Necessary Decisions, A Gino Cataldi Mystery

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  “Sanjay speaking.”

  “This is Scott. Are you alone?”

  A pause, then, “Yes, sir.”

  “Any update on the data?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Sanjay, no matter what, we need to delay this information for at least a few weeks.”

  “But…”

  “But nothing. Who gave you the information?”

  “Mr. Winthrop, I—”

  “I could report you for having it.”

  Silence.

  “Who, Sanjay?”

  “My brother.”

  “Good. If the data comes in as you suspect, see if your brother can…delay things.”

  “He would never—”

  “He already did something that could cost him his job. I’m not asking him to change data or do anything that will affect someone’s life. All I’m asking for is a little time. For all of us, Sanjay. Your brother, too.”

  Sanjay was silent for a long time. “For how long are you talking?”

  “At least for a couple of weeks.”

  “We are treading dangerous ground, Mr. Winthrop.”

  “It’s important. Trust me.”

  “This data is important too.”

  “Sanjay, remember your family in India waiting to come over?”

  “Yes.”

  Scott checked to make sure no one was listening. “I’ll get them here when this is over. But no one can know about our conversation. Not Chris or Fred. No one.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll let you know.”

  ***

  I kept an eye on Winthrop. He seemed more relieved. “Good news, Mr. Winthrop?”

  “The bank will cooperate on the ransom.”

  “That is good news. It will make our job a lot easier.”

  “Also, I called the school. Jada isn’t in either.”

  I stopped to give that thought. This could be a case of a couple of kids skipping school and someone’s idea of a sick prank.

  “Out of curiosity, Detective, what would have happened if I couldn’t get the money?”

  I hoped he wasn’t asking out of some greed factor or from second-guessing, but in either case, I didn’t want him going off track. “Fortunately, we don’t have to worry about that, because it wouldn’t be a pretty situation.”

  A few minutes later, the techs reported they had the home phone ready. “We’ll be able to triangulate their position if we can keep them on for more than three minutes.”

  “How close can you get?”

  “If we get all three cell phone towers, we can narrow it down to fifty, maybe one hundred feet.”

  “So what that means, Mr. Winthrop, is that you have to stall. They will probably time the call to make sure they don’t go over, but…we’ve gotten lucky before. It’s worth a shot.”

  Scott nodded but didn’t seem to buy it. As he walked toward his patio, I got a sick feeling in my gut. I didn’t want to be in this man’s house, and I didn’t want this case. I hated kidnappings. In a lot of ways, they were worse than homicides. At least with homicides, the victims were through suffering. No matter what they’d gone through, it was done. Over. Nothing else could hurt them. But with kidnappings—and it was usually a kid, hence the name—the suffering was just beginning. There wasn’t much in life I hated more than someone hurting a kid.

  Now I had two cases with kids: the Marshall case, where they’d already done their damage; and this one, with a little girl scared shitless. The worst thing was that I knew she’d probably be raped. Maybe killed. Nothing good. An image of Betty Ming from the Philadelphia case returned to haunt me—again.

  I can’t let that happen to Alexa.

  Chapter 19

  What Do the Neighbors Know

  Delgado didn’t like leaving Gino alone, even in Winthrop’s house. Gino tended to lose control every time he got involved in cases with kids or drugs. Since Mary died, Gino had been angry with the world. Downright pissed off. When Ron got hooked on drugs, it got worse. Rumors on the street said he killed a drug dealer a few months back. Ribs didn’t doubt it, didn’t mind if he did do it. The world didn’t need another scum-sucking drug dealer like Rico…but Delgado couldn’t let Gino ruin what was left of his life. Blood was blood—even if it was by marriage. Before Mary died, Ribs had promised to keep an eye on Gino. At the time, he hadn’t known it would be so damn difficult.

  “Where are we going first?” Connors asked.

