Craving Vengeance

by Valerie J. Clarizio

  “I think I may have found something here,” Marsh interrupted as he pointed to some paperwork lying on his desk.

  Spinelli leaned over his shoulder to get a better look. “What is it?”

  “I had the IT Department print out Chad Williams’ Internet records for the past week and there isn’t much activity except for him logging onto the Wisconsin Department of Safety and Professional Services website. But on a couple of occasions he logged onto backpage dot com.”

  “So?”

  “Well, the IT Department has a program that can track keystrokes, and they found this,” he said as he pointed to a line in the middle of the text-filled page. “Judging from this, it looks like he logged into his hotmail account and answered a backpage ad for a male entertainer.” Marsh slid his finger down to the next line of text. “It seems he planned to meet someone going by the name of Lady Lily. He agreed to meet her at the Morgan Bank building at 5:00 a.m. today.”

  Marsh paused and looked up at Spinelli and Walker. “The flower of death.”

  “Doesn’t the orchid symbolize death?” Walker asked.

  “No, I’m pretty sure it’s the lily. I think I read that somewhere once.”

  The two debated the issue for a moment before Spinelli cut in, “For crissake, shut up about the damn flowers already.” His gaze locked in on Marsh. “Have you found anything like this on Rosso’s or Carter’s computers?”

  Marsh shook his head. “Not really, but just think about Rosso. According to his financial records, apartment, and the personal belongings we saw, he’s living way beyond the means of a bartender. Maybe this guy was a male entertainer on the side, you know, maybe he’s got himself a couple of rich, old, sugar mommas.”

  They stood in silence for a moment. Spinelli suspected Walker and Marsh were of like mind. It seemed to fit.

  “And just look at Mike Carter’s bank statement. The guy lost his job over six months ago and has been living with his sister since he ran out of cash. Then suddenly, bam, a $2,000 deposit was made into his bank account about a week ago. Maybe it was a payment for services rendered.”

  Walker shook his head. “I hear what you’re saying, but this all seems just a bit far-fetched. How in the hell would someone be able to specifically contact four of Shannon’s ex-boyfriends through a general ad on backpage? I mean, really, a shit-load of guys could have answered that ad. How would the killer even possibly begin to devise a way to reach these four specific guys? I’ve never been on backpage a day in my life. How would anyone know these guys would be?”

  “I didn’t get that far yet. I’m just saying we’ve got proof one of the vics answered an ad for a male entertainer, one of the vics was living a lifestyle above and beyond what his job could support, and one of the vics was unemployed and received an unaccounted for lump sum payment into his bank account,” Marsh recapped.

  “What about Meyers? He just got back into the country today,” Walker commented.

  “What, the Internet doesn’t reach Nicaragua?” Marsh asked sarcastically.

  Spinelli sighed. There were times he just wanted to smack the shit out of Marsh, and this was one of those times. He sucked in a deep breath to calm his temper. He thought for a moment. He massaged his pounding temples. On top of everything else, now he had a headache. “How could they possibly be connected?”

  Walker and Marsh’s eyes shifted to Shannon who sat silent, listening to their entire exchange.

  Spinelli cocked his head to the side. “Other than the obvious. Maybe we need to talk to Sonny Tomes again. See if Carter and Williams frequented his bar.”

  Spinelli dialed Tomes’ cell number. He answered on the third ring. Music blared in the background.

  “Mr. Tomes?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Detective Spinelli. I take it you’re at the bar?”

  “Yep. Couldn’t find anyone to fill in tonight for Tony.”

  “I see. So you’re going to be there for a while?”

  “Yep.”

  “We need to ask you a couple more questions. We’ll be there shortly.”

  “Do what you gotta do. I’ll be here.”

  Spinelli and Walker loaded into their unmarked. Shannon rode along as well. Spinelli wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. Spinelli caught a glimpse of Shannon in the backseat. He’d debated sitting back there with her when they climbed into the car. Part of him wanted to hold her, comfort her. She looked confused and exhausted. He could tell by her silence that the day’s events had taken their toll on her; she was rarely ever quiet. But another part of him was still angry with her, and this kept him at a distance. He still wanted an explanation as to why she’d kissed Meyers the way he’d seen her kissing him; all lips, teeth, and tongue. A friendly peck on the cheek he could have understood.

