Old Wounds, a Gino Cataldi Mystery

by Giacomo Giammatteo

“Okay, but does Cybil go out and kill her for Rusty’s indiscretion? Or does she kill Rusty?”

  “What does she gain by killing Camwyck? The condo won’t sell for a profit. Rusty will just find another stripper…”

  “I’d kill Rusty if I were her.”

  “If not her, then who killed the victim?” I wondered aloud.

  “Why are you asking me? You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

  “We’re going to have to get an alibi for Cybil.”

  Tip laughed. “She’ll raise holy hell.”

  “I guess Coop will have to earn her pay, because we need that alibi for Cybil.”

  “You want to go back to talk to Cybil now?”

  “No, let’s give her a chance to talk to people and come up with a plan.”

  “Smart ass.”

  I dialed the number on the card Cybil had given us. She answered right away.

  “Cybil Johnson.”

  “Mrs. Johnson, this is Detective Cataldi. We just met.”

  “What can I do for you, Detective?”

  “I forgot to ask, where were you on the night Ms. Camwyck was killed?”

  “I don’t quite know. When was she killed?”

  I told her the night and she didn’t hesitate in answering, making me wonder if she had it planned.

  “I was with Captain Cooper early in the evening, then I was at the hotel for dinner, then home. I’m certain my assistant can provide the details.”

  “She was with you?”

  “At dinner, yes.”

  “And what time did you get home?”

  She paused for a moment. “I’m not exactly certain, but I would guess it was around 8:30.”

  “Was anyone home when you got there?”

  “No.”

  “Not your husband?”

  “Detective, in case you haven’t learned this from your investigation, or from the gossip around town, Rusty seldom gets home before the early hours.”

  “And what about you? Did you stay home all night? See anyone? Talk on the phone?”

  “I’m afraid I tend to be a dull person. I poured myself a few drinks—I know this because I do it every night—then I read some before going to bed.”

  “And what time was that?”

  She paused for a moment. “I’m not sure, but I would guess before midnight.”

  “And your husband wasn’t home yet?”

  “Not at that time, no.” She sighed. “Will that be all?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That will be all for now.”

  “Have a good day, Detective.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. You too.”

  I hung up and looked at Tip. “She’s one cold bitch.”

  “As I said, poor Rusty.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did she sound like?”

  “She sounded real, but it was all planned. She had those answers ready way too fast. Do you remember what you did a week ago without even thinking? Not me.”

  “I can’t remember what I did last night,” Tip said.

  “Yeah, but we’ll still have to check with Coop, who happens to be Cybil’s early evening alibi, and Cybil’s admin, who had dinner with her.”

  “And what did Cybil do after that?”

  “You didn’t hear?” I said.

  “I heard noise, but nothing that I could make out.”

  “I guess she’s not as loud as Elena.” I laughed, then said, “She said nothing.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Yeah, but I still don’t see a woman doing this kind of murder. It’s too brutal. Even for Cybil.”

  “I hate to say it, but I agree with you,” Tip said. “We better fill Coop in.”

  “And check Cybil’s alibi.”

  ***

  Coop picked up the intercom as she scanned the reports for the day. “Yes, Cindy.”

  “It’s Mrs. Johnson, and she seems in a hurry.”

  Isn’t she always. “Put her through.”

  “Gladys, get them dogs off my scent.”

  “You’re reverting to your roots. Your accent and poor grammar are showing.”

  “Screw you. Get them off me. I mean it.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Silence, then. “Captain Cooper, I suggest you remember what you stand to lose before you commit to a course of action.”

  “They’re detectives on a case. They’ll follow it where it goes. If it—”

  “I don’t give a fuck where it goes. I can’t afford to have Rusty’s name dragged through the gutter because of some whore, so you better steer it on another course.”

  The line went dead.

  Coop sipped the last of a bit of tea in her cup and removed her glasses. The frustration of dealing with Cybil wasn’t worth it; sometimes she wondered why she chose this path in life.

  CHAPTER 27

  ACCENTS

  Houston, Texas

  We headed to Coop’s office, eager to get whatever information she had on Barbara Camwyck. If nothing else, to see how it compared to what we discovered and what Julie dug up.

  “Let me do the talking with Coop,” Tip said. “I’ve known her longer.”

  “All that means is she’s had more time to hate you.”

  “I know that, but you piss her off more.”

  I laughed, but as we walked down the long corridor leading to her office, I wondered if he was telling the truth. Tip lied so much it was hard to tell.

  Cindy sat at her guard post across from Coop’s office. She got up to greet us as we approached. “Hello, Detectives. Having a good day?”

  “If I was any better I’d be you,” Tip said.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of saying that?”

  “I only say it to pretty young things.”

  “You’re so full of it.”

  As Cindy made her way toward Coop’s door she laughed. She enjoyed every minute of Tip’s nonsense. “I told the captain you were here.”

  Coop was sitting behind her desk, squat and solid, like a block of stone, and staring over the rims of her glasses at a stack of papers. She didn’t bother getting up to greet us. “Sit down. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  Tip took the seat to the left and kicked his feet up on her desk. She threw a pen at him without looking up. “Off, Denton.”

