Murder Has Consequences

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to be. Most people don’t get out of breath from bending down to tie their shoes.”

  Lou tossed his cigarette butt on the grass. “Yeah, I remember those days, but it was cruel of you to remind me.”

  Sherri continued looking around as she climbed the three steps to his stoop, then she used the key to unlock the door. “It looks like he kept it up pretty well.”

  “He own this or rent it?”

  She looked at the papers in her hand. “Rented it. It says here his ex got their old house, somewhere up near Tarrytown.”

  “I’m guessing she got the better part of that settlement,” Lou said.

  “We’ll have to find out why. It might mean something.”

  The door opened into a small rectangular living room with carpet that looked as if it had just been vacuumed, and a sofa flanked by end tables and two chairs. Opposite that was a television on a small stand and a makeshift liquor cabinet. Sherri opened it up. “Empty. I guess he didn’t drink much.”

  “Or a lot,” Lou said.

  Sherri moved into the dining room, noting the pictures of a woman and two kids above the china cabinet. “Must be the ex.”

  “I can’t believe a divorced guy has a china cabinet,” Lou said, as he leaned down to open it and peer inside. “Christ, it’s full of fucking china.”

  “That’s what you’re supposed to keep in there.”

  “Only women do that, and…”

  “Don’t go there, Mazzetti.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t catch me with a goddamn china cabinet if my wife left.”

  “I can’t figure out why she hasn’t. I’m not going to read about you in the paper someday am I. ‘NYPD detective kept wife locked in house for thirty years.’ Or some such shit.”

  “Keep going, Miller, you’re giving me ideas.” Lou moved to the kitchen, opening the fridge and the pantry. “No beer. No junk food. Christ, there’s no coffee! No wonder somebody killed him; this guy lived a miserable life.”

  Sherri opened a few cabinets, checked the drawers, then headed toward the bedroom. “Let’s go where all the secrets are kept.”

  Lou followed her in. She was staring at a picture in a small frame on his dresser. Sherri nodded to it. “It’s not the same woman as the picture out there.”

  Lou got closer, squinted. “Not even close. This one looks far too hot for him.”

  “Sister?”

  “No way our vic and that woman came out of the same parents,” Lou said. “We better take that with us. See if we can find out who she is.”

  Lou spent another forty-five minutes looking around, but there wasn’t much to see. He checked the garbage, the other bedrooms, the backyard, and the basement. The only item of interest turned out to be the picture of the girl. When he came back upstairs, Sherri was still checking the computer in a bedroom the guy converted into an office.

  “Anything on there?”

  “Nothing. I mean nothing. Whatever he had with that girl, it’s over. No emails to anyone but his ex and a few to work. No appointments on his calendar; in fact, nothing on his calendar but birthdays for his ex and his kids and a sister that looks like she lives in Jersey.”

  “God forgive her,” Lou said.

  “Yeah. Anyway this guy’s only got a couple of dozen songs in his iTunes. How’s that for sad?”

  “In his what?”

  “Forget it.”

  “You got an address for the ex?”

  “I’ve got it right here,” Sherri said. “We might as well get up there.”

  IT TOOK ABOUT FIFTEEN minutes to get to Tarrytown, and another ten minutes to find the right house. Sherri parked across the street, turned the car off, but didn’t get out.

  Lou opened the door. “Let’s go.”

  She hesitated. “Lou, I’ve never done this before.”

  He started to say something but stopped and looked over to her. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. Besides, it might not be as bad with an ex. I’ve seen some of them almost laugh. Not quite, but almost. In any case, it’s not usually as bad as if they’re still married.” He patted her arm. “I’m not going to lie though, it’s no fun.”

  “What should I do?”

  He paused. “You’re a good person, Miller. Just do what comes naturally.”

  Lou led the way up the sidewalk to a large two-story colonial surrounded by a manicured lawn and gardens. “My house would fit in here twice,” Lou said. “Maybe three times.”

  “You were right. She got the better end of the deal.”

  “Now let’s find out why.” Lou used the brass knocker to rap on the door, forsaking the doorbell. “I always wanted to use one of these.”