  Walker parked on the street in front of Sonny’s bar. All the bars and restaurants up and down the street looked busy. Full of patrons enjoying their Valentine’s Day, Spinelli suspected.

  They entered the establishment. It was busy. A wiry young man tended bar along with Sonny. He was tattooed and pierced. Looks wise, he couldn’t be more opposite of Tony Rosso.

  Sonny waved them over to the far end of the long worn wooden bar. There were fewer patrons at that end.

  Spinelli pulled a photo of Mike Carter from the manila folder he carried and handed it to Sonny. “Do you know this guy?”

  Sonny nodded. “Yep, he comes in pretty regularly. Never stays very long though.”

  “Did he and Tony know each other?”

  “Yeah. He’s been in while Tony was working. I don’t know that they were buddies or anything, but I would imagine Tony talked to him like any other customer.”

  Spinelli set that photo down, grabbed one of Chad Williams, and handed it to Sonny. “Do you know this guy?”

  Sonny nodded. “Yep. He comes in for lunch a couple times a week.”

  “I take it Tony knew him as well.”

  “Yeah. Hang on a second,” Sonny added as he took a few steps toward the middle of the bar and tapped a beer for a young woman who’d set her empty mug up on the counter.

  Spinelli glanced about the bar. An older woman sat to his left. One empty barstool separated them. She looked like a typical barfly. He figured her to be in her early sixties. Her dark copper hair was accented with a streak of blue in the bangs. Her makeup was painted on thick. She wore a tight red sweater and leaned forward with her boobs propped up on the bar. Maybe at her age, and considering the size of them, she didn’t have the strength to hold them up on her own for too long a period of time.

  She turned her head, checked out Spinelli, smiled, and leaned toward him. “I couldn’t help but notice your photos. I’ve seen them both in here. They worked for Tony, you know.” Her harsh, smoker’s voice did not match her fine facial features.

  “Excuse me?”

  She lifted her glass, took a sip of her drink, and set the glass back on the cardboard coaster. Bright red lipstick coated the rim of her glass. Her gaze never left him. Her strong rose scented perfume caused his nose to itch. He fought the building sneeze.

  “I’m pretty sure they worked for Tony. Don’t get me wrong. Tony was a good person, and I really liked him.” She paused and sucked in a breath. Her eyes watered. “I warned him that his lifestyle would catch up with him someday. I’m sure he pissed off a lot of husbands and boyfriends through the years.” She shook her head and took another sip of her drink.

  “What exactly did Tony do for a living, Ms...”

  “Barnard. I’m Judy Barnard,” she filled in as she extended her hand.

  He shook her hand. Her long slim fingers were cold. Her wiry bracelets clinked together, and he couldn’t help but notice the large sparkling rings on her fingers. Some stones were clear, some were green. He wondered if the jewels were real.

  “So Ms. Barnard, what did Tony do for a living besides bartend?”

  She shifted her gaze about the bar before returning it to him. She paused briefl
y and leaned closer to him. “He ran a male escort service.” Even her whisper was raspy.

  “Why did he work here then?”

  She looked surprised by his question. “This bar is in the professional district. I would imagine he picked up some clients here. You know, when they stopped in for lunch or after work for happy hour.”

  He kept his gaze on her. Her voice seemed to soften. A hint of sadness passed through her dark eyes. Was she speaking from experience? He wondered how well she knew Tony.

  “Were there any others?” Spinelli asked.

  Judy frowned. “Others?”

  He wondered if there were any more dead cupids they hadn’t discovered yet or if there were more at risk on this fine Valentine’s Day. “Do you know of any other escorts working for Tony?”

  She thought for a moment. “I can’t say for sure, but I’d guess there were a few more.”

  “How do you know?”

