Roses, Wine & Murder: In the City of Steeples

by Rose Young

  “I need a driver for the day. Do you know the streets of New London?” the rogue asked looking him over, trying to decide if he’d bet money on this man.

  “Of course,” said the out-of-work drifter, who quickly looked over his shoulder at the guys behind him, making sure they would not crowd in on his new opportunity.

  “I’m available,” he acknowledged gesturing his hands outwardly, showing he had nothing else to do.

  “Okay, no questions, good pay, and clothes are provided. Capiche?” asked the gentleman.

  “Yes sir, very good. Capiche.” He surveyed the luxury ride and salivated.

  “Get in, and I’ll drive you to the location,” the new employer offered.

  The man eagerly jumped in, leaving behind his buddies of desperate circumstances. The gentleman employer drove him to the Holiday Inn located in downtown New London. They rode the elevator to the top floor and walked to the end of the hall with a windowed view of the Thames River waterway.

  The new hire whistled long and low, “Wow, it’s sure a pretty picture from up here.”

  Then they entered the finely appointed room, with a picture window and direct skyline view of several church steeples. Yet this day, the only worship, was to the god of money.

  The assassin asked, “Are you a size 40? I think one of my suits will fit you.”

  “Yes, I am. Good guess,” the man said, dazzled by the attire.

  “Look I have to step out and arrange for the car. Why don’t you clean up, take a shower and I’ll pick you up in forty-five minutes. Can you be ready?” he questioned.

  “Yes sir, I will, and thank you,” replied the drifter, as he pressed the fine silver-grey suit between his fingers and smiled. It’s like winning the lottery, he mused.

  The gambling contractor felt the same as he drove toward Auto Row on Route One and Broad Street. It was once a small family owned car business, but over the years, its progeny spread like spores off a wild mushroom encompassing all four corners and down the streets.

  As one dealer’s lot adjoined another, glinting vehicles of every make and model were represented. The man quickly turned into the lot where he could rent a car for the day. He arranged to pick it up in an hour. He then drove down Broad Street, eyed a barbershop, and decided to drive his new hire there for a trim and a shave.

  Once his man was freshened up and looking like new, the instigating gangster asked, “Are you hungry?” It was nearing noon, and he figured the guy would eat. He didn’t want him to work while hungry.

  “Yes, I could eat,” the freshly polished pawn replied.

  “Good. Let’s go to Tony D’s and have a decent lunch, but first we’ll pick up the car.”

  The two men in their light grey Italian suits, dark Bulgari shades, sleek haircuts and fine leather shoes could have been brothers.

  “Those shoes fit you fine?” the boss asked.

  “Yes, a little big, but no problem.” The tool smiled. “What do I call you? My name is Victor.”

  “You can call me Mr. Silver and how about if I call you Mr. V instead of Victor?”

  “You can call me whatever you like, you’re the boss,” the new hire answered, quite pleased.

  Mr. Silver gave further directives, “You can keep the suit and bring the car back tomorrow by noon to the dealer. How does that sound?” he asked.

  “Wonderful Mr. Silver, thank you for the job, and the clothes.”

  “Oh, we Italianos, must look out for each other. That is our way, capiche?”

  Mr. V showed his teeth, “Capiche boss.”

  At Tony D’s Italian Restaurant on Huntington Street, the two men ate three courses, drank wine, and had conversation about their Italian heritage and families, as if they were old friends. They finished with a fine Grappa, a grape based brandy and salted pistachio nuts. Then Mr. Silver gave Mr. V explicit instructions.

  “I want you to drive today on this route for the next 2-1/2 hours.” He unfolded a city map on which he had highlighted in yellow, the streets Mr. V was to travel. It formed a large circle around New London, then through the center of town on to Broad and State Street and around again. “Just take this route and repeat it until 3:45 p.m.”

  Emphasizing his words, Mr. Silver added, “Follow these instructions explicitly. At 4 pm I have a package for you to pick up at the Ferry office. It’s addressed to Johnson Jones and is in a red envelope. They will give it to you with no questions.

  “When no one is looking, I want you to put the red envelope in this manila envelope, fold it in half and put it in your inside jacket pocket. Take this leather satchel. I want you to open and close it as if you put the envelope in it. Make sure you have your back to anyone who may be there. Then put the satchel over your shoulder. This is just for appearances.”

