Bad Thoughts bs-1

by Dave Zeltserman

  Brady sat staring at his officer, his small eyes bland, his expression incredulous.

  “Trust me on this, Martin-”

  “Find me some evidence,” Brady stated softly, impatience edging into his voice.

  Shannon stood up, took the map from Brady’s desk, and then shrugged and moved towards the door.

  “By the way,” Brady called out, “she had a hundred thousand dollar life insurance policy.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Shannon answered without turning back. “It’s a company benefit. Her husband wasn’t involved with it.”

  “It’s still motivation. Find out if he’s having financial problems, or better yet, a girlfriend. Do your homework. Then talk door-to-door search to me.”

  Back at DiGrazia’s desk, Shannon was asked if he was ready to visit some freaks.

  *****

  John Roper was soft-looking, round, and mostly bald with a few wisps of blond hair scattered on his head. He had a pockmarked complexion, and a thin, affable smile. Nine years earlier he had drugged a young woman in a bar in Providence, got her to his car, and then held her captive for four days in the basement of a condemned building. During those four days he sexually assaulted her and terrorized her with a straight-edge razor. One night while sleeping he left the razor edge down against her throat. Somehow, even though both her hands and feet were bound, she was able to free herself with it. John Roper was arrested and later sentenced to a minimum of twenty years. In August, the State of Rhode Island paroled him and he relocated to Revere, Massachusetts.

  He was the third sex offender Shannon and DiGrazia had tried to visit. The first one, a twenty-four-year-old who had raped a couple of teenage girls while a juvenile, was living with his mother in Arlington. The mother insisted her son was with her the previous night, got belligerent, and threw the officers out. They talked with a few of her neighbors, none of whom could confirm the mother’s story. The general feeling they got from their talks was the son wouldn’t have had the initiative to get to Somerville by himself.

  The next person on their list turned out to be in police lockup in Boston, arrested two weeks earlier on a narcotics charge. Now they were with Roper at the auto garage where he worked, and Roper seemed nervous about it, rubbing his hands against his overalls and forcing an overly affable smile. He asked whether they could question him someplace else.

  “What’s wrong with right here?” Shannon asked. “Your boss must know you’re an ex-convict?”

  DiGrazia said, “He probably does, but I bet he doesn’t know what you were in for, does he, John? If he’s got a wife or daughter he might feel differently about having you around his garage.”

  “Come on, guys, there’s a doughnut shop across the street. I’ll buy you a couple-”

  “Are you trying to be funny?”

  “No-”

  “I think he was trying to be funny,” Shannon said.

  “Come on,” Roper pleaded, “I’m trying to start a new life here. I’ve been paroled-”

  “By Rhode Island,” Shannon observed. “I don’t think Massachusetts had any say in it.”

  “I bet you’re right,” DiGrazia agreed. “So, John, why’d you pick our state to settle in?”

  “My sister lives here. I’m staying with her-”

  An older man with large, grease-stained hands and a cigar stub stuck in his mouth had walked over to them. He asked whether anything was wrong.

  “We need to ask your employee some questions,” Shannon said.

  “What about?”

  “About a crime that was committed last night.”

  “What type of crime?”

  “A woman was abducted.”

  “And you think John’s involved?”

  “From his criminal record we need to talk to him.”

  Alarm showed in the older man’s eyes. He looked quickly at Roper and then away from him, settling on a spot near his feet. “I had no idea,” he murmured to no one in particular, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “I better leave you officers alone,” he croaked as he moved away.

  Roper’s smile disappeared. His skin had turned a blotchy white, his eyes becoming nothing more than small, gray holes. He trembled slightly as he watched the older man walk way. “I’m going to lose my job,” he moaned. “Fucking Jesus Christ, I’m going to lose my job because of you assholes.”

  “Shut up,” DiGrazia stepped forward and pushed a thick finger into Roper’s chest.