  She glanced down at her hand and eyed her rings. “Tony likes fine things and somehow seemed to be able to afford them. The more staff you have, the more money you make. Plus, I’d see well- kept, handsome men come in and out of here. Sometimes they’d just come in to talk with Tony for a moment, and they’d leave without getting anything to eat or drink.” She paused, looked down, and twisted her bracelets around her wrist. “And sometimes I’d see them pass an envelope between one another.”

  “What was in the envelope?” Spinelli asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Cash, I suppose.”

  Spinelli nodded in agreement. “Do you know the names of the others who came in to see Tony, or where I can find them?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s important. Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure. Sorry.”

  He believed her. He also believed she mourned Tony’s death more than she let on, and he understood.

  Sonny made his way back to their end of the bar. “Sorry, it’s kind of busy in here tonight.”

  “No problem,” Spinelli cut to the chase, “any chance you know anything about the escort business Tony was running?”

  Sonny shot Judy a sideways glance then he looked back at Spinelli. “I’d heard rumors.”

  “So you don’t know for sure?”

  Sonny shook his head. “Not my business. I hired him to tend bar, and, as far as I’m concerned, as long as he did that well, we had no problem. If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll get back to waiting on my customers.”

  Spinelli was confident Sonny knew something about Tony’s extracurricular activities but probably not much. He seemed like the kind of guy that would just look the other way as long as it didn’t affect him, and evidently from Sonny’s abrupt end to their conversation, he was done talking about it.

  Spinelli, Walker, and Shannon climbed back into the unmarked. Spinelli and Walker debated what to do next. Perhaps if they talked with Mike Carter’s sister again she could shed some more light on what he’d been doing with his time lately. At least they could now link the first three cupids together, but there was still no link between them and Joshua Meyers.

  Walker signaled and pulled into traffic. Spinelli glanced down at his watch; it was nearly 10:00 p.m. He’d call Cindy Carter first thing in the morning.

  Shannon sat silent in the backseat. She’d hardly spoken a word since they’d left the precinct.

  This wasn’t at all the Valentine’s Day Spinelli had planned. He thought about the ring in his pocket. He thought about Shannon kissing Dr. Joshua. His chest hollowed as he recalled the sight of her soft sweet lips touching those of another man. He squeezed his eyes shut hoping to extinguish the unbearable image in his mind. Her lips were meant for him, and only him, as his were for her. He believed her when she said she told Joshua she was seeing someone else, yet his heart still ached at the thought she’d been engaged before. Why did it bother him so much? After all, he had a life before he met her as well.

  Spinelli’s cell phone buzzed, knocking him out of his trance. He pulled it from its holder on his hip. Marsh’s face flashed across the screen. “Spinelli here.”

  “Yeah, Spinelli, I think I found a connection between Carter and Rosso,” Marsh said in a proud tone.

  “We got lucky on this end as well. Both Sonny Tomes and one of his regulars have seen Carter and Williams at the bar talking with Rosso at one time or another.”

  “Oh,” Marsh responded with a tinge of disappointment in his tone.

  Spinelli figured Marsh was hoping he’d be the hero.

  “We’re only a couple of minutes out. We’ll talk when we get back.”

  “Okay.”

  Walker glanced over his shoulder. “You’re kind of quiet, Shannon, you doing okay?”

  Spinelli turned his head slightly and caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. She looked pale, sad, and exhausted. He knew he was being a dick and should have been the one to ask her if she was okay, but he just couldn’t seem to bring himself to do so. He caught a sideways glance from Walker, confirming his dick status.

  Shannon sighed. Her shoulders slumped. “I’m fine. It’s all just a bit overwhelming.”

  “Yeah. Try not to worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Walker assured, beating Spinelli to it again.

  Big fluffy snowflakes fell from the sky as Walker parked the unmarked. The second Spinelli slid out of the car, the crisp, cold, raw wind picked up and slapped him in the face, sending the falling snowflakes sideways and into his eyes. A small set of hands wrapped around his bicep. He didn’t need to be able to see to know whose they were. An electrical sensation shot through his arm and then whipped through the rest of his body, instantly warming him in the blustery wind and twenty-degree temperature.