  “May as well start with the neighbors. The friends at school will clam up like New Yorkers once they see we’re cops. And they’ll see that from a block away.”

  Delgado and Connors walked across the street to a sprawling ranch house, which sat a couple of hundred feet off the road.

  “This is probably our best shot,” Delgado said. “Not many trees in the front yard, so maybe they saw something.”

  A few seconds after ringing the doorbell, a thirty-something blonde with her hair in a ponytail answered. She filled out her jogging suit nicely.

  “May I help you?” she asked, her voice a little on the mousy side. Not what Ribs expected.

  Delgado held his badge up. “Detective Hector Delgado. This is Detective Connors.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “We have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “What’s this about? Is something wrong with Martin?”

  “No, ma’am. It has nothing to do with you, but…and this has to remain confidential. We’ve had an issue at the Winthrop house across the street. I’m talking to neighbors to see if anyone noticed any unusual activity or strangers in the area.”

  “You mean here? This morning?” She seemed more than surprised, even aghast, at the suggestion that someone had disturbed suburbia. When Delgado didn’t answer, she continued. “I was jogging this morning.”

  “What time?”

  “I just got home and showered. I was gone for an hour and a half. No more.”

  “You’re certain of the time?”

  “I’m gone for an hour and a half every morning, Detective. I go to the gym to work out.” She said it as if it were a saintly thing, to work out every morning. “Did you see anyone in the neighborhood who didn’t belong? Even someone who may seem to—a repair truck, a workman of some kind, a utility person…anyone?”

  She chewed on a finger, shifting weight to her left leg. The shift forced Delgado to stare at her legs for perhaps a bit too long. When she cleared her throat to get his attention, he knew it had been too long.

  “Not today, but a few days ago, I saw a telephone repair truck. Southwestern Bell. The white trucks with their logo.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “I know what a phone truck looks like. I remember thinking how long it was out there.”

  “Where was it?” Connors asked.

  She pointed down the street. “Near that bend. It was there when I left to jog, and it was still there when I got back.”

  Connors took notes while she talked. “Did you see the workers? How many were there? Men or women?”

  “I didn’t notice. All I remember is one person wearing a yellow hardhat, and, of course, those silly orange cones cluttering up the street.”

  Delgado waited to see if she’d add anything. He thought about what the neighbor of the Marshalls’ had said about a man walking a dog. “How about strangers? See any couples walking around you don’t know, or people walking dogs you didn’t recognize?”

  Her head was shaking before Delgado finished the question. “No. Nothing like that.” Her response had been too fast, a sign she was tiring of the questions. It would be better to break it off now and come back later.

  “All right, ma’am. Thanks for your time, and please don’t mention this to anyone.” He handed her a card. “Call us if you think of anything.”

  As she moved to close the door, she said. “I won’t.” She blushed. “I mean, I will call, but I won’t mention it.”

  Delgado and Connors started toward the next house. “She’ll b
e on the phone calling someone before we hit the end of the driveway,” Connors said.

  “That’s what we’re counting on,” Delgado said. “She blabs it to enough people, someone might remember seeing something. And they might even call us.”

  “Let’s go see what the next neighbor doesn’t know,” Connors said.

  ***

  I went over the details with Scott, hoping to make him feel better, although everything the techs were doing was standard stuff. We could tape incoming calls and we could triangulate the position of the kidnappers, if we kept them on the line long enough. It was a long shot, but I knew from my days spent at the racetrack that sometimes long shots came in.

  Several times, thong-panties girl came into the kitchen. She hadn’t bothered covering up those ass cheeks yet. I wondered if she had clothes to wear or if she just liked teasing me. Maybe she knew I was a widower, and that it had been a long time since I’d had sex. A very long time. That might explain why my head always felt like it was about to explode.

  She bent over to get a pan from the lower cabinet, flashing me those precious cheeks. I couldn’t help staring. Now I had two things to worry about exploding. After she stood again, which seemed like forever, and yet, not long enough, I made a mental note to suggest to Scott that she vacate the premises. Or get dressed.

