Old Wounds, a Gino Cataldi Mystery

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  I thought about what he said, about her being important. “If so, don’t you think we’d have a report by now? Missing persons, worried family…something.”

  “Unless they did it?” Tip looked off to the side, out into the parking lot. “Maybe it’s a husband who wanted to get rid of his wife, or mistress.”

  “Could be, but let’s focus on the dress. Our mystery caller said we’d find some clues if we followed the dress.”

  Tip nodded. “We’ll see if Ben can give us anything, but then I’m calling someone who can probably give us more.”

  “Who?”

  “Elena, my girlfriend. She owns an upscale dress shop. She’ll know about the dress, presuming it’s expensive.”

  “Take the shoes, too.” I lowered my voice when I said it, knowing he was going to be pissed I hadn’t told him yet.

  Tip looked at me, probing. “You talked to her again, didn’t you?”

  “Last night.”

  “And when the fuck was I going to hear about this?”

  “It was late. I planned on telling you.”

  “You should have called right away. We’re partners.” Tip leaned over the booth, got right in my face. “I don’t know if you’re falling for this woman and you won’t admit it, or if you’re the kind of cop that likes to keep shit to yourself. Either way, you need to fix it or get off the case. If you don’t take care of it yourself, I’ll ask Coop.”

  “You try to get me off this case, Denton, and I’ll make sure you pay for it.”

  Tip stared at me but this time there was no smile. “I call things the way I see them, and I see a cop who can’t control himself. Maybe it’s your kid affecting your judgment, maybe it’s not having a wife around. I can’t let it affect my investigation. I’m sorry, Gino, that’s the way I am.” He got up, tossed a ten onto the table, then headed out to the car.

  I pounded my fist into the cushion. No way I was losing this case. No way.

  CHAPTER 21

  A NEW VICTIM

  Dallas, Texas

  Patti Richards had spread her legs for a lot of men over the years. Women too. But she still remembered that first one, the fucker who’d forced himself on her in high school. She’d gotten even with him for that. It took years, but she waited for him to get married, followed him to a bar one night and arranged for him to take her home.

  It was easy to lure him inside. All men were easy. A little sexy look, a flash of skin here and there, and all of it wrapped up with a soft cooing plea to walk her to the door. Once she had him on her turf, it was impossible for him to resist.

  She got pictures that night of the two of them in bed, and those pictures soon found their way into the hands of his wife. It was devastating for him since his wife was the one with the money.

  After college, Patti tried a few regular jobs: sales, marketing, administration, but none of them appealed to her, and besides, none of them paid the kind of money that dancing did. The dancing soon led to other things which led to sex—for money—and for the first time in her life sex meant something.

  She built a thriving business, and learned soon enough that the real money was in the high-end clients, the ones with more money than sense. The funny thing was, they were the easiest to deal with. Even better, they always told their friends about her.

  That’s what the one tonight was—a person referred to as Magic, which she assumed wasn’t a real name. Magic was a referral from a good client who had already mentioned to Magic that Patti’s price was even higher than she normally charged. He probably did that hoping to get a freebie now and then as a thank you. If Magic turned out to be a regular she didn’t mind. What the hell was one more fuck. From the way her client described Magic, she might not even mind doing the job.

  The odd thing was Magic had asked for her specifically. Not one of her girls, but her. If he was a referral, he had to know she wasn’t a spring chicken, and yet, he wanted her.

  Patti applied her lipstick, the lightest touch, just enough to color it. A smidgeon of make-up followed. She still looked good, but her skin wasn’t smooth like it used to be. It seemed that the older men got the more they craved smooth skin. And dirty talk.

  Patti’s laugh echoed in the small bathroom. She could definitely talk dirty.

  She jumped when the phone rang, the sudden disturbance startling her even though she’d been expecting the call. Her nerves twitched as she rushed to pick it up. “Hello?”

  “Do you know who this is?” The voice didn’t match the image she had. Her tone changed.

  “I assume this is Magic.”

