Luca cocked his head. “If we had something to prove he was in the house, it’d go a long way for me.”
Chapter 23
Peter was separated from his brother and lawyer and ushered into a stark white room with six other men his age. Outfitted with eyeglasses, the assemblage shared similar height, build, and coloring. A uniformed officer handed out number tags to put around their necks and told the group to line up in order. Peter was given the number five and stood, back to the wall, near the end of the line. He stared at the one-way mirror spanning the opposite wall.
The officer left the room and turned on yet another fluorescent light. A minute later, a speaker cackled, and the latest process of the legal wrangling began.
On the other side of the window, a young girl was escorted into the viewing corridor by Marc Weinburg, one of Prosecutor Stanley’s assistants. Peter’s attorney, Eddie Edwards, observed the proceedings as Kathy, who lived across the street from the victim, received instructions.
“Take your time. We’ll ask the men to step forward so you can get a closer look, if you would like. Then we’ll have them turn for a look at their profiles. Ready?”
Kathy, standing at the rear of the corridor, nodded, and the Assistant DA steered her closer to the window before backing away from her.
Kathy studied the men, moving slowly along the line, pausing in front of number three. She studied him for a moment as the prosecutor spoke into the microphone.
“Number three. Step forward.”
The third man, who happened to be a cop, took two steps forward. Edwards leaned forward, hoping the neighbor would identify him.
Instead, Kathy crinkled her nose, shrugged her shoulders and moved on. She didn’t waste any time on the next man in line, but when she moved in front of Peter, she pressed her nose against the glass.
“Number five, step forward, please.”
Peter shifted his weight before stepping forward.
“Take another step forward, please.”
Peter glanced at the speaker and stepped closer. Kathy shrank back from the window.
“It’s okay, no one can see you.”
She stared at Peter and nodded. “I think it’s him, number five.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure. Can I see the sides of their faces?”
The speaker sounded out instructions. “Back in line. Now, everyone turn to the left.”
Kathy quickly moved down the line of profiles and paused briefly at number three again. She shook her head and moved on, stopping at Peter. She studied him and declared, “Yeah, that’s him. He was the one driving the car.”
Kathy was asked to verify her decision again before being escorted out to sign a statement, leaving the viewing corridor to the attorneys.
“Doesn’t look good for your client, counselor,” Weinburg said.
Edwards reminded the prosecutor, “Last time I looked, driving a car isn’t a crime.”
“It puts him at the Wyatt scene.”
“In front of the house. Do you have anyone who saw him enter the house? He may have just simply driven away.”
***
Cremora burst into Luca’s office as his phone began ringing. “Stanley got a search warrant for Hill’s house,”
“What?”
“Gesso told me as I was coming in.”
Luca picked up the phone and made an inquiry.
“Participate? Of course, who’s running this fucking investigation, anyway?”
Luca frowned at his partner as he listened to the caller before saying, “It’s bullshit, Chief.”
Luca held the phone away from his ear as the assistant DA shouted. He put the phone back to his ear and said, “I’m not letting Stanley run away with this. When are they heading down there?” Luca shook his head. “Okay, we’ll be there.”
He slammed the phone down and jumped up. “You believe this shit?”
“Take it easy, Luc. Prosecutors do this shit all the time.”
“Yeah, but how about letting the lead detective in on it? I’m not a fucking rookie, you know.” He swept his jacket off the back of the chair. “Let’s get rolling.”
Vinny was screaming at the officers as he assisted a caneless Peter out of the house and down the walkway when Luca and Cremora pulled up. As they got out of their car, two more black and whites, lights flashing and sirens on, screeched to halt behind them. They were headed to the front door when Luca veered off, approaching the brothers who were seated against the garage door.
Peter had his hands over his ears and was rocking back and forth as Vinny continued his tirade. Luca said, “You gotta calm down. You’re just gonna make it harder on both of you.”
Vinny glowered at Luca.
“He going to be okay?” Luca asked.
“Does he look okay to you? Getting kicked out of our house like fucking criminals.”
“Sorry, I—”
“Sorry my ass, you had a hand in this.”
Luca walked away muttering, “You should only know.”
When Luca stepped inside, he was surprised to see John Cline, who was the head of the major crimes bureau, supervising two teams of investigators on the first floor. Gut churning, Luca surveyed the living room. He paused at a wall of pictures and saw Peter’s cane in an evidence bag leaning against the sofa. He checked in with Cline and headed upstairs with Cremora.
The partners poked around the master bedroom, which clearly was not being used, before moving to the bedroom next door. When they swung the door open, they were greeted by a yellow Semper Fi poster.
“This is his room. Check the closet, JJ, and keep it neat.”
Luca stepped over a balled-up sweatshirt and headed to a chest of drawers topped with framed photos. Luca looked at a picture of Peter, his brother, and their mother in front of a birthday cake, thinking the brothers didn’t look alike. Next Luca examined a stock shot of the marine dressed in his formals. He studied the picture, wondering if the combat or the injury had sapped the vitality out of the veteran. The nicest frame contained a younger, beaming Peter, arm around Mary, on a boardwalk that looked like Belmar. Luca focused on her exposed midsection before catching himself. He moved on to the last photo, a high school prom shot of Peter and Mary outside their limo. Then he checked the drawers.
