by Blake Banner
“In all probability. In all my years doing this job, I have never seen a man stab to the heart, in the back, in an embrace. Typically, men will stab low to the gut or the solar plexus, up under the rib cage. Even in an embrace. Women kill a lot less than men, and they are typically devious when they do, because usually they are aware that their intended victim, if he is a man, is physically stronger than they are. I have never seen a man kill like this.”
Dehan shrugged. “A woman with a motive for stabbing Fernando in the heart. Hum, let me see.” She puffed out her cheeks and blew. “Let’s face it, that’s not a small pool of suspects, but chances are we’re going to get a hit on CODIS because, as you would say, Stone, two gets you twenty she’s one of the hookers he’s beaten up.”
I nodded. “That would be the obvious explanation.”
“Don’t complicate this, Stone.” She grinned and wagged a finger at me, “Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necesitatem.”
Frank went rigid and stared at her. “What have you done to her, Stone? She’s broken.”
I laughed. “It’s Occam’s razor in the original Latin. She does it to annoy.”
“It means,” she said, “things should not be multiplied beyond what is necessary. In other words, don’t complicate things.”
“That is true,” I said. “And William of Occam was a very wise man indeed. But are you sure you are looking at the simplest answer? Are you sure you are not complicating things unnecessarily?”
She crossed her arms. “OK, genius, what’s your theory?”
“I must say,” put in Frank, “I am pretty curious to hear it myself. If this man beats up women for fun, it’s a cinch one of those women killed him.”
I shook my head. “Uh-uh, I plan to wait for the DNA results and then say, ‘See? I knew it!’”
Frank sighed. “I always said he was a fraud. Now please get out. I have places to be and people to dissect. I shall call you when I get the results.”
We left him to his dissecting and made our way out. In the lobby I stopped, called the station and asked to be put through to Clay. It rang a couple of times and a deep voice said, “I told you we got this, mother hen,” then laughed. “What do you want, Stone?”
“I believe you. Has he said anything?”
“Like what?”
“Like any kind of confession?”
“Nah, he just regalin’ us with wild stories of wild parties, cocaine and crazy chicks. I missed my vocation, man. I gonna hand in my badge and become a cocaine traffickin’ artist.”
“I’m sure you’ll prosper. Anyone call, visit, ring at the door…?”
“No.”
“OK, we’re on our way to the station. I’ll talk to the inspector and…” I thought for a moment. “Yeah, what the hell, we’ll bring him in.”
“Ten four, man. We’ll be waitin’ for your call.”
I hung up and Dehan said, “Bring him in for what?”
I didn’t answer straight away. Finally I gave my head a small twitch and said, “Drug trafficking, at the very least.”
I took the chains out of the trunk and put them on the wheels. The snow was getting deep on the roads. There were barely any pedestrians and the traffic had thinned out to the odd, sporadic vehicle crawling through the gossamer veils of falling flakes.
It took us a good forty minutes to get to the station and by the time we had collected two cups of coffee and climbed the stairs to the inspector’s office, we were cold, tired and pretty miserable. His office was warm and he was, as always, welcoming.
“What an appalling night to be out solving murders! Tell me, I have been going over the original report and I am intrigued, how are you getting on? How is it going? Sit! Sit!”
Dehan sat in an armchair, clutching her cup with both hands and I sat in the chair across from him at his desk. I was still thinking about my answer to his question when Dehan started to talk.
“Stone managed to get a DNA sample from Mary Browne.”
“Oh!” His eyebrows shot up. “I thought she was set against that.”
“She was, but she gave him a needle with a piece of cotton attached… It’s a long story, sir. In any case, the man who killed Sue Benedict was Mary Browne’s brother.”
“Splendid work, Stone! So now we just have to find him.”
“No, we found him, sir. He is now an integral part of the foundations of the East 2nd Street Casino Hotel, in Reno.”
“Good Lord!”
“He committed suicide by throwing himself into the wet concrete.”
