Kindred Killers: A Stanford Carter Murder Mystery

by Gary Starta

  Building a case against Johnny Cinelli would prove most difficult. Johnny had conveniently signed himself in at the morgue during the time of the assault, explaining in a statement to his police that he knew nothing about the two slain men, and that if he were connected to organized crime, he would certainly give no orders to make a hit in broad daylight. Cinelli all but smiled during the brief interview, hinting that a ‘family’ would never have taken out Sid Auerbach in that fashion. And that he absolutely had no idea who Jay Fishburne (the ‘peon PI’ in his words) was.

  Benefiting from Jill’s processing work at Esteban Cruz’ home, prints left at the scene had already been matched to the two still unidentified shooters: It proved their involvement in Esteban Cruz’ death. Yet, no matches came up for them in any prior crimes in any police database, making them innocent John Does in the eyes of a court. Additionally, lab results have also proven the men were not of Cinelli’s blood thanks to a DNA sample taken from Donnie Cinelli. Yes, Johnny Cinelli had built a formidable fortress around him. He couldn’t link the two goons to Cinelli although every fiber of his being told him they were his henchmen. But possibly one of the male voices on the confession tape did belong to the don himself. If Carter could record Johnny’s voice at a later date, possibly in a sting operation, he might finally be able to arrest him as an accessory in three murders. It was that hope, Carter harbored, which might buy additional time for Jay and Lucy—to keep them safe in another state with altered identities.

  Carter forced his mind chatter to cease as he entered Jill’s room. It was quite easy for the detective to indulge in the comfort of her eyes. They offered him a pool of unending hope, telling him life was worth living day after day.

  He took a seat and engaged her hand all in one motion. Words were unnecessary for the first few moments.

  Finally, Jill broke the silence with a giggle. It was infectious, nearly inappropriate for the situation, considering what they’d been through, yet it made Carter flash a full toothed grin in response.

  “What’s so funny, my love?” he asked.

  “You were supposed to save me, remember? But I ended up saving you. So what’s up with your moment of clarity?”

  “I don’t know, to tell the truth. But I do know you’ll be getting a commendation for your bravery.”

  Jill’s smile faded and a tint of gloom washed over her.

  “Uh, huh. What am I supposed to do with that? It’s not going to stop the transfer, is it?”

  “No. You’re right. My decision to give you a commendation has nothing to do with your transfer.”

  “See,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, “I told you so.”

  “But my appointment as acting captain will.”

  Jill’s eyes wavered back and forth, searching Carter’s face for a clue.

  “I’ve had Captain Eldridge removed. He had kept Sid Auerbach’s psychiatric problems from reaching the light of day. IA officials removed him from his office this morning. Supervisor Hurley told me as acting captain I have the privilege of considering the ‘no marriage rule’ on a case by case basis; he also told me, I might waive the rule, even for myself, as long as I hold captain’s status. He said this favoritism to captains must be some bureaucratic oversight . . . ”

  Jill, still holding Carter’s hand, shook it forcefully. “So, Stanford, what do you do? Did you take the position—or what?”

  Carter scratched his chin. “I told Hurley I didn’t know about taking on the added responsibility, that the unit might suffer . . . that . . . ”

  Jill released her hand and gave Carter a soft jab in the ribs.

  “But then, I came around. I accepted the position and as right now your transfer request has been cancelled. You can stay a member of forensics—and become my wife as well.”

  “You enjoyed that,” Jill said, nearly cursing underneath her breath. “Keeping me on edge like that.”

  “Well don’t thank me yet, Jill. You will have a mound of paperwork to come back to.”

  “Do you think I’d mind that? As long as I’m coming back to the bureau, I’ll have no problems crossing I’s and dotting T’s.”

  Carter retained a smile while his eyes dropped from Jill’s.

  “Ah, hah. I should have known. You’re tied up in guilt over this, aren’t you?”

  “No. It’s not that . . . ”

  “Yeah right. Well I’ve got a theory, actually a couple of theories, which might absolve you of your guilt. First of all, consider your moment of clarity. You initially felt it was about saving me—in the physical sense. But what if it was about saving me as a person, my soul? Consider that the moment was instructing you to marry me, to make sure I stayed in your life, not as a colleague, but as your lover. I mean—you were being tested—you could have called off the wedding, thereby saving my job and keeping me under your watchful—saving—eyes in the process.” She exhaled, a faint smile followed. “Yet, you passed that test. Above all, above duty, you made a choice to honor our love.”

  “A selfish choice,” Carter said.

  “Yes and no. This is where part two of my theory comes in handy. Have you ever heard of Ayn Rand?”

  “The twentieth century philosopher?”

  “Uh, huh. I read some of her books in college. In fact, I had been leafing through them during the past week. I went to storage and found them all.”

  Jill sensed wonder in Carter’s face.