  I took out my notepad and looked at the summary of our talks with Rusty and Cybil, thinking about what we might have missed. After what seemed like forever, she removed her glasses and looked in our direction. “All right, gentlemen. Tell me what you found out.”

  Tip leaned forward, his elbows resting on the edge of her desk. “Why don’t you tell us what you know first. You said you knew the victim from before.”

  I thought I noticed a glare in Coop’s eye, but she recovered quickly. “As you probably know, I grew up in East Texas with Cybil. Barbara Camwyck was a few years behind us in school, but the town was small and we all knew each other.”

  “What was she like?” I asked.

  Coop leaned back, running fingers through her short cropped hair as she did. “She was a little wild as a teenager, but weren’t we all. The last thing I remember is she was working at a diner and dating a lawyer’s son. And I heard once that she might have been pregnant, but there were no kids that I know of.”

  I took notes, and Tip took the opportunity to continue. “How about after she came to Houston. Did you see her much?”

  Coop sat up straight. “Occasionally at a gathering with Cybil and Rusty, but aside from that, nothing.”

  Tip looked to me, then back to Coop.

  “Were she and Cybil friends?”

  “You’d have to ask Cybil that.”

  “Did you have dinner with Cybil on the night of the murder?”

  Once again I thought she shot him a glare, but it was quick. Coop was good at covering up.

  “I met her early in the evening, but I didn’t have dinner with her.” She narrowed her eyes so that I could barely see the blue.

  “Did she say I did?
”

  Tip shook his head. “No, she said you met earlier. I forgot for a minute.”

  “Forgot my ass. Now how about you two get busy and find me a damn killer.”

  “We’re trying.” Tip stood and turned toward the door, but not before asking, “Cap, do you think Cybil could have killed her?”

  “You can’t be serious.” Coop said.

  “I am serious. Do you think she could?”

  “Denton, get your cowboy ass out of my office, and stop wasting time on nonsense.” She got up and shoved him toward the door, then gave me a nudge.

  “You too, Cataldi. Get out of here and find the real murderer.”

  We started out the door but Coop called us back. “I know you’ll be following up on this investigation. Make sure you work under the radar because Cybil’s going to be watching your every move.”

  “And if we can’t?” Tip asked.

  Coop shrugged. “Then you can’t. It might cost you a new captain, but what the hell. I had a different job before this one.”

  I patted her on the arm. “Thanks, Coop.”

  Tip didn’t say anything as we walked back down the hall. Finally, I broke the silence.

  “You did pretty good for a while, cowboy. But you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “All right, but I ain’t bending over.”

  Tip tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t. He let out that goofy guffaw and couldn’t stop. “Don’t go stealing my jokes. That’s what gives me charm.”

  “You don’t have to worry. That was the first and last time I use one of your lines.”

  “Well all right then, I forgive you.”

  “Now all we need to do is find a murderer so Coop forgives us.”

  “Is that all?” Tip said. “That’ll be easy now that we have a victim.”

  “Now what?”

  “Let’s go to your house so I can listen to that tape. I want to hear the mystery caller.”

  It didn’t take long to drive to my place. I fired up the grill for burgers while Tip listened to the tape. He must have played it five or six times before he quit. We grabbed a couple of beers then sat down to eat and go over the tape together.

  “I’m with you on this, Gino. Something sounds familiar about her, but nothing that I can pinpoint. I can’t swear that it isn’t Coop or Cybil, but I think I’d know them.”

  “I still think she’s trying to hide an accent or something.”

  “I agree,” Tip said. “She’s not consistent.”

  “So let’s look at this—what would the caller have to gain if she were the killer?”

  Tip finished chewing and got up to get another beer. “You want another?”

  “Unless you have a better idea,” I said.

  “I guess we could go out and troll for drug dealers. Maybe shoot one or two.”

  I laughed, but the hair on my neck bristled, like it did when something was wrong. Is he baiting me? Is he the one asking Chicky about me? “Sounds like a good idea, but I’m settled in for the night.”

  “Maybe another time,” Tip said. “And as far as that caller and what she’d have to gain…I think I’m with you. I wasn’t at first, but I can’t see a reason why she’d call if she did it—unless it was to play with us. Even considering that I don’t see it.”

  I flipped through notes from the case, and shook my head. “The problem is that every lead we have came from this woman. We haven’t found a damn thing on our own.”

  Tip looked at me. “Somebody’s yanking our dicks.”

  “She definitely knows something.”

  I opened up my second can of beer. “She either knows the killer or Camwyck. Or both. Either way, we have to find her.”

  “Phone traces produced nothing. She used a burner, probably different ones, and she turned them off after using them.”

  I grabbed our plates and rinsed them off in the sink. “And she hasn’t called in several days. It might be she just wanted us to find out who the victim was so we could solve it ourselves, leaving her out of it.”

  Tip’s phone rang and he punched the speaker button. “Denton.”

  “This is Dr. Umlang.”

  Tip looked over at me and whispered. “It’s the vet. He’s got the dog I took from Camwyck’s.”

  “Put it on speakerphone,” I said. “He’s not as loud as Elena.”

