Necessary Decisions, A Gino Cataldi Mystery

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  Texas had a lot of small backwoods roads, though most people never drove them, tending to stay on the freeways. This road was new to me. I took it east and followed it for about five miles until it dead-ended into a farm. I headed back and followed it west. The road branched north, then east, ultimately coming out near Conroe on the west side of town.

  As I got close to town, traffic became bumper-to-bumper. My eyes wandered as much as my mind. During one of many delays, I found myself staring at a license plate. It started with VNA. It jarred my memory. I’d never gotten those plates from Herb, and they probably never went back to check on them. It was likely nothing, but I had nothing to do. I called Herb.

  “Herb, can you send me those plates Julie had you run? The VNA numbers from The Woodlands area.”

  “Shoot, Gino, I forgot to get that to you.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Hang on.” He put me on hold for a few seconds. “In your immediate area, with cars registered to women, six.”

  “How about texting them to me? Names and addresses.”

  “Won’t be five minutes. You could check with Julie, but I know they already ruled out the last two on the list. Don’t know about the others.”

  I suffered through the rest of the traffic, which miraculously disappeared within a mile or two, and then I got on the freeway heading south. Herb’s text came in before I hit the first exit for The Woodlands. I glanced at the names, not recognizing any, and decided to check out the remaining four in order of proximity. The first was off Research Forest Boulevard.

  I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do when I got to these people or what I was hoping to find, but it was the last clue we had, and I didn’t like leaving stones unturned. After parking in the drive of a modest two-story colonial, I made sure my gun was ready and available. I rang the doorbell, keeping my right hand loose. Before long, a woman answered.

  “May I help you?” Her accent carried a deep Southern drawl.

  “I’m looking for…Martha Kirk,” I said, reading it from the list on the phone.

  “I’m Martha. What can I do for you, young man?”

  I’d struck out. This woman was old. Not a kidnapper. I apologized for bothering her and moved on to the next address. I struck out again. The next woman was large. Very large. She definitely did not fit the “very nice ass” description Mars had told me about. Once again, I packed up and headed to the next house.

  It took me almost fifteen minutes to get to the address. I parked in the street and walked up the drive. Damn nice house is what it was—a sprawling ranch with brick and stone exterior, landscaping to win contests, and etched glass in the front door. I stepped onto the front porch and rang the bell. The woman who answered had long dark hair, the kind I liked. She wore glasses, the kind that made a woman look sexy. As I admired her, I got a sick feeling in my gut. It almost made me throw up. Standing before me, smiling as if she had a right to, was the thong-panties girl.

  Thoughts ran through my head quickly. What is she doing here? Didn’t she say she lived in the Galleria area?

  I could buy one coincidence. I could buy two under unusual circumstances. This, I wasn’t buying. Not one bit. I thought I’d try to take her off guard. “Hello, Jennifer. May I come in?”

  “Detective Cataldi. You really are a detective to have found me. But my name isn’t Jennifer. It’s Marissa.”

  “Okay, Marissa, may I come in?”

  She stepped aside. “Please.”

  “Husband home?”

  She held out her hand, showing her empty ring finger. “I gave up that habit long ago.”

  A smile accompanied the statement. I thought it might have contained an invitation.

  “I thought Scott introduced you as Jennifer.”

  “Scott? Scott…Oh, that’s right, Winthrop. Yes, he probably did. I don’t give out my real name at clubs. That’s where we met, you know.”

  “So he said.”

  I stood in a marble entrance hall with huge brick arches leading down to a living room on one side and an enormous dining room on the other. The foyer was bigger than my family room. “Nice place.”

  “I find it comfortable. Would you care for a drink?”

  “Since I’m off duty, I’d love one. Whatever you’re having.”

  She walked to a bar that seated six. “I’ll make it a surprise,” she said and ducked behind the counter.

  “Fine by me, Number Two.”

  I had hoped to draw a reaction. She didn’t even turn around. “What did you say, Detective?”

