The Valentine area is a mid-town neighborhood that was right off Main Street. It’s a tree-lined street with large homes that were built in the 19th Century and the early 20th Century. The great artist Thomas Hart Benton once lived in an enormous stone home in the Valentine neighborhood. Because of Valentine’s central location, it was a hub for people who were artists and creators. The Uptown Theater, which was an enormous palace that often showed off-beat plays and concerts, was nearby. Also nearby was a run-down strip mall that often accumulated garbage in the parking lot.
Bianca’s home was one of the smaller homes in the area – it was only a two-bedroom, tucked away from the street. I walked into her home, and she looked me up and down and smiled. “Hi, you,” she said. “Damien, right? We talked on the phone.”
“Right. I’m Damien Harrington. Gina Degrazio’s attorney.”
“Right. Gina Degrazio. Guess she was married to that pervert, Vittorio, huh?”
“Yeah. She was married to him. That’s what I need to talk to you about. Vittorio.”
She opened her mouth and stuck her finger in. “Vittorio. Yuck.”
I looked around the living room. She hadn’t yet invited me to sit down, so I stood there, awkwardly waiting in the doorway.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” she said, motioning to a love seat. “Sit on down.”
I sat down on the love seat, and Bianca sat right next to me. I thought that was odd, considering the fact that there was a reclining chair in that living room, along with a regular-sized sofa. However, I decided to dismiss my gut.
“Okay,” she said, putting her arm on the couch and her hand to her cheek. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Vittorio Degrazio,” I said. “How did you meet him?”
She looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, God, how did I meet that guy? I’m gonna tell you that I really don’t remember. I didn’t know him all that well, you know. We only got together the one time. After that…” She shook her head. “No way. I wouldn’t have gone out with him a second time if you paid me.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, you know what happened. Tom Garrett, that investigator guy who came here, he told you what happened. Vittorio put some kind of roofie in my drink and I think that he raped me. I went to his house, we started making out, I drank a glass of vodka he gave me, and that was all that I remember about that evening.”
“That’s all that you remember?”
“Well, that’s the last thing that I remember. I mean, I remember stuff about that night, but nothing after drinking that glass of vodka at his house.”
“Were you drinking heavily before you got the vodka?”
“No. I mean, I was, but not so heavily that I was gonna black out or nothing like that. You know, when I drink, I try to talk to myself. I try to gauge if I’m about to go outer limits and pull myself back from the edge. Because I’ve been in the state where I have blacked out before, and I don’t like doing that. I don’t like losing control.”
“When was the last time that you drank so much that you blacked out?”
“Oh, it’s been at least a year ago.”
“And when did you meet Vittorio?”
“About a year and a half ago.”
I cleared my throat. “So, you’ve been so drunk that you blacked out at least once since you met Vittorio, right?”
“Well, yeah, right. But I wasn’t that blasted that night. I promise you that.”
“And you’re sure about that?”
“Of course, I’m sure. I had my wits about me. Anyhow, I talked to another girl that I knew at the bar. Her name is Coretta Taylor, and she told me that she also went home with Vittorio one night and she passed out, too.”
“Is it possible that both you and Coretta were drunker than you thought, and that was why you ended up passing out and not remembering what had happened?”
“I guess it’s possible,” she said. “But it sounds not right. I mean, what are the chances? I go home with him, and I black out. Coretta goes home with him, and she blacks out.”
“Well, tell me what you did remember from that night.”
She took her arm off the back of the couch and her hand grazed my knee as she reached for a bowl of candy that was on the coffee table in front of us. “Want some chocolate?” she asked as she tore open the wrapper of a mini Mars bar.