As Luca worked his way up the set of stuffed drawers, Cremora said, “Don’t look like there’s anything here, but I can’t reach the top shelf.”
Luca swung a folding chair over for Cremora to stand on and went through the first drawer. Sorting through the socks and tee shirts, he came upon a partial photograph. Luca pondered its meaning and what the missing rest of the picture looked like. Then his partner clicked off his flashlight.
“Nothing up here but a shoebox of baseball cards and old shoulder pads.”
Luca held up the photo. “Take a look at this.”
Luca placed the picture in a cellophane bag, slipped it in his breast pocket, and led the way to the bathroom, where the mirror was plastered with sticky notes. Luca shook his head as he read through the reminders: Brush your teeth. Flush the toilet. Take your PILLS. Today is Wednesday . . .
Cremora knocked over a pillbox crammed with the week’s dosages as he was swinging open the shower curtain. There he saw a portable seat, a grab bar, and a dirty non-slip surface. He turned toward Luca and frowned. Luca scooped up the pillbox, and they left the bathroom without speaking.
The detectives moved down the hall to the last door. The smallest bedroom was almost bare. A single bed and nightstand shared the space with a pair of open suitcases full of clothes.
They rummaged through Vinny’s sleeping quarters and headed down the stairs, where two bags of clothing had joined the cane as possible evidence. The detectives shadowed the investigators for the next two hours, a time that produced nothing they considered hard.
On the way out, Luca stopped to speak with the brothers.
“Sorry again. They’re all done.”
“So wh
at’d you find? Any smoking guns?”
Luca shrugged and said, “Look, they’re taking his cane to run some tests.”
“Fucking scumbags, taking a veteran’s cane. Goddamn, I got a mind to call the news and see how this plays.”
“You have another one?”
Peter shook his head.
“I’ll pick one up at Hazlet Pharmacy and drop it off later.”
“Now you’re Mr. Nice Guy, after you rifle through our house?”
“Look, Vinny, I know this is difficult, but a man’s been murdered, and we’ve got to look at everything.” Luca turned to his partner. “Let’s get moving.”
On their way to see Mary, Cremora’s cell phone rang.
“What? Okay. I’ll be right home. No, no, let’s meet at the hospital.”
“What happened?”
“My dad—chest pains—they rushed him to Riverview.”
Luca spun the car around and dropped Cremora at Riverview Medical Center, in Red Bank, on the Shrewsbury River, then he headed to Lincroft to see Mary.
Chapter 24
Luca assured Mrs. Rourke that her daughter wasn’t a suspect and that all he needed was to ask Mary a quick question. She agreed, asking him to wait on the tiny porch. She closed the front door. A minute later, Mary, accompanied by a strawberry scent, stepped out, wearing super-tight jeans and a white shirt.
“Thanks for coming to talk to me. I promise it’ll be quick.”
She tossed her hair back teasingly and smiled. “I’m sure you heard it before, but you really look like George Clooney.”
Luca smiled and sucked in her scent. “Yeah, a ton of times. Hope that’s a good thing.”
Mary smiled and seemed to move a hair closer. “For sure.”
Luca cleared his throat and dug into his breast pocket. “You remember this picture?”
Mary took the picture, and her smile dissipated into a frown. “What happened to it?”
“We don’t know yet. We found it this way.”
“It was Billy’s favorite. I had it framed for him.”
“You gave Billy Wyatt this picture in a frame?”
She nodded.
“What did the frame look like?”
“The frame? It was one of those black wooden ones, kinda simple but sleek, if you know what I mean.”
Luca jotted a note and asked, “Do you know what he did with it?”
“The picture? He had it in his living room, on the buffet.”
“Who was in the picture?”
“Who else? Billy.”
“Can you tell me anything about it? Where you were? Things like that?”
“It was a couple of months ago. We were going out for my birthday, double dating with my girlfriend Ann. We were all dressed up, so we took pictures, and when he saw it, he liked it. He said he liked the way my eyes looked . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Luca wanted to agree, but asked, “Anything else?”
Mary studied the picture, fingering the locket around her neck as she did.
Luca noticed it was the same one she wore in the photo, and said, “He give it to you?”
“Billy? No, Peter did.”
“Peter Hill gave you the, uh, locket?”
She nodded.
Luca shifted his weight. “When did you last see the picture?”
“I don’t know. I guess the last time I was there. It’s not like I looked at all the pictures every time.”
“I understand, but try to remember if you can recall when you saw the picture last. It could be important.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“At this point it’s just a hunch.”
“Like I said, I think it was there the last time, uh, not the last time, you know, that was when . . .”
“Were there any copies of this picture?”
She pursed her lips. “I’m pretty sure we probably made two. We always get copies. It’s almost the same price.”
“Do you know where the other copy is?”
Mary cocked her head. “I don’t know. I may even have it. I’d have to check.”
“Okay, check around and let me know.” He handed her his card and said, “And thanks for your help.”