  “Yes, your intuition is correct. I went to storage to consider moving out. If you had decided to call of the wedding, Stan, I would have left. I mean, I couldn’t have stayed—so this is what I mean about saving me, allowing yourself to be selfish—in which case—you really weren’t selfish.”

  “How so?”

  “Because you would have died to save me, given the chance. I would have died to save you.”

  She didn’t have to explain further. Jill had little choice but to confront the gunmen when he had him in his sights.

  “I would have gladly died to save you, but it wouldn’t have been a sacrifice. According to Rand, she argues that if you would die to save somebody—knowing life would not be living without them—then you are not making a sacrifice. You would only be making a sacrifice if life would be still worth living even without their presence.”

  “Yes, I see, but . . . ”

  “But nothing. You are not asked to sacrifice happiness. Because if you sacrifice your own happiness in this life, you sacrifice your desires, and in turn, you then sacrifice your values, judgment and finally your mind—and then where would you be? You couldn’t help anybody once that happens.”

  “I didn’t know you were so about Zen.”

  “It’s not about Zen. It’s just a book I read.”

  She finally laughed after a moment of sternness.

  “I love how stubborn you are,” Carter said, taking her in his arms to hug her. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

  Carter kissed her and afterwards he explained his plan to save Lucy.

  “It’s a sound plan. It seems like we’ve got a lot of work to do, to finally put Johnny Cinelli behind bars.”

  “Agreed. But not right away. You need to recover.”

  Carter couldn’t bring himself to tell her about the threat on the tape. It was one secret he decided best to keep from her, for now.

  “You know,” Jill said. “Despite my feelings, that your moment was about saving our relationship, I admire your Xena logic.”

  “Xena logic?”

  “Yes, you believe in the greater good.”

  “Wait a minute, I thought Gabrielle presented that argument, not Xena.”

  Jill giggled. “I can’t believe you watched Xena: Warrior Princess.”

  “I’ve caught a few episodes here and there.”

  “So what I was saying is that you try to help others before helping yourself. Even if it means you might have to sacrifice your own interests. And overall, that is a great quality—one of the reasons I love you so much. A maj
or reason, in fact, on why I want to marry you—but just be glad I’ll be around to help you interpret your moments of Zen.”

  “I am.”

  They embraced again and then Carter told her.

  “When you’re up to it, how about making up some wedding invitations?”

  “Up to it? I’ve already started.” She opened a drawer from a nightstand and showed Carter.

  “See, I put Caitlin on the top of the list. You know you should thank her for sharing her vision.”

  “Already have. You know it looks like I have a lot to be thankful for.”

  Chapter 24

  “It’s true,” Dr. Sylvia Downs said to Carter, “My report strongly urged Sgt. Auerbach to undergo a SCID——that’s a Structured Clinical Interview to test for Dissociative Identity Disorder, according to my notes from last August. I based the need for this interview on how he answered questions on his detective’s exam. His answers were to say the least, inconsistent. Some were correct, the expected answers a trained officer might make. While others were borderline provocative, detrimental conclusions to scenarios presented on the exam—it was as if Auerbach’s methodology to handling specific circumstances would have not only endangered the suspect’s life but his and any officer assisting him, he seemed to view each scenario as empowerment, the ultimate case which would give him not only hero status—in his mind—but a way to meter out swift justice to the perpetrator without wasting the taxpayer’s money in court. Disturbing? Yes. I could not recommend this interview and subsequent treatment more emphatically. But you see, Detective, proponents of this test, namely your Captain Eldridge, argued the test to be unreliable especially for a man of Auerbach’s age. It is believed by some practitioners that the interview cannot identity DID in individuals over the age of 30.” Downs seated across from Carter in her office closed the notebook she was holding. Closing it as if she’s not going to acknowledge her opponent’s argument.

  “But if the trauma, the event which might have given Auerbach multiple distinct identities, might have occurred in recent years, there would have been no prior reason to test Auerbach.”

  “And there’s the problem, we’re splitting hairs. And I cannot impose this test on anyone without the approval of the subordinate’s superior. If some traumatic event impacted Auerbach in recent years, giving him at least two distinct personalities—personalities that routinely took control of his behavior in alternate timeframes—we might have never seen the need for further examination if not for the bizarre answers he gave on the exam. If you were to look back maybe ten or so years as to when Auerbach passed the sergeant’s exam, you might very well find a mentally healthy person. So where mental illness is concerned, time really is not on anybody’s side.”

  “So what you’re saying, Doctor, is that even if Auerbach completed your clinical interview, you might have still been unable to detect it.”

  “That is true. At least opponents of the very notion that Dissociative Identity Disorder even exists would no doubt agree that’s a logical assumption. Yet, I have to tell you that sometimes this test can even skew results, as old and new trauma may interact. Truthfully, I have to admit this is not an exact science—at least not yet. And some cannot forgive the stigma associated with the disease’s former name: multiple personality disorder—some believed that to be science fiction.”