I waved her off and she shrugged her shoulders. “Anyhow, let’s see. I went to the bar that night, The Peanut, it’s in Midtown, well, 50th and Main, and you know, I go there a lot. I see this guy come in. He’s pretty cute, he’s dark and Italian, not very tall, just my type. I like guys with black hair and large noses and hairy chests. They usually have a nice package, too, so that’s always a bonus. Anyhow, I see him come in, and he sees me, and he sits down next to me.” She nodded. “You know, hi, I’m Vittorio, what’s your name, yada yada yada. He’s buying me drinks, my girlfriend, who I came with, she’s splitting with some other guy. She’s hooking up too, see? She wants to get some action with another guy that she’s met. Anyhow, Vittorio, he’s a fun guy, a lively guy, I’m liking him. He’s making me laugh. He’s buying me drinks. Then he asked me to go home with him.” She shrugged. “I’m looking for a good time, so I’m like ‘sure, I’ll go home with you.’”
“So, you go home with him, and then what happened?”
“Well, he goes all old school on me. You know, he puts on some Dean Martin on the turntable, trying to impress me with his old school moves. And, yes, I said turntable, because he doesn’t have a DVD player or a CD player or an MP3 player or any kind of streaming music service. Nothing like that. He’s got an old-school turntable, and I have to say, that made me smile a bit. I never knew anybody who was old-school like that.”
“Okay. So, he puts on a record. A Dean Martin record at that. What happened next?”
“Well, as I said, he makes me a drink. A vodka and water. That’s what I drink. He gives it to me, and he sits down on the couch next to me. He tells me that I’m beautiful, I tell him that he’s hot, he puts his hand on my face and he kisses me. And I’m feeling the kiss, you know, in my ladyparts. So, I’m raring to go, but then I start to feel weird. I tell him that I feel weird, he goes and gets a glass of water for me, but I’m feeling more and more weird.”
“Weird like how?”
“Like the room is spinning. And, just like that, before I can even figure out what’s going on, my eyes are closing and, the next thing I know, I’m in bed with him, naked. He’s next to me in the bed. He’s also naked. You know, I’m looking at his shoulder – he has this big scar, like this 3” scar, going from his shoulder blade to right under his blade, you know? And I’m just all casual-like, I didn’t know what happened, but I ask him about that scar and he gets all freaky and weird on me.”
“Freaky and weird? What do you mean?”
“You know, he’s all, ‘what are you asking me about my scar for? It’s none of your business how I got this scar. You wouldn’t want me asking you about who did your tits, would you?’” She smiled. “Yeah, I got my tits done. So what? I think that my surgeon did a good job, and nobody ever knows the difference, except some men do, I guess. Vittorio figured it out, at any rate.”
“So, what happened after he got freaky and weird about the scar?”
“He told me to get out. He ordered me right out of the house. Screamed at me to get out. So, I did. I got out. He didn’t have to tell me twice.”
“Did you ever find out why he was so sensitive about the scar?”
“No. But I’ll tell you one thing. I don’t ever want to see that bitch wife of his again.” She shook her head. “Coretta saw her at the bar, she comes in, asking questions about Vittorio and how he had been there talking to us girls, and she comes up to me, and she starts asking me all these questions. I’m all like ‘bitch, get your ass away from me, before I cut you,’ because you know that I was ready to cut a bitch that night anyhow. I had just gotten fired from my job, my third job this year
, and I wasn’t having any of that bullshit.”
“So, you saw Gina Degrazio at the bar and what questions did she ask you?”
“She asked me if I knew Vittorio. I’m like ‘get away from me.’ But she didn’t. She kept on asking me all these questions about what I knew about her husband. I’m telling her that I didn’t know her husband. Never met him before in my life, you know? She’s not believing me, and, well, the two of us ended up stepping outside and, the next thing I know, she’s punching me and I’m landing on the street. And I’m like ‘it’s on, bitch,’ and I get up and punch her back. Next thing I know, she’s pulling my hair, and I’m kicking her shins and the bouncer is coming out of the bar, threatening to call the cops on us both.”
“Did the cops come?”
“No. But I tell her not to mess with me no more, because I will cut a bitch. I don’t play like that.”
“You ever see her again?”