  Bitch! “I said you’re good, Number Two.”

  She walked in, drinks in hand. “Number Two? I don’t quite understand.”

  I looked at her. Not a hint of a smirk. Damn good thing. I’d have thrown the cuffs on if she’d smirked. She was good, though. Better than good.

  “I’ve been working a kidnapping case, remember? The Winthrops. One of the kidnappers called themselves Number Two.”

  She led the way to the living room, where she sat in a large plush chair covered in cotton-white fabric. Her butt sank into the back of it. When she crossed her long legs her skirt rode up high. Way high. I tried not to look but, well, actually I tried looking without getting caught. It was impossible not to look.

  “How original,” she said. “This was the Winthrop case? Did you finish it?”

  “Almost.”

  “I probably sound callous. Did you bring his daughter home safe?”

  “Turns out it wasn’t his daughter, but we got the girl. The problem, is one of the kidnappers got away.”

  “How did he get away?”

  “Actually it’s a she. I’ll get her, though.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  I focused on her face. She wasn’t gorgeous, but she was attractive. And very sexy. Something about the combination of her eyes, her smile, and her body… I forced myself to look away. “I’ll have your DNA from the motel,” I said while looking out the window. I turned back quickly to judge her reaction.

  “My DNA? I see, you’re role-playing. Okay, I’ll go along. Which motel was it?”

  “Off the freeway at Ritchie Road.”

  “Let’s see, DNA at the motel. Hmm. Let me think.” She mimicked a deep Texas drawl. “Why, Detective, I must have stayed there before. You know they don’t clean those rooms often.”

  “If you did stay there, they’ll have records.”

  “Yes, they will. I was coming home from a club and had too much to drink. Rather than risk it, I pulled in and spent the night.”

  She took me by surprise with that one. Had she planned it that far in advance? I made a mental note to check on it but didn’t hold much hope.

  “We’ve got your voice on the tape when you okay’ed the extra hundred thousand.”

  “A voice on a tape? Not conclusive.”

  “We’ll get Harbough’s testimony.”

  “Well, I don’t know who this Harbough is, but it sounds like he’s a criminal. If he was involved in this, he must be a terrible man. If that’s the case, it won’t fly. A criminal cutting a deal to turn another one in?” She dropped her accent and laughed. “Come on, he’d incriminate his mother. If we’re going to play the game, crank it up a notch.”

  Obviously, I was getting nothing from this. I stood. “I guess you’ve got an answer for everything.”

  She sipped her drink, a smug look on her face. I’d had enough. “This is no goddamn game, lady. A girl was kidnapped.”

  She laughed. Not at me. Just a nice little laugh, like a friend would. “I had fun, Detective, but it looks as if you are losing control.” She got up and set her drink on the bar. She didn’t formally ask me to leave, but the way she said, “Come by anytime,” said as much.

  I didn’t budge. I stood there staring at her. “The way I figure it, Harbough was the link. Probably busted one of you when he was a cop. Soon enough, you took over, being the smart one.” She stayed by the bar, shifting her weight to the right leg.
She was listening, wanting to hear what I had to say, I guess.

  “The dead lady in the van must have been Harbough’s partner—Sue Masterson. I figure she was the one you called Driver. We’ll find out when the DNA comes in, but for now, that’s how I put it together.” I took a sip of my drink and wondered if I would keel over from poisoning. “You had me going for a while with that one. No one knew that the driver was a woman. Pretty clever, the whole thing with the masks and no one seeing each other. I have to take my hat off to you.”

  Number Two sipped her drink and smiled.

  “And the way you planted that spyware—bold. Damn bold. Go right into the guy’s house. Kind of cruel though, to play with someone’s emotions like that. It’s one thing to steal from a person, but that…” I shook my head. “You went a little too far, I think.”

  She continued to look at me but said nothing.