  “Go to the Lincoln Hotel. Be there at 9:30. Take your own car and park it in front. Do not use valet. Go into the lobby, up the elevator to the second floor, then down the stairs and leave the hotel by the back exit.” A pause followed. “Will that be a problem?”

  The impatience was pronounced now.

  “No, but—”

  “I will see you then,” Magic said, and then the line went dead.

  The nervous energy she’d struggled to control unfolded all at once, boiling its way up through her stomach, her body twitching. For some reason the call unnerved her. Why, she didn’t know. She’d done a hundred high-enders, male and female. Why should this one be different?

  Patti shook it off, and finished preparing for the night. It proved to be no decision regarding her attire; Magic’s voice seemed to say ‘I want a woman in a black dress’ and she imagined it as a tight-fitting, sleek, silky black dress, with high heels that exposed her perfect feet and made her toned legs glisten. Patti smiled, then pulled the dress out of her closet and slipped it on. Magic might even tip her on top of the five thousand she’d been promised.

  She slipped on her coat, quietly closed the door, and made her way to the stairs. Patti drove a three-year-old, dark green Ford Escort, an ordinary car to fit her ordinary lifestyle. The only thing extraordinary was her job and the clothes she wore to perform her job.

  She popped the key to open the door, sliding behind the wheel with the ease of a ballerina. Not many men would have called her ordinary. Men craved a woman with a perfect body. And her body could lure a priest to the bed—hell, a saint.

  She backed up, pulled onto the main drive, and soon found herself driving down the center lane of the freeway, a throng of headlights from the cars and pickups moving along with her. It took her twenty minutes to reach the Lincoln. She parked and followed the ridiculous directions, almost laughing at the paranoia her clients displayed. If they were so afraid of being found out, why did they hire her?

  When she exited the back of the hotel she stood on the sidewalk waiting. Within seconds a car pulled up, and the window rolled down.

  “Ms. Richards?”

  She leaned forward, peering inside. “I’m Patti. Are you…” She stopped. “I was expecting Magic?”

  “I am Magic. Please get in. You’re welcome to use the front seat.”

  Welcome to use the front? What kind of ass was this? Maybe five grand was too little.

  “Thank you.” She held her hand to shake, but the gesture was ignored.

  “Please buckle up.” Magic said, and pulled out of the lot onto the freeway.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I have a place not far from here. It’s private.”

  Patti nodded. The privacy thing again. “Do you live in Dallas?” She knew she shouldn’t have asked as soon as the words left her mouth. What was wrong with her tonight?

  “I feel it’s better if we don’t know so much about each other, Ms. Richards.”

  “I understand. But you can call me Patti…that is, if you want.” She was beginning to get a bad feeling about this client.

  “Will…anyone else be joining us?”

  The driver ignored her again. The traffic thinned to a trickle and soon after that the road turned dark for long periods between cars. They turned into a long driveway and parked in front of a sprawling ranch house.

  “This is nice,” Patti said.
<
br />   “We can go inside now.” Magic got out and walked to her door, opened it, and led her to the front porch. A light shone on them from above. “Come here. Let me look at you.”

  Patti went closer but she was feeling less and less comfortable.

  “I thought you might have worn something more…revealing.” The reprimand in the voice stung. It rankled her.

  Patti lifted her head and stared defiantly into the eyes that inspected her so thoroughly. It was then she realized what a mistake she’d made.

  The look in her eyes must have given her away. “Yes, you’re right to be afraid. Unfortunately, you drew the short straw. I am so sorry for this.”

  Magic shoved her against the stone wall, then wrapped hands around her throat. When she looked up she realized she was staring into the eyes of a killer.

  Magic covered her mouth with a cloth. She held her breath against the chemicals on it and struggled to break free.

  “As much as I hate to mar your beautiful, albeit, slutty body, I must.”

  He shoved a cold piece of steel into her stomach. It felt as if it glanced off a rib, then it pierced her lung. She breathed in through the cloth, felt faint, and then, nothing.

