Old Wounds, a Gino Cataldi Mystery

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  “Can’t say it’s not interesting,” Tip said.

  I poured two coffees and said, “Let’s find a room where we can watch this with no interruptions.”

  Tip grinned. “You want to get a better look at her ass, don’t you?”

  I grabbed his arm and dragged him along. “You’re disgusting.”

  We started the video over from the beginning. Within a few minutes we were at the point where the president started kissing Camwyck. Not long after that, Camwyck undressed herself and then him, lingering to give him pleasure.

  The video progressed as I expected, with foreplay, then full oral sex and then intercourse. Tip’s phone rang, and I paused the entertainment, if you could call it that.

  After a minute or so, and some small talk he hung up.

  “Who was that?” I said.

  “Julie. Still no hits on Camwyck’s car, but we’ll find it. Or some good citizen will.”

  “How about the cell phone?”

  “Not a clue. It has to be like we thought before, disposables. No other explanation.”

  “And she checked Rusty’s ‘family plan?’”

  Tip nodded. “She called every number the phone company had listed, and they were all answered by ladies who checked out. Oh, yeah, nothing on VICAP either.”

  “So we’ve still got shit.”

  “Unless this porno flick is chock full of evidence,” Tip said, “but so far it doesn’t look like it.”

  “We need to find out when and where this video happened,” I said. “She’s wearing the same dress and shoes as the ones we found with the body.”

  “We can rule out the president as a suspect then.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “No woman worth her salt is going to wear the same outfit with the same guy so close together. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”

  “Good point,” I said. “Do you think it’ll stand up in court?”

  “With a woman judge it will.”

  I pushed the play button. “Let’s watch the show.”

  Tip leaned back in the chair. “I have my popcorn ready.”

  We watched the recording, pausing a few times to discuss or make note of things. It lasted a lot longer than I thought it would, cutting off abruptly at the end of the sex, but then continuing with the president mixing drinks while she walked around naked.

  “This doesn’t prove much except that the president had sex with a woman,” Tip said.

  “And that he can make love for almost an hour,” I added.

  Tip whistled. “Don’t let that shit get out. It’ll ruin it for the rest of us studs.”

  “Let’s get serious. We’ve got a dead woman, remember.”

  “Damn!” He sat up and looked at me. “I forgot to tell you, the reports from the Dallas M.E. came in. He confirmed that Patti Richards had no semen in her and the rape kit showed nothing.”

  “What about the wounds?”

  “Basically the same, but they were more hesitant, almost as if a different person did it.”

  I turned off the TV. “You think we might have a copycat?”

  Tip shook his head. “I don’t know how. Everything else looks identical, and we never said which parts were removed or where they were found.”

  I thought about what he said and something struck me. “Unless it was someone with access to the investigation?”

  Tip had been on his way to the bathroom, but when I said that he stopped and turned, a strange look on his face. “Like Coop.”

  “Or Cybil,” I said. “If Coop knew, Cybil did too.”

  “And she was in Dallas that night.”

  “So was Coop,” I said.

  “Fuck me.”

  I nodded. “Me too.”

  CHAPTER 35

  WHAT NEXT

  Houston, Texas

  At the end of the day, we went to my house and sat on the front porch to chat. Tip sat in the chair and stared at the sky. We could see a ton of stars, and somehow that made for a serene moment, even after watching the video.

  “What do we have?” Tip asked.

  I had been with Tip long enough that I recognized his way of starting conversations about the case—’what do we have.’ I figured it was as much to spark his own thoughts as mine. “All we’ve got is the president having sex with a woman who isn’t his wife. The burning questions are who recorded the video and who sent the video?”

  “And why was the video sent?” Tip added. “Though I’m guessing it had to be the woman in Dallas, the second victim.”

  I thought about what he said, which made sense. “You think Camwyck was the one who taped it?” I sat up straight, excited by the prospect. “What if she was blackmailing him…”

  “And our good president didn’t like that.”

  I gulped the last of my beer, and my stomach roiled like a shallow creek in a hurricane—to borrow one of Tip’s sayings. “I don’t like where this is going.”

  “It’s worth thinking about,” Tip said. “What else do we have—Cybil and Rusty,

  maybe Coop— but only if you buy that she’d do this for Cybil. And don’t forget the First Lady.”

  “You know she didn’t do it.”

  “I’m not saying she did it, but she is the First Lady, and Washington has more hit men than the Mafia. She might have gotten pissed that her husband was screwing around and decided to take matters into her own hands.”

  I laughed. “That’s ridiculous. Let’s put that theory on the back burner, Denton.”

  Tip stood but gave a big sigh when he did. “You realize we never got an alibi from Coop.”

  “You’ve known her longest, remember?”

  “If she fires me you’ll be all alone on this case.”

  I stood and walked toward the door. “I’m going in. In the morning I think we need to pin down everybody’s alibi for both nights—Houston and Dallas. Which means you better get some sleep or Coop will tear you a new ass.”

  “I need a new ass. Elena said it’s getting flat.”

  “Did you tell her that hers was getting big?”

