“We have a guy named Steve Marone,” Eddie said. “Sold the murder weapon to Tommy DeMarco.”
“We have a witness, the DA’s sister, who was sitting in her car half a block away, who heard the shots and saw and heard a man run past her. She says the man appeared to be young. She says she knows Jimmy Pompo and would swear the runner wasn’t Jimmy.”
“Yeah, I heard about it,” Acker growled. “Just because a guy’s running doesn’t mean he’s the shooter. What I don’t know is what was she doing there?”
“She was meeting Tommy DeMarco,” I said. “They had a date.”
“Jesus,” he said. “The DA’s sister? And you say she knows Jimmy Pompo?”
“Knows him well,” I said. “My information was the diamonds were to be fenced to a guy named Max Kimmel. I remember Max from my days with the Strike Force. Check him out, Dan. Tommy and Billy were to meet him on his boat in Stone Harbor and turn over the diamonds, but Tommy didn’t make it. Billy says he doesn’t know where the diamonds are, and neither does Jimmy.”
“You guys’ve been busy,” Acker rasped. “Still, it don’t rule out Jimmy Pompo doing the job. If they was in a job together, a job that big, maybe Tommy crossed him or something and Jimmy popped him.”
“That’s a distinct possibility,” I said gently. “That’s why we need you to look into it. We can’t go any further on our own. We need somebody with police powers. Eddie and I think Tommy DeMarco was killed by one of three people. Jimmy Pompo, Irene DeMarco, or someone hired by the diamond merchant. Of the three, my money’s on Irene DeMarco. The guy was killed with his own gun, and she’d have had access to it.”
“If your witness is telling the truth.”
“If our witness is telling the truth. Ray Villani might be involved, Billy DeMarco and Max Kimmel might be involved, but if they are, they’re tied in with one of the three.”
“What’s your interest in this, Doyle?”
“Sammy Weese hired us to dig up evidence Jimmy Pompo did or did not kill Tommy DeMarco. Eddie and I have uncovered enough to convince us he didn’t. For instance, Kelley and I found a dealer at Harrah’s who remembered a woman with lavender hair being at a table most of the night at about the time Jimmy says he was with Maureen. Maureen had lavender hair.”
“I remember,” Acker said sourly. “Talked to them dames myself, none of them remembered Jimmy or the hooker being there. There’s another thing about that that’s always bothered me. Jimmy Pompo’s supposed alibi winds up dead. I don’t like coincidences.”
“That’s what it was, Dan,” I said gently. “She had a rubber spider in her snatch. Talk to Frank about it if it still bothers you. When that DNA comes back you’ll find it wasn’t Jimmy Pompo loaded her up.”
“All right,” Acker said, a bit sourly I thought, “I’ll look into it. Gimme the name of the guy sold the gun to DeMarco. Guy gets killed with his own gun, it looks a whole lot like the wife did it. On the other hand, Jimmy could’ve popped him in a business dispute, especially with that kind of money involved. I’ll look into it, Doyle. Thanks, Ed, good to see you again.”
We left and Eddie said, “Well, Matthew, he was none too happy to have his prime suspect jerked out from under him. Still, he said he’d look into it, and that’s the important thing.”
Back in the car, I said, “Now that the DeMarco murder is in the capable hands of Dan Acker, it’s time to concentrate on the Driscoll killing. Mrs. Latham will want to see some activity for her money.”
He dropped me off at the office, said, “I’ll see what I can do with those usernames,” and sped off. The day was drawing to a close. Kelley was back from North Philly, Tamika Johnson still among the missing. I was just putting Buster’s harness on, preparing to head for Chinatown and our favorite restaurant, when Valerie Bauman called.
“Have a report on Donaldson, Matt,” she said. “He was seen just minutes ago in the Walnut Street concourse.”
12
“Cooling down, toots,” I said when we hit the street.
“Should be real comfortable by dawn.”
We found the subway stair and headed down, traffic noise muting as we descended, replaced with the steel on steel screech of an incoming subway train. We reached the bottom and headed for the Walnut Street station, footsteps ringing hollowly on concrete.
