by Lee Perry
Cathy nodded and sniffed. Swiping the tears from her eyes, she wrote, “Sorry. Don’t remember much. Only loud bang. Bright flash.” Her hand stopped over the page and she added, “Big man?”
“Yes,” Jordan nodded, “Coastanoa is a big man, six-four, I believe.”
“Why us?”
“I don’t know yet…” Jordan shook her head, “Coastanoa is known for being what’s called an enforcer for the Rossi family… He is not known for making mistakes.” She saw a flicker of something in Cathy’s eyes, “That’s where I need your help, anything you can remember from that night.” Cathy shrugged one-sidedly. “Do you remember what you were doing before the shooting?”
“I was in the kitchen. Getting ready for dinner later. I was on the phone.”
“With who?”
“Customer. Alan Hisely. He owns online linen business.”
Jordan nodded; that corresponded with the home’s landline phone record. “Okay, Cathy, that’s good.” She stood, “How about a break? You look like you could use a rest.” She motioned at the pad and pen, “Those are yours.” She gave her a small smile, “I’ll be back in a while.”
Cathy wrote hurriedly on the pad, “Not long?”
Jordan nodded, “I’ll be close by; there are FBI agents protecting your family at your home in Marlboro, and you have two FBI agents outside the door round the clock protecting you… They, and your nurses, can get me fast…” She picked up her jacket, phone and tablet, “I’ll be back… you get some rest, okay?”
Alex nervously paced up and down the hallway outside the ICU; I called the nurse’s station ten minutes ago to go in, goddammit, where the hell is she? I have to see Cathy, I need to know if she knows anything about… well about anything... she thought, thoroughly agitated. With shaking hands, she had taken care to burn the envelope and note from Rossi in the flame of a burner on the gas stove. She rinsed the ashes down the drain, letting the water run while she stared out the window, not seeing her parents or son in his stroller on the back patio.
A visitor exited the ICU and she grabbed the door before it closed and hurried inside, Fuck this bullshit! Her eyes narrowed when she saw the two agents sitting on either side of Cathy’s room, both stood when Alex reached for the door handle,
“Ma’am…” one agent said quietly, “you need to wait for permission to enter…” Both agents held out a restraining hand when Jordan suddenly exited the room and slid the glass door closed behind her,
“Well, Miz Sparrow,” she feigned surprise, “there you are...” Jordan watched a brief flurry of emotions cross Alex’s face, fear among them.
Danielle appeared from behind Alex, “You can go in now, Miz Sparrow.”
Not attempting to hide the scowl on her face, Alex brusquely stepped past Jordan and slid open the door to Cathy’s room.
Jordan nodded to the two agents, “Good work…” she said quietly, giving them a small smile. When she passed Danielle, the nurse murmured under her breath,
“Well,” she said dryly, “at least she’s here.”
Saying nothing, Jordan smiled back at her and left the unit. Retreating to the waiting area, she chose a seat with a clear view of the ICU doors.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart.” Alex murmured as she leaned down to kiss her wife gently on the forehead, “You look better today, can you eat anything yet?” she inquired, sitting on the bed. Cathy held up her hand a little and indicated with her thumb and forefinger she had managed a little. She still wore a nasal cannula and Alex noted her eyes had a hollow, sunken appearance; the dark half circles beneath underscoring the haunted and vacant qualities reflected in their depths, already the once slender petite woman now looked thin and gaunt. She took her hand and continued, “You have to eat more than that sweetheart; we desperately need you at home… Cameron misses his mommy.”
Cathy managed a wan smile and tears welled in her eyes; one spilling down her face and neck, only to disappear in the thick layer of gauze carefully taped to the front and sides of her throat.
“My parents came to babysit…” Alex smiled sweetly. After a moment she asked, “I saw the FBI agent was in here, was she bothering you?” Cathy moved her head ever so slightly no and Alex continued, “Was she asking you questions about the… the other night?” The troubled eyes closed and she nodded.