“Well…” He looked from me to Dehan and back again. “Case closed, then. What about this Fernando Martinez character?”
“He and Giorgio Gonzalez have been involved in small-scale coke and marijuana trafficking for a few years. They also got their kicks by beating up and raping women, mainly hookers we think, but not exclusively. We think they used the art classes both as an outlet for their merchandise, and as a hunting ground for girls. And it was in that environment that Cyril met Sue. It may have precipitated the killing, through jealousy or something of that sort. We just don’t know. The night she was killed, they were all at a party together. With the alcohol and drugs going down, it is hard to form a clear picture of the events.”
“Yes, I see. The Halloween party.” He thought for a moment. “So is it your opinion that Fernando Martinez’s death is related to the original case? Or simply a bizarre coincidence?”
She glanced at me. “I’m not exactly sure of Stone’s views on that, sir, we are still thinking it through. It seems he was stabbed in the back, with a kitchen knife, while he was kissing a woman. My own opinion is that he was probably murdered by one of the women he abused.”
“Yes, I see. That seems to make sense.”
“We thought at first that Giorgio Gonzalez, Sue Benedict’s art teacher, might be involved, but he has a pretty airtight alibi. He had spent practically the whole day with his neighbor.”
The inspector turned and frowned at me. “You are uncharacteristically quiet today, John. Usually it is you doing all the talking, while Carmen here observes a discreet silence. Are you going to share your thoughts with us? What do you plan to do with Giorgio Gonzalez?”
“I’d like to arrest him and bring him in for interrogation, sir.”
“Arrest him? On what charge?”
“Trafficking drugs, rape, assault.”
“Have you any evidence for these charges?”
“He confessed to trafficking cannabis and cocaine in front of me and Dehan, sir. We also have the testimony of Melanie in Jersey. Now that Fernando is dead, she may be willing to testify in court. The truth is, sir, any charge will do. I just want him in custody because I think his life is at risk. In fact, the more I sit here and think about it, the more convinced I am that we are on the clock. Somebody is going to try and kill him, somebody very subtle and very dangerous. He is with Santos and Clay right now, but I would feel a lot more comfortable if we had him safely behind bars, for his sake.”
He had listened to me with a deep frown on his brow. Now he turned to Dehan. “Do you agree with this assessment, Carmen? Did you hear Gonzalez confess to trafficking?”
“Yes, sir, I did. And Stone has been right about this whole damn case all along, so if he says Giorgio is at risk, I am willing to believe that.”
“Fine, that is good enough for me.” He nodded and turned to me. “Bring him in, John.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Clay again. A voice came on telling me it had not been possible to connect my call. I suppressed a jolt of panic, hung up and called again. Again the voice, “It has not been possible…” I called dispatch and had them put me through to Santos. It rang three times and was answered.
“Santos, what the hell is going on? Why isn’t Clay answering his phone?”
There was silence, with only the slightest sound of breathing. I said, “Santos…?”
A sigh and then line went dead. I stood. “Jesus Christ!” I wr
enched open the door, shouting at the inspector. “Get every available car down there now! Clay and Santos are down! Do it now!”
Seventeen
I forced myself to stay at thirty miles an hour. I knew that if I went any faster, I’d start fishtailing, skidding and sliding all over the road and we’d end up taking twice as long. As it was, we fishtailed into Patterson Avenue and wound up with the trunk on the sidewalk and the back wheels spinning in the drift. Dehan took the wheel and I pushed and we finally got it back on the road again.
By the time we arrived at Giorgio’s house, the place was like an anthill, only with cops instead of ants. There were five cars there, their red and blue lights pulsing ghostly on the snow. The door was open and yellow light was spilling out onto the porch. The uniforms were putting up yellow tape, cordoning off the area. Across the road, I could see Sandy Beach staring out at us through her window. We ducked under the tape and went up the steps to the door. Dehan was just ahead of me. Sergeant Gunter was standing outside.