“Five ten, one fifty, red hair and beard?”
“You got it,” I said. “Plus thirty-five years old, give or take.”
Crowds surged past us, footsteps and voices racketing off the concrete and tile, competing with the sound of turnstiles clicking and an incoming train screeching to a halt. I loved it, loved every separate and distinct sound, loved every decibel.
“There’s a guy sitting on the floor over there in the corner,” Kelley said. “Red hair and beard, but I can’t tell if he’s five ten or not. Looks like he’s asleep.”
“Let’s go talk to him.”
We shuffled our way through the crowd to a more thinly inhabited part of the concourse. When Kelley and Buster stopped, so did I, and a good thing too, because I couldn’t have gotten any closer, the stink was so overpowering. I hoped the man wasn’t Donaldson so we wouldn’t have to stay long.
“Mr. Donaldson?” I said, raising my voice, for the train chose that moment to screech into forward motion. He didn’t answer, and I wasn’t sure he heard me, so I said it again. “Mr. Donaldson?”
I got a response this time. “Go away.”
I’m used to surly people giving surly responses to civil questions, so I tried again. “I’ve got fifty bucks for Arthur Donaldson. Do you want it or not?”
“What’s it for?” Thin and raspy, his voice had seen too much cheap wine, too many cold nights on a steam grate.
“Are you Arthur Donaldson?”
“That depends.”
I was also used to people thinking they were cagey. “I want to talk to you about William Sasser.”
“Don’t know any William Sasser.”
“How about Carl McReady?”
“Leave me alone or I’ll call a cop.”
“I am a cop,” I said. “A lawyer wants to talk to you about the killing in the concourse last February. She’s willing to pay, and all she wants to know is what you saw.”
“How much?”
“Fifty now and fifty when you talk to her.”
“All right, whattya wanta know?”
“What did you see?”
“I seen two guys get in an argument and one guy got stabbed. I beat it before the cops come.”
“How close were you to the incident?”
“Real close. I knew the two guys, not real good, but I knew ‘em, seen ‘em around from time to time. Me and Sasser and two women was drinkin’ wine and talkin’ when McReady come up and started arguin’ about a box. Sasser grabbed McReady and started to beat on him and McReady stabbed him.”
“Are you willing to tell that story to the lawyer?”
“For a hundred bucks I’ll tell her whatever she wants to hear.”
“Just the truth. How many other people saw the killing?”
“I dunno, there was lots of people around, but how many was payin’ attention I couldn’t say.”
“You say you were with two women. Did they also see the incident?”
“They musta, they was right there.”
“Do you have names for these women?”
“Well,” he said, in what I’m sure he thought was a sly tone of voice, “that’s worth another fifty.”
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” I said firmly. “If we can find them it probably is.”
“I know where one of them is right now. Is that worth fifty?”
“Names first.”
“One of them was Sissy Pagano, the other one was Big Annie, I don’t know her last name.”
Stunned doesn’t begin to describe it. Sissy Pagano! Found this morning spread-eagled to a bed, her throat slashed!
“Sissy Pagano?” I said.
“Right. Sis
sy Pagano and Big Annie. Now where’s my money?”
“You say you know where one of them is right now. Which one?”
“Big Annie. I ain’t seen Sissy in a while. And I don’t tell you where Annie is till I see some money.”
“Give him fifty, babe,” I said.
I heard a handbag zip open, heard Kelley fumble around inside, heard Donaldson say, “Thanks. That’s for the information. Another fifty gets you Big Annie, and another hundred and I tell the lawyer what she wants to hear.”
“Take us to Big Annie, and if she has anything the lawyer might find useful you’ll get your money.”
“Okay,” he said, “you seem honest,” and from his voice and other noises I judged he was getting to his feet. Movement caused a nauseating eddy of body odor to swell around me, and I hoped Kelley was all right. I didn’t know what Buster thought, but he must’ve been horrified.
Kelley used her cell phone to call Valerie Bauman and tell her we had her man, and what did she want us to do with him?