  “And the money. Another clever one. Some people would have been greedy and taken it all. But you were smart. You knew we’d be looking for it forever. So you burned some up, and not just a little. My partner said there was at least a few hundred grand. We’ll never know for sure, but you burned enough for a lazy detective to convince himself that the money was gone, burned up in the fire with all the perps.” I took another sip, never taking my eyes from her.

  “Refill, Detective?”

  “What I can’t figure out is why.”

  “Why?”

  “Yeah, why did you do it? You don’t need the money.”

  Her smile was quick. On and off in a flash. “I see you’re back at your game again. I’d like to help you, but I’m afraid I have no answers. Sometimes things don’t get wrapped up as nice and neat as we’d like them.”

  “You sure made an impression on Jada. She won’t even talk about you. Was that planned too?”

  More silence.

  “Either way, Jada said to say thanks for protecting her.”

  “I’m glad she came back safe.”

  “Why did you do it? Protect her but kill the others?”

  Number Two shifted her stance, sipped her drink. “Detective, I don’t know Jada, but if I had to guess, I would imagine that your Number Two person might have had something in her past that caused her to empathize with the girl.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. That would do it.”

  She walked over and pecked me on the cheek then walked to the door. The actions took me by surprise. Shocked is what I was. And now that she was walking away from me, I found myself staring at her ass again. I gulped the last of my drink, said goodbye, and left, the door closing behind me.

  As I walked down the sidewalk, the door opened again. I turned and looked back. She stood on the porch. “I had a thought, Detective. If this person really did get away with all the money, I’d imagine they would be done with crime.”

  “Probably so.” I wasn’t getting anything out of her unless we got a lot more evidence.

  As I started for my car, she called to me again. “I forgot to ask. Did you ever find your watch?”

  My fists clenched. Every muscle I had tensed. “What watch?”

  “That day I met you, you were saying something to Scott about losing a watch. It sounded expensive.”

  I relaxed, the memory coming back to me. “No. I never did,” I said, and went to the car.

  Epilogue

  I finished the day, got in my car, and headed for home. For two days I had been trying to figure out how to get Number Two. I convicted her ninety-nine times, but I got her off a hundred more. She was a free woman, and I didn’t see what I could do to change that. I even questioned myself, thinking maybe that Number Two was really lying in that warehouse, burned up like the rest of them. Maybe Number Two really did fall out of the van and knock herself unconscious. And maybe the fuel line really did break just then and catch the place on fire.

  And me finding Jennifer—Marissa, or whatever her name was—all a big coincidence. But somewhere in my mind, in a place I wanted to keep secret, I knew that Jennifer, the thong-panties girl, was Number Two. And I knew how the spyware had gotten onto Scott’s phone. It was no accident that she’d met Scott at the club. She’d planned everything down to the smallest detail.

  Everything about this case haunted me. I almost ran off the road three times, my mind jumping from that peck on the cheek from Marissa to that warm, grateful kiss on the lips by Lucia. The crazy thing was that both of them excited me. Maybe it was time to think about dating again. I’d have to ask Mary.

  I didn’t go straight home today; instead, I drove around, wasting time and keeping my mind from breaking. As the sun lost its luster, I finally headed home. I parked in the drive and walked up the sidewalk, surprised to see a FedEx package on my porch. I wasn’t expecting a delivery. I recognized the return address immediately; it was the same as the warehouse that burnt down.

  Shit!

  I took it inside, wondering if it was an ear or a finger of…God knew who. I opened it and scraped a few of the packaging peanuts from the top—and almost shit. There, lying in the box, surrounded by peanuts—was Mary’s watch. No note. Nothing else. Just her watch.

  For probably half a minute, all I did was stare. I picked up the watch, then I opened a bottle of wine and went to my bedroom. Tucked under the corner of the bed was a music box I had bought Mary in Sorrento. The top was outlined in ebony, with inlaid pink tulips. It had a rosewood border. I opened the lid and removed an envelope. Inside was a piece of paper folded into a small square. It was heavily creased. I took it to the kitchen then, very carefully, I unfolded it and lay it on the table to read.