  ***

  Blood oozed out of her. In her last moments, she clutched at her wound, trying to stop the blood from escaping. When Magic let go of her she collapsed to the porch floor.

  “I’m sorry,” Magic said. “It’s not you.”

  Magic waited a few minutes, then checked until there was no pulse. After that, Magic shoved the ice pick in her eyes, then started the cutting. It wouldn’t take long.

  CHAPTER 22

  A RIFT IN THE PARTNERSHIP

  Houston, Texas

  Tip made his way downtown, still pissed off at Gino for holding back on him, but more importantly for being so stupid as to fall for a potential suspect. Even the damn rookie cops knew that rule. Pinch your dick, squeeze it, take it out and smack it, but don’t fall for the suspect, no matter how good she looks. And Gino hadn’t even seen her. How could he fall for someone over the phone?

  Tip walked into the station, ignoring, or perfunctorily responding to, the morning well-wishers, the ones who always had a smile on their face and never forgot to wave and greet a person coming in the door. Taking the steps two at a time he was soon heading down the hall toward Coop’s office. Cindy sat at her desk, busy at work.

  “Coop back from Dallas yet?”

  “She flew in this morning with Mrs. Johnson, but she’s not in a good mood.”

  “That’s not new,” he said, and opened the door.

  “Good morning, Captain. How was Dallas?”

  “Same as last time I was there, but tenfold the traffic What’s on your mind?”

  The tone she used and the way she said it negated the need to say “I’m busy,” but Tip got the point. “Listen, Captain, about this case…”

  She threw her hands up in the air, and slapped the desk. “I know. I know. The mystery caller. I had the phone company look into it and you were right; it was a disposable cell, so get off my ass about it. You’ll have to find the killer the hard way.”

  Tip hadn’t come to ask about that, even though it was on his list to cover with her soon. But now that she’d said it—and he saw what a pissy mood she was in—he decided he’d wait to discuss the Gino situation.

  He started for the door. “Let me know when you’ve settled down. Maybe we can talk.”

  “Hold on, cowboy. You’re not going anywhere yet.”

  Tip turned back. “What?”

  Coop walked behind him and shut the door. “Have a seat. We need to talk.”

  Tip sat back down. “About what?”

  “Have you heard anything about Gino?”

  The side of Tip’s face twisted, bunching up his scar. “Heard anything? Like what?”

  “I know you’ve heard the rumors, so you know what I’m asking about—Rico Moreno.”

  Tip shook his head. “I’ve got nothing.”

  “Nothing? Even with your famed network of contacts?”

  “Let’s get something straight,” Tip said. “I don’t work for IA and I don’t bust cops. My job is to find killers and get them off the streets.”

  “I have news for you, Denton. Somebody killed Rico Moreno and his two men. Find out who did it and get them off the street.”

  Tip’s jaw clamped down tight. “Get somebody else to do your shit work.”

  She leaned forward, almost like she was coming after him. “You son of a bitch.”

  “I might be a son of a bitch, but I’m not doing your shit work.” Tip stood. “If that’s all.”

  Coop closed her eyes, got her composure back. “I know you don’t like doing this, and I wouldn’t ordinarily ask, but I can’t have one of my officers running wild.”

  “Gino’s not like that. He—”

  She waved her finger at Tip. “I’ll tell you what he’s like.” She pulled a piece of paper from a folder on her desk. “He asked Karl to run these plates a few months ago.”

  “I ask people to run plates all the time,” Tip said. “It’s probably nothing. Did you ask Gino about it?”

  “I’ve been waiting to get more ammunition, but it just so happens these plates belong to a van that was robbed of drugs the night before Gino asked Karl to run them. The guys in that van swear that the man who robbed them was a cop.”

  “Bullshit!”

  Coop shook her head again. “One of those people was an undercover cop.”

  “Aw shit.”

