Blood Street

by Alves, Carl

  “No,” Carroll replied. “I’ve witnessed some pretty exotic killings, but these are unique. Three in one week. It’s only a matter of time before this leaks.”

  “I’m surprised it hasn’t already with that idiot Brown investigating.”

  “Any connection between Johnny and Pham?” Carroll asked.

  Mark shook his head. “I don’t think we’ll find any.”

  “You think these are random.”

  “Not in the sense that there’s no purpose behind the killings. What throws everything off is Johnny. The other victims are young, attractive females. How did he get into the mix?”

  “Maybe he was at the wrong place at the wrong time,” Carroll answered. “His girl Tina was an exotic dancer. The perp attempted to kill her, and Johnny got in the way.”

  “But he was killed the same way as her. The loss of blood, the consumed organs. If he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, a bullet in the head would make more sense.” Mark hit his palm with his fist. “There’s something here we’re not seeing.”

  “When you figure that out, let me know.”

  They walked into the police station. Mark had a good relationship with the cops in the city. He tried to foster an environment of cooperation, since he often worked cases with them. Brown was an exception. The man was crooked. Mark didn’t mind playing fast and loose with certain procedural rules in order to get an arrest or secure a conviction, but bribery, extortion and confiscating drugs in order to sell them made a cop just like thugs on the street.

  They walked into the interrogation room. Enrico Pineda looked visibly shaken. This kid had nothing to do with Staretz’s murder. He’d stake his reputation on it. He and Carroll sat at the opposite end of the table. The room was sterile, poorly lit and smelled of perspiration. Mark turned on additional lights to make the questioning seem less adversarial.

  “Sorry to hear about your girlfriend, Rico,” Carroll said.

  Rico nodded. His eyes were red and his face was pale.

  “We have a few questions to ask you,” Mark said.

  “Cigarette?” Carroll asked.

  “Yeah, please.”

  Carroll handed Pineda a cigarette and a lighter.

  “I don’t have any idea who killed her. I mean, who’d want to kill my Nikki.” Pineda paused and let out a muffled sob. “She never hurt no one. She was a good, kind person. Everyone liked her, and now she’s gone forever.”

  Mark gave him a few minutes to regain his composure. “Did you have any indication that Nikki may have been in danger?”

  “No way. Like I said, everyone liked her.”

  “Do you know if she met anyone unusual in the last few days?” Mark asked.

  “No. She don’t get out too often. Usually, she just goes to work, and then I come over, and she cooks me dinner and we stay in.”

  “Detective Brown indicated you went out tonight,” Mark said. “You went to a bar, had dinner and a few beers.”

  “Yeah, you know, just trying to unload a little. There’s been a lot going on at the job site.”

  “Yet, prior to that you called Nikki and had no reply. You also called one of her co-workers who indicated she hadn’t been to work that day. So why did you wait until a quarter to eleven to see if Nikki was okay?”

  “Look, sometimes she gets a little high strung. After we get into a fight she might go a couple of days without talking to me. Sometimes I’ll call, and she don’t pick up, so I figured she was mad at me. Nothing to worry about.”

  “In that case, why did you drive over to her apartment?” Carroll asked.

  “Ah, you know, I figure if she’s mad at me, then maybe we could make up. That’s when it’s the best, after we fight and make up.” Rico buried his face into his open palms.

  “You weren’t at all concerned about her?” Mark asked.

  “Nah, she just went with some friends from work to the Rock Lobster a couple days ago, so I figure maybe they put some ideas in her head like I’m a bad dude or somethin’.”

  “She went out to a club two nights ago?” Mark asked.

  “Yeah. I guess she needed to get out.”

  Mark glanced at Carroll. “Can you give me the names of the people she went out with?”

  “Sure.” Pineda wrote the names on a legal pad. “I can’t believe my baby’s gone.”

  They thanked Pineda for his time and left. Mark felt sorry for him. He obviously cared for her. Brown put the guy through the wringer. To lose a loved one and then to be questioned as if he were the murderer just wasn’t right.

