Necessary Decisions, A Gino Cataldi Mystery

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  “What happened to your head, Detective? That looks rather nasty.”

  “I got it while working undercover. It’s mostly healed.”

  Marshall sighed. “Good God, what is the world coming to?”

  I was about to say something when the butler returned. While he poured the wine, I took out my notepad. “Tell me what happened, Mr. Marshall, and try to go through it slowly. No detail is too small or too insignificant.”

  From the intense look in his eyes, I got the distinct feeling he understood. “I was in the shower when they came in. Roger, my son, was in his room showering. I’d picked him up from football practice and we came home and, as we always do, went to shower.” He sipped his wine and stared at me. “It’s almost too much of a coincidence that they chose that moment to come in—when both of us were showering. Don’t you think?”

  I made notes as he talked. “Who answered the door?”

  He shook his head. “My wife, but I know the details. One of them rang the bell, which she answered. The others came in through the sliding door in the back.” Marshall rose from the table and walked into the next room. “As you can see, there is easy access from the golf course, with plenty of cover from the foliage.”

  From the periphery, I saw the butler nodding. I wondered if he had warned them previously of what I was thinking.

  Keep the fucking door locked.

  “The door wasn’t locked?”

  He scoffed. “It never is, except at night. My wife checks the doors and sets the alarm before going to bed.”

  I walked outside and took a look around. We hadn’t had rain in weeks, so the ground was too hard for footprints, even with sprinklers. “Did they wear gloves?”

  The butler stepped forward. His accent wasn’t British, as I expected, but it was eloquent. “All of them did, sir. Surgical gloves.”

  I made a note and turned back to Marshall. “What happened next? Did you hear them?”

  He shook his head again. “I didn’t know anything had happened until one of them came into the bathroom. He opened the shower door, wielding a knife, and ordered me out.” He flushed before continuing. “For God’s sake, Detective, they wouldn’t even let me dress. They forced me out naked in front of my daughter.”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s common practice, sir, but a lot of professionals do it. It makes people feel helpless. Naked victims are less likely to resist.” I wrote down what he said, then continued. “What did they do next?”

  “They took our jewelry and cash then the one who seemed to be the leader asked where the safe was.”

  “You say the leader. Is there a reason why you say that?”

  “He ran the show. There were five of them, four white and one black. The tall man I’m talking about was white. He gave the orders.”

  “Is there anything else you remember about them? Take your time.”

  The butler spoke. “One of them seemed…feminine.”

  “You mean gay?”

  “No. A woman. She spoke only once. When the man struck Roger, she yelled ‘Number Three.’ After that, she never spoke again.”

  I sat upright, muscles tensed. My fist clenched involuntarily. “She said ‘Number Three.’ You’re sure?”

  “Positive,” the butler said. “I thought it odd at the time. It stuck in my head.”

  I looked to Marshall. “Did you hear it?”

  He seemed to give it thought. “I honestly can’t say. I was focused on Roger.”

  The butler spoke again. “After she said that, the lead man hollered ‘That’s enough, Number Three.’”

  My pulse quickened. My heart raced. This was the only lead I’d had to the mysterious Number Three since that fucker knocked me out and stole Mary’s watch. I was so damned nervous, I couldn’t think straight.

  I turned to the butler. “You said one was a woman. What makes you think that?”

  “Her voice sounded feminine. She was slight of build, and the way she moved shouted female. I was close enough to see her skin, too. It was smoother than the others’.”

  “I thought they wore masks.”

  “They did, but her arms were exposed. Or perhaps I should say her forearms were.”

  “That’s very good. That may help.” I turned back to Marshall. “What happened with your son? Why did it turn violent?”

  He lowered his head. “It was my fault.”

  I let him keep the silence, not forcing the issue.

  “As I said, after they’d taken the jewels and cash, the leader asked where the safe was.” Marshall looked up at me. For a minute, I thought he’d cry. “I told him I had no safe.”

  I waited, but he said nothing more. “What happened then?”

