by Lilya Myers
“El loco!” Angie blurted out. She was referring to both the aunt and Danny’s spin on it. As far as she was concerned, they both came out of Psycho 101.
Danny ignored her and continued his thought.
“Never had kids herself so maybe she just doesn’t possess those natural maternal instincts…” He thumbed over at his partner, “… like Paulie here.”
The room let out an uproarious laugh – a little dose of comic relief had a way of helping to bury some of the things they saw as homicide detectives. The Chief understood that but he was still old school. This was not the time nor the place. The look on the Chief ’s face had enough telepathic power to bring Danny’s chair back to rest on all four legs and restore order without having to say a word. Even though one came instantly to mind; respect. And it didn’t mean that the Chief wouldn’t give them all a little lesson on respect before the meeting adjourned.
Seeing the expression on the Chief ’s face, Paulie came quickly to the rescue. “Who knows? To me, it’s negligence but maybe that’s how the aunt would have handled it if it had been her. On the surface, it appears that she wasn’t all that bad since she was letting Selena and her kid move in with her. Hell, she could have thought Selena was experiencing unresolved grief, or something like that.” He’d heard Danny mention this before. “I did say on the surface, didn’t I?”
“Nice save, now wha–” the Chief said but before he could finish, Angie blurted out..
“Sure, Paulie. And the very kind aunt was giving her more grief by charging her rent, right?”
Russ addressed the two other detectives before the Chief lost his cool. “Bassetti, Lanzo – you guys go out and talk to the aunt this time. Different faces… different approach, and maybe you two will get a different result than the two psychology majors over there.” Everyone curbed their laughter to a snicker.
“I asked Kaise to see what he could do to make the body presentable, if that’s even possible. We need an ID on her, so see if you can get the aunt down to the morgue if Kaise gives the go-ahead. Then, bring her back by the station and interview her again. Angie. Go with them. Head off any excuse the aunt may give for not complying. She has Selena’s little boy with her for now.”
Angie understood. Another detective would have been miffed and taken the order as a rub to be no more than a babysitter. Angie’s strong maternal proclivity saw it as an opportunity to be protector and comforter for a child whose mother was the victim of this horrific murder and was gone forever. Her eyes might also be able to detect something else out of order in the home.
Roma was becoming more comfortable taking charge of the detectives. “Who’s contacted the company Selena worked for? I need the patient’s name and address.”
“Got it,” another detective answered. “It’s called, We Care Home Health. They’re staffed 24/7 in case a nurse has a problem. I spoke to the on-call doc and he said that the nurse, Selena, was very reliable. They wouldn’t call the patient’s home…uh, a Mrs. Rossetti, because of the time – she’s old and rather ill. In fact, Selena had sent through paperwork a few days ago for Mrs. Rossetti to be moved to a nursing care facility. Somehow the paperwork got lost in the shuffle and they’re actually moving her today, later this morning.”
“See if we can delay that a few hours. “Then pay We Care a visit and see if you can’t speak to everyone that worked with Selena, or knew her personally, inside and outside of work. As soon as we’re done here, Detective Scenza and I will ride over to talk to Mrs. Rossetti,” Russ said.
Detective Ralph D’Orio was Angie Badillo’s partner. “Ralph, take a drive over to the house where Mrs. DeManta lived with her husband. Then talk to some of her neighbors. We want to know if she was seeing anyone – the usual, whatever you can find out.”
“Back to Mrs. Rossetti. We know that Selena had been assigned to her on a long-term basis. If they hadn’t been a good fit, I don’t doubt that Mrs. Rossetti would have requested a different nurse or Selena would have requested a different patient. Leads me to believe they probably developed a close relationship. Close enough to confide things. She may be able to tell us if Selena was behaving differently, seeing someone else, or having a problem with someone. Having said all that, we’re waiting on dental records for an official I.D. on our vic. Until then, we have a missing person and a dead body. One and the same? Two separate issues? Keep an open mind until we know for sure.”