  Sherri stifled a smile, trying to get herself in the right frame of mind for what they had to do.

  Footsteps sounded a moment later and the door opened. The woman standing there was a slightly older version of the picture hanging in Ben Davidoff’s house, her hair a little grayer and her face bearing a few more wrinkles.

  “Mrs. Davidoff?” Lou asked.

  “Ms. Markham,” she answered. Her voice was warm, but a bit of haughtiness tainted the words. “How may I help you?”

  Lou held out his badge. “I’m Detective Lou Mazzetti.” He removed his hat. “And this is my partner, Detective Sherri Miller.”

  A guarded look came to Ms. Markham’s face. “Detectives? Is something wrong with Susan?” When she said it, she stepped out onto the stoop.

  “No, nothing’s wrong with Susan.” Lou looked around. “Ms. Markham, may we go inside?”

  With that statement, her face went blank. “What’s wrong? Is my daughter all right?”

  Sherri stepped forward, her face all compassion. “Ms. Markham, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but your husband, Mr. Davidoff, has suffered a terrible accident. He’s gone.”

  Her hands flew to her mouth, covering a gasp. “Oh my God! Dear God. Ben? Ben is gone?” She looked as if she might stumble.

  Sherri stepped in to support her. “Why don’t we go inside?”

  She nodded and led them to a sitting room just off the foyer. “What happened? How…”

  “He was murdered, Ms. Markham. We don’t know much more than that yet.”

  She nearly fell from the chair. “Murdered? My God! How? Who would do that?”

  Before Sherri or Lou could answer, she started up again. “What will I tell the girls?” she spoke, as if to herself, and then she cried. “I’m sorry. I just…”

  Sherri knelt on the floor beside her and held her hand. “It’s all right to cry, Ms. Markham. We understand.” She looked at Lou, who nodded. “Is there someone we could call—a relative or friend you’d like to be with you?”

  The sobbing stopped after a moment and she stood. “My sister. I’ll get her number, if you don’t mind calling.” She walked toward the kitchen, then looked back. “And my neighbor, next door to the right. She’s probably home now. If you could possibly ask her to come over. The girls like her.”

  “I’ll get her,” Lou said.

  When Ms. Markham returned with the number Sherri took it and went outside to make the call. She was still talking when Lou returned with the neighbor, the woman several steps ahead of him, almost running. The neighbor went inside. Sherri motioned for Lou to wait as she hung up with the sister. “She’s coming over right away.”

  “You did good in there,” Lou said. “Damn good. I still get flustered dealing with things like that.”

  “Thanks. It just kicked in when she started crying. I think this lady was still in love. If not, she sure can act.”

  “Let’s give her a minute, and then see if she’s up to talking. I hate to do it now, but we need to get a head start on this.” Lou took out a smoke and reached for his lighter.

  Sherri looked at him with a scowl on her face. “You should give that up, you know. You’re already panting and puffing whenever you do anything.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before.”
<
br />   “I’m worried about you, Lou. My grandmother died from cancer, and it wasn’t very nice.”

  Lou put the smoke away. “All right, for Christ’s sake,” he said, and paced the sidewalk. After three or four walks from the street to the stoop, he reached for the door. “Let’s see what we can do.” He turned at the last minute and whispered to Sherri. “You do the talking.”

  Ms. Markham got up when they came back in, and she warmly took the hug Sherri offered.

  “I know this isn’t a good time, Ms. Markham, but we need to get a few questions answered.”

  The neighbor rose from her chair. “I’ll meet the girls at school and bring them home.”

  “Thanks, Joan,” she said, but before her friend went out the door, called to her. “Don’t tell them.”

  “I won’t.”

  Ms. Markham sat in the chair. “How did Ben die? What happened?”

  Sherri looked to Lou. He nodded. “He was killed at his office. There’s still a lot we don’t know, but we’ll inform you when we do.”

  Ms. Markham wiped her eyes, sat up straight, then folded her hands on her lap. “What can I do to help?”