  On the drive back to the Federal building, Rick sighed. “I should turn this case over to some other field agents.”

  Mark frowned. “Why?”

  “It’s out of your jurisdiction. I think we can rule out Johnny Gunns as a mob hit, so there’s no connection to organized crime.”

  Mark looked out the window. “I don’t think we can rule out anything.”

  “Come on, Mark. Who are you kidding? Whoever did Johnny did these two girls as well. It’s more than obvious they’re not connected. You said as much back there.”

  “Fine. Call it what you want, but I can’t let go. Not yet. Something crazy is happening out there, and I don’t want to rely on that dickhead Brown. Let’s keep investigating. It’s now four victims in over a week. Whoever’s doing this, we have to stop it. Can you just walk away after what you’ve seen?”

  Carroll opened up his window and lit a cigarette. “I suppose not. All right, let’s roll with it for now and see what happens. You do this job long enough and you think nothing can surprise you. Then something like this comes along.”

  Chapter Nine

  Enzo finished the escarole soup his wife Gina made for him. He brought his bowl to the sink and kissed her cheek.

  She smiled and kissed him back.

  He had not gone to his Center City office today, opting to handle business from home. It was past noon, and he only received one phone call from Vito Anastasia, also known as the Wiz. Vito got the nickname because he had an uncanny ability to add, subtract, multiply and divide numbers in his head. He was great at mathematical formulas and equations. In his mid-twenties, he looked barely out of high school. The kid was smart as hell. Enzo encouraged him to enroll in Villanova or Drexel to pursue a mathematics degree and then come back to work for him, but the Wiz wanted to be a part of the action. The problem was the kid didn’t have the stones for this lifestyle. If the Wiz was forced to pull the trigger in a tight spot as Enzo had in the past, would he be able to do it? He doubted it.

  The Wiz called to let Enzo know he wouldn’t be able to drive him tomorrow. Sophie needed him. Of late, she had been using him as a hacker to get into databases and decode information from corporate and government offices.

  He was about to go to his study, but before he entered, his four-year-old daughter Angela charged at him full speed. Just as she was about to collide with him, Enzo reached down, grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her in the air. He twirled her, and she squealed with laughter. This was their daily ritual. No matter what was going on, he always made time for Angela, seven-year-old Eddie and eleven-year-old Donna. He especially liked playing with Angela. She was headstrong and full of energy.

  Gina walked by and shook her head. “She’s going to hurt herself one of these days.”

  Enzo waved his hand. “You worry too much. Kids are resilient. They take a tumble and keep going. Right, sweetie?”

  Angela giggled. “Right, Dad.”

  “It’s my job to worry. Someone around here has to.”

  Gina wore a severe frown.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” Enzo asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Enzo threw Angela in the air like a projectile and caught her before she splattered on the floor. Winded, he sat on the leather sofa. Angela ran outside to play on her swing set.

  Enzo accompanied Gina to the basement where she had some ironing to do. He put his arms around her waist, careful not to touch
the iron. He kissed the back of her neck. “So what’s the matter?”

  Gina sighed. “Donna’s been asking a lot of questions lately.”

  “Kids are naturally inquisitive. When I was her age, I wanted to know about everything.”

  “I’m talking questions about what her father does. She knows that I don’t work, so how does Daddy make money? I think some of her friends have planted ideas in her head.”

  Enzo drew away from her. “I’m a businessman, plain and simple.”

  “Not everybody sees it that way.”

  “Let them think what they want.”

  Gina frowned. “What happens when her friends start saying otherwise?”

  “I doubt they will. People don’t know who I am. I’m invisible, like Average Joe Citizen. The media wants violence and bloodshed. I don’t give that to them, so they ignore me.”

  “Some people know who you are.”

  Enzo shrugged. “Unless their parents are in law enforcement, I doubt it. If the time comes when more explanation is necessary, then we’ll say that I operate in a slightly different manner than most businessmen.”