  “One of my conditions for parole is being employed,” Roper said, his tone not quite human, “another is chemical castration. I get shots every week. I got nothing down there anymore. What the fuck would I want with a woman, you assholes?”

  “Nice mouth on this guy,” DiGrazia said.

  “A real sweetheart,” Shannon agreed.

  “Maybe we should take him back to the station. If nothing else we can teach him some manners,” DiGrazia said, moving closer to Roper.

  Roper took a step back. “You don’t have to take me anywhere-”

  “Shut up,” DiGrazia said.

  “Are you going to be civil to us?” Shannon asked.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Roper said. “I told you, with the shots I’m getting I don’t have any use for a woman.”

  “We’ll check that,” DiGrazia said. “But even if you can’t get it up anymore there’s still the violence part of it. You’re a violent man after all, John.”

  “You still like to cut them, don’t you, John?” Shannon asked.

  “No, it’s not like that-”

  “I read the report on that woman in Providence. You cut her over sixty times. It’s a wonder she didn’t bleed to death.”

  “Those cuts were superficial. I didn’t really hurt her that bad. And it’s not like that anymore, not with the treatment I’ve had and the shots I’m getting-”

  “You don’t have to explain, John. We understand. You like to cut women. The one you took last night, where is she now? Where’d you leave her?”

  “I didn’t do anything. I tell you, with the shots-”

  “We’re sick of hearing that crap,” DiGrazia said. “Where is she?”

  Roper closed his mouth. Something shut down within his small, gray eyes. “I’m not talking to you anymore,” he said. “I want a lawyer.”

  “Your choice, John,” DiGrazia said. He had Roper put his hands behind his back and then he cuffed him. DiGrazia and Shannon then led him out of the garage to their patrol car.

  Back at the station, DiGrazia read Roper his rights and had him initial different paragraphs of it and sign at the bottom.

  “We’ll get you your lawyer now,” DiGrazia said. “Then I’m going to get a search warrant for your room at your sister’s. I’ll find something that will break your parole.”

  Shannon said, “A couple of grams of coke in his sock drawer would do it.”

  “That’s usually a good place to find it,” DiGrazia said. “Then we’ll send you back to Rhode Island. I’m sure your friends in lockup will be glad to see you again, especially now you’ve been turned into a fat, little eunuch.”

  “Should be loads of fun for them,” Shannon agreed. “They’ll have a ball.”

  Roper started to cry. “I didn’t do anything.”

  Shannon said, “You don’t have to talk to us. You’ve already asked for a lawyer.”

  “I swear to you I didn’t do anything.”

  “Are you telling us you’ve changed your mind about wanting a lawyer?” Shannon asked. “You willing to talk to us, see if you can clear this up?”

  “Sure,” Roper said. He was still sobbing. He rubbed both his palms against his eyes. “We can clear this up ’cause I didn’t do anything.”

  “A woman was abducted last night. It looks a lot like what you did in Providence.”

  Roper took both palms away from his eyes and looked at Shannon. His small eyes had a pinkish look to them, like rat’s eyes. “I was home all last night,” he said, sniffling.

  “Home-you m
ean your sister’s house?”

  He nodded. “They have a small in-law apartment in the basement they’re letting me use. I was tired yesterday. After work I went home with a bottle of vodka and a quart of orange juice.”

  “What time did you get off work?”

  “Five. Kelley, the owner of the garage, can back me up on that. I bought the vodka and juice a block away from my sister’s house and was home by quarter past.”

  “Your sister see you?”

  “I don’t think so. I have a separate entrance.”

  “She doesn’t check up on you?”

  Roper shook his head. “She might’ve heard me. I turned on my stereo when I got home.”

  “That’s it?” Shannon asked. “You didn’t talk to anyone or see anyone last night?”

  Roper looked away from Shannon. “I don’t have any friends here,” he said. “And there’s really no point to me trying to date.”

  DiGrazia moved his chair close to Roper’s, and then leaned forward until his face was inches from the ex-convict’s. At first Roper tried to ignore him, then he tried to push his own chair back. DiGrazia stopped him.