“Valerie says to bring him in,” Kelley said, the sound of her bag zipping shut loud in the suddenly quiet concourse. During the conversation with Donaldson I’d been aware of loud voices, screeching trains and hurrying feet, but had screened them out. Now, suddenly, all was quiet. No feet, no voices, no trains. Kind of eerie.
“Let’s go find Big Annie,” I said, my voice apparently putting everything in motion again, for the cacophony resumed with increased intensity.
Donaldson led us through the Walnut Street concourse, through the homeward bound worker bees, whose voices and high-heeled clatter seemed entirely hive-like.
“Sissy Pagano,” Kelley said seriously, and by the smell I judged Donaldson was out of earshot. “Awful big coincidence, isn’t it?’
“You’d be surprised how often it happens, how often solving a case turns on coincidence.”
“Do you think it’s the same woman?”
“It must be babe, though how she wound up with Leon will probably remain a mystery.”
Memory told me a change in direction meant we were entering the connecting corridor to the Thirteenth Street concourse.
“There’s a very large woman sitting on the floor, surrounded by paper supermarket bags,” Kelley said, “forcing everybody to walk around her. If that isn’t Big Annie I’ll eat whatever she has in those bags.”
“What does she look like?”
“You don’t wanta know.”
Big Annie smelled just as bad as Donaldson.
“Fifty bucks, eh?” she said, in a cracked, vinegary sort of voice.
“Depends on what you have to tell us,” I said.
“Whattya wanta know?”
We must’ve been in the middle of the concourse because people kept brushing against me. “Tell us about Sissy Pagano.”
“What about her?”
“Do you know her?”
“Of course I know her,” she said, and here her vinegary voice turned testy. “Of course I know her. But if you think I’m gonna say anything bad about Sissy, you’re wrong.”
“We don’t want you to say anything bad about her. When did you see her last?”
“Last night, right here. We was talking and drinking some wine.”
“About what time was that?”
“Early, maybe eight-thirty, nine o’clock.”
“Were the two of you together all last night?”
“No, she left with a guy.”
“Do you know him?”
“Never seen him before. He stopped to talk to us and Sissy went away with him.”
Heart beating, I said, “Did you get a good look at him?”
“Course I did. He weren’t no further away than you are now.”
“Could you describe him?”
“Why, what’s he done?”
“Nothing that we know of. Just wondering could you describe him.”
“Maybe I could, and maybe I couldn’t. What’s in it for me?”
“Call Frank Kopf, babe,” I said. “Tell him we got an eyewitness saw Leon.”
Arthur Donaldson apparently made some movement, for I caught a swirl of odor and Kelley said, “Please stay where you are, Mr. Donaldson.”
“What’s goin’ on?” he demanded. “I don’t like the looks of this. Gimme the fifty for Annie and forget the lawyer.”
“A deal’s a deal, Arthur,” I said gently. “In a few minutes we’ll take you to the lawyer and you’ll get your hundred and fifty bucks.”
“All right,” he growled, apparently satisfied. The fifty bucks in his pocket evidently made him hungry for more. I have found money has a calming effect on most people.
“Mr. Kopf says he’ll be right over,” Kelley said. “He seemed pleased.”
“As well he should,” I said, rather pleased myself. “An eyewitness, toots. The first break we’ve had in eight years.”
Keeping Donaldson and Big Annie in place was a monumental task, requiring all Kelley’s persuasion. I’d have given anything for Ed Westphal about now. At least he could’ve gone for a couple bottles of wine, or maybe put these two through a car wash. As it was, they were pretty antsy by the time Frank Kopf arrived.
I heard the footsteps before I heard the voice. Footsteps and voices, as distinct and individual as fingerprints.
“Good work, partner!” Frank exclaimed. “Got a car upstairs, though I think maybe I oughta call a wagon.”
I knew what he meant. Put these two in a car and you’d have to throw it away. A wagon, on the other hand, has seen and handled a lot worse.
“Call the wagon,” I said, “and we’ll go with you in the car.”