Alex licked her lips nervously, “Were you able to tell her anything about the man who shot you?”
Cathy turned to a fresh page in her notepad and wrote, “Only big. Happened fast. Nothing else.” Alex wanted to weep with relief but only nodded. Cathy continued writing, “She says it was a mafia hit man. Why?”
Alex stared at the words and when she finally looked in Cathy’s eyes she saw fear, “I don’t know, darling.” She reached out to give her hand a comforting squeeze but Cathy pulled away, writing,
“Not an accident. Not in our house!” She agitatedly underlined the last; “Tell me why”
Alex read the words and carefully collected herself before looking again into Cathy’s eyes, “I don’t know why, honey, I really don’t. It must have been a mistake. They must have thought we were someone else.”
“FBI says mafia doesn’t make mistakes. She thinks we are involved w/them!”
Alex looked at her imploringly, “But we’re not, sweetheart. This was all just a huge nightmare, but it’s over now. I promise.” Alex felt a perceptible shift in Cathy’s mood, a momentary flash of anger. She lowered her voice to a murmur, “That man must have realized his mistake and run off. But we’re safe n…”
“He was in our house!”she scribbled furiously.
“I know,” Alex conceded, “I meant we’re okay now because it’s over for us….”
“Not over.” she wrote with increasing strength.
“Yes, it is…” Alex said as soothingly as she could. She continued to croon soft words of reassurance as Cathy continued to tensely scrawl words across the page,
“He murdered our daughter! Not over for us!”
Alex’s newfound sense of relief was quickly evaporating, Cathy’s breath started to sound ragged and she would have reached for the nurse’s call button were it not for the tiny glint of steel that shone in the dark brown eyes.
“Okay,” she said quietly, holding out her hands in surrender, “you’re getting way too upset about something neither one of us can do anything about right now.” She stood, “I’ll be back in awhile, okay?” She gently took the pen and pad from Cathy’s hands and after placing them on the overbed table, pointedly rolled it away from her. When she leaned to place a kiss on Cathy’s cheek, her wife placed a hand on the side of her face and looked imploringly at her. “I’ll come back later.” Alex assured her, and left.
“Miz Sparrow?” Jordan called to her from the waiting area as Alex passed the doorway.
“Yes, Agent Hawkins?” Alex turned to look at the FBI agent, Oh for the love of god, she lamented silently, fuck off!
“I just wanted to let you know; when he’s ready the federal prosecutor will convene a grand jury to hear testimony on your case so they can forward an indictment against Ed Coastanoa and Anthony Rossi.”
Alex felt the blood drain from her face, “What?”
“Yes...” Jordan cocked her head to one side, regarding her, “both you and your wife will be subpoenaed to testify.”
“But I didn’t see anything.” Alex protested, feeling perspiration begin to tickle down the back of her neck.
“I know, but we’ll still need you to testify to that.” Jordan paused for a second before adding, “Besides, you might remember something new by then that could be helpful to our investigation.”
Alex kept her eyes fixed on the carpet at the far end of the hallway.
“Miz Sparrow?”
Alex nodded, “Yes, alright… fine.” She locked eyes with Jordan challengingly, “If you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to take you away from finding my child’s killer.” She turned on her heel and strode off down the hallway heading for the
stairs. It took all her control not to slam through the door.
Jordan watched as Alex retreated down the hallway, bypassing the elevator and taking the stairs. Once she was gone, she turned and walked back into the ICU, using her new magnetized badge to enter. She waved to the nurses as she passed the wide counter; they were well used to her presence by now. She nodded to the two agents guarding the doors and quietly slipped inside Cathy’s room.
