Body Of Truth

by Deirdre Savoy

  “I know you,” the man said. “You’re the nurse. Shame what happened here the other day.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Mr.—”

  “Just call me Teddy.”

  “Okay, Teddy, can I come in for a minute?”

  The old man wheeled his chair backward, barely enough for her to slip inside his apartment. The first thing she noticed was the smell, like old mothballs. But the place was neat and as roomy as any of the apartments in this part of the city.

  He led her down the hall to the living room. He offered her a wing back chair covered with what looked like two large cream-colored doilies while he took his usual spot by the window.

  She’d thought he’d peered out through the blinds, but he’d actually cut a few of the slats to afford him a view. He looked out now, tsking as he did. “Street’s quiet today.”

  He sounded almost disappointed, as if the goings on in the street outside were staged for his amusement only.

  “Were you at the window Saturday morning?” said Dana.

  “Of course. I saw the whole thing. I knew them boys was cruising around for trouble.”

  “They drove around more than once?”

  He nodded. “A few times. Like they was looking for someone or something.”

  “Did you recognize any of them?”

  He tapped his glasses. “My eyes aren’t what they should be. I couldn’t make out no faces. But I did get this.” He leaned forward to rifle through the papers on the wooden occasional table next to the window. “I wrote it down.”

  He handed her a slip of paper. A series of letters and numbers was written on it in florid handwriting. “What’s this?” she said.

  “The license number on the car.”

  She scanned the old man’s face. “Why didn’t you give this to the police?”

  “I wasn’t gonna tell them cops nothin’.” A bitter, belligerent expression came over his face. “They shot my boy. Killed him in the street like a dog. Why should I help them?”

  “What happened?”

  “They caught him robbin’ some liquor store. They told him to stop and he didn’t. But they didn’t have to shoot him.”

  Dana shook her head. She’d heard this story before: “My son, daughter, old man, next door neighbor was out committing some crime and the police shot him for no reason.” She had her own beef with the cops, but only because innocent people often suffered the same fate as the guilty. Why didn’t it occur to people that if they weren’t out robbing folks or selling drugs that the police wouldn’t take often justified action against them?

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She was, but not for any reason he would grasp. She folded the piece of paper, slipped it into her back pocket and stood. “I’d better be going.”

  Disappointment darkened the old man’s eyes, reminding her of Nadine’s expression whenever it was time for her to leave. Like her, Teddy probably didn’t have many visitors, but there was nothing Dana could do about that. She followed him to the door and left.

  Out on the sidewalk she stepped to the curb to catch a livery cab to the hospital to see Joanna. It would probably cost her more than the cab down here, but it beat taking the train.

  Once the maroon Lincoln pulled up and she got in and told the driver where she wanted to go, she retrieved the piece of paper from her pocket. She knew she should call Moretti and tell him what she’d found out. Maybe that would finally get his ass moving, but she doubted it. More than likely he’d accuse her of interfering in his case or worse.

  She pulled out her phone and dialed the number on the card he’d given her. He wasn’t in, but whoever took down her information promised to have him call her back.

  She clicked off the phone feeling she’d done her good deed for the day. Now all she could do was wait.

  Ten

  Jonathan checked his watch for the third time in fifteen minutes. They’d been waiting an hour to speak with Jackson, but as yet he hadn’t awakened. It had only taken twenty minutes to stitch up the wound in his side, but the combination of antibiotics and painkillers being fed through his veins, not to mention the infection that had knocked him out, made that impossible. Considering Jackson wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, there was no point in waiting any longer.

  “What’s next on the agenda?” Mari asked as they headed back to the car.

  He was about to say back to the paperwork when his cell phone buzzed. “Stone.” Mari looked at him with interest during the brief call. When he disconnected the call, he said, “That was Horgan. He’s got something for us.”

  Horgan was sitting at one of the counters having his lunch when they came in. “Just the people I’ve been waiting to see.”

  “What have you got for us?” Jonathan asked.

  Horgan sloshed down one more gulp from his cup. “The fiber analysis came back.” He sorted through a stack of file folders beside him. Horgan found the folder he wanted and handed it to him.

  “What’s the gist of it?” Jonathan asked.

  “Fibers from the scarf in the closet match exactly the fibers from the body in quality and consistency.” Horgan picked up his sandwich and took a bite from it. “Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen, you’ve got yourself a murder weapon.”

  “Strangled with her own scarf,” Mari said. “There’s got to be some irony there, though damned if I see it.”

  But it supported the theory that Pierce’s murder had been a crime of opportunity rather than a planned event. She might have said something or done something to provoke her attacker. Maybe she was walking away and whoever she was with grabbed hold of the scarf and choked her. He voiced his thoughts to Mari and Horgan.

  “That would be consistent with the wounds,” Horgan said. He dug in another file with one hand and pulled out a picture of the lower portion of Pierce’s face and her throat. “You can see the ligature marks go back and upward. Whoever killed her was a bit taller than she was.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “By the way, I released the body this morning.”