“There’s one other thing,” the Chief said. “I don’t underestimate anyone’s integrity in this room, so don’t go getting your panties in a wad when it’s my duty to remind you of things. The scrappy little news reporter at that rag sheet…Nina, what’s-her-name…? Never mind. She’s got a way with words so I’d better not hear of anybody being sweet-talked by her. Anyway, she already printed an article. Gave our killer a name. The Mutilator. She personally made a delivery this morning. I’ll share that with you in a minute.”
“Cute,” someone mumbled loud enough to be heard only at close range. Angie was within range and shot back. “You’re an idiot.”
“I wasn’t talking about the…”
The Chief raised his voice a notch. “As far as I know…” He paused to look in the direction of the conversation, “and it had damn well better stay that way, we’re withholding one crucial detail about the victim’s body from the media. The eyes. No speculation, not a damn word. Understood? We’re saving that to weed out all the nut jobs who will be calling to confess. Thankfully, little Miss…uh, Miss What’s-Her-Name hadn’t sweet-talked herself into getting that piece of information. We’re going to keep it that way.”
The Chief bent over his chair, hoisting up a white box and a stack of newspaper copies off the floor behind him and then set them in the middle of the table.
“So, what’s in the box?” one of the detectives asked.
“Cannolis.” The Chief gave Russ a knowing look before he got up and lumbered out of the room. They all had plenty of work to do. He’d save his lecture for another time.
Joey had time to grab another cannoli from the box before catching up with Russ, who had just turned into the Chief ’s office.
CHAPTER 33
THE CHIEF HANDED Russ a business card. “Thought you might want to give her a call sometime…maybe real soon.” The name on the card said Gina Marchetti. “She’ll be at your disposal. Gina’s sort of new to our neck of the woods but not new to her expertise as a profiler. She’s kind of a native – grew up in Binghamton. Upstate. Before she landed this job with the FBI and moved back to New York, she worked with the Texas Department of Public Safety, specifically, the Texas Rangers, where she specialized in unsolved crime and serial crime investigations. She’s working with the Fed’s Behavior Science Unit now. She knows her sh… you know what I mean….shtuff.” The Chief trying not to cuss. At least, not as much. Orders from the boss. The Mrs.
The Chief looked up with a sheepish smile that instantly turned downward into a scowl when he gazed past Russ. There was Joey, leaning against the doorway, stuffing pieces of a cannoli into his mouth. Crumbs dropping like cannons and powdered sugar falling like snow.
“I’m warning you Scenza! You’re getting that shit all over my carpet and your sorry ass will be cleaning my office for the next twelve months! Now, out!”
Joey hung his head and slumped his shoulders like a kid who had just gotten his delicate feelings shattered. He made a ninety degree turn in his dejected posture right back out the door as the Chief called after him, “And get a damn haircut, Scenza!” He wasn’t ten feet outside the door when he doubled over laughing.
The Chief sat there grinning. “I’m getting better, right?” Russ gave him a playful salute as he turned and headed out the door himself.
Before driving over to speak with the old lady, Mrs. Rossetti, Russ and Joey made a quick stop at the M.E.’s office. The fact that their bright little media star, Nina-Talks-Too-Much, chose to give the killer a name at all, much less that particular name, inadvertently said vol
umes about their perp. It also suggested to the detectives that he could be earning the name, and that worried them. The M.E. told them that the genital area hadn’t just been randomly sliced and slashed. It was methodical and clean. The detectives had a few more questions for Dr. Kaise about that.
“So, he’s had practice. And practice makes perfect, as the saying goes. Unless this sick bastard doesn’t have a desire to get better at what he did or has been doing, he’s just going to keep on practicing. The problem is, I’m afraid he might strive to be a perfectionist,” Joey said as he slipped into the passenger seat of Russ’s car.
Russ parked about three hundred feet from the Rossetti house. If this was the last known place Mrs. DeManta had been, they didn’t want to risk the possibility of destroying valuable evidence or running into the killer. The latter might actually be a blessing.