  “And I can see how this makes for a very dangerous situation. Because assuming Auerbach had been mentally fit up until his traumatic incident, I must then also consider this fact: that anyone at anytime could be subject to this disorder.”

  “Yes, and some might be misdiagnosed even then, I could name a handful of doctors who have misdiagnosed DID as bipolar disorder or even psychotic disorder—where the alter egos are said to be attributable to auditory hallucinations.”

  “Voices in the head?”

  “Yes, we all have to consider at times if the voice in our head is sane, I suppose.”

  Carter reflected. He had recently struggled to keep his demons down, confining them to visual boxes in the back of his mind, wary that those virtual containers might break from an overload. He could only assume that Dr. Downs was correct in her analysis concerning Auerbach. In his mind, she had reasonable doubt about his state of mind, enough to warrant medical treatment and at least a leave of absence from the department in any case—despite the skeptics. Yet, Carter was highly doubtful Captain Eldridge had been a skeptic about the disorder’s existence. It was more than likely Eldridge buried the psychiatrist’s report out of friendship. And to think, Eldridge believed my marriage to Jill might have posed more danger to the department than an officer diagnosed to have an alter ego.

  Carter thanked Downs for her time and informed her she might be called to give testimony in the Internal Affairs investigation. A loose end of the investigation still nagged Carter though. A suspicion he could not bring himself to ask Downs about—for her opinion might jeopardize Jay Fishburne’s life. But could it be possible that Fishburne brought Auerbach’s alter ego to life on simple suggestion? Had the PI possibly coaxed this alter ego to do his bidding—to kill the people Fishburne himself might have deemed the dregs of society? Were they kindred killers? He had heard firsthand about Fishburne’s contempt for Dan Collins—how he had betrayed the wife who gave him not only a marriage but also his career. He could not be sure about the stripper though. Did the PI have it out for Cheryl Thomas as well? And possibly even the identity thief—Esteban Cruz? It would be impossible to prove. Just as impossible to prove that Darryl Thomas—Cheryl’s father—had ordered a hit on his own daughter. Jay could have just been bending Auerbach’s ear—giving him details of his investigations—out of sheer need for companionship. Jay had been denied his dream, to be a cop. And that was a good thing. At this moment he really felt like he was making a choice between two evils, opting for the greater good, because at least if Jay Fishburne was in the witness protection program he wouldn’t be a licensed private investigator anymore. Carter had made sure of this, including it as a stipulation of the program. It also gave Carter reason to pursue Johnny Cinelli as an accomplice in three murders. Carter would need Fishburne’s testimony at some future date. The greater good must be bringing down the Cinelli family. But the lesser evil, putting Jay Fishburne in a situation where he might possibly influence Lucy Klein in a negative fashion gave Carter no solace at all.

  Carter tried to clear his head of thoughts about Sid Auerbach and Jay Fishburne’s dubious relationship in the sunshine of another hot July day. Two more days had passed and Jill had been released from the hospital. On crutches, she offered him a small smile, standing by his side at the funeral of Detective Christopher Sajak who would receive a post mortem medal of valor. A 21-gun salute sounded as sunlight glistened off the casket. The same sunlight also glistened throughout Jill’s brown hair, streaking it with an essence of gold, a sign of hope for Carter that his decision to enter Jay Fishburne into witness protection was a sound one. He would never be sure. But he was sure of one thing. Jill was noticeably calmed by the news that Lucy Klein would be given a second chance in life. And maybe this was a risk worth taking. Yet despite the wedding, the cancellation of her transfer and even the news about Lucy’s second chance, Jill told Carter that the most gratifying moment of happiness to come in the last few days had been a simple one. She nearly gushed with delight over how ME Robert Shirley visited her in the hospital, surprising her with a stunning bouquet of flowers—pink and yellow, Jill’s favorite colors—no less. She told Carter how this simple act had restored some of her shattered faith in humanity. Well aware of how the bureau’s last ME had threatened Jill’s life; Carter could understand how this act of kindness could be viewed as a dramatic one.

  Yet some dread still gnawed at Carter. How would Jill feel about the job in another five years? Would she be able to even maintain a deteriorated faith in humankind then? Could she learn to bury her demons in boxes like he had? And should she? Because maybe attempting to keep those boxes burie
d was what sent Sid Auerbach over the edge? It could happen to anyone—anytime . . . Dr. Sylvia Downs had confirmed as much.

  Carter spent the remainder of his day off relaxing with Jill, in bed. Jill was half awake from the effect of painkillers. He read from his laptop while she rested, preparing himself for a speaking engagement he had committed to—and as much as he dreaded leaving Jill, he wanted to give the Massachusetts Mothers against Video Violence some food for thought.