  Tip nodded, and pressed the button for the speaker. “What’s up? That dog all right?” Tip asked.

  “He was dehydrated and hungry, but he’ll be all right. There was no kidney damage. With a couple of days rest, and a good home, he’ll be fine.”

  “What are you calling me for?”

  “You know that Sacco doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of getting adopted.”

  “Can’t do it,” Tip said.

  “You’ve got room at your place.”

  Tip frowned. “Aw shit, I can’t. Find somebody else.”

  “You’re probably his only shot,” Umlang said.

  “I’ll think on it,” Tip said, and hung up.

  I glanced over at Tip. “What’s the matter?”

  “That damn dog we found in the condo. The vet wants me to take him in.”

  I thought that’s what I heard. I figured how this would end up. “You gonna do it?”

  “No way I’m taking another dog.”

  “How much you want to bet you’ll have that dog before the week’s up?”

  “No fucking way.”

  “How much?”

  He ignored me and walked outside.

  “Fifty?”

  “Go to hell. I’m not betting, but I’m not taking the dog either.”

  “What are you gonna name it?”

  “He’s already got a name. It was on his collar. Sacco…or something like that.”

  “Good name.”

  “Fuck you. Let’s get to work.”

  My phone rang. “Gino.”

  “Detective Cataldi?”

  “Who’s this?”

  A male voice with a hint of a Spanish accent said, “Detective Santos, DPD Homicide. I got your number from Captain Cooper.”

  Dallas Police Department? “What can I do for you, Detective?”

  “We’ve got a body up here just like one of yours. Caucasian female, cut into three pieces and dumped all over town.”

  “Son of a bitch!” I said, and moved closer to Tip so that he could hear.

  Santos filled me in on the details and I scribbled notes while he talked. Tip stood next to me, listening. “Santos, instead of me going through all we have, how about if I send you the file in the morning, and you can send us what you have.”

  “I’ll get on it first thing,” he said. “We can talk afterward.”

  “What was that about?” Tip asked. “I caught some of it, but not all.”

  “That was a detective from Dallas. It’s like we figured, Tip, meaning the killer wasn’t going to stop. We’ve got another body, but this one’s in Big D.”

  CHAPTER 28

  ANOTHER BODY

  We walked out back porch, where I filled Tip in on what Santos told me about the body in Dallas as we nursed a couple of beers. Every few minutes, I wiped sweat off my head and swatted a few mosquitoes away. “I hate Texas summers.”

  “They are a bitch aren’t they?”

  “It got hot in Philly, but summer didn’t last eight months. And we didn’t have mosquitoes as big as sparrows.”

  “Fucking pussies.” Tip gulped the last of his beer and tossed it into a can I had on the porch. “Tell me about Dallas again.”

  I looked at the notes from my talk with Santos. “Vic was a prostitute, a high-end one, Santos said. Her name was Patti Richards. But get this, she was almost as old as Camwyck.”

  “How’d they ID her? You didn’t tell me they had a name.”

  “Prints matched a TDL record.”

  “This gets stranger by the minute,” Tip said. “Why wasn’t the killer worr
ied about her being identified? He went to great lengths to make sure we didn’t find Camwyck, and we wouldn’t have if not for that rainstorm.”

  “And why did he bury Camwyck’s head, and just dump Richards all over Dallas?”

  “And he cut off Camwyck’s fingers, too.”

  Tip set his beer on the porch railing and took out his notepad. He talked while he wrote. “Why is he spreading the body parts? Publicity? For what?”

  “This is all assuming we have the same killer. It could be a copycat. Our guy tortured Camwyck before killing her. I’ll be eager to see what the M.E. says about Richards.”

  Tip shook his head. “There are some sick sons of bitches out there.”

  “We’ll have to wait until we look at the file to see if there’s anything else.”

  “I hope they have more than us,” Tip said.

  “All we have for suspects are the mayor, his wife, and Coop. We need to generate more leads or be prepared to surrender our badges.”

  “We have an entire file cabinet full of leads,” I said. “And they’re all just as likely suspects as Rusty.” I paused.

  “Except of course the missing clients.”

  “Who’s working the client list?”

  “Perkins and Delgado,” I said.

  “Delgado’s good, but we should get him some help. That’s a big list.”

  I gulped the rest of my beer and swatted at another mosquito. “You know Delgado’s my cousin.”

  Tip cocked his head and looked at me.

  “Delgado’s your cousin?”

  “By marriage,” I said, and drained the last sip from my can. “We also need to see if they found semen in the Dallas victim.”

  “Even if they did,” Tip said, “she was a working girl.”

  “It would be nice if it matched the semen in Camwyck.”

  “Which reminds me,” Tip said. “We’ve got to see if Rusty has a solid alibi for the night of Camwyck’s murder. If not, we can get a warrant for a DNA test.”

  “I’d like to see that happen.”

  “Don’t worry, if that dumb fuck doesn’t give us an airtight alibi, I’ll get one.”

  “How do you see this playing out with Rusty and Cybil?”

  Tip shook his head. “I don’t know if either one of them had anything to do with it, but something tells me there’s a weasel in Rusty’s henhouse. And I intend to find the son of a bitch.”