Am I the Killer? - A Luca Mystery - Book 1

by Dan Petrosini

  Luca’s mind drifted as Stanley drowned the attendees in a flood of statistics. Luca checked his watch and searched for an idea on something to bring home or do to get back on track with Debra. Then Stanley got his attention by slamming his hand on the podium as he said, “And I mean aggressive!”

  Luca shifted in his seat as Stanley continually emphasized the immediate need to quell the rising fear in the county’s neighborhoods. The detective was troubled by Stanley’s call to bring anyone under suspicion into custody, which ignored the investigative end that produced evidence to support an arrest. However, it was quickly overshadowed by the panic he felt when the prosecutor laid down deadlines to solve violent crimes.

  Stanley then made it clear that the focus would be on what he called headline crimes, mentioning the Wyatt case by name, along with two others. The prosecutor finished up by asking them to temporarily put aside work on less violent investigations before ceding attention back to Captain Fusco, who held a file.

  “Let’s take a break. We’ll reconvene in an hour.” A cascade of groans sounded, and Fusco put up his hand before flipping open a file. He read off names and rooms where people were to gather in after the break. Fusco asked them to review the cases they headed before reporting to their assigned rooms, then he dismissed them.

  Luca and Cremora moved along in the lunchroom line for a cup of java.

  “The timing sucks. All of this sucks,” Luca complained.

  “You want the bad guys to make appointments?”

  “Not them, you bozo. This meeting, it’s screwing the whole thing up with Debra. I need some damn space. Otherwise this shit’s gonna come apart again before it gets a chance to get going.”

  Cremora checked his watch. “Hang in there. You’ll be back by two, three o’clock the latest.”

  “I’ll have to wear my flak jacket if she hasn’t changed the locks by then,” Luca said, pushing back a handle that released a stream of steaming coffee.

  They put their focus back to the matters at hand and chatted about their cases as they retreated to Luca’s office.

  “Guess there goes the Giuliani Doctrine,” Cremora said, referring to the New York mayor’s intolerance of any crime, no matter how small. The policy was believed to be the linchpin in restoring the nation’s largest city to a safer and higher quality of life.

  “Fucking politics, you ask me.”

  “Out of the six zillion actives we got, guess the hierarchy is only interested in the Wyatt case.”

  Luca nodded. “No doubt. Dollars to donuts, Stanley’s gonna push for an arrest.”

  “Donuts? You say donuts?”

  Luca balled up his napkin and tossed it at his partner, then said, “Let’s go through the Wyatt file in case we find ourselves in the lion’s den.”

  Afterward, Cremora and Luca took seats in the empty room used for writing reports.

  “Well, this is a good sign.”

  “Where’d they say Stanley and the captain would be?”

  “I don’t think Fusco said.”

  They heard the door in the adjoining chief officer’s office close, and seconds later Sergeant Gesso filled the doorway.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, boys.”

  Luca said, “No problem, Sarge.”

  Gesso took a seat and yawned. “I’m beat. Been here all night.”

  “So what’s really up here, Sarge?”

  Gesso smoothed his moustache and said, “They’re on me about the Wyatt case. It’s all over the papers.”

  “They?”

  “Stanley,” he said as he cocked his head, “and, to a lesser degree, Fusco.”

  The detectives glanced at each other and nodded. Luca took the lead and said, “I don’t know what anyone expects here, boss. We can’t pull a damn rabbit out of hat, you know.”

  The sergeant replied, “Come on, Luc, everybody just wants to get a handle on things. That’s all.”

  “Well, that’s not the impression I got from hearing Stanley pontificate.”

  Gesso glared at Luca. “Watch it, Luca.”

  “Sorry, Sarge, it’s just nobody wants to get the bastard more than us, and it sticks me when he’s out there creating the impression that we’re not doing enough.”

  “Nobody is saying anything like that. Now, can we take a step back and go over what we have?”

  The detectives went over what they had on the discovery of the body and the murder scene. Cremora paged through an evidence list.