  “He didn’t give me a second chance. The boss nodded to one of the others, and they took a…a tire iron, and swung it at Roger, beating his legs and kicking him.” Marshall did cry now. “Roger…screamed and grabbed the man’s leg. Then they hit Roger’s face. And they kept hitting, and hitting, and hitting.” Marshall closed his eyes briefly, as if recalling the incident. “I thought they’d killed him. Jesse screamed ‘Tell them, Charles. It’s only money.’”

  Marshall wiped tears away. “After that, I told him where it was, Detective. I told him where everything was, but I had waited too long.” Marshall got up and walked around the kitchen. “The thing is they knew we had more. Someone must have told them.”

  “Did you have insurance? Who else knew where you kept things, or that you even had a safe?”

  “Of course the jewelry was insured. As far as who knew, all of us have safes.”

  “‘All of us’?”

  “I’m sorry. All of our friends, the people we associate with. But none of them know where our safe is.”

  “And neither did the robbers.”

  “Detective, honestly. You can’t think our friends had anything to do with this.”

  “Right now, Mr. Marshall, I’m just asking questions. Let’s go over everything again. What they looked like. How tall they were. Their build. How they talked. What they said. Any accents? I’m going to need everything I can get if we hope to catch these people.”

  And I wanted to catch these people more than Mr. Marshall could ever know. That watch was my last gift from Mary, and that scum-sucking fucker named Number Three was going to pay for taking it.

  I got back to focusing on their answers. The butler said the one in charge was maybe 6’ 3” or even 6’ 4”. Marshall swore he wasn’t that tall.

  “I’m 6’ 2”,” Marshall said. “And he was about my height. No taller.”

  I made note of that. “What about build. Big and bulky? Thin and wiry?”

  Marshall thought. “Big, I’d say.”

  “He was bigger than Mr. Marshall,” the butler added.

  “How did they talk? Did anyone have a recognizable accent?”

  “They were from Texas,” the butler said. He seemed positive about that.

  Marshall agreed. “They didn’t say much, but when the leader asked about the safe, I detected a Texas accent.”

  I finished my notations, took a moment to focus, and started again. “Let’s go through the whole event one more time. I know this is difficult, but it may help.”

  Marshall gripped the wine glass as if it were a life jacket. “I’m ready. Go on.”

  For the next hour, we went through the details. The butler had an excellent memory. When we were done, I gave them both my card and said I would be back to ask more questions.

  Marshall walked me to the door. “Do you think there will be more invasions?” He paused. “Do you think you’ll catch them?”

  “It’s difficult to say, Mr. Marshall. These cases are tough. If they quit now, the chances are not good for us catching them. We normally only catch them if they start making mistakes.” I knew that wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but I hated to give victims false hope. Nothing worse than promising to catch who did them wrong and not deliver.

  He nodded, probably expecting no more. />
  As I left, I thought about what I’d learned tonight. I knew without a doubt that there would be more of these break-ins, or home invasions, and I knew that the next ones would be more violent. Once violence entered the picture, it always escalated. I had to catch them, and fast. I wouldn’t say it out loud or promise anything to the Marshalls, but I swore right then and there that I’d get these fuckers.

  Chapter 8

  The Sun Shines in Texas

  Morning sun broke through the mini blinds, a harsh awakening for Lonny. He hadn’t slept much, worrying about that boy. Now he felt like he needed a shower—on the inside. He took the money out of his nightstand drawer and counted it again. $3,400 for hurtin’ that boy. The money would have to last a long time, because Lonny vowed he would never work for those people again. Damn redneck crackers is what they were. As bad as anybody from the hood ever was.

  He almost wanted to turn that money in to someone and tell them where it came from. Almost. He knew he wouldn’t. He’d use it for food, and electric, and gas. And if he had enough left over—for a prom dress.

  Shame on me, Lord, for what I done.