  Thong-panties set the pan on the island, poured a glass of milk then threw me a smile that sent a shiver up and down my spine. I normally didn’t like shivers. This one, I did. In a very good way. A way that had me reconsidering my mental note to Scott, who was just returning to the kitchen.

  He looked upset, and I thought I heard “…and put something on.” I expected her to set a quick pace for the stairs; instead, she bent over again and aimed those weapons in my direction.

  Scott sat across from me at the table, but before we got into anything, Delgado and Connors returned. I raised my wrist to look at the time, forgetting again that my watch was gone. “Son of a bitch!” A flash of anger raced through me. I vowed once again to get Number Three. It made me want to call Ramirez to see if she had gotten anywhere on the Marshall case.

  “What’s the matter?” Winthrop asked.

  “Nothing. I lost a watch. I keep looking for the time, forgetting the watch is gone.”

  “Was it valuable?”

  Valuable? Did everything come down to money with this guy?

  “Not in terms of money, Mr. Winthrop. But to me it was priceless.”

  Scott nodded as if he’d been there before, but I couldn’t imagine anything being more valuable to him than money. Delgado sat next to Winthrop, placing his notepad on the table.

  “Anything?” I asked, but assumed the news wouldn’t be good.

  “Two hours of talking to people, only to find out nobody saw anything. I thought I was in New York.”

  Winthrop said, “Unfortunately, Detective, this neighborhood doesn’t keep much of a watch for trouble. Everyone assumes it’s safe. I’ve lived in places where it isn’t safe—Mexico City, Bogota, Caracas… When I got here, I thought we’d found paradise.”

  Delgado turned to me. “We hit every house along the bus route. You want us to expand it?”

  Two hours wasted. I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  Delgado and Connors filled me in on a few details we needed to follow up on—a telephone repair truck and a strange mystery-woman jogger that a guy at the end of the street mentioned. I didn’t put much hope in either.

  “How about you and Connors head to the school to see if you can get a list of her friends from the teachers and classmates. Question them. See what they know.”

  They started to leave when I called them back. “And see if there are any boyfriends.”

  “You got it,” Delgado said.

  I looked over to Scott. Thong-panties had gone back upstairs. “Mr. Winthrop, I don’t like suggesting this, but…”

  “Go on, Detective.”

  “I think it would be better if Jennifer isn’t here while this is going on.” I hadn’t prepared a reasonable explanation why, so I rushed one out. “It’s just—”

  Scott smiled. “I already asked her.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Kind of distracting, isn’t it?”

  “What’s that, sir?”

  “The way she dresses. It’s a little distracting.”

  I’m sure I turned some shade of crimson, but I forced a smile. “Yes, Mr. Winthrop, it is very distracting.”

  One of the techs walked in then. Before he said a word, I remembered something. “Oh, and Mr. Winthrop, how about giving that cell phone to our guys now. If someone calls, they’ll let you know.”

  From the look on his face, you’d have thought I’d asked for his arm or some other appendage. He stared at me, then the tech, then slowly handed over the phone.

  The tech pocketed Scott’s phone then addressed me. “How many cells are we going to need for the surveillance?”

  “A lot of that depends on Coop. Figure a dozen.”

  “Okay, Gino, thanks.” He was off into the back room to do whatever it was techs did.

  As we talked, Scott reminded me that he had recorded the conversation with the kidnappers. I could have kicked myself in the ass for forgetting. I planned on waiting for Ribs and Connors, but figured I might as well listen now. “If you can get it ready, Mr. Winthrop.”

  We listened to the tape. I was going to play it again but opted to wait for Delgado and Connors. About an hour later, the front door opened. I assumed it was Ribs. “How’d it go, Delgado?”

  “Dad?”

  I got up to see who it was. It definitely wasn’t Delgado.