  “Do you know of anyone who might want to harm Ben? Did he have any enemies? Owe money? Gamble?”

  Markham shook her head. “Nothing. Everybody liked Ben. He never hurt anyone. He didn’t gamble or do drugs. He didn’t even gossip.”

  “If it’s not too much to ask, why did you get divorced?”

  She wiped a few tears from her cheeks. “An affair. Several years ago. He got caught up with some young girl and…” Markham sat up straight and took a long slow breath. “This girl controlled him. He was like a puppet for her and she had him doing things he would have never done otherwise. When I found out, I gave him an ultimatum but he chose her. The girls and I decided and asked Ben to leave.”

  “We found a picture in his house. Do you mind if I show it to you?”

  She held out her hand and Sherri showed her the photo.

  Markham nodded. “That’s her. How he ever thought she wanted anything but his money, I’ll never know.” She seemed lost in thought for a moment, then mumbled, “Men and their egos.”

  “Do you know her?”

  She shook her head again. “Not personally. I know that she worked in the same building as Ben, but I don’t think she worked at his firm. He called her Kitty, but I don’t know if that’s her real name.” Markham took a drink of water from a glass on the table next to her. “It was over with them, though. It has been for a long time. Ben and I are…were going to get back together and give it another try.” Tears came again. “He loved our girls.”

  “All right, I appreciate your cooperation in this,” Sherri said. “If we have any more questions, we’ll call.”

  Markham started to get up, but Sherri stopped her. “We’ll let ourselves out,” she said, and held her hand. “Take care of yourself.”

  As they walked down the sidewalk, Lou said, “Sounds like a model citizen.” He opened the car door and climbed in. “We’ll have to see about that, though. There aren’t many people that don’t have dirt hidden somewhere.”

  “That’s why I like you, Lou, that eternal optimism.”

  He rolled down the window and grunted. “Wait till you meet Donovan.”

  Sherri drove a few blocks, turning onto the ramp leading toward the interstate. “Where will that leave me, when Donovan comes back?”

  “Right where you are now. We can use Frankie’s help, but I’m not letting you go anywhere. As it is Morreau is probably going to assign us another team. Hell, I know he will once the news breaks tonight.”

  “I want to get the son of a bitch doing this.”

  “We need to before he does it again,” Lou said. “And don’t forget, it might be two sons of bitches.” Lou scrunched his eyebrows up. “Did I say that right? Is it sons of bitches, or is it son of a bitches?”

  “It’s sons of bitches. If you’re gonna curse, do it right.” Sherri got in the left lane and hit the gas. “You think this girl, Kitty, had anything to do with it?”

  “I don’t know if she had anything to do with the murder, but sure as hell the ex was right; from the looks of Kitty, she had her sights on Davidoff’s wallet.”

  “First thing tomorrow, we’ll check her out,” Sherri said.

  CHAPTER 20

  Back to New York

  Wilmington, Delaware

  Frankie spent the rest of the day pissed off. As if it wasn’t bad enough having two funerals to deal with, now he had Borelli crawling up his ass trying to pin Bobby’s murder on him.

  I should have never come home. Should have sent a fucking card and flowers.

  Donna walked around the house wailing as if she really loved Bobby—and maybe she did—hell, who was Frankie to judge. His marriage lasted all of a year, and he hadn’t been in a relationship since then that was worth a damn. Good or bad, love or not, Donna made her marriage last ten years. Something to be said for that. A touch of pity shook him, and for a moment he wanted to stay and find out who did this to Bobby. He wanted to do it for Donna if nothing else. Maybe answers would give her peace. Maybe not. But Frankie had to get back to New York and find that maniac before Morreau went nuts. He just hoped Morreau cleared it with Borelli’s boss.

  Frankie spent the rest of the night mending hurt feelings. In the morning he packed and prepared for the emotional outburst he knew would come when he tried to leave. He said goodbye to Donna first, wishing her the best.

  “Keep me informed, Donna. Don’t let them do anything without asking me, especially if it concerns the money. I’m sure they’re going to take it, but it’s worth fighting over.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to go, Frankie. Despite the circumstances, it was nice having you around again.”

