” I smiled apologetically.

  “Well, better tell me because I can see Preston in my mind’s eye but…”

  “We think the boyfriend’s name might be Carl.”

  “Carl! Why yes. That’s a name I remember in association with Preston. Slick boy, that Preston. Always snatching the pretty ones for himself. Made lots of people angry.”

  “I’ve heard that people were envious of Preston,” I said. “And that there were a lot of bad feelings even after Preston dumped Carl for someone else.”

  “Press is a crazy one, that’s for sure. He never minded making anyone angry.” Clyde shook his head as if Preston was the bad boy who everyone loved to hate. “Had a lot of boyfriends. Still does from what I know. He changes them with regularity. You’d think word would get around and there’d be no one left for him to hurt.” Clyde went silent for a moment or two. Then, “Carl. That’s the one you’re looking for. Carl. Yes, that was his name.”

  “You remember his last name by any chance?”

  “Can’t say that I do. But if you have a card, I might be able to check around and see what I can find.” He looked a bit down at not being able to remember or maybe it was because I’d leave and he’d be alone with his computer, his money, and his memories.

  “Here’s my card.” I said handing him one of the new ones I’d had made. “And as soon as I crack this case, I’ll be by for that lesson in stocks 101. That’s a promise.”

  “You will?” He brightened considerably. “I’ll do my best to track down a name for you, Mr., uh, Marco. You can be sure of that.”

  Luke sat waiting in a sunny patch on someone’s front stoop, his head resting on one hand. Earbuds firmly in place, I knew he was listening to a book. That was his usual recipe for relaxation. As I got closer, I saw that his eyes were closed and there was a smile on his face.

  “Hey!” I said, touching his shoulder and rousing him from his book. He looked up and stared at me.

  “How’d it go? You were in there so long I thought you’d…” A lascivious grin broke out on his face.

  “Information has its price,” I said and hoped I could keep from laughing.

  “You didn’t!” He gawked at me. “Did you?!”

  “I had to get the information. Didn’t I?”

  “Now I know you’re kidding.” He yawned and stretched. “Did Mr. Clyde remember Carl?” He smoothed out his clothes, then sat back waiting for an answer.

  “He sorta remembered him but not exactly his last name. But he said he’d check around. So, we’ve got to find another source. Who’s next on the list?”

  The next guy lived near the Art Museum and Luke thought it’d be faster if we took my car.

  Traffic was light for a change and once we zipped onto to the Parkway, it didn’t take long to get to The Philadelphian, a sprawling condo complex where Luke’s client, Mr. Stein, had an apartment.

  I parked the car on Pennsylvania Avenue, a wide, tree-lined boulevard running parallel to the Parkway. It was kind of a grand entrance into the city, at least until you reached the part of the avenue that ended in a rundown motel. But the huge apartment buildings located on Pennsylvania Avenue had great views of the city’s skyline. We dodged traffic as we crossed the boulevard to get to the layer-cake of a building.

  Luke decided he’d wait for me in the huge, gaudy lobby, lined with shops and a restaurant or two.

  “Be nice,” Luke said. “Stein was one of my first clients. He gave me a break and helped my business get off the ground. Needed someone to clean his place after his partner died and he couldn’t handle it all alone. He’s a good guy.”

  “I’ll do my best. But I need this information, so just in case, I brought my blackjack.”

  Luke stared at me for a moment as if assessing whether or not I was kidding.

  Before I started toward the elevators, my cell phone rang.

  “Fontana.” I said. “Mr. Clyde, how nice. You work fast.” I listened for a moment. “Spell that again for me? Thanks. Thank you very much. As soon as this is over, I’ll give you a call for that lesson.”

  “What? What’d he say?” Luke’s dark eyes sparkled with excitement.

  “Mr. Clyde came up with a name. According to him, Carl’s name is Sonnino. Carl Sonnino. Ring a bell?”

  “Sonnino. Carl Sonnino? Not familiar. At least not Carl and Sonnino together.” Luke shrugged. “I don’t recall hearing about Preston being with anybody by that name. But I do remember that your client Marty had a boyfriend with a name something like Sonnino or maybe it was Sorrentino. I don’t remember a first name, though.”

  “I didn’t realize that you knew Marty.”

  “My company did some work for him occasionally. My client list is a Who’s Who of Philadelphia queens who don’t like to clean.”

  “I resent the implication,” I said and laughed. “But tell me more about Marty.”

  “What I know is mostly second hand. Through my workers. Marty was with a guy by the name of Sonnino or Sorrentino. But just until Marty found somebody else and dumped Sonnino like three week old fish. Marty even put his things out on the sidewalk. Changed the locks at his place and everything. From what I heard, Sonnino or Sorrentino, never forgave Marty.”

  “Now that you mention it, I remember something about Marty having a big, flashy argument with one of his boyfriends. But he had so many boyfriends and even more arguments, I didn’t pay attention at the time. Besides, all that drama drives me nuts.”

  “By that time Marty had found a regular houseboy to do his work. But the houseboy was the cousin of one of my workers, so the gossip kept coming.”

  “You ever hear anything that might be relevant to the case?”