“Well, I guess you deserve it,” he said. “In the meantime we’ll keep these two under control right here, though some good outside diesel exhaust would smell good about now.”
We got them in the wagon, eventually, and our little two-vehicle convoy made its way to the Roundhouse. Donaldson was taken away, to give a statement to Tim Dykstra, whose case the Sasser killing was. Not that it mattered, but if you’re the prosecution you don’t want to have a surprise witness sprung on you.
Big Annie turned out to be one Anne Marie Althauser, niece of the late Gus Althauser, he of the Althauser brewery fortune. Annie had a rap sheet going back to when she was thirteen, mostly drunk and disorderly, but also some shoplifting and various other crimes against civil society. None of that mattered now. She’d seen a killer.
We were in Frank’s office, and the air was getting ripe. “The man Sissy Pagano went away with,” Frank was saying. “You didn’t recognize him?”
“Never seen him before.”
“All right. I want you to think hard, and describe the man as completely and accurately as you can. Start with the hair.”
“I’d say sandy. Not blond, exactly, but more blond than brown.”
“Length?”
A pause, then, “Medium.”
“Facial hair?”
“No.”
“Tall, thin, short, fat?”
“Neither. I’d say tall and heavy built. He was wearing a work shirt and jeans, work boots.”
“Like a construction worker?”
“Exactly! Like a construction worker, except his hands wasn’t dirty. That’s what I noticed about him. His hands were clean, well manicured. He took care of himself.”
“Thank you, Annie,” Frank said genially. “I’m going to send you to the police artist now, and she’ll show you noses and chins and eyes and ears, and you can give us a face. Will you do that?”
“Sure. When do I get my fifty bucks?”
“What fifty bucks?”
“I promised her fifty bucks, Frank,” I said. I heard Kelley’s purse zip open. I hope she had it. She apparently did, for Annie said, “Thank you,” and I heard a chair being pushed back. I stood. Time to leave.
“Good work, partner,” Frank said again, clapping me on the back and steering me toward the door. “We’ll get this composite out and maybe we’ll get this guy. M
aybe print up a couple thousand and give one to every whore.”
We collected Donaldson and dropped him off at the Public Defender’s Office. That night, lying abed, Kelley said, “That little caper cost us a hundred bucks, out of pocket, no way of getting it back. A hundred dollars is a lot of money.”
“We’ll get it from Sammy,” I said nonchalantly. “That’s what expense accounts are for.”
“It was a good day, though, wasn’t it?”
“Eight years, babe,” I said. “I’ve been waiting eight years to see that guy’s face, and having it described was as good as seeing it.”
“Good night, dear.”
“Of course, we haven’t caught him yet.”
“But you will.”
“Yes we will.”
I lay awake, listening to the gentle breathing of my beloved, listening to the night sounds of the house, kids asleep, wondering if Leon would call again.
13
Sunday. Church in the morning, lazy day, dinner out in our favorite neighborhood restaurant, early because both Mike and Carol had to work. At dinner, Carol was uncommunicative, and surly when she did speak, proving Kelley right once again, that raising a teenage daughter was not an easy task. Kelley spoke quietly to her, which seemed to help. Mike was his usual non-gregarious self, but at least he was pleasant.
Dinner over, the kids off to McDonalds, Kelley and I settled in for a lazy evening, talking things over; money, Carol, Leon. Especially Leon.
“We still don’t know what his game is,” Kelley said, “or why you’re in it.”
“Ed thinks it’s just taunting,” I said, holding her close, “and I’m inclined to believe it. So far as we know he’s never harmed anyone but prostitutes, Bobby Micelli notwithstanding, and the cops don’t think he did that. I think I’m in the game because I was in the game eight years ago and didn’t catch him, and he’s saying nobody’s gonna catch him this time either. That’s all it is, babe. If it’s more than that he’ll tell us when he’s ready.”
“Speaking of being ready,” she said, nuzzling an ear, “are you?”
We took the opportunity of an empty house to make love in the cool bedroom, Kelley as warm and loving as always, I as happy and grateful she’d chosen me as always.
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