  He looked down, catching a glimpse of Shannon’s tall red boots, sexy as all get out, but not really made for walking on ice. He slowed his pace to help steady her. He wished he could erase this day and start over. He imagined she wished the same.

  Marsh looked up from his table full of laptops when they pushed through the door of the precinct.

  “What did you find?” Spinelli asked as he shrugged out of his coat and flung it on the back of his chair.

  Marsh pointed at some papers on the table. “Lisa in the IT Department actually found it. After she ran the keystroke program on Chad Williams’ computer, she decided to add some sort of filter or query to look for repeat words. Evidently, the word ‘angelfish’ kept showing up. She traced the word to several email files addressed to ‘Angelfish.’ Now, the emails are pretty vague, almost as if the people were typing in code or something, but every email seems to reference dates and times. So then I checked Carter’s laptop for similar emails, and voila, he had some email correspondence with this ‘Angelfish’ as well. And in the last email between the two, ‘Angelfish’ told Carter to dress as cupid for his meeting.” Marsh sighed. “Oddly, Rosso’s laptop shows no emails to or from ‘Angelfish,’ but maybe he has another computer or device we didn’t find.”

  Marsh paused and looked at Spinelli as if he should know exactly about what he was talking.

  “How exactly then are you tying Rosso into these emails?” Spinelli asked.

  Marsh rolled his eyes. “For crissake. Don’t you get it? He’s ‘Angelfish.’ It’s so evident.”

  “Enlighten us.”

  “Remember the fish from Rosso’s apartment?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Those were Resplendent Angelfish,” Marsh stated with confidence.

  “Okay?”

  Marsh sucked in a breath of annoyance. “Resplendent Angelfish are hardy fish that adapt well to aquarium life; however, they’re semi-aggressive and tend to form groups comprised of one male and several females. Who else would be ‘Angelfish’ other than Rosso?”

  Walker nodded. “It all seems to make sense, between this and what we found out at Sonny’s.”

  Spinelli filled Marsh in on the conversation they had with Sonny and Judy. “But we still have a few m
issing links. How does Meyers tie in? Who contracted with Rosso’s service to kill four cupids? Furthermore, only cupids Shannon once dated.” Spinelli’s gaze shifted to the wings, bow, and quiver full of arrows on his desk. “And who in the hell had enough control of the situation to get me to dress as cupid as well?”

  “Don’t forget about Lady Lily.” Marsh added.

  “Who?” Spinelli questioned.

  “Lady Lily. The person Williams emailed and agreed to meet with at the Morgan Bank building this morning.”

  Walker nodded. “Oh yes, the flower of death person.” His comment evidently conceded that his earlier recollection of the orchid being the flower of death was incorrect.

  “Actually, as it turns out, not only are lilies the flowers of death, but they are also known well for their use in aquariums,” Marsh added.

  “And how is that pertinent?” Spinelli cut in, wanting to kick himself the second the question came out of his mouth because he knew, rather than just cutting to the chase, Marsh would probably embark on some sort of long drawn-out useless explanation as usual.

  “Well, you see, the lily’s broad leaves produce shaded areas in the aquarium which encourage shy or reclusive fish species to actively forage in open view. But the problem with planting lilies in aquariums is that if they are left unattended, their leaves will grow large and block all the light from the understory and kill those plants. One of the most common lilies offered for aquarium use is the dwarf lily. Go figure. Dwarf.”

  They all just stared at Marsh.

  The silence encouraged him to continue. “You know, dwarf lily and dwarf angelfish. And think about it. She sucks the men out into the open, then wham, kills off everything in her path.”

  “But who is Lady Lily?” Spinelli asked, unable to hide the frustration from his tone.

  Marsh leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t get that far yet. I’m just...just showing the connection.”

  Spinelli inhaled deeply and slowly then emptied his lungs. “Okay, thank you for that, Marsh, there’s two minutes of my life I can’t have back.” Spinelli shifted his gaze to Shannon. “When was the last time Meyers was in the states?”