In the spring and summertime, Mrs. Rossetti’s house was fairly inconspicuous and secluded. The majority of the homes this close to the beach were summer bungalows surrounded by woods densely overtaken with kudzu and poison ivy by late spring. Most of the time, no one bothered to clear the woods around their property because it offered privacy and muffled the sounds of loud, raucous summer parties.
The two detectives approached cautiously in spite of the still quietness. The thick, lush woods were a natural part of the geography. They were dark and shadowy woods except for a spattering of sunlight that was able to find its way through and dance on the leaves here and there. The local critters were happy little campers. Nothing seemed to indicate that an intruder was disturbing the peace and calm of their home. Happy chirping and scampering checked out normal.
The mailbox at the end of the driveway confirmed the home was Mrs. Rossetti’s. Everything about the house seemed eerily still and locked up tight as a clam shell. If there hadn’t been a car in the carport, one might think the home was being used only as a summer residence. Spring had filled out the big old aspen tree in the front yard. The shrubs that naturally grew long arms reached down as if to pull at the overgrown weeds around the modest little house. The yard appeared as though it had been usually well-tended.
Russ zeroed in on the car in the carport and walked up close enough to call out the plate numbers for Joey to run a check. It was an older model sedan that suggested it could belong to either Mrs. Rossetti, or a family member. Or even, the vic? The interior of the single carport was protected on two sides of the cement slab floor. Russ stood back in thought before getting closer. As if sensing something, he took out the camera he had shoved in his jacket as an afterthought before getting out of the car. He clicked off some photos from that distance and changed angles. Walking slowly in the direction of the car, he yanked a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. Compromise nothing that could be determined later as evidence was a thought that followed him from his early training. There, under the driver’s side, was the corner of what looked like a folder. No point in speculating. He kept a trained eye on the ground in front of him for signs of anything else that might look out of place.
He squatted down about five feet from the car to take more pictures, then moved closer to get a better look. Pulling another set of gloves from his pocket, Russ threw them down to the grass so he could rest a knee and a hand and click off more photos. That would give an investigative unit distances and position of the folder. Balancing on one palm, he was able to get a better look under the car. Russ saw a brown leather bag laying on the opposite edge of the folder. Click, click, click. More photos.
Being so close to the beach, surfaces like the floor of the carport collected a thin layer of sand. The sand appeared to be significantly disturbed even though it could be argued that there were no defined footprints and there was nothing visible to the eye to suggest that there had been a struggle. He aimed the camera, zoomed, and shot off at least a dozen shots. Russ stepped off the grass onto the cement close to the driver’s side and kneeled down to get hold of both the folder and the bag. Slipping the bag under his arm so he could take a look inside the folder, he straightened up.
As one might assume, the folder held some legal documents. The first sheet transferred the deed of that property from Mrs. Rossetti to Selena DeManta. Whoa! Russ flipped through the rest. There was a will, stock certificates, and some other banking and investment information. He skimmed through the papers. It looked as though Mrs. Rossetti was going to leave everything she owned to Selena. This would add a whole new dimension to the discussion he planned to have with Mrs. Rossetti.
Setting the folder down on the hood of the car, he unzipped the bag. There was a diamond wedding set, some gold brooches and necklaces, diamond earrings… quite a few expensive pieces of jewelry. “Hey Joey, come here, man. You’ve gotta see this.”
Joey strode up next to him. “Dispatch just radioed. The car’s registered to one Selena DeManta. Bingo.” Then Russ held up the deed so Joey could read the name on it. “Damn. Looks like Mrs. Rossetti had already made some final decisions.”
“Wait. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Russ showed him the jewelry in the leather bag and the other papers.
Joey gave a low whistle. “I’d say all that’s got to be worth a bundle. You think maybe someone wasn’t happy that the old lady was giving up the store to Selena?”
“If they were after Selena for that, why would they leave this stuff behind? Did the home care people say whether or not Mrs. Rossetti had any children or close relatives?”
“No one around here. Apparently, she’s got four grown children. All out-of-state. The girl made a point of saying that none of them are listed as emergency contacts.”