  As he dressed, he worried over what to tell Lucia. He’d have to lie to explain the money, and that meant pretending to work during the day to maintain that lie. After all these years of loving her, it was a bad time to start lying. The irony struck him. Their life together started at a prom eighteen years ago, and now it was taking a horrific turn on another prom.

  Lonny told Lucia he’d lost his job, but that he had a lot of prospects for new work. He was still lying, but for some reason, he felt better.

  “No need to tell the kids yet,” he said. “Let’s wait and see if I get some work.”

  Jada tried cheering him up at breakfast, joking and making not-so-clever remarks about her new beau, Jason, a boy Lonny hadn’t even met. He finished his coffee and eggs, kissed Lucia, then snuck Scooter a treat from his leftovers. “See y’all tonight.”

  “Bye, Dad. Have a nice day,” Jada said.

  “Get strong, old man,” from Mars.

  Lonny smiled at Mars’ jab then got into the truck and headed out.

  One of the prime spots for day work was only a couple of miles away. He was almost there when his phone rang. He answered on the first ring.

  “Lonny, how’s it going?”

  He recognized the voice. The guy who got him the job. “I decided I don’t need any more work.”

  “What, you found something?”

  “Not yet…but I got a few prospects. It won’t be long.”

  “Our friends aren’t gonna like this.”

  “Can’t be helped. Tell them I’m through.”

  “I’ll tell them, but they don’t take ‘no’ very well.”

  “Tell them anyway.” Lonny turned left and soon was standing on the corner of an empty parking lot with sixty or seventy Latinos—Mexicans, Guatemalans, Hondurans, all hoping to be picked for a day’s work. Lonny missed the days when he had a job to go to every morning. He and Lucia never had much money, but at least he didn’t have to worry about feeding his family.

  A guy in a truck pulled up and offered $50 for a day’s work. Five of the men jumped at the opportunity. Lonny opted to wait for better pay. He had a good shot at being picked since he spoke English and had a truck. This was one of those few times when being black paid off. Forty minutes later, Lonny wished he’d taken the earlier offer. Fifty dollars would buy a few good meals. He finally got work digging footings for a concrete pour. Not much money, but it lasted the rest of the day and might stretch for a few more.

  When Lonny got home that night, he was more tired than normal. The physical work he was used to, but not the stress of fighting inner battles all day. He put on a good face, though, determined not to let his family suffer for his sins. After kicking off his boots, he walked in the front door. “Guess who’s home and hungry.”

  From the kitchen he heard Lucia’s voice, sweet as the day he married her. “Must either be Scooter or a man who found more work.” She came around the corner, wiping her hands on her apron. “I guess you found something?”

  “Not much,” he said then took money from his pocket and threw it on the table, “but enough for a little girl’s prom dress, I imagine.”

  Jada almost dropped the plates she had in her hand. She ran to hug him. “For real? I can go?”

  “Not until I meet this boy…what’s his name?”

  “Jason,” Lucia said before her daughter could answer then she kissed her husband warmly. “I’ll be seeing you tonight,” she whispered, a sultry tone if he ever heard one.

  “What kind of work did you find? Permanent?”

  “No, but it might last a week or two. And it’s good pay.” He bent down to pet Scooter as he said it, not wanting his expression to give away the lies.

  Jada was still counting the money when her mother smacked her on the butt. “I hope that dress is a bright one. We’re gonna need it when the electric gets shut off.”

  Lonny showered. Then, as he was dressing, he saw the lotto ticket on his counter. He brought it to the kitchen. “Where’s the paper?”

  “On the chair,” Jada said. “Right where you like it.”

  He laughed. “You can stop being nice. I already said you could go.” He opened it up to see the results from the lotto. “The lotto is $39 million. Maybe we hit it.”

  Lucia and Jada came to the table. “Get Mars in here,” Lonny said. “If we’re gonna be rich, I want us all here to share in it.”

  “Mars, get in here,” Jada hollered. “Dad thinks he’s gonna hit the lottery.”

  Lucia huffed. “Wouldn’t that be something? A new dishwasher is the first thing we’d get.”