  “You really do want a new partner, don’t you? I know it’s been a while, Gino, so in case you forgot, there are three things you don’t ever tell a woman: that her ass is big; that her ass is getting bigger; or that somebody else’s ass is nicer than hers—unless it’s a guy, in which case you stand the chance she’ll agree with you and suggest a threesome.”

  I looked at him, once again amazed that he’d even say such a thing, even in jest. “And just how do you know this?”

  “Trial and error, but it’s been mostly error.”

  “I have no idea how you get any woman, let alone one as nice as Elena.”

  “It’s a secret.”

  “Go home,” I said, and as he left, I closed the door.

  I tried relaxing but couldn’t concentrate on the book I’d been reading, so I went for a short walk enjoying the heat and humidity of a Texas night. Sometimes I hated the weather here. At other times it was like a cleansing of the soul. As I passed by a wooded area the sounds of crickets, frogs, and God knows how many insects sung their nightly chorus.

  The walk relaxed me, and I lay down and went to sleep quickly after that. I dreamed of the First Lady, which led to the images of the video Coop showed us.

  Something struck me as odd. I grabbed the phone and called Tip.

  “What do you want?”

  “I was just thinking about that video. She wasn’t there just doing him, not unless she was an academy-award caliber actress; she was in love with him.”

  “Okay, so she was in love. What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Presuming she was in love—which in itself is rare for a woman in her profession—why would she record it?”

  There was a moment of silence, then Tip said, “Maybe he recorded it. Maybe the guy liked watching himself. Who knows. The question is, who sent it to Coop.”

  “I think we know who sent it, the victim from Dallas. But
run with this, Tip. Suppose someone besides Camwyck planted the camera. Someone close to the president.”

  “It would have to be someone very close,” Tip said.

  “This is getting scary.”

  “Tell me about it,” Tip said. “Sleep well.”

  I poured coffee for both of us, then we sat at the table. “We’re going to have to tell Coop about suspecting Cybil, and the sooner we do it, the easier it’ll go on us. She’ll be pissed.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “You plan on telling her today?”

  “I think we should interview Cybil again.”

  “Before talking to Coop?”

  “Yeah, before. This is bad to say, Gino, but I’m not sure I trust Coop to keep our suspicions quiet, and I don’t want Cybil knowing anything before we see her.”

  “Why don’t we tell Coop what we’re doing and see if she bites? It’s not going to make much difference if Cybil knows or not, and it will let us know if Coop is trustworthy.”

  Tip smiled. “Now that’s an idea I like. You want to come with me when I tell her?”

  “I’m game. When do you want to do it?”

  He tossed the cup into the trash and stood. “How about now?”

  On the way to Coop’s office, Julie intercepted us. “Hey, ya’ll, did Detective Santos from Dallas get hold of you?”

  “Santos? What did he want?” I checked my cell and saw a missed call. How did I miss that? Damn AT&T.

  “He said they found Patti Richards’ car.” She scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to me. “Here’s Santos’ phone number in case you don’t have it. He said he’d call later.”

  “Thanks,” I said, then turned to Tip. “I hope there’s something we can use in there.”

  “Which reminds me, we need to find Camwyck’s car.” He headed back toward his desk, talking the whole way. “Hearing about Patti’s vehicle reminded me that we never found Camwyck’s purse. It might be in her car. It has to be somewhere. Women don’t go anywhere without a purse. I once caught Elena taking hers to the bathroom.”

  “Maybe she took it so you didn’t go through it.”

  Tip laughed. “I might act stupid, but I’m not that dumb. You don’t go through a woman’s purse unless you’re ready to unleash the wrath of God.”

  I laughed with him. “For once, he was right.”

  When we got to his desk he rifled through his Rolodex then gave up and called Julie.

  “Will you please get me Samantha Roberts’ number?”

  “You mean the reporter who almost got you suspended? And by the way, Tip, when are you moving to this century. People keep phone numbers and addresses and such on their computers and phones nowadays.”

  “The reporter who almost got me suspended. That’s the one, darlin’. She’s seen the light though; now she loves me.” Tip was about to hang up the phone, then said, “As far as why I’m not in this century as you called it, it’s so I can keep people like you employed. You’ve got to have something to do, right?”

  “You are a Neanderthal, Tip. Forget I asked.”

  Tip dialed the number and Samantha answered on the second ring. I was close enough to hear the conversation.

  “Samantha Roberts.”

  “Hi beautiful.”

  “If it isn’t my favorite Neanderthal.”

  “Don’t get me excited.”

  “What’s up, Tip?”

  Tip looked around then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Remember the pictures you did?”

  “Of course. You know I remember them. Why, did they get you in trouble?”

  “No, but we’re in a jam. I need to find the victim’s car.”

  A long pause, then. “I noticed you tried finding it with Channel 2.”

  “My mistake. They aren’t as good as you.”

  Her voice carried her smile through the phone. “You bet they’re not. How do you want to handle the car search?”

  “I’m leaving that up to you. Just find it.”

  “You’ll have it in two days or less. I promise.”