  “People talk.”

  “Let ‘em talk. Since when does that bother you?”

  “It doesn’t bother me any,” Gina said. “You know I’m one hundred and ten percent behind you. I just worry about the kids. How will they handle it?”

  “They’re strong.”

  “I hope so.” Gina finished ironing and carried the basket of folded clothes up from the basement as Enzo followed.

  He knew there were risks associated with his lifestyle, and some involved his family. He tried to shield them from scrutiny. So far, he had been successful.

  Enzo tried to go the corporate route after having graduated from the Wharton School of Business but couldn’t play by corporate America’s rules. It was not for someone of his talents and abilities. He and Gina had not been married for long when Donna was an infant. Between his income and what Gina made working as a receptionist for a computer design firm, it did not provide the lifestyle they wanted. So he came home to South Philadelphia and found what once had been one of the premier organized crime syndicates in the country was in a sad state. Ruthless killings and guys flipping had plagued the local mafia. Most bosses and major players were dead or in jail.

  Growing up in South Philly, he looked up to the mafiosos in the neighborhood. They had respect and a glamorous lifestyle. Angelo Bruno, the Docile Don, was revered by everyone. Bruno’s successors were feared. They owned the neighborhood. Tales of the mob fascinated him in his youth, but he never thought the lifestyle was for him. He was the valedictorian at his high school and received several full scholarship offers.

  That made it even more difficult when he did not find success in the business world. Maybe if he was more patient, he would have gotten his break, but he was not about waiting for a break. He was about creating his own.

  Enzo’s entire family was connected in some way. In fact, his uncle Johnny was a high ranking member of the Rabito family in New York. That was how he got his start. His ascension through the ranks was rapid. After a couple of years, he made his play to take over the Philadelphia crime scene.

  Whoever controlled the Philadelphia area could only do so with the blessing and the approval of the New York bosses. His uncle Johnny set up a meeting with the bosses of the Rabito and Torello families in New York on his behalf.

  He knew he was facing an uphill battle. He was still new at this game and was unknown to many of the major players, so they were naturally suspicious. He had to wow them.

  Enzo used his business smarts. He created a slide show presentation. He spoke eloquently and commanded their attention, using his street smarts to figure out what would appeal to the mob bosses. Seven people including his uncle Johnny sat in the room with their eyes locked on him. Halfway through, he knew he had them hooked. When he finished, they said their goodbyes and hugged and kissed him.

  The next day, Vince Torello called him. “We want you to come to New York tonight.”

  If Vince Torello called, you didn’t refuse him. When Enzo arrived, numerous members of the New York and New Jersey families greeted him warmly and gave him their blessing.

  He never looked back. He was under control, organized and had fresh ideas. Under his leadership and vision, his organization rose in national prominence.

  Before Enzo stepped into his office, the phone rang. Gina walked down the stairs to get it. “Hello… Oh hi, Sophie. How are you doing? Good. Good… Eddie’s earache is much better. Thanks for asking… Hey, I wanted to let you know that I tried out the meatloaf recipe you gave me… Oh, it was delicious. Where did you get it from? Well thank your grandmom for me… Okay, just a second.”

  She handed Enzo the phone.

  “At the office?” he asked. “I’ll call you right back.”

  Over the years, Enzo developed a growing paranoia about people listening into his conversations. He conducted weekly electronic sweeps on his home, office and vehicles to detect hidden devices. Worried that the feds would develop new, increasingly sophisticated bugs, he always used the latest, most advanced bug detectors. Once he found a listening device planted underneath the steering wheel of his Jaguar XJ8.

  Despite his confidence that his home office was not tapped, he still went outside when discussing business matters. It was more out of habit than an actual need for secrecy.

  He took out a disposable cell phone and dialed Sophie’s number. He would use the disposable cell phone for a couple of weeks, toss it and get a new one. Khalil, his Saudi Arabian supplier of stolen high tech gadgetry, assured him they were completely untraceable.