  “Thanks,” Jonathan said, as they headed out the door. So now they had an impulse killer who nonetheless took the time to clean up his mess. Jonathan felt reasonably confident that whoever had killed her had something to do with what she’d been working on last. Something she’d uncovered that someone wished to stay hidden. He wished her damn assistant would crawl out of whatever hidey hole he’d disappeared into to tell them what he knew. Not even the man’s mother knew where he’d gone. With a sinking feeling, Jonathan began to question if Bender hadn’t been the one to off her in the first place. Rosa Nuñez had said she was difficult to work for. Maybe Bender had had enough.

  Either way, Jonathan hoped the APB they’d put out on the guy would turn up something soon.

  Both Joanna and the baby were awake and alert when Dana got to the hospital a little after one o’clock. The room was filled with balloons and stuffed animals sent by well-wishers. Dana sat in the chair next to Joanna’s bed. “Makes me feel like the Grinch who stole Christmas,” she said, referring to the fact she hadn’t brought anything.

  “You were here for what counted,” Joanna said, adjusting herself in bed. “How are you doing? Is there any break in Wesley’s case?”

  Dana thought of the paper burning a hole in her pocket, but didn’t plan on telling her friend about that. “I haven’t heard from Moretti, but I’m sure he has better things to do than worry about me.”

  Joanna sighed. “You know, it’s a shame. I know you have your cop thing, but when I was growing up our house was like the hangout for all my dad’s buddies from corrections and the force. By then, my dad was raising us by himself and didn’t stay out late, so they came to our place. I’d sneak into a corner to listen to them swap stories, most of them whoppers.

  “I loved those guys. Good guys. I think they’re the reason my brothers were drawn to their careers. But every now and then they’d talk about some asshole they knew who was either racist or power hungry or w
hatever. It always made me sad that these men were out there doing their jobs while others did their best to make the lot of them look bad.”

  Dana didn’t bother to argue with her friend. She supposed it was the same in every profession—the ones who screwed up always got more notice and tainted everyone else in the process. But when you carried a badge and a gun, folks expected a little more accountability.

  Instead she stood. “I’m going to wash my hands. Then I want to hold my godbaby. When do you want to christen her?”

  “Sometime soon. Ray’s mother was very religious. According to her, you have to baptize a baby before it’s a month old.”

  “That soon? What sins could a month-old baby have on its soul?”

  “You’re asking me? I don’t think Ray has any idea either. It’s part of his family tradition, I guess. Sometimes those are harder to break than solid concrete.”

  Dana supposed, having few of her own to worry about. She went to the bathroom and scrubbed her hands. When she returned, Joanna lifted the baby into her arms. The little girl looked up at her and gurgled.

  “Holding a baby looks good on you, kid.”

  Dana eyed her friend. “Let’s not go there, okay?”

  Joanna grinned. “All right, all right. I’ll give my song a rest. I know you and my brothers are all tired of hearing from me. It’s just that for the first time in my life, I’m really happy. I want all of you guys to know what that feels like.”

  Dana settled into her seat again, snuggling the baby closer. She had to admit, few things rivaled holding a tiny, trusting baby in your arms. She touched her fingertip to one of the dark curls peeking out from under the baby’s cap. One day, maybe, but not now. Now was her time for a little freedom, to get back some of her own, what she’d lost putting her life on hold to care for her brother. Not counting her foray into the South Bronx, so far the most reckless thing she’d done was to allow Jonathan Stone to kiss her. Maybe that was all the recklessness she needed for a while.

  “What?” Joanna said.

  Dana’s head snapped up. She hadn’t realized her thoughts had shown on her face or that Joanna had been scrutinizing her so closely. “I was just thinking that she looks like you.”

  “Right,” Joanna said, her disbelief evident in her tone.

  Dana went back to looking at the baby. She had no intention of telling Joanna about that kiss and she assumed that Jonathan had enough sense not to, either. Knowing Joanna, she’d probably start buying rice to throw at the ceremony if she knew. As far as Dana was concerned that kiss was just a temporary aberration that wouldn’t be repeated. Then again, if Reverend What’s-his-name had his way, they’d be on the cover of the Daily News.

  “How’s Tim?” Joanna asked, apparently willing to change the subject.

  “He’s fine. I heard from him this morning. He’s loving the weather down in Orlando.”

  “And probably the girls, too.”

  “Don’t remind me. I don’t want to be an aunt any sooner than I have to be.”

  “I hear you.”

  Dana stayed until evening when Ray showed up. He’d brought the boys by that morning to see their mother and new baby sister then stayed with them at home until Adam’s wife Barbara got back from work to come back. As she walked the few blocks back to her house, she switched on her cell phone. No call from Moretti, or anyone else for that matter. She wondered if he’d bother to call back at all.

  They were on the way back to the stationhouse when Mari’s cell phone rang. She answered the call, mumbled a few words into the phone, then hung up. “You’ll never guess who just resurfaced.”

  “Lucky Lindy? Or is it Hoffa? I never did believe that Meadowlands story.”

  “How about one Eric Bender? Seems Mr. Bender was out of the country. Airport police picked him up an hour ago, coming back from Aruba. He claimed not to know anything about Amanda Pierce’s murder.”