  “The scene didn’t give us much. We got a couple of partial prints, but they weren’t conclusive.”

  Luca jumped in. “Maybe not in a positive way, but a couple of the prints on the cigarettes didn’t exclude Johns.”

  Luca explained the print matched on some larger, general points, but there just weren’t enough on the prints to get any of the minutia matching points that would hold up in court.

  Gesso rubbed his chin. “Not enough for a judge, but if we can’t exclude a suspect, then we put the focus on ’em. Basic police work, in my opinion.”

  Luca wiped the smile off his face and nodded as Gesso continued. “So what else you have on Johns?”

  Cremora looked at Luca, who responded, “Guy’s got a pattern, a history of violent assaults. His alibi doesn’t hold up.”

  Gesso beckoned with his hand.

  “Look, Sarge, we’re developing it. We need time. Something just ain’t right—my guts telling me.”

  Gesso threw up a hand. “One thing we don’t have is time, between Stanley and the press. Look, nose around, but move on if you can’t get hard evidence of a connection. Now where are we at with the Hill kid? He’s got no alibi either.”

  Cremora nodded. “Yeah, said he was home alone. His brother’s been taking care of him, and on one of the only nights since he was injured that the brother ain’t home, Wyatt ends up dead.”

  Luca said, “Wyatt was dating Hill’s ex-girlfriend. Sure, Hill was pissed off, but it’s a leap to suspect him of murder, if you ask me. Shit, if everybody did that, we’d need a thousand homicide detectives.”

  “But the kid’s got some mental issues, no?”

  “Mostly memory. We made some discreet inquiries, but with all the patient confidential privacy bullshit . . .” Luca shook his head. “I’ve got a call into Foster, the county shrink, to see what perspective he can give us.”

  Gesso thumbed through the file. “Look, Hill’s got a lot of history with Wyatt, and none of it good.”

  Luca leaned forward. “Ancient history, Sarge. It goes back to when they were kids. His brother was tight with Wyatt. It just seems like normal kid’s stuff.”

  “I don’t know. We got nothing else. I’d say it’s high time you bring him in.”

  “Sarge, let’s hold off. We have the brother coming in Monday.”

  “Monday?” He slammed a hand on the table and stood up. “You guys didn’t get the urgency message? Get him in today, tomorrow the latest.”

  The detective held his tongue as Gesso stormed out.

  Cremora called Vinny Hill and they settled on him coming in around two o’clock. Luca checked his watch. It was past noon already. He trudged to the parking lot to call Debra. When it went to voice mail, he left a rambling message.

  Chapter 17

  Vinny approached the precinct like he was going to a house after learning it was broken into. He sidestepped an animated group exiting and advanced to the busy front desk.

  After ten minutes, an officer led him to a drab interview room where Cremora and Luca were. Seeing the video camera setup, Vinny stopped in his tracks.

  “Oh, come on, man, this is bullshit.”

  “Easy, Mr. Hill, we just need to document it—state law, you know. It protects you, as well,” Cremora said.

  “Yeah, right, just trying to help me.” He plopped into a plastic chair, resisting the urge to flash the finger at the one-way mirror.

  Luca tried to put him at ease. “Look Vinny, we appreciate you coming in to talk with us. You have nothi
ng to be afraid of. You’re not a suspect in the Wyatt case.”

  “Yeah? But ain’t you trying to nail my brother for it?”

  “We just want to get the facts. You knew the victim very well, and you may provide information that may help clear your brother.”

  Vinny smirked as he shook his head.

  Cremora hit the record button, and Luca covered the formalities for the record before asking, “You and William Wyatt were good friends, right?”

  “Yeah, me and Billy met way back in grammar school and were tight as hell all the way through high school.”

  “When’s the last time you saw him?”

  Vinny pawed his chin. “About a year ago. I came up from Texas, and we hung out. It was when Pete was on leave.”