“Detectives, The ME and Crime Scene are on their way. So is the Inspector. Clay is just here…”
He pointed through the door. I felt a jolt of adrenaline. The way he said it sounded like he was alive. But when I looked through the door, I saw him lying on his back. He looked surprised to see the ceiling up there. He had a neat hole right in the center of his forehead.
“Gunter, have you started canvassing the neighbors yet?”
“We just got here, Detective, a few minutes before you did. All we’ve done is secure the scene. We found the door open and the scene exactly as you see it.”
“Across the road, two doors down, there’s a woman staring out of her window watching. Her name is Sandy Beach. Go get her and bring her here, will you?”
“Sandy Beach? Sure.”
He left and I heard Dehan’s voice across the large, hollow room.
“Santos is here…”
I looked over at the sofa, and only then became aware that the television was on, playing a rerun of Castle. Santos had been watching that, or something else earlier. He was sitting slumped over the arm of the couch. There was a mug of coffee spilled on the carpet, dangling from his fingers. His position was twisted and uncomfortable.
Dehan turned to look at me. “I really want to read this as Giorgio killed them and got away. But that’s not what happened here.” She pointed at the door. “Somebody knocked or rang. Clay opened and instantly got plugged in the head.” She gestured at Santos. “He turned to see what was going on. It must have been a bare second. His piece is still in his holster. Then the shooter stepped in and got him from the door. He must have shot Clay, taken just one step, aimed and shot Santos. Bam, bam.”
I nodded. That was how I had read it too. “So where is Giorgio?”
“Captured or rescued.”
I moved over to the sofa. The shot had entered his forehead close to his left temple and blown a big hole in the back of his head. There was a mass of gore and blood over the cushions. I hunkered down and had a look. The slug was clearly visible.
“Nine millimeter.” I stood. “What? Thirty foot? It’s a good shot.”
She nodded once. “That’s what I was thinking. Most people in a hurry would have gone for the body. He’s sitting sideways on, twisted around, and the shooter steps in and aims before Santos can react. But he goes for a head shot. That’s a lot of confidence. And accuracy at thirty paces.”
“The door was left open. The fire has burned down and the room is cold, but the blood is beginning to dry. This happened a while ago. It must have been very shortly after we left.”
“The killer was waiting?”
Before I could answer, there was a footfall outside. Then a gasp and a small scream. I moved to the door. Gunter was with Sandy. He looked embarrassed. She had her hands over her mouth and was staring wide-eyed at Clay on the floor. Then she screwed them up and turned away. We stepped out after her and Dehan put her arm around her shoulders, led her from the door. Gunter looked apologetic. “You told me to bring her over. I warned her it wasn’t pretty…”
I patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. My bad.”
I followed them down the steps to where they were standing in front of the garage. Sandy watched me approach. I noticed she was wearing her hair caught up at the back of her head. She still had staring eyes, and her hands over her mouth. I said, “I’m sorry you had to see that, Ms. Beach. We’ve only just arrived and we’re still in a bit of turmoil. That was one of our officers.”
She slowly dropped her hands. “I’m sorry. I should have been prepared. Your sergeant warned me.”
“You’re never really prepared, Ms. Beach. I wanted to ask you if you had seen or heard anything.”
She gave small, slightly breathless nods. “It was a little after you…” She hesitated.
“After we’d left?”
“Well… yes, after you’d left. I had seen Detective Dehan go to that car and come back in with two men. I was so worried for Giorgio. I know you warned me to stay away, but I am really very attached to him.” She gave a small laugh. “I don’t want you to think that I spend my whole life at the window watching for him, but I heard you leave…”
She faltered and Dehan smiled. “You wanted to see if the two men had left with us, so you could go back to Giorgio again.”
Sandy nodded. “I’m afraid so. But I saw that their car was still there. Then I saw another car arrive.”
“Can you describe it?”
“It was big, dark blue. It was like the car Gibbs drives.”
Dehan frowned. “Gibbs?”
“You know, in NCIS.”