  Sophie answered on the first ring. “Good news.”

  “That’s the only kind I like.”

  “It seems that the distinguished Councilman Stephen O’Leary has a thing for underage girls. Most of them are eighteen and nineteen, but some as young as sixteen and seventeen. And we have the pictures to prove it.”

  “Really? Give me the details.”

  It was crucial that this real estate development deal go through. He owned several construction companies, one of which would get the bid for this project. When he figured in the cost of overruns and other “unexpected costs”, he could make a nice profit. He also owned the lots where the land development would take place. He bought them a few years ago at a low price with the idea of forcing a development project in the area. After several years of negotiations, he’d finally made progress.

  The only thing he needed was approval by the city council, and his point man was Stephen O’Leary. Enzo didn’t trust the man. Yes, he was on his payroll, but the councilman was getting cold feet on the deal.

  “Well you remember when I was telling you about that spa I go to out in Wayne. One of their male customers, who by the way isn’t gay, just so happens to have a business relationship with O’Leary. For a fee, he provides teenaged girls for him. O’Leary meets them in the same room at the City Hotel on Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. I got The Wiz to install cameras into the room and activate them at the rendezvous times. Bada-bing, now we have the goods on him. I sent Fat Paulie to show O’Leary the pictures.”

  “I wish I could have seen his reaction. That would have been priceless.”

  “So, we won’t have any problem with the legislation. It will pass through City Council nice and easy, and O’Leary is going to do whatever it takes to get the mayor on board.”

  “I would say so. O’Leary’s got big aspirations. Leaking this would crush him. So the Wiz set this up. How about that?”

  “I had him update our computer networks. He does some hacking on the side, so I figured this would be up his ally. He disguised himself as an HVAC mechanic who was called in to fix a ventilation problem. He snuck into the room. Fifteen minutes later, he set the whole thing up, and nobody knew any better.”

  “It’s a good thing he’s on our side. I wouldn’t want him working for the bad guys.”

  Af
ter Enzo hung up the phone, he went inside and looked over the project plan for the land development proposal he wrote three years ago. Before legislation of this magnitude passed, he had to grease certain hands and line some pockets with gold. That was fine with him, because he would make more money from this project than working for ten years in the legitimate business world. Who said crime didn’t pay?

  Enzo kept busy for the next couple hours looking at outlines and blueprints. He wanted to start construction the day after the legislation passed, and he had to hire sub-contractors—his people of course—and get his crew on the payroll of the union handling the job. He would give the Wiz a special gift, maybe a new sports car, as a sign of his appreciation.

  When the front doorbell rang, Enzo walked out of the study, but Gina beat him to the door. Tony Scrambolgni was at the front door with Angela clinging onto his back. He swung her around, and she squealed with laughter. Tony raised her high above his head. She shrieked as he brought her close and planted a kiss on her forehead. He lowered her to the floor and greeted Gina with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Anthony, so nice of you to stop by.”

  “I happened to be in the neighborhood and I saw the prettiest little girl I know.”

  Angela raised her arms. “Lift me up again.”

  Tony hoisted her onto his shoulders.

  “I just made biscotti.” Gina opened a Tupperware container. “Would you like some?”

  “Ooh, you know my weak spot.” Tony devoured a piece. “Excellent.” He licked the crumbs off his fingers and put down Angela.

  Angela looked at him with wide, expectant eyes. “Uncle Tony, wanna see my new bike?”

  “Of course I would. I just have to talk to your daddy first.”

  “Okay, Uncle Tony.” Angela ran out the front door.

  Gina put away the remainder of the biscotti. “So how’s Tricia?”

  “She’s doin’ fine, ‘cept she keeps bugging me about getting these collagen treatments. I tell her she looks fine. You know if I live to be a hundred, I’ll never understand women.”

  “Be happy,” Gina said. “She’s trying to look good for you. A lot of women just give up and their looks go to hell.”