“Could explain why she was giving Selena everything she had, or what looks like everything. The jury’s still out on that one. Let’s put Paulie on that one. Find out who her children are and where they are.”
Joey looked up at Russ. “Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
“I’m not quite sure what I’m thinking yet. And there’s no telling what you’ve got in that hairy melon of yours. Why don’t you call for a crime scene unit while I bag this stuff for evidence? They’ll need to go over her car and these things. Then you and I are going to have a chat with Mrs. Rossetti.”
The town didn’t have their own crime scene unit so one had to be dispatched from the county. It would take them a while to get there. In the meantime, Russ went to the back door and Joey the front. Both doors were locked and neither one got a response to their knocks. They tried to look through the windows but all the blinds were shut tight. A faint but sickening smell briefly wafted through the air. They met back near the breezeway at the side of the house to reconnoiter.
“Tell me, Joey. Why would a very sick woman’s personal info and jewelry be laying on the ground under a car all titled to her nurse, the nurse go missing, and then turn up tortured and dead?” And if Mrs. Rossetti had really given all that to Selena…
Instead of answering Russ’s question, Joey said, “So, I’d say we need to get to Mrs. Rossetti and find out what’s going on. They said she’s a pretty sick old lady. Maybe she’s not in any condition to get up and answer the door on her own, you think?” Some rain clouds were forming and the humidity stirred up an odor. Joey wrinkled up his nose. “Do you smell that?”
Russ had just pulled out his phone. He answered distractedly as he began pressing some numbers to call for backup. A strong breeze shifted the air and took the odor with it. “Yeah, probably a dead something in the woods…”
A voice answered. “Detective Roma here. I’m at 5750 Applewood Drive. Get me an officer and a crime unit out to that address ASAP.”
With one quick motion he snapped his phone shut, taking some long strides towards the house and waving Joey on. “Come on.”
No sooner had he slid his phone back in his pocket than it began vibrating and jangling against his side. It was Kaise, the M.E. “Your boys just left with the aunt. They’re taking her home. We got a positive I.D., one Selena De Manta. I did the b
est I could but some things just aren’t do-able. I had to give the aunt something to calm her down. Angie’s going to stay with her and the kid for a little bit while they find someone else to stay with her.”
“Thanks, Kaise.” Russ ended the call and turned to Joey. “Scratch the missing person. Selena is our vic.”
The back door had a glass pane, making it the easiest to access. Still not knowing what they might find, Russ stood with his gun drawn while Joey covered the butt of his gun with his jacket to break the glass. Neither was expecting what hit them at the moment they went through the door.
CHAPTER 34
CAMERA BAG ON his shoulder, dark sunglasses guarding his eyes, cargo shorts, a non-descript polo shirt, and a pair of Nike’s, he could pass for any one of the tourists or locals as he boarded the ferry in Port Jefferson on spring mornings bound for Bridgeport. Sailing time to and from Connecticut took an hour and fifteen minutes. He loathed having to make the trip back and forth but at the same time, he relished the peaceful time to bathe in his most recent triumph and plan for the next.
The small, one bedroom beach condo he had leased a couple of years ago in Connecticut was just a half-hour’s drive from where he would take the ferry. Close and convenient but a safe enough distance from where he’d conduct his business. It’s a small world, they say. Wouldn’t want to bump into someone he knew either.
When he rode the ferry, he always parked in a residential area a couple of blocks away and walked to the dock. His membership at a 24-hour fitness center was located in a plaza on the way to the dock. It was perfect for not drawing attention to the gym bag he carried back and forth, nor would his car bring attention when parked on the street instead of the lot for, sometimes, days at a time. He most always rented another car on Long Island.
He liked to think of this place as his vacation home. At least, until it was time to move on. Every season has a purpose. That’s why he only leased. Everything was paid for in cash. With the friendship between the U.S. and Saudi Arabia, he traveled freely on a fake, a very good fake, Saudi passport, which hadn’t raised suspicion so far. Yes, he had planned well over the years, right down to the best documents that were available on the black market to use solely for these excursions.