  “Dad, what are all the cars about?”

  Before I could do anything, or even ask “Who are you,” Winthrop flew by me.

  “Alexa! My God, are you all right?”

  It was obvious that Alexa had no idea what was going on. “Is this your daughter?” I asked.

  He nodded and seemed to be holding back tears. “How did you get away?”

  She looked at him as if he had just stepped off the Enterprise alongside of Captain Kirk. “What are you talking about?”

  I stepped in to cut through the parental red tape. “Alexa, my name is Detective Gino Cataldi. Someone told your father that you had been kidnapped.”

  She laughed, then got serious. “Oh God, Dad. I’m sorry. I’m fine. Nothing happened to me.”

  “But we called school, and…”

  She lowered her head. “Lisa and I skipped school.”

  He let the tears go and hugged her. “I don’t care. In fact, I’m glad.” I let them have their reunion, hugging and crying, then hugging more. Afterward, Scott turned to me. “Detective, I am so sorry I put you through this trouble. Thank goodness it was for nothing.”

  I stared at him as if he were a moron, which he was. “Mr. Winthrop, you don’t seem to understand, sir. They might not have your daughter, but they have someone. And I’ve got to find her.”

  He stared at me, dumbfounded.

  I didn’t like doing this. I could be wrong, and this could all be some sick bastard messing around, but my gut told me no. I liked to follow my gut. Instead of backing off, I stared back and wouldn’t let him off the hook. “Now let me hear that tape again.”

  Chapter 20

  Logic

  After Delgado and Connors returned, we listened to the tape. Then I had Winthrop play it again. I listened with pen in hand, jotting down notes.

  “Delgado, you and Connors listen to this again.”

  “Are you ready?” Winthrop asked.

  I nodded, and he started it up from the spot where the kidnapper first spoke.

  “This isn’t Michelle. Listen closely. We have your daughter.”

  “What? Who is this?”

  “I said, we have your daughter. So listen.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Is this you, Ted?”

  “This is no joke. Get a pen and paper and write this down.”
<
br />   “Mister, I don’t know who you are, but—”

  “Shut up. Do you hear me? Shut the fuck up, or I kill her.”

  “Stop it,” I said to Winthrop, then turned to Delgado and Connors. “You hear that? The caller was in control until that moment. When Scott challenged him, he lost it. It’s almost like he was reading a script.” I gestured for Scott to start it up again, explaining that it was him who we were listening to now.

  “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “Do you have something to write with?”

  “I’m set. Go ahead.”

  “You are to get seven million dollars and—”

  “What? I don’t have that kind of money.”

  “Mister, we know you don’t have it yet, but you can borrow on it.”

  The man on the phone paused.

  “I’m not going to say it again. Shut up and let me finish.”

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  I had Winthrop stop it again. “You hear that? He said we know you don’t have it yet, but you can borrow it.” I looked at Delgado and Connors. “They knew he had money coming in?” I grabbed my pen and paper and had him start it up again.

  “Seven million dollars in non-sequential serial numbers, hundred-dollar bills, no tracers on the money, or in the money. We will know if you try to track us. Have it ready in forty-eight hours. We’ll call tomorrow with instructions on the transfer.”

  “Wait! I need to talk to my daughter.”

  “The next time we call, you can talk to her.”

  I got up from the table and walked around the kitchen. Delgado spoke first. “Gino, I hear what you’re saying about these guys knowing things, but that leaves a big gaping hole. They got the wrong person.”

  I shook my head, disgusted at myself. “Goddamn, Delgado, I am an asshole. You’re right. Everything they said is irrelevant. They thought they were talking to someone else.”

  “So the question is, who did they think they were calling?” Delgado said.

  Winthrop traded places with me and sat in my chair. “I need my phone. I’ve got to call Fred—”

  “Whoa!” I said. “We’re still going to need your phone. These people are calling tomorrow. They might call your cell.”