  “You fucking with us?” he asked.

  “No, I’m not fucking with you-”

  “I think you are,” he said. “I like you for this one, John. If you took this woman, I’m going to find out. Trust me, I will. And if you did, and if you’ve been sitting here lying to us, when we get you I’m going to make sure you don’t go back to Rhode Island. I’ll pull whatever strings I have to get you into the Federal system and into Danamora. It’s a nasty place, John. A fat eunuch like you won’t last a month there.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “If you’ve been lying, right now is the last fucking chance you’ll get to come clean. Have you been lying to us?”

  Roper just shook his head. He bit down on his bottom lip, his small, pinkish-gray eyes bleary with tears.

  “What time did you get to work this morning?” Shannon asked.

  Roper hesitated. Shannon said, “If you’ve been telling the truth so far, don’t start lying now. Your boss will be able to answer this one for us.”

  “I came in after ten,” Roper said. “I was hung over from the vodka.”

  “Okay,” Shannon stood up. “We’re going to go talk with your sister now.”

  “Am I free to go?”

  “No. If you want a lawyer we’ll arrest you and process you on a kidnapping charge. Maybe you’ll be able to get bail afterwards. If you’re willing to sit until we talk to your sister, we’ll let you go if she backs up your story. You want a lawyer?”

  Roper shook his head.

  As the two cops got to the door, Roper spoke to Shannon. “You two put me through a lot for no reason,” he said.

  Shannon considered the ex-convict. “I’m not sure I agree with that. We questioned you, John, that’s all. It’s not like we held you hostage for four days, sexually assaulting you and cutting you with a straight-edge. Any scars came from you, not us.”

  Shannon closed the door on him. DiGrazia was waiting in the hallway. He gave his partner a hard look. “I think that sack of shit is lying to us,” he said.

  A weary sigh broke loose from Shannon. “Maybe. Let’s go talk to his sister.”

  Chapter 3

  John Roper’s sister was married and had a triple-decker house a couple of blocks from Revere Beach. When Shannon knocked on her door, a large, barrel-chested man wearing a tee shirt and a pair of dirty khakis answered. He squinted at Shannon’s badge and when Shannon told him what he was there for, the man’s face turned a deep red.

  “God damn it,” he swore, “we never should have let him move in here.” He turned away from the officers and bellowed, “Wendy, your pervert brother’s been at it again!”

  A large woman with a strong physical resemblance to John Roper came to the door and the barrel-chested man left. She stood silently, her eyes darting suspiciously at the two officers.

  “Are you Wendy Soretti?” Shannon asked.

  “What of it?” the woman answered, her lips barely moving. Shannon couldn’t help noticing her skin color was way too pale. The stark whiteness of her skin made the black moles along her face grotesque.

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions about your brother.”

  She said something that Shannon couldn’t quite pick up and he asked her if she could repeat it. She said she wanted to see his badge, her lips again not visibly moving. Shannon showed her his badge. DiGrazia asked her if she ever worked as a ventriloquist. In response, she glared at him.

  “We’re hoping you could tell us where your brother was last night,” Shannon said, pulling her glare away from DiGrazia. “According to John, he worked late last night and came home around eight. Then you, him, and your husband went out together for Chinese food and didn’t get home until eleven. Is that true?”

  She stared bug-eyed at Shannon for a long moment and then told him that’s exactly what happened.

  “Your brother was having a tough time remembering the name of the place you went to. Could you help us with that?”

  “May Ting’s on Route One in Saugus.”

  “You’re lying,” DiGrazia said.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Your brother didn’t tell us he went with you for Chinese food,” Shannon said.

  Wendy Soretti blinked at them stupidly.

  “Anyway, you answered whether there’s any point trying to talk to you,” Shannon continued. “There’s no point, is there? And you don’t know where your brother was last night.”

  “I do, too.”

  Shannon gave DiGrazia a questioning look. DiGrazia said, “She don’t know shit.”