“No. I’ve never seen her again. I don’t go to that bar no more. I go to a different bar. I go to the sister to The Peanut – The Cashew downtown. It’s a nicer place to go, anyhow.”
“Do you have anything against Gina?”
“You mean, aside from her throwing a punch and shoving me to the ground? No, other than that, no. I don’t care about her. I could give shit less about her.”
I narrowed my eyes. Somehow, Bianca wasn’t giving me the vibe that she was capable of killing Vittorio and framing Gina. I had to ask a few more questions, though, to find out if she was capable. I needed to see if she had actual motive to kill Vittorio and frame Gina. So far, I was getting the impression that she didn’t really care that Vittorio raped her. She certainly didn’t seem angry with him.
“Okay. Now, did you tell anybody about Vittorio raping you?”
“No.”
“Any reason why?”
She shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, when I talked to Coretta, and I found out that the same thing happened to her, I was kinda pissed, you know? I mean, Vittorio’s going around doing that to other women, not just me, and that’s all kinds of messed up, if you ask me. So, yeah, I was gonna tell the police about what had happened. I mean, I don’t really care that he did it to me. I thought he was cute, I would have had sex with him if he just had asked me to, he didn’t have to put a drug in me to do it, but whatever. But Coretta, she seemed like she was upset about what Vittorio did to her, so I was going to go ahead and tell the cops about what Vittorio did to me.”
“And did you end up telling the cops about him?”
She rolled her eyes. “Now, come on, I think that you know the answer to that. I mean, you’re investigating his death. Did you see anything in his background that would tell you that he ended up getting questioned about a rape?”
“No. I didn’t see that that had happened. But that doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen. If he was just questioned and not charged, I wouldn’t necessarily see a record on that.”
“Well, it didn’t happen. I didn’t go to the cops. Vittorio came and visited me, and he gave me money to shut my mouth.” She looked at me. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she said. “Everybody’s got their price. I got my price, too. My price was $100,000.”
I sighed. “Okay.” I suddenly knew that my hunch was right. Bianca didn’t kill Vittorio. She wasn’t one of the ones who had been threatened by Vittorio, and she certainly didn’t seem to be angry about the situation. I had the feeling that I was barking up the wrong tree with her.
“Can you give me Coretta’s phone number and address? I want to speak with her.”
“She works at The Peanut,” Bianca said. “Monday through Friday, she works 10-5. She’s a bartender there.”
“Well,” I said, “thanks for taking the time to speak with me.”
“Sure,” she said. “You know, you don’t have to leave so soon. I was just about to go out to get myself some food. There’s some really good places right over on 39th Street to eat. I could really go in for some Cajun food, and Jazz has some of the best. What do you say? Spicy crawdads and etouffee on me?”
I smiled. Going out with Bianca was the last thing that I needed to do. “I thank you for the offer,” I said. “But I have to get home to my kids.”
She looked disappointed, but she shrugged her shoulders. “Your loss, I guess.”
I went out to the street and got into my car. I saw that Pearl had called, so I called her back. “Hey, Pearl,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just got an order in the mail,” she said. “I guess you made a motion to inspect the crime scene. The judge signed it ex parte. So, you can go over to Vittorio’s house anytime you want.”
I nodded my head. “Thanks, Pearl,” I said, looking at the clock on my car. I read 3:30 PM. “Maybe I’ll go on over there before I head home. The kids never expect me home before 6 in the evening.”
I hung up the phone and headed over to Vittorio’s home. I didn’t know what I was going to find out when I got there. What knowledge I hoped to gain. But that didn’t matter. I knew that I had to do my due diligence before I made a decision about Gina’s case.
It was increasingly looking like I was going to withdraw from her case. But I had to make sure that I wanted to. I really didn’t believe her threat about Nick being in trouble, but that was in the back of my mind, so I wanted to be really sure before I did anything rash.