  “Not directly. That houseboy was working the day Marty and the guy had a big blow-up,” Luke said. “But this is all through my worker’s cousin. I never witnessed a thing.”

  “Something is better than nothing. I can always try and get corroboration, if it sounds good enough.”

  “According to the houseboy, Sonnino came in and started throwing things around, breaking vases and objects, screaming at Marty, ripping up photos, tearing clothes. Marty gave as good as he got according to my guy’s cousin. This Sonnino or Sorrentino left a lot of damage in his wake. Supposedly, he threatened to get even. That was more than a year ago. And it doesn’t sound like the guy Sammy used to know. I don’t remember Sammy ever having a knock down drag out fight with anybody.”

  “So, either Sonnino really gets around or we’re on the wrong track. Might be worth looking into him. But I’m not sure it’s gonna lead anywhere. It makes sense that a thug like Sonnino would want to get even with Marty. But I don’t see why he’d hurt Sammy.”

  “It doesn’t seem to make sense.” Luke said.

  “This Sonnino may not even be the same guy that Sassy saw in the building. Besides, I don’t remember Sammy saying that he’d ever hooked up with one of Marty’s flings. Odds are that Marty had an entirely different boyfriend.”

  “That’s what I think. But I don’t run a
social registry. My business is housecleaning. I can’t keep track of every queen and their boyfriends, too.” Luke winked at me and smiled. “Does this mean you don’t have to talk with Stein?”

  “No. I’d still like to talk and see if I can get him to remember a Carl or a Sonnino. If he confirms the name, that’ll give me something more to go on.”

  “Okay, I’ll window shop.” He glanced around at the lobby which was like a miniature mall.

  “Then maybe we can have lunch.”

  “You’re on.” Luke winked as I walked toward the elevators.

  Stein lived on the twenty-fifth floor and when he let me into the apartment after I’d given him the same explanation I’d given to Clyde, I saw that he had a place the size of downtown Los Angeles.

  “It’s really three apartments made into one,” he said when he noticed the look on my face as I gazed around at the room.

  “This is huge, Mr. Stein, and beautiful. Just my kind of apartment except I couldn’t afford a place this size.”

  “This is rare in most any building. My late partner had the money to do it. He loved lots of space, rooms for guests and the help, all that. He also had plenty of friends with crazy ideas for decorating.” He looked around as if remembering everything that went on in the condo over the years. “Of course, I didn’t really care about all that. I was happy. Everything looked good no matter what we had or did.” He stared at me a moment. “Those where the days, Mr. Fontana.”

  “Call me Marco.”

  “Yep, I was a happy bugger. Now I rattle around in this old barn of a place.”

  “How long were the two of you together?”

  “Thirty-five years. Not always easy years. Lotsa fights, lots of… well, you don’t wanna hear all that. I’ll just say that sometimes it was worth the heartache.”

  “I—”

  “You came to ask me a question about someone we know mutually. Isn’t that what you said?” He looked me straight in the eye and didn’t blink.

  “Preston Flaherty and a friend of his you might know.”

  “I know Preston well. Had dinner with him last week, in fact. Who’s the friend?”

  I described Carl without naming him. “Do you happen to remember his name?”

  “Of course. That’s Carl. Heartbreaker, he was. Hottest little Italian I ever saw. And a package that looked like two Thanksgiving dinners rolled into one, if you know what I mean.”

  “Do you happen to remember Carl’s last name?” I asked. Stein was as sharp as Luke had said. I was certain he was snappy enough to remember.

  “Last name? It was Italian, of course. What was it? Wait a minute.” He zipped out of the room leaving me standing there.

  Turning toward the wall of windows which looked out over North Philadelphia, I stepped closer to take in the whole view. North Philly isn’t pretty, not even from the twenty-fifth floor. Unless you like the bleak and decrepit nature of the landscape. Too many abandoned buildings and empty stretches of land. It was a sunny day and even that didn’t make North Philly look good.

  Stein returned, moving with a military, choppy, quick-step. He stood by my side holding a photograph.

  “Look here. Is this the guy you’re looking for?” He pointed a pale finger at a dark-haired young man. This was the Carl I remembered but the last name that Clyde gave me just didn’t ring true, even Luke hadn’t recognized it and he knew Preston as well or better than I did.

  “He fits the description,” I answered.

  “That guy’s name was Sorriso. Carl Sorriso. I remember because it means smile in Italian and I thought that was funny because the kid never smiled.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at me as if cautioning me. “Never even cracked a smile the night I had them over here to watch All About Eve, the funniest, classiest movie ever made. Ever see it?”

  “Sure. It’s the best.” I’d seen it a couple of times but that was with a certain someone and the memory still hurt.

  “You bet your ass it is. The guy you’re looking for is Carl Sorriso, dry and serious. He’s what Margo Channing means in the movie when she says, ‘Everybody has a heart – except some people.’ The some people is him.”

  “That bad?”

  “Person who never smiles can’t be all good.” Stein said and tossed the photo onto his coffee table where it landed next to a candy dish.