  “He was wherever he said he was,” she said in a low whisper.

  “And where was that?” Shannon asked.

  She blinked a few more times before repeating, “Wherever he said he was.”

  “You’re not helping your brother any,” DiGrazia said.

  “It would help him if you’d let us look in his apartment,” Shannon suggested.

  She stared blankly at both officers. “Not without a warrant,” she said after a long moment.

  “That’s not going to help John.”

  She shook her head stubbornly. “You’re not coming in without a warrant.”

  “I’ll get one then,” Shannon said. “My partner will be outside the apartment entrance with a flashlight. If he sees you or anyone else tampering with anything inside he’ll break down the door and arrest you for tampering with evidence. By the way, do you have any children?”

  “I don’t have to answer that,” she said, her voice tinny, barely audible.

  “I thought I heard a girl’s voice from inside.”

  “That’s my daughter-”

  “How can you have him live here when you’ve got children?”

  Her eyes shrunk as she stared at Shannon. “He’s family,” she said stubbornly. “And it’s none of your business.” Then she closed the door on him.

  DiGrazia let out a low whistle. “What a piece of work. Were you serious about having me hang around here while you get a warrant? It’s cold as hell, partner.”

  “You’re going to have to,” Shannon said. “She’ll clean out the place if you don’t. I’ll bring you back some coffee and a couple of doughnuts.”

  “Son of a bitch,” DiGrazia swore. “I’m going to freeze my ass out here.” He walked over to the in-law apartment entrance and peered in. “Get me some chocolate glazed.”

  *****

  Judge Harold Coen was explained the urgency of the matter, and although he grumbled about the thinness of the evidence, he issued a search warrant for John Roper’s apartment. When Shannon returned to the triple-decker, Joe DiGrazia was breathing into his cupped hands. He gave Shannon a long, pained look, and Shannon handed him a cup of coffee and a bag of chocolate glazed doughnuts.

  “Anything happen?”

  DiGrazia took a sip of the coffee. “She snuck do
wn at one point, but when I flashed the light at her, she scurried back upstairs.”

  “They’re still home then?”

  “Yeah, no movement.”

  Shannon walked up to the main entrance and rung the bell. There was no answer. After waiting, he knocked on the door and yelled out that he had a warrant.

  “Hell with it, we’ve got a warrant, right?” DiGrazia asked without waiting for an answer. He broke the glass pane on the basement door and unlocked it from the inside.

  Roper’s apartment was nothing more than a room with a bed, a worn-out sofa, a TV, a cheap stereo, and a table. In the corner was a small galley kitchen and next to that, a bathroom. A staircase led to the upstairs level. Dirty clothes and tissues littered the floor. Dishes were stacked up in the sink, a layer of grease covered the kitchen countertop. The apartment smelled faintly of urine. Shannon found a vodka bottle lying next to the bed. It was two thirds empty and rotgut quality.

  The door to the upstairs level opened. Wendy Soretti bounced down the stairs wearing a large, ratty bathrobe. Her husband peered down the staircase after her, but stayed where he was.

  “You broke into my house,” she accused, her voice harsh but barely above a whisper.

  “We have a search warrant,” Shannon said. He handed her a document. “You failed to open the door for us.”

  She glared at the paper and then at Shannon. “I didn’t hear you. Look at my door-you’re destroying my property. I’m calling the police.”

  “Feel free to do what you want,” DiGrazia said. “Just don’t interfere with our police work.”

  The husband’s face disappeared from the top of the staircase. Wendy Soretti walked over to the phone, picked it up, and then put it back down. She glared at both officers. “I’m going to watch you,” she said. She took a small notebook and pen from her bathrobe pocket.

  “Do whatever you want,” DiGrazia grunted as he pushed the mattress off the bed.

  Shannon had found a collection of porn magazines and metro bus schedules buried within a pile of newspapers. He called DiGrazia over and showed him what he found. Wendy Soretti peered angrily at them and jotted something down in her notebook.