I got to Vittorio’s house, which was close to Heather’s home in the Hyde Park area. While Heather lived in a small apartment, Vittorio’s house was much larger and was an actual free-standing home. It was facing Gillham Park, which was little more than a stretch of greenery in the middle of Mid-Town, with tennis courts and a pool. The house was three-story, with a large porch that still had Christmas lights up and a rocking chair on the side.
I walked into the living room, stepping around the yellow crime-scene tape, and saw to the right there was a big-screen television, and, to the left, was a large leather couch. Although the outside of the house looked older, the inside was brand-new. Hardwood floors that looked completely new, new appliances in the kitchen, newer furniture and throw-rugs.
On the floor of the living room was the outline of Vittorio’s body in yellow tape. I stooped down and saw that there was still a puddle of blood on the floor. There wasn’t that much blood, however, which told me that Vittorio’s heart must have stopped soon after he was hit. Death must have been instantaneous.
I walked through the rest of the house, and Bianca’s words were stuck in my head. She said that she was surprised that Vittorio was so old-school. He played a Dean Martin record on a turntable. She said that he didn’t have a DVD player, nor did he have streaming capability or a CD player. Yet, I saw very clearly that there was a DVD player and I put on the television and saw that his television was smart and had Roku. In other words, he had streaming capability. He had a music playlist on his Spotify app on his television, and I looked at the playlist. I saw that there was an eclectic blend of music on his playlist – everyone from Taylor Swift to the Eagles. Some Pearl Jam, some modern rock, some classic rock such as The Stones. But nothing like Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra or any other crooner.
That’s odd. I distinctly remember Bianca going on and on about how old-school Vittorio was, how he had a turntable and no streaming devices or even a CD or DVD player.
I shook my head. I had a sudden flash of insight, but I needed to speak with Bianca again.
And then I was going to have to make a motion to court to inspect Vittorio’s body.
I was going to have to see if he had a large scar on his back.
Chapter 10
“Hiya, handsome,” Bianca said when I reappeared on her porch. “Guess you changed your mind about that dinner, huh? Good. I really got a craving for Cajun food after you left.” She went to her coat closet and brought out a leather jacket. “Let’s go.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t come back to take you to dinner. I need to ask you some more questions about Vittorio
.”
Her face fell when I said that. “Okay,” she said. “And then we’ll go to dinner?”
“Actually, I still have kids at home who need their dinners,” I said. “Right now, I’m mom and dad to them.”
“Alright,” she said. “Maybe another evening?”
I thought at the romantic mess I was already in, between Ally and Sarah, and knew that there was no way that I was going to add yet another woman into the mix. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m married.” That technically wasn’t a lie.
She looked at my left hand, which was ringless. “I don’t wear my ring,” I said. “It bothers me.”
“Whatever.” She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at me. “Anyhow, what did you need to know about Vittorio? Make it quick, because I’m starving. I guess I’ll be dining alone tonight.”
Guess so. “Vittorio, would you recognize his house if I showed you a picture?”
“Yeah. I mean, it was dark when I got there, of course, but I left the next day. I would remember what it looks like.”
I showed her a picture of Vittorio’s house. “Is this the house?”
She shook her head. “No way, man. I mean, that’s kind of a cool house, but it’s not very big. Vittorio’s house, it was one of those big houses in Loose Park. Brick house, white columns, you know, I think that they call that style of house Colonial. Big pool in the back.” She pointed to the house in the picture. “I mean, that’s just a little house like the one I got.”
It actually wasn’t a “little” house – it was a four-bedroom home with a porch and two stories. But it was made of wood, not stone, it definitely wasn’t Colonial, and it was nowhere near Loose Park. “Loose Park, not Gillham Park?” I asked Bianca. “That was where Enzo lived?”
I realized that I made a Freudian slip when I asked her where “Enzo” lived, because the whole scenario was becoming more and more clear. “Enzo, who’s Enzo?”
“I’m sorry, Vittorio. That’s where Vittorio lived – Loose Park area, not Gillham Park area?”
[Damien Harrington 01.0] The Alibi Page 10