I said, “A Dodge Charger. So what happened next, Ms. Beach?”
“Two men got out. They were wearing suits. It was hard to tell but they looked expensive, and dark coats. They were well dressed. They went up to the house and a short while later, they came out again with Giorgio.”
I thought about it a moment, then asked her, “Where did Giorgio sit?”
She was momentarily taken aback. “Oh, well, um, in fact, he sat in the front passenger seat. Is that important?”
Dehan smiled again and shook her head. “Probably not,” but we both knew it was a given: if the Mob take you for a ride and sit you in the front seat, you’re not coming back. I figured Dehan wanted to spare Sandy that, at least for now.
Sandy took hold of her hands. “Is he all right? Is he going to be OK? They won’t hurt him, will they?”
I answered instead of Dehan. “That’s what we are trying to find out, Sandy. Why didn’t you call me when these men arrived?”
“Well, I had no reason to. They looked so smart, I assumed they were from the police or the FBI or something. I thought they were taking him away to question him.”
She had started shivering. Dehan put her arm around her again and said, “Come on. We’d better get you inside. Is there anyone I can call to come and be with you?”
She shook her head. “That person was Giorgio. Just please bring him back safe and sound.”
I watched them cross the road together, picking their way with care.
The sound of a siren preceded an ambulance, the ME’s car and the crime scene van. I called dispatch and put out a BOLO on a dark blue Dodge Charger driven by two men in expensive suits, and Giorgio Gonzalez, while the fleet of vehicles parked noisily out front. Then people began to spill from their vehicles and doors slammed and echoed in the street, like a firefight.
While the Crime Scene team suited up and the gurneys were wheeled into the house, Frank approached me, hunched into his shoulders and breathing clouds of vapor.
“What is this, some kind of killing spree?”
“Could be. You got any news for me?”
“If you’d give me a chance to work instead of finding bodies all over the place…”
“These two are detectives from the precinct.”
“I heard. Look, John, I did get one of the samples done. Don’t think I’m going to make a
habit of this, but I knew it was important…”
I heard a street door slam and looked back over my shoulder. Dehan, with her woolen hat pulled down on her head, was crunching her way back through the snow. As she approached, Frank started talking again. “You’re not going to be happy. I said Fernando was probably kissing a woman when he was killed…”
Dehan said, “He wasn’t? Stone, maybe Giorgio’s alibi was a fake. Sandy would do anything for that guy.” She looked back at Frank. “It was Giorgio, wasn’t it?”
He sighed. “No, listen to me, Carmen. Yes, Fernando was kissing a man. In fact, he was getting a love bite from a man. But the man was …”
He hesitated. I supplied the words. “The man was Cyril Browne.”
He nodded. “Yes. Almost certainly. Whoever raped and killed Sue Benedict, also killed Fernando Martinez.”
Dehan turned and walked away, staring around her like she’d lost her mind and was trying to find it. Then she came back and stared at Frank. “What? Cyril Browne is dead! He jumped into the foundations of the damned 2nd Street Casino Hotel! He was seen doing it!”
Frank shrugged. “Then it’s his identical twin. I don’t know what to tell you, Carmen. The sample was not contaminated. I double checked. I also checked to see if Fernando was gay.”
“What? How?”
“There are ways. You examine the…”
“Yeah, OK, I get it. And?”
“He was either gay or bisexual. He had certainly had anal sex recently.”
“So you are telling me that Cyril Browne raped and murdered Sue Benedict, and then had sex with and killed Fernando Martinez.”
“Or somebody with an identical DNA profile. That is certainly what the forensic evidence indicates. I had better get inside and look at these bodies.”
He walked away and climbed the steps toward the door. Dehan stared me in the face. She was too shocked to be mad. “And you knew.” I nodded. She shook her head, then shrugged, screwing up her eyes. “How?”
“We have a much more immediate problem, Dehan. Where is Giorgio?”
“Two men in dark suits and a Dodge Charger took him.”