  “New dishwasher?” Jada said. “How about new house.”

  “Jiu-jitsu school for me,” Mars said as he came in.

  Lonny sat at the table, heart pounding, chest on fire. He could barely speak just thinking of the possibilities.

  Lucia grabbed a broom and started sweeping the floor. “Lonny, you brought in mud again. I hope that imaginary lottery ticket will buy a maid to clean up after you.”

  “After we hit this lottery, you won’t need to sweep the floor.”

  She huffed. “Nobody hits those things. I don’t know why you waste your money.” Lucia smiled. “You could have bought me another chocolate bar. That would have gotten you a lot more than that lotto ticket.”

  “Oh my God, Mom. Cut that talk out.”

  “It really could be us,” Lonny said. “It happens all the time.”

  “Hurry up and look!” Jada said.

  “Lucia, come here, baby.”

  Lucia stopped what she was doing and rushed over. “What’s the matter?” she asked, leaning over him.

  He handed her the lottery ticket and pointed to the paper. “Check these numbers. See if I’m wrong.”

  She looked at him funny, but bent over and gaped, first at the ticket, then the paper.

  Lonny pinched her arm and whispered, “Pretend we won.”

  Lucia’s eyes popped wide open, and her hand flew to her mouth, gasping. “Lord in heaven. Praise the Lord in heaven!”

  Jada came over. “What’s the matter? Did we hit it? For real?”

  Lucia grabbed Lonny, kissing all over him, then hugged Jada, squeezing her hard. “The Lord has smiled down on us again. I knew if I kept praying, it would do good.”

  “Don’t kid me, Mom.”

  When Jada said that, Lucia fell onto Lonny’s lap, laughing. Lonny kissed her and smiled. “We were rich for a few seconds.”

  “That was cruel, making us think we were rich.” Jada wore a spoiled pout. “I was already dreaming of a house like Alexa’s. And a pool.”

  “You sure can dream fast, girl.” Lucia turned to Mars. “What about you? You get a chance to dream up any crazy notions?”

  They all laughed and then hugged each other in a big circle.

  “And I thought we were gonna be rich,” Jada said.
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br />   “We are rich,” Lucia said. “And now we need to say our thanks before supper. The Lord has blessed us with good health and a wonderful family.” She folded her hands. The rest of the family joined.

  “Lord, I know we’ve all done wrong from time to time, but we’ve seen our way through it with your guidance.” She put her hand on Lonny’s arm and kissed his cheek. “You surely know how much this man deserves a break, working like he’s done all these years and never complaining. I’m only gonna ask for one thing. Give this man a break. For all of us, Lord, I thank you. Amen.”

  Lonny’s smile was genuine, but his heart was heavy. Every word of praise from Lucia was like a dagger. Would the Lord would take away the things he had?

  Please don’t, for my family’s sake. If you have to administer punishment, take it out on me.

  Chapter 9

  A New Line of Work

  Dispatcher answered the phone on the second ring. “Go.”

  “I’m looking for more help, and I don’t want Number Three on the next job. Did I tell you how bad he fucked up?”

  “You’ve told me several times.” Dispatcher waited a few seconds, then, “I have a replacement for Number Three available. When do you need someone and what kind of job?”

  “Send him over right away. I want to check this one out first. As far as the job, I’ll let you know.”

  “One more thing,” Dispatcher said. “Number Four is no longer available.”

  “Fuck! All right, send the new man as the new Number Four. I’ll use the old Number Three for now.”

  Boss waited at the meeting place, going through options for the next job. They had been happy with the take from the Marshall house, but the heat would be on with that kid getting hurt. Cops looked for robbers when it was a home invasion, but when someone got hurt, they looked a lot harder.

  If only that damned Number Three hadn’t gotten out of hand.

  Boss heard the van pull into the garage and got his mask on. A moment later, the door opened. Number Two walked in with a new companion.

  Boss looked up. “Number Four, I presume?”