  “Oh, so the three of you got together?”

  “Nah, Pete didn’t really like him, well not like, but, you know, he didn’t, shall we say, enjoy his company.”

  “And why was that?”

  Vinny shrugged. “Hey, you can’t get along with everybody, right?”

  “We understand you were down in Texas the night of the Wyatt murder, correct?”

  “Yeah, my lease was up. I had to clean out my place.”

  “So your brother was home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alone?”

  “I, uh, had a lady come for a couple of hours every day to clean and cook. You know, keep an eye on him after all he’s been through.”

  Luca nodded, asking, “But the night Billy was attacked, Peter was alone, right?”

  Vinny leaned forward a couple of inches. “Not really, his buddy from the service came up.”

  “But he dropped him back at his house at about six thirty.”

  Vinny shook his head. “If you talked with Tony, then why are you asking me all this?”

  Luca took a sip of coffee and leaned in a smidge. “Would you characterize Billy Wyatt as a bully?”

  “I donno, people were kinda jealous, if you ask me. Billy was a popular kid, great QB and all. He liked to bust balls, but we all did.”

  “Did Wyatt bully your brother?”

  Vinny pulled his chin in. “What? Shit, they haven’t seen each other in years.”

  “Tell me about Wyatt terrorizing Peter in grammar school, first grade, I believe.”

  “You guys kidding? That was like twenty years ago.” He shook his head and smiled right into the camera. “If this is all you got on Petey, it’s time for me to go.”

  “What about the couple of times Billy beat your brother up, embarrassed him in front of everybody?”

  “Let me get this straight. You think things that happened years and years ago, nothing more than schoolyard bullshit, if you ask me, drove Peter to kill Billy?”

  Luca noticed the glistening on Vinny’s upper lip. “How do you explain that Peter tried several times to seek revenge for his humiliation?”

  “Revenge?”

  “We understand you were present at the Hazlet Train Station when Peter tried to push William Wyatt onto the tracks as a train came through.”

  Vinny pounded the table. “That’s bullshit! Pete tripped and fell into Billy, that’s all. Nothing happened. It was an accident.”

  “Not according to several witnesses.”

  “Who? Tell me who’s making accusations now, after all these years?”

  Luca noticed the dark circles forming below Vinny’s armpits. “We also know that at Arrowhead Camp, Peter put shards of glass into Billy’s bed the night after Billy pushed him off the dock into the lake.”

  Vinny shook his head. “Kid stuff, man.”

  “Really? Peter couldn’t swim, could he?”

  Vinny shot out of his chair. “Where you digging all this ancient shit up from? You guys have anything that happened, in like, the last ten years? It’s no wonder you cops got such a bad reputation.”

  “Take it easy. Sit down.”

  Vinny put his hands on his hips. “Nah, forget it, the show’s over. I’m going home.”

  Chapter 18

  An unmarked car picked up Jimmy Johns after he scored on the corner of Third Street. Leaving a girl sitting in his car and without getting his fix, the narcotics officers cuffed him and ran Johns in to the station.

  Luca paused at the one-way mirror and studied the six-foot suspect. Jimmy Johns wore John Lennon glasses and was thin, almost hallowed out. The addict fidgeted and smoked a cigarette that was down to the filter. Johns’ hair was slightly matted, and he’d been nowhere near a razor in three to four days. Luca wondered what brand of cigarettes was buried in the pocket of the suspect’s green tee shirt.

  Johns snuffed out the butt and dug out the pack for another. As soon as Luca saw a green box of Newports emerge, he barged in.

  This guy looks worse close up, Luca thought, noting a light scratch on his face and neck as he pulled out the chair opposite Johns.

  “I’m Detective Luca.”

  Johns squirmed in his seat as he rubbed a forearm tattooed with a giant scorpion.

  “I’m starved, man. You got anything in here to eat?”

  “How about something sweet, say a bar of chocolate?”

  Johns’ eyes lit up a shade before he coughed. “Yeah, sure, why not.”