  Mr. V listened intently as his new boss finished his instructions.

  “Leave the building by the door that is near the water. As you go down the ramp you will see a man with a black cap, standing by the tugboats. He will ask you for a light, for his cigarette. Give him a light, with this lighter.” He handed him a small gold lighter with an eagle crest and continued, “Discreetly hand him the envelope. Then proceed to your car and take this route. Go directly home. You can take your friends and family out for a meal on me. Here is your pay.”

  Mr. Silver handed him a white bank envelope. Mr. V looked inside and counted five one hundred-dollar bills. He smiled broadly. “Yes sir,” said Mr. V.

  “Take your pay home first, and put it away in a safe place. I don’t want you carrying this much cash on you for this job. Just keep a single hundred-dollar bill on you, in case you need it. Capiche?”

  “Capiche boss, no problem, I got this. Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “As long as you follow these instructions to the letter, I will have more work for you. Now, repeat them back to me, so I know you have understood. Then all will go well.”

  His new hire recounted each step with precision and Mr. Silver reviewed his body-double with pride.

  Chapter 26

  Day 4 – 12:30 pm

  Roxanne had completed her garden maintenance at Green Harbor Park and traveled home. It was lunch time, she made a sandwich, grabbed a book to read and relaxed on her back deck. With her current interest in poisonous plants, she found a helpful book, The Dangerous & the Deadly Botanicals. It revealed many of the historic accidental ways flora, had inflicted hallucinations on people, often with vile symptoms and horrible deaths.

  Just as she was finishing her lunch and perusing her book, Georgi called. “I know I have to wait, but I’m still preparing for Mitch’s memorial at Vinho Verde. Do you think you could help me with ideas to decorate the inside? I was dreaming of lots of fresh flowers and plants which I will extend on to the patio. What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think it sounds expensive, Georgi, are you sure?” Roxanne queried.

  “I can write it off as an interior design expense, besides Mitch deserves the tribute,” he attempted to justify the expense.

  Roxanne imagined the effort of him caring for the plants. “Georgi, if you keep it simple and elegant, I think it will be a lovely affair. Look, I just finished with work, and I’m free for an hour. Shall I come by?” she offered knowing he was in need of guidance.

  “Oh, that would be fabulous!” he answered with a bounce in his voice. Then unable to contain his enthusiasm, Georgi started dancing in place. “I’ll call Marco,” he added. Roxanne could hear his foot clogging over the phone, as Georgi went on, “Marco always has great ideas, and he might have a nice bobble or two from his antique and restoration shop that we can use as decoration.” Georgi hung up and kept dancing his way across the floorboards, feeling better than he had in days, and grateful he could keep busy.

  Soon enough, Marco and Roxanne met at Vinho Verde to review Georgi’s ideas. Between them, they installed Italianesque columns from Marco’s shop and add large urns with ferns and orchids. Another thought was to soften the brick and
stone walls with cascading drapes by mounting them in key areas.

  Satisfied with their choices, they left for Marco’s to check for additional items, when Georgi saw an envelope on the floor by the door. He retrieved it, opened it, and gasped in horror.

  In clear bold black marker, it read:

  Are you next? Not if you pay up – Put $10,000 in the green Vinho Verde envelope. Bring it to the library stacks and place it by number 641.2. Do it by 4 pm. No cops or you’re DEAD TOO!

  A jolt ran up Georgi’s arms and through his body. “Ohhhhh!” he squealed, fanning himself from the shock. “What am I to do? He’s going to kill me!”

  Roxanne and Marco stood stunned, and read the note over again.

  “That’s only two hours away,” she gulped, “we have to tell the detective, Georgi!”

  Gesturing wildly, he yelped, “No! No! We have to do what the note says or he’ll kill me! I’ll be dead in a shrub just like Mitch! Oh my God it’s awful! I can’t take this!” he loudly whined, looking as though he might hyperventilate.

  Roxanne took control, “No, Georgi,” she explained, “Don’t buy into this. He’s trying to scare you.”