  Dear Gino:

  I am dying. God has decided I am needed up there more than here. He must know you’ll be good for Ron. I know you will. We had a lot of time together, and every moment was a cherished one. It won’t be long until we are together again. That’s why I’m giving you this watch.

  My love forever,

  Mary

  I sipped the wine, wiped my eyes, and stared at the watch—a plain black face with only a second-hand showing. It had been lost and now it was found. I flipped it over, staring at the inscription.

  Each tick of the clock is one less second we are apart.

  I thanked God for letting me save Jada and for keeping her safe.

  I thanked Number Two for having the heart to send me this watch. Then I flipped the watch back over and stared at it.

  And I counted the seconds until I could be with Mary again.

  Thanks for taking the time to read the book. I hope you enjoyed it.

  Authors live and die on recommendations and reviews, so if you liked the book, please tell someone about it. And if you have a spare moment, I’d love for you to put a review wherever you can: Amazon, B&N, iBooks, Kobo, Goodreads, Linked-in, Twitter or Facebook.

  If you’re looking for more of Gino Cataldi, Old Wounds will be released next year. You can find more information about all my books on the website: http://giacomog.com.

  Thanks again for your time,

  Giacomo

  If you want to email me about this book, please use:

  gg@giacomog.com

  Acknowledgements

  The tough part of writing a book is not the writing, it’s all the stuff that comes after that. I’ll take credit for the writing. For the tough parts I am honor bound to thank the following:

  My great copy editor, Annette Lyon.

  A fantastic graphic designer, Maria Zannini of Book Cover Diva.

  Morgana Gallaway from The Editorial Department, for the amazing layout and formatting.

  And most importantly the beta readers who helped me get this book into shape: Missy, Aliza, Otto, Chris, Shari, Nick, Jeanne Haskin, Joe Michalcewicz, Carry Shepherd, Betty Knutson, and Elena Dillon. If I missed someone, please shoot me.

  It takes a lot of technical help to write a book like this. I owe a debt of gratitude to Tim Goodnow and Dave Dunn for their guidance on the clinical trials, and huge thanks to Joshua Gold
and Brian Giehl for the great information on the insurance angles. If anything is wrong it’s my fault, not theirs.

  I also want to give special thanks to my niece, Emiliana, for making me laugh on many nights when I needed a laugh, and to Braden and Bella for all the wonderful video chats.

  Lastly, to my wife, Mikki.

  Ti amo con tutto il mio cuore.

  About the Author

  I grew up in a large Italian family in the Northeast. No one had money, so for entertainment our family played board games and told stories. I loved the city—the noise, the people—but it was the family get togethers and the storytelling that stuck with me.

  I still love storytelling, but now I write the stories instead of telling them.

  My wife and I live in Texas, where we run an animal sanctuary with 45 loving “friends.” One of them is a crazy wild boar named Dennis, who is my best buddy.

  Sometimes I miss the early days, but not much. Now I enjoy the solitude and the noise of the animals.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: High Stakes

  Chapter 2: Hard Times

  Chapter 3: The Prom

  Chapter 4: The Real World

  Chapter 5: Desperate Times

  Chapter 6: Easy Pickings

  Chapter 7: New Case File

  Chapter 8: The Sun Shines In Texas

  Chapter 9: A New Line of Work

  Chapter 10: A Wonderful Life

  Chapter 11: Dreams of The Rich

  Chapter 12: Gino Gets A Partner

  Chapter 13: New Plans

  Chapter 14: Where’s the Connection

  Chapter 15: The Grab

  Chapter 16: Early-Morning Call

  Chapter 17: A New Assignment

  Chapter 18: Countdown Begins

  Chapter 19: What Do the Neighbors Know

  Chapter 20: Logic

  Chapter 21: Searching For A Victim