  ***

  Back in the lobby, I found Luke in a shop that sold expensive knick-knacks and rescued him before he made a purchase. The shop was dense with a heavy perfume which reminded me of one of my aunts who’s better left unnamed. Whenever she hugged me, my clothes would hold the smell for days and the memory of my aunt would hang around with it.

  “Ready, Luke?” I touched him on the shoulder.

  “Did Stein confirm the name?” Luke asked as we left.

  “He claims Carl’s name is Sorriso. Says he remembers it because it means smile and Carl never did.”

  “That’s it!” Luke said. “I remember now. Carl Sorriso. Hot but sour. Yes!”

  “Now we need to find him. We’ll go to my office and Olga can track down his address. Then I owe you lunch.”

  ***

  Olga was quick. “Is easy when you are knowing internets.” She waved a sheet of paper in the air like a flag. “People are thinking they are safe in beds. Ha! No one is safe. Information is all around. Is in air. And now is on paper. Here is Sorriso address. Is only thing you are wanting?” She slapped the paper down on my desk.

  “That’s what we need, Olga. Thank you. You’re a peach.”

  “No other informations? Criminal record? Credit? Social Security? Family informations? Last time he is talking on phone? Size of shoes?”

  Luke looked at her and chuckled. “I thought I was compulsive.”

  “Maybe, yeah… we could use his criminal record. But nix the other stuff, Olga. I’ll pick it up when we get back.”

  ***

  After a quick lunch, we got back on the road headed for South Philly. Broad Street was smooth sailing especially when the lights were synced, which they were.

  “So where exactly are we going?”

  “Home. In a manner of speaking. Not far from where I grew up.” I turned and smiled weakly. “You may notice me begin to shake now and then. I might also stop and stare. Or I might even babble and drool.”

  Luke looked at me as if I were crazy.

  “It’s nothing. Just a kind of post traumatic reaction to my old neighborhood and the things that happened.”

  “What things?” Luke asked, looking at me again, as if waiting for me to freak.

  “A long story and you’ll need a stiff drink to hear it all.” I smiled. “I’m not crazy about my old stomping grounds. Going home is never easy.”

  Sorriso lived in South Philly, where my parents still lived. The farther we drove into that part of town, the edgier I got. I never liked batting around that neighborhood unless I had to. But Sorriso lived in a relatively newer section farther south, near the stadiums. Newer and bigger houses, some with a patch of ground to call their own, but just a patch. You could spit farther than the grass stretched.

  Sorriso lived on Tenth in a two story townhouse set above street level like all the others lined up in a row on both sides of the wide street. All of them had some owner-added distinction setting them apart from one another. Sorriso had painted his doors, windows, and trim a surreal orange. Nightmarish. I wondered if the neighbors had given him any trouble and I found the answer as we pulled closer with the car. The splotches of tomato stains and remnants of a serious egging let me know his neighbors didn’t appreciate the color any more than I did. Maybe a lot less.

  My old beaten-up Taurus didn’t look out of place in the neighborhood. Luke got out and slammed the door, looking around as if he were assessing the potential of the neighborhood for expanding his housecleaning business.

  “Not gonna get many jobs down here, Luke. These people do their own cleaning. It’s a way of life and a point of pride with them.”
<
br />   “Too bad, I was thinking maybe I could spread some flyers. But you’re right, it looks like they take pretty good care of these places.”

  “Here we go.” I walked through the gate at the front of the patch of grass.

  The white aluminum screen door sported a large American Eagle in the center. When I pulled open the door to ring the bell, a dog barked inside.

  “Sounds like a large dog,” Luke said. He told me that through his housecleaning jobs, he’d learned to cultivate a health sense of caution around strange dogs. He wasn’t afraid of dogs but he maintained a wary attitude.

  “I’m the first thing the dog will see,” I said. “And bite.”

  “Yeah, but when he finishes with you, he may want dessert.” Luke laughed.

  A moment after I rang the bell, an older woman, a shock of unruly white hair crowning her head, opened the door. A wave of the fragrance of tomato sauce rolled over me and I was instantly transported to my childhood. I could almost taste the pasta.

  “Who’re you?” She said, tough and defensive. Her brown eyes looked us over warily, trust not being her strong suit.

  I introduced myself and Luke.

  “We’re trying to locate Carl Sorriso. He’s a possible witness in a case I’m investigating.”

  “Hmpf, he ain’t home. Never comes home this early, the bum. No job. Stays out all day bummin’ around. Lazy bastard. You ain’t gonna find him here.”

  “You don’t expect him back later?”

  “I can sit around expectin’ all day, but he never comes when I expect him. Don’t waste your time. If he was a witness, he’ll be too lazy to testify. Find another witness is my advice to you.”

  As she closed the door, her dark eyes widened and she poked her head out to look at something behind us. I turned and saw a car pulling up to the curb.

  “Carl!” She screamed. “Carl! Get outta here. These guys are after you.”

  Before I could do anything, the driver revved the engine and burned rubber peeling out of the street.

  “Why’d you do that?” I said staring at the old woman.

  As she shut the door, she said, “He’s a bum. But he’s my son.” With that she slammed the door and left us on the step.