  “Yeah, it worked, can’t you tell? Look. I’m shaking I’m so frightened.” He held out his tremoring hands.

  Roxanne urged him, “Look, the detective will know exactly what to do. He will help us. What if this guy demands $10,000 every week?” she posed, “Why would he stop? Once you pay, you’re hooked into him.”

  Georgi looked at her realizing she knew better, and he was overwhelmed. Roxanne picked up her phone and dialed the detective. Marco tried to settle Georgi down. “She’s right and you know it. Let them help, Georgi, there is no way we know what to do. Roxanne knows best, her husband is dealing with emergencies all the time, listen to her.”

  Chapter 27

  Detective Morrison was in the process of interrogating the man in custody from the train station. He was the one who at 8 am had tried to retrieve the red envelope with Johnson Jones’ name on it from Sandy. Morrison wasn’t getting anywhere with him. Mrs. Stockman was in another room with her attorney. She said she had never met the man in the gray suit and dark glasses. The guy in the other room confirmed he did not know her, but Morrison suspected them both.

  The detective listened to the man’s story about why he went to pick up the envelope addressed to J.J.

  “I jumped at the job. It was 6:30 this morning and I’d been standing outside in the line for temporary work next to Fiddleheads grocer, when this guy drives up in a silver sedan. He asked me to run an errand and wear a suit. He went by the name, Mr. Silver. He drove me to the train station where I changed my clothes. I was paid $100 to fetch and pass on a red envelope addressed to Johnson Jones. When the envelope wasn’t there, I met him outside of the ferry office and told him. He was upset but he told me to keep the suit and I was on my way. He said he’d pick it up himself at 4 pm.”

  A knock at the door interrupted the interrogation. “Detective, I have a very urgent call,” announced the clerk. Morrison left the room.

  Curious it was from Roxanne, he asked, “What’s happening, Roxanne?”

  “Georgi is being blackmailed!” She explained and read him the note.

  “When did this happen?”

  “Just now!” she pleaded.

  “I’ll be right there,” Morrison felt her distress.

  “No! No, Dan,” Roxanne whispered urgently, “the note said no police, or Georgi’s dead.”

  “Then I’ll meet you at the back of Muddy Waters. Be sure to place the blackmail note into a baggie, without touching it. I want to dust it for prints, there is not much time.” Morrison was surprised by the brazen perpetrator. That just means he’s a fool and easy to capture.

  Roxanne continued to whisper, “Okay, it will just be me,” “I’ll tell Georgi and his friend Marco to wait while I meet you. Then we’ll try to act normal, until we hear from you.”

  Morrison’s mind rolled with the idea, he said aloud, “Roxanne, there isn’t anything normal about this case or any of you, but you go ahead and try.”

  Roxanne scoffed, “Pff, I know, this is flipping crazy, Dan.”

  “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes,” he responded.

  He was juggling Marissa, her lawyer, and the gray-suited man. He put all of their questioning on hold, and took off for Muddy Waters Cafe with his assistant detective, Jack Peabody.

  Roxanne discreetly passed off the threatening message and envelope. She returned to the Vinho Verde and announced to Georgi, “I know it might feel like a time to drink wine, but I purchased scones and apple turnovers. How about we brew a pot of tea while we wait for our instructions from the detective?”

  “Oh you’re glorious, Roxanne,” Georgi sang, “I’m always ready for a nosh when I’m nervous.”

  “I’ll put the kettle on,” offered Marco.

  “Don’t you two worry,” she added with confidence, “The detective is having the envelope dusted for fingerprints and will call us soon.”

  “Should I run out and withdraw $10,000?” Georgi’s voice rose almost to a squeak.

  Stunned, Marco gasped, “You have $10,000 dollars?”

  “Not me, silly, the business. Mitch left me the bank account and I’m a signatory.”

  “Ohh! Well, haven’t you risen above us all?” Marco waved his face with a cocktail napkin. Then with an after-thought added, “Or wait… Since we’re friends… that would make me somebody, too.” Marco exposed a broad, smug smile, as if he had suddenly become rich.

  Swatting at him, Georgi mocked, “You’re ridiculous. It’s just business, that’s all. Get your head out of the clouds.” Then he swatted him again. Marco’s expansive smile remained, like the ‘Cheshire Cat’.