  “Yeah, aw shit.” She poked her finger into Tip’s chest. “Now get the hell back out there and find what I need.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Tip said, and let the door slam shut. He walked down the hall wondering what he should do. He took out his cell phone and called Gino. It was time to have a meeting.

  ***

  I drank two more cups of coffee and ate a huge breakfast, an attempt to cover my miserable morning. After a shit assignment in training, I finally got a break and now I was about to blow that. Tip was on his way to see the captain, probably to ask for a new partner. If lucky, I’d get another homicide case, but more than likely I’d get another shit detail.

  While wallowing in misery, I decided to go see Ron. Nothing like piling more shit on top of an already bad day.

  I didn’t like going to the rehab, even to see Ron. Even though he was my son, it made me face things I didn’t want to. His rebellious nature, his drug use, his addiction. All of them my failures. And while I didn’t want to go see him, I knew I had to. If he was ever going to have a normal life, he needed support. I didn’t give enough support when he started rehab—just threw him in there and left him to sink or swim. I needed to be more thoughtful, spend more time. This was his last hope, and I was his only support. I had to make this work for him. And me.

  I pulled off the freeway, drove to the rehab. I took a minute or so to compose myself, then made my way inside.

  Ron met me out back in a courtyard setting with palm trees embracing a small fountain. Small tables flanked by benches dotted the neatly trimmed grass, hedges and bushes strategically planted to afford privacy for family visits. A crazy yellow lab they called Cornbread ran around greeting each new person to come in, nibbling on their hands and stealing anything they were foolish enough to leave behind—cigarettes, lighters, wallets. He even took my car keys for a swim in the fountain. Luckily, they didn’t get wet, or at least not wet enough to ruin the battery. After I got the keys from the dog, I came back and sat with Ron.

  “How’s it going?”

  A fake smile popped onto his face. “Great! Got my two-month chip this week.” He reached into his pocket and produced a simulated gold coin with “sixty days” stamped on it. “Keep it. It’s yours.”

  I resisted the urge to say, again, and instead said, “For me? Thanks, Ron. I appreciate it.”

  He shrugged. “Not like there’s anyone else who cares.”

  I lowered my head. “Y
our mother would have been proud.”

  He shook his. “No she wouldn’t. She’d have been mortified that I was in here and worried about what the neighbors would think.”

  “Nobody’s perfect.”

  “I know.”

  I stayed silent for a while, not knowing what to say, then he started talking.

  “I’m not blaming you, Dad. Things just turned bad after Mom died. We used to have so much fun, then…” He turned his head, and I think he wiped tears away.

  When he turned around his eyes locked onto mine and I felt his pain. It hurt. “What happened? It was like you stopped loving me? Like…” he shook his head. “I didn’t die you know. I’m still here. But all you do is think about her. Sometimes I think that you’ve forgotten me or…that you wished I died instead of her.”

  Tears formed in my eyes. I hugged him.

  “Don’t ever say that. You know I love you.”

  He hugged me too, then pulled back, wiped his eyes. “You haven’t said that to me since the funeral.”

  Goddamn, had it come to this…where he knew to the day when the last time I said I love you to him. What the fuck happened to me? I could barely hold his gaze, but I managed. “I’m so sorry. Things are going to be different when you come home. I promise.”

  He was silent for a long time. When he spoke I heard the old Ron in him, the one from before Mary’s death. “You sound like you mean it. That makes me feel good.”

  He smiled. “I’ll tell you what, you work on your part, keep catching bad guys, and be there when I need it, and I’ll get my ass clean. Maybe we can go play paintball or catch some movies.”

  “I’m getting too old for the paintball, but the movies sound good.”

  His smile grew bigger. “Movies it is. As soon as I get out.”

  We chatted for a few more minutes, both of us more relaxed. When I left I had a new purpose in life. One I’d lost for a long time.

  Thanks, God, for giving me another chance.

  I got in the car and headed toward the office. Might as well face the music. Coop would likely be calling any minute to summon me anyway. I hadn’t gone five miles before the phone rang.