Her witness was staring listlessly out the small window that offered only a monotonous view of cold, gray sky and she stood uncertainly for a moment before crossing the room and placed her tablet on the overbed table,
“I’m back...” she murmured quietly, giving an awkward wave when Cathy finally turned her eyes from the window. She reached for the pad and pen, intending to hand them back to Cathy and stopped short when she saw the words she had scrawled on the page. She silently read the notes, turning the pages until she’d read them all before flipping them back into place. Silently, she pulled the table back over the bed and placed the pad and pen in front of Cathy, who averted her eyes when Jordan finally looked at her,
“For the record, Cathy, I don’t think you’re involved with the Rossi family nor do I think for one second that you had anything to do with any of this.” She turned and sat on the edge of the bed again, “I really don’t… but I have to ask. I am obligated to consider all the possibilities.” She paused for a moment, considering how to proceed; “This family, the Rossi family, like most of the mafia families here in the U.S., have been investigated and when possible, prosecuted… for decades now,” Jordan sighed heavily, “for extortion, loansharking, bribery… and criminal involvement in the export/import trades; for everything from Cuban cigars to hijacking computer components for resale... Now,” she stood, slipping out of her suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, “four years ago, an associate of Anthony Rossi, Dominic Venetti, who was also Rossi’s second cousin, was convicted of fraud, specifically for bootlegging untaxed cigarettes… We knew he was involved in other traditional vices of organized crime, like loan-sharking and drug dealing.” Cathy seemed to relax, if marginally, as Jordan warmed to her subject, “The cooperating witness who gave us the evidence we needed to convict Venetti was also getting us information on a new direction the Rossi family seemed to be preparing for. After two associates from a competing family were caught trying to manipulate stock for a company they had just acquired, it came to the attention of our ever growing cyber-crime division that organized crime, as a whole, has been working hard to invade and use the Internet in all sorts of new ways to manipulate and rip people off.” She shrugged, “In the past, it didn’t matter whether the businesses they approached were legitimate or not, these crime families just took them over using fear and violence, but now they’re simplifying their traditional business model and they’ve upgraded, so to speak, to using digital versions of mafia protection. In other words, in exchange for a cut of the company’s profit, they will provide their own computer security programs that will not only protect their customers mainframes from hackers, we believe they are also promising to protect their customers books, accounting records, you name it. Once they have complete control over their mainframes they are free to manipulate them and their customers any way they like... Do you see where I’m going with this?” Doctor Sparrow is no slouch, she watched Cathy scribble furiously on the pad; I guess having a PhD and Masters in computer science doesn’t always make you an out-of-touch nerd. She tore off the pages, handing them to Jordan,
“You suspect Alex is writing programs for Rossi designed to not only steal money and protect business computers from hackers but also from IRS, or for creating undetectable trace programs, and scrubber-loaded viruses to permanently wipe out crooked books so no evidence remains to incriminate?”
She read the notes and nodded, “Yes, at least… We believe the heads of these families are bringing computer programmers into their employ so they can create a whole new source of income for themselves.” She grinned sardonically, “I think their dream is to do nothing but sit around with their cronies and watch their computer guys do all the work while the money pours in from credit card theft, identity theft… everything they can think of.” Cathy’s eyes were unreadable, so she continued, “I need your help, I need you to think back and tell me if you can think of anything that might link Alex to these men.”
Pain-filled eyes darted from Jordan back down to the pen and pad she held in her hands. Jordan ran a hand through her dark hair then carefully rubbed her eyes in an effort to preserve as much of her minimal makeup as possible. When she opened them again Cathy was holding out the pad to her,
“She has been increasingly stressed and short tempered.” Before Jordan could form a response she motioned for the pad again and added, “But she would not talk to me about it.”
Jordan nodded, “Okay, that’s good,” she assured her, “really, if you think of anything else, no matter how innocuous it might seem, you’ll tell me?” Cathy wrote on a fresh page and held it out to Jordan. She leaned forward to read the words and smiled,
“No. But I will write it.”