  He hugged her. “I’ll be back soon. I promised Mom I’d visit more often.”

  She squeezed tight and kissed him. “Please do. Mom needs that.”

  After that, he said goodbye to his other sisters, then went to face his mother. She was still a mess from the funeral and Frankie feared she’d break down. He sat next to her on the sofa and took her hand in his. He patted it for a moment, then stroked her hair. “You still have shiny hair, Mom. Dad always loved that.”

  She nodded, but said nothing, then, after a few seconds she leaned against Frankie’s shoulder. Soon, she had the handkerchief to her face, crying. “He was a good man. Better than you know.”

  “I know, Mom. I know.”

  “I didn’t deserve him. But he was good to me.” She sobbed, her chest heaving and her head bouncing off Frankie’s chest.

  “It’s okay, Mom. Everything will be okay.”

  He let her cry for a few minutes, holding her and whispering to her. Finally she stopped and turned to him. “I know you have to go, but come back soon. Will you?”

  Frankie kissed her on the cheek. “I will. I’ll come back real soon. Promise.”

  She kissed him, then sat back on the sofa. “Drive safe, Frankie.”

  “I will. I’ll call when I get there.”

  She nodded but didn’t look up. Frankie took that as his cue. He waved goodbye to the others and walked to his car. As he pulled away from the curb he called Borelli.

  “Just informing you that I’m leaving, Borelli. Got called back to New York on a case.”

  “Bullshit. I told you—”

  “Take it up with your captain. I’m sure my boss called and cleared it. Either way, I’m out of here.” Bugs hung up the phone before he said anything to get himself in trouble. He had planned on leaving straight for New York, but he decided to see Nicky first. He called him as he drove up Clayton Street.

  “Fusco.”

  “Nicky, where are you?”

  “Down by the riverfront. Right off Market.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.” Frankie turned right on Front Street and drove toward Market, pulling into the lot when he saw Nicky’s car.

  ***

  I SAW B
UGS’ CAR pull into the lot, and walked over to meet him. “I thought you were leaving today.”

  “I’m on my way. Wanted to see you first.”

  “What, kiss me goodbye?”

  “Asshole.” Bugs took out a smoke, cupped his hand to block the wind and lit it. He didn’t say anything for a minute, just looked around, sucked on his smoke, and walked a few steps. “You know, Nicky, this is your chance. You’ve been clean for a while and you’ve got the perfect opportunity to start fresh.”

  I looked at him with a cocked head. “Are you preaching to me? Besides, is anyone ever clean? Isn’t there always something that needs to be taken care of? Let me tell you—”

  “Don’t tell me anything. I’m still a cop.”

  “Don’t try that shit on me.”

  Bugs nodded. “Maybe you’re right, but I’ve got a badge, and more times than not I honor the oath to uphold the law.”

  “So what are you here for? You didn’t come to tell me I can start a new life.”

  Frankie kicked some gravel, scuffing the tip of his Moreschi shoes. “Fuck! Look at that.” He licked his fingers, reached down and rubbed the mark. “Can’t believe I did that.”

  “Still waiting, Bugs.”

  “Borelli’s got me pegged for this murder, and I don’t know why. I can’t believe he really thinks it’s me, but there’s no doubt that he wants to pin it on me.”

  “It won’t stick.”

  Bugs crushed the cigarette out. “That’s the thing. It might. He’ll have DNA from the fight at the bar, he’s got me coming back late to the house with no alibi, and he’s got me saying in front of a dozen witnesses that I’d kill Bobby.”

  “I still don’t know where you’re going with this.”

  Bugs looked like he was in pain. “Where were you that night?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I went by your house after I left the bar. No one was home.”

  “I was—”

  Bugs held up his hand. “Don’t tell me you were at Doggs’ playing cards, because I went there. I needed someone to talk to. You weren’t there.”

  I decided to stay silent again.

  Bugs lit another smoke. “Look, I don’t even want to know if you did it, just remember I stuck my neck out for you. I can’t go down this road again.”