  “Where is he?”

  “At the house.”

  “Good.” Jonathan was looking forward to meeting him.

  Eric Bender was a rail of a man with long, brown hair that hung over his forehead, which caused him to periodically brush it back. His skin was tanned a dark bronze, suggesting he’d spent more than a day basking in the Caribbean sun. He was nervous, alternately rocking back in his chair in a rhythmic motion or tapping his fingers on the table. He checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes. Aside from the officer sent in to watch him, he was alone.

  Watching him from the other side of a two-way mirror, Jonathan didn’t like the look of him. He was tall enough to have been Pierce’s attacker, but he doubted the man had the strength to strangle her without being overpowered himself. Damn.

  He looked at Mari standing beside him. “What do you think?”

  “Little Bo Peep in there? Nah.”

  That was the amazing thing about people, they liked to surprise you. “See you later.”

  He walked past Mari to get to the entrance to the room. Since Bender was nervous enough he decided to go in alone. Mari would watch from the where she was.

  He opened the door and let the officer out. “Mr. Bender, I understand you just got back into the country.”

  “I was on vacation. Are you the detective in charge?”

  “Yes.” As he took the seat across from Bender he could feel the man’s eyes on him gauging whether that was a good thing or not. “They tell me you had no idea Ms. Pierce had been murdered.”

  “None. As I said, I was on vacation.”

  “They have telephones on Aruba, Mr. Bender. Not to mention faxes, the Internet and most importantly cable TV from America. Yet you heard nothing.”

  “Not where I was staying.”

  Jonathan cast him a skeptical look.

  “You don’t understand,” Bender continued. “It was my first vacation in two years. I wanted to enjoy it, so I found some place where they didn’t allow contact from the outside world. I even left my cell phone at home.”

  “Why did you go to so much trouble?”

  “Because of her.” He huffed out a breath. “The last time I went away she made me come back. She got a new lead on someone she was investigating. She threatened to fire me, so what could I do? I need this job.” He breathed in and out, calming himself. “She was so mean I didn’t think anything would ever kill her.”

  Stifling an amused look at that comment, Jonathan asked, “Do you know what she was working on before you left, possibly something to do with a Father Malone?”

  “Yeah, that was her pet project. She was crazed about it the last few months.”

  “Why? Was she planning a book on him?”

  Bender shook his head. “No, he was her uncle, her father’s brother. A while back some producer contacted her wanting to interview her for some documentary he was making. He wanted to prove Malone had been murdered.”

  “She was helping him out?”

  “Hell no. She wanted to clear her uncle’s name. If he were murdered that means he had to be up to something, right?”

  “Was he?”

  “Not as far as I could tell. One of his partners was a little shady, but from what I can tell everything was legit. But keep in mind; this was twenty-five years ago. Half the records don’t even exist anymore. Most of the people involved are dead.”

  “Then why did she bother?”

  “The guy who approached her isn’t exactly the kind known for his scruples, if you know what I mean. She was afraid he’d fabricate whatever he didn’t know to prove his own conclusion. She was hoping to come out with an article on him before this guy had a chance to put anything out. Kind of a pre-emptive strike.”

  “But she got sidetracked?”

  “Something like that. Right before I left she begged me to stay. She’d found some old guy from the old neighborhood. I’m not really sure how. She told me I was abandoning her.” He shrugged. “Maybe if I’d stayed . . .”

  “Why wasn’t any of this information in her office?”

/>   “She probably had it on her, in her day planner and in a notebook she carried. She liked to carry things around with her until I transcribed her notes for her.”

  Since Bender hadn’t been there, whatever information Pierce had was probably destroyed by the man who’d killed her. Damn.

  For the time being, there wasn’t much more he needed from Bender except for the name of the man doing the documentary. Bender offered him a card from his wallet with the man’s name and address.

  Jonathan stood. “Thank you for coming in, Mr. Bender,” he said, as if it had actually been the man’s idea to come in. “We’ll contact you if we need anything else.”

  “I can go?”

  Jonathan nodded. “Just stay in town.”

  As Bender went out Mari came in. “Very interesting. Who’s the guy doing the film?” He handed the card bearing the logo for Sunrise Motion Pictures to Mari; she looked at it and shrugged. “Doesn’t do anything for me.”

  “Me, either.” But it did give them another avenue in which to look. A producer wouldn’t want Pierce coming out with a piece that would negate any claims he might make with his documentary. There was no telling what people would do where money was involved. A little greed could literally be a dangerous thing.

  Then there was the possibility that whoever this old guy was, he’d given her some information that had led to her getting killed.

  A dull headache throbbed at his temple. He massaged it with his thumb and middle finger. He was tired of possibilities. He was ready for some certainties to start presenting themselves. It was past quitting time and they’d skipped lunch. His stomach rumbled, protesting its neglect. They’d come back to this tomorrow. He wanted the night to assimilate everything they’d gotten so far. But tomorrow they’d start at the beginning. They’d go back to St. Jude’s.