  “I gotta go. Get it, and I’ll owe you one.”

  After he hung up we started down the hall to Coop’s office. About halfway there my phone beeped, signaling voice mail.

  Goddamn AT&T. It was only an hour late. We were almost at Coop’s office, so I’d have to listen to it later.

  We were led into Coop’s office by Cindy, who shook her head warning us of the mood we’d face once inside. Coop began her barking before the door closed.

  “What do you want?”

  Tip put on his best smile. “And a damn good morning to you too, Captain.”

  She looked as if she would bite our heads off, then surprised me by removing her glasses and setting them gently on the desk. “Okay, point taken. Good morning, Tip. You too, Cataldi.”

  I sat and took out my notepad. Tip did the same. “We wanted to update you on the case.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “They found Patti Richards’ car.”

  Coop appeared confused. “Who?”

  “You know, Patti Richards, the victim up in Dallas.”

  “Great! Any leads develop from it?”

  “I don’t know. Santos called and left a message but we haven’t spoken to him yet.”

  “All right, keep me posted, and call Santos as soon as you leave here. Don’t let this pot simmer. Get on it. What else have you got?”

  When Tip didn’t say anything, I responded. “We’ve got nothing from Delgado or any of the others checking local leads, and we still haven’t found Camwyck’s car or her cell phone. We figure she had to be using burners.” I hesitated, hoping that Tip was jumping in with the Cybil information, but I could tell by the smirk on his face he was hanging me out to dry. “We thought we’d interview Cybil again.”

  Coop sat straight up. “What for?”

  Tip leaned forward. “Because there are too many connections between Cybil and the victim, and between the victim and Rusty, and…”

  “And what?”

  “Between the victim and you.”

  She put her glasses back on and that mean face she was famous for appeared. “You’re wasting time with that line of thinking. Find the real killer, and do not, I mean do not bother Cybil. Am I clear?”

  I stood, eager to get out with my badge intact, but Tip would have nothing of it. He rested his foot on the other leg as if he’d settled in for the night.

  “No problem, Captain. I had a few homeless people to interrogate anyway. I figured they might know a lot about a high-end prostitute who lives in a million-dollar condo co-signed by the mayor, who happens to be her main client, not to mention the mayor’s wife, who she happened to grow up with. Oh, did I forget to mention she grew up with the president, who is on a video screwing her?”

  Coop clenched her jaw and balled her fist. I felt sure that if she had high blood pressure, this kind of tension would push her over the edge. It was time for us to leave, but Tip wasn’t letting it go.

  “With leads like that,” Tip said, “I’m sure we’ll crack this case soon. Tell the chief not to worry.”

  “Get out of my office.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Cindy blew us a kiss as we exited the office. I kept looking behind us as we hurried down the hallway in case Coop changed her mind and decided to take our badges.

  I tapped Tip on the shoulder. “Where to now, my diplomatic partner?”

  “I guess we go see Cybil. Those homeless people won’t be back from work yet.”

  ***

  Coop jabbed her pen into the calendar and pressed down hard. What had started out as a good morning had turned to shit in a hurry. And she was in a hole that got deeper by the minute. She took a few deep breaths, calmed herself, then picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Hello, this is Cybil Johnson.”

  “Stop with the fake voice. You have caller ID and you know damn right well who’s calling.”

  “I was t
rying to be polite. What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Tip and Gino are probably on their way to see you right now.”

  Cybil’s voice changed to one of concern. “What for?”

  “To question you about Barbara again.”

  “Can’t you stop them? You are the boss aren’t you?”

  “I told them to back off, but they won’t listen. I’d be surprised if it takes them half an hour to get there.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  Coop sighed before speaking. She didn’t want to show her temper. “These are the two best detectives I’ve got. Don’t think you can handle them. Just shut-up and follow advice for once in your life.”

  “Remember who you’re addressing.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Cybil. I called to warn you. And if I were you, I’d get an attorney, but it’s your ass, not mine.”

  CHAPTER 36

  REPERCUSSIONS

  Tip drove the speed limit all the way to Cybil’s place, surprising me with his calmness.

  “How do you want to handle the interview? She won’t give us anything, and she’ll probably lawyer up.”

  “We need to test her,” Tip said. “Insult her. Challenge her. Just follow my lead. I know how to deal with these Texas gals.”

  “Cybil’s not your ordinary Texas gal. There’s nothing ordinary about her.”

  “You watch while I talk. If you see a place to jump in feel free to do it. We can’t let her breathe once we get her going. We’ve got to keep her talking instead of thinking. Once a viper like her starts thinking she might out-think us.”

  “On most days that wouldn’t be too difficult, Detective Denton.”

  “That’s why I’m warning you.”

  Tip parked in the garage and we made our way to Cybil’s office. Surprisingly we were admitted to see her with less than a ten-minute wait. Her admin led us down a hallway to a set of double doors with exquisite etched glass that looked as if it came straight from an artisan’s studio. We stepped onto plush carpeting and an office furnished like a showroom. The highlight, though, was the floor to ceiling glass windows with a perfect view of the skyline.