  Luca got a glimpse of Johns’ corroded teeth as he phoned in the request. Luca crossed his ankles and slid down in his chair.

  “Jimmy, your file says you never gave up a source to cut a deal for yourself.”

  “I ain’t no rat.”

  “We need some help. Maybe you can—”

  Johns had a coughing fit before he said, “I don’t spill on no one, you hear?”

  The door opened, and a uniformed officer handed off a Snickers bar. Johns ripped the wrapper off and chomped a piece off with the side of his mouth.

  “Hungry?” Luca said, “or you getting a case of the heebie-jeebies?”

  “Look man, don’t play with me. I’m not feeling too good.”

  Johns stuck a finger in his mouth to dislodge of piece of caramel and quickly took another bite.

  “That meth eats away at you, makes you do some crazy things. But hey, what I am telling you about it for?”

  Johns licked his filthy finger, grossing Luca out as he held up Johns’ rap sheet.

  “You know what it does. Look at the trouble you been in getting the money to support your habit—stealing, putting the hurt on people.”

  Johns scratched his stomach and slowly wagged his head. “It can make you crazy.”

  “Where’d you get those scratches, Jimmy?”

  “What scratches?” Johns dug out his pack and popped another cigarette in his mouth.

  “Newport? They’re the menthol kind, right?”

  Johns nodded as he lit it.

  “Beat anybody with a bat lately?”

  Johns took a deep drag and slowly blew the smoke at Luca. “Don’t be trying to pin anything on me, man.”

  “Where were you last Friday night, May fifteenth?”

  “ome.”

  “Really? Seems you were seen near the backyard of the Wyatt house.”

  “Bullshit, I was home.”

  “Couple of neighbors said it was you that night.”

  Johns coughed again. “No way.”

  “You sure you weren’t lurking around Seventh Street?”

  “I told you, man, I was home.”

  “Okay then, when did you get home?”

  “I don’t know, like six o’clock, something like that. I kinda remember as it was just getting dark.”

  That struck Luca as bullshit as it was still light out in May till about seven.

  “What were you doing?”

  “I don’t know. Watching TV, I guess.”

  “You were high?”

  “Uh, I, I—”

  “Come on now, Jimmy boy. You need your meth every day, no?”

  Johns nodded slightly.

  “Can get pretty expensive. How much is a gram these days?”

  “About eighty bucks.�
�

  “A gram’s nothing to someone whose been hooked as long as you. What you doing now, eight balls?

  Johns nodded.

  “How long that eight ball last you? A day?”

  Johns’ glistening eyes darted around before he hung his head and stared into his lap. “I remember when I first started using, it’d last up to two weeks, man. Now, shit, with me and Val, just a day.”

  “I feel for you, having to score every day.”

  The drug talk heightened Johns’ squirming and hacking.

  Luca leaned his arms on the desk. “Where do you get the money to buy?”

  “Odd jobs.”

  “Yeah? What type of work?”

  “This and that.”

  Luca slammed his hand onto the table. “Cut the bullshit, Jimmy! Who’d hire someone looking like you?” He narrowed his eyes. “Where do you get the two hundred-plus a day to support your habit?”

  Johns hung his head again, whispering, “Well, you know, my sis, she helps me out. She understands the situation.”

  “Bullshit, we interviewed her. She swore she would never enable you. In fact, she said she kept the door locked to prevent you from stealing from her, like you did in the past.” Luca shook his head. “Low as you can get, stealing from your sister, who provides you shelter.”

  “Look, I did a lot of things I regret, and I don’t need reminding about it from a copper.”

  Luca knew Johns had lost his respect, but he pushed on despite the smidge of sympathy he began to feel for him. “You and your lady friend turning tricks for money?”

  “Fuck off, I ain’t no fucking queer.”

  “So a pimp or a thieving bastard then?”

  “You leave her out of this. I’d never push her to walk the streets, man. What the fuck you think I am?”