Luca was in a bar finishing up a meeting with another contact of his in the Russian community. The informant solidified Luca’s hunch on another homicide case he was working. The inside information confirmed that Igor Butnick met his fate at the hands of the gang he worked for as payback for overstepping.
As he was leaving, a knockout of a barmaid tried to lure him over. He stopped, gave her a smile, but resisted the bait and walked out the door, resolving not to waste any more time on the case. After he slid behind the wheel of his sedan, he quickly dialed a number.
“Hey, JJ, what’s going on with your dad?”
“He had a heart attack, and they’re putting in a couple of stents.”
“Geez.”
“They say he’s gonna be fine—just gotta stop with all the fatty foods and get his tail into some regular exercise.”
“Good, we should all take that medicine.”
“You get anything from Mary?”
“Think so. I’m heading over to the Wyatt place to check on something.”
“Keep me in the loop.”
“Don’t worry, I will. By the way, looks like Butnick was offed by the Kalomoff gang.”
“Just like we thought.”
“Yeah, look, you take care of your pop, and I’ll let you know what’s going on.”
Luca met the patrol car at Wyatt’s house, and after the patrolman cut the crime scene tape away from the door, Luca went straight to the buffet table. He checked the four pictures on it twice and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Luca opened the top drawer and called out to the patrolman, “O’Brien, come over here. I want this witnessed.”
The patrolman observed Luca bag the item and search through all the other drawers. The detective narrowed his eyes and slowly scanned the room before saying, “I’m gonna run this into Freehold. Secure the scene.”
Luca presented the bag of evidence to Franco.
“You got me a frame for my birthday?”
Luca raised a fist. “No, I got you this.”
“Where’s the evidence tag?”
“I was in a hurry to get it to you. It may be nothing, but—”
Franco beckoned with his hand. “What’s the story with this?”
“The Wyatt case—got it from the scene.”
“They missed this?”
“Not really. It was in a drawer. It’s a long story, Franco. Can you just dust it and run it for a match?”
The lab technician swung an arm around the room. “Sure, sure, I got nothing to do. I was just sitting around waiting for Detective Luca.”
Luca smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Good thing I came in then.”
Franco took the bag over to a dusting table and tugged on latex gloves. He removed the frame, hung it, and gently brushed it with a white powder. Franco put on glasses and closed in on the frame with a magnifier.
“Nice contrast at least, but there’s quite a few prints on it.”
“This may sound silly, but don’t waste time on any that look to be a girl’s.”
“Not as silly as it sounds, though sometimes it’s not as easy to tell just on the size.” Franco focused on the lower left-hand corner of the frame. “Fat thumb print here, and it’s a good one.”
Luca let out a breath of air. “Now we got to see who it belongs to.”
“There’s a forefinger and middle finger print on the rear that are clear as well.”
Luca tapped his foot. “Can we run a check on them?”
“I’ll do whatever I have to do to get you outta my hair.”
Franco took digital images of the three prints and turned on a monitor to display them.
Luca said, “Franco, I want to make this easy for you.”
“Always looking out for me, ain’t you?”
“
Just run it against Peter Hill’s prints.”
Luca filled out an evidence tag, stuck it on the bag, and stared at it. The detective contemplated the second of his principles: that no matter how good a cop you were, there was always a surprise you couldn’t see coming. The detective rubbed his forehead with a thumb and forefinger as Cremora breezed in.
“Headache?”
“Hey, JJ, how’s your dad?”
“He’s one tough cookie, man, got nine lives. They put a couple of stents in, and the say he’ll be fine.”
“Too bad his son ain’t got any of his toughness.”
Cremora picked up the bag containing the frame. “Holy shit! So Hill was in the Wyatt house?”
Luca nodded, adding, “And that partial picture we took from Hill’s bedroom was once in the frame.”
“There goes the theory that he just drove off.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t make him a murderer.”
“Maybe, but it’s a damning piece of evidence, Luc.”
“I know, I know, but it just doesn’t fit.”
“What don’t fit? A witness saw him in front of the house. We now know he was inside the house. He had a long history of, let’s call it, friction with the victim, including taking his girl.”
“It’s just that, what about Johns? Shit, there’s enough, if not more, circumstantial shit against him.”
“Don’t forget, Hill has no alibi.”
“Yeah, but neither does Johns.”
Cremora held the bag up. “You going to Stanley with this?”
“Not yet, we need a little time to see what else we dig up on Johns.”
Cremora studied his partner a second. “You sure about this?”
“Damn sure.”
“I don’t know, Luc.”
“Come on J, I just need a bit more time. I don’t want to live with another fuckup.”
“Okay, but we’ve got to look at Hill as well.”
Luca nodded as Sergeant Gesso walked in. Luca discreetly slid the bag into a desk drawer as Gesso threw a thick file onto Luca’s desk.
“Seems the Hill kid has a history of losing it.” Gesso turned on his heel and headed back out, saying, “I don’t know how long we can hold off. Stanley’s office is pushing for an arrest.”
Am I the Killer? - A Luca Mystery - Book 1 Page 15