  Eventually a call came in from Morrison and they all listened together on the speaker phone.

  “Do you have 10 grand, Georgi?” he asked.

  “Yes, in the business account.”

  “How do you feel about setting a trap for this guy? We’ll get him when he picks up the envelope,” Morrison was hoping Georgi had the where-with-all to go through with his plan.

  “Uh,” Georgi thought it over. “Is there any way we can we use fake money instead, detective?”

  “Hhmm Georgi,” the detective hummed, “I don’t have any on me, and neither does the bank. We will catch him, and you will recover your money. Besides, he needs to see you go to the bank and follow his cues. Can you do it for Mitch’s sake?” Morrison asked, leaning on Georgi to help him close the case.

  “Okay, but you big shots should really have props in your line of work,” he admonished.

  Morrison continued his instructions, “I want you to be seen and obvious going to the bank, and to the library. Have your friend Marco go with you. And Roxanne, I’d like you to go to Chief Sam’s office, and wait there.”

  “Okay Dan, thank you! I’m relieved you’re going to catch him,” Roxanne said.

  “We plan on it,” the detective assured.

  “You better,” pleaded Georgi, “It’s my life and my money you’re playing with.”

  Chapter 28

  Day 4 – 2:00 – 4:00 pm

  Frustrated by her circumstances, Marissa Stockman felt completely justified for having a 128 Bobcat revolver in her purse. She leaned in toward Detective Morrison, defending her actions vehemently. Her attorney, Jonathan Blum, sat beside her.

  “Of course I brought a gun, I need to protect myself. I can’t count on you!” the widow spewed with intensity, her eyes glared at the detective. “Consider my husband!”

  The gun had been found when she passed through security, setting off alarms, and creating a scene. Attorney Blum was red in the face with exasperation, “You don’t bring a gun to a police interrogation for your husband’s murder! Especially since you put $10,000 in the Ferry mailbag, for a dead boy to pick up! You can’t justify it!”

  “Look you two,” she demanded, “if this man, whom you have in custody, isn’
t the killer, then the killer is still out there. What are you going to do?” Her voice reverberated in the small room, and on hearing her own desperation, she suddenly wilted with exhaustion and implored, “This is my daughter’s life, my life!” she echoed fearfully.

  “Mrs. Stockman,” Morrison said sternly, “I want you to know something you may not realize.” He bent forward for his delivery and pointed his pen at her, “Right now, you are my prime suspect. You have the money. And your motives are multiple. You could have a boyfriend, or a jealous lover. I don’t know you. Your actions have been suspicious. If you hired this monster to kill your husband, why should I be surprised he blackmailed you for more money and threatened your daughter’s life? How else would he know you have a daughter, unless you told him, or you know him?

  Can’t you see you look guilty?” Morrison brushed the sweat from his brow. “You wrote the name of a murdered 16-year-old on your red realty envelope.” Marissa bent her head and sobbed, exhausted by the whole ordeal.

  Attorney Blum loudly persisted, “Now wait a minute, detective, she’s the victim here. I believe her. Unless you have proof of her guilt, there are no grounds for your accusations. This is all circumstantial evidence.”

  Impatient Morrison announced, “Well, Attorney Blum, we may just have proof in the next few hours. I’m keeping this man we have in custody, and you two in my office, until 4 pm. We will see who picks up that red envelope with $10,000 at the Ferry office. Once we have him, we will have the rest of the story. One way or another, I will know today whether Mrs. Stockman is involved in these murders.”

  The detective surveyed Marissa Stockman neutrally. Her tear stained cheeks did not deter him from his goal. His conviction was to trust no one. Even though she was elegant, beautiful and classy, she still looked suspicious. The detective’s personal mantra stuck in his head. Just the facts. Trust your instincts.

  Morrison left the small room to give them a break. He sat at his desk to review his plan. Almost the whole police force was tied up in tracking down this game playing killer. At 4 o’clock they would be in two locations, the New London library and the Ferry office, about a half-a-mile apart. There were five plainclothes officers covering Georgi’s money drop at the library. An unmarked cruiser was stationed by the secure entrance to the ferry terminal. Both traps would be ready and set.