“Speaking of which,” Jordan paused and gestured to the pad, “I mean, writing of which… I’ve been meaning to tell you something about myself…” She smiled, looking more relaxed, “I am not just a government cop with unlimited law enforcement skills, you know.” She wagged her brows good-naturedly, “I also happen to be proficient in sign language.” Cathy’s brows arched high in surprise and Jordan nodded, “Oh yes… my parents were deaf, I know sign so I thought I’d ask, since you have to avoid trying to rediscover your voice for a while, if you’d like to learn some sign language… so you won’t develop writer’s cramp… Interested?” Cathy lay quietly in her bed, suddenly looking uncomfortable, and for a moment Jordan wondered if she had stepped over the line.
“OK.” she wrote, somewhat hesitantly.
“Good...” Jordan smiled, “time for your first lesson then,” she held up her hand, forming an O with her thumb and fingers, “this is the sign for the letter O.”
Cathy held up her hand, copying her.
“Very good...” Next, she held up two fingers, her thumb tucked between them, “and this is the letter K.” She waited for Cathy to successfully mimic the letter, “That’s good, now this is how you say, okay.” She first made the sign for O then the sign for K when she noted Cathy waving to her one-handedly. “Yes?”
Looking at her with her eyebrows raised questioningly, Cathy held the tips of her thumb and forefinger together, leaving her other fingers spread in the traditional gesture for okay.
“And that is still acceptable too.” Jordan chuckled, returning the sign to her, “So far, you’re a natural.”
Marlboro, NJ
The cemetery was set atop of a series of gently sloping hills, and for the mausoleums and tombstones that carpeted them it created the illusion of grave markers undulating on a soft sea of white snow.
Cathy cuddled Cameron on her lap as the limo drove slowly through the cemetery on a freshly snowplowed road. Alex sat next to her and her parents sat facing them. It wasn’t until Alex’s mother, Marion had asked her who of their friends should be invited to Chelsea’s funeral that Cathy realized she couldn’t even remember the last time she had talked to any. Getting the business started then starting a family took so much of her time she had regretfully let her friends fade far into the dim corridors of her life. For years now, the only contact she had with any of her own friends were the Christmas cards they exchanged once a year, and they had dwindled down to a precious few. She had sat at her desk in her home office, staring down at the pad of paper she used to communicate with until she realized her mother-in-law was still hovering over her, wringing her hands.
“I’m sorry,” Cathy wrote, “I’m really not comfortable with having anyone else at the service except for the five of us.”
“I understand, dear.” Marion had assured her, patting her gently on the sh
oulder.
It was the week before Christmas and Cathy was grateful her in-laws had not yet broached the subject with her. Cameron was too young to know he was missing anything and Cathy had communicated to Alex, in no uncertain terms, that she would not celebrate the holiday this year, she would give Alex and Cameron their gifts, but the very idea of being joyful about Christmas turned her stomach. As it was, she could hardly open the closet in her office the day before when she went to retrieve the Christmas presents she had hidden on the top shelf. She had organized them by recipient; all of the gifts for Alex were stacked on the left, Chelsea’s in the middle and Cameron’s on the right. She had purchased most of the items online so they were still in the boxes they had been shipped in. She had stacked Chelsea’s birthday presents on top of her Christmas gifts and Cathy’s eyes had blurred with tears; Chelsea’s birthday had passed while she was still in the hospital, and she had become so upset her daughter was no longer alive to celebrate her fifth birthday, she spend her own birthday, the following day, heavily medicated.
She sat quietly on the car seat, one hand unconsciously checking the gauze on her throat; Dr. Yin had surgically removed the stint at the end of the second week, and now only a single layer of gauze covered the sensitive scar tissue. You know she’s back there… Cathy scolded silently, resisting the urge to turn and look out the rear window of the limo. You know we’re safe, on this day… she thought as they drove past the gravestones; It’s the day before Christmas Eve… and I have to bury my daughter. She closed her eyes and gave her full attention to breathing slowly through her nose and mouth. Dr. Yin said she appeared to be healing smoothly from her injuries, but Cathy’s throat still swelled painfully every time her sorrow rose to the surface, making breathing difficult and she would quickly find herself on the edge of panic. She paced her breaths, dipping her head slightly so she could inhale the scent of Cameron’s hair.