by Rick Blechta
“I have another angle I’m working. Seems Mike Master, the band’s singer, has a dodgy past. I should have a fax waiting with some more information on him.”
“Well, carry on, but keep me in the loop.”
“Will do, skipper.”
As he went to retrieve it, Pratt decided he was happy that Gordon had gone after Thomson and Lewis. He couldn’t make too much of a mess of that. His strongarm approach would probably work well on them. And Snow would keep him from going too far.
He found a seven-page fax in the tray beneath the machine. Rather than sit at his desk and run the risk of being disturbed, he took it into an interview room and shut the door. Based on what he saw as he glanced at the first page, he realized he needed to concentrate.
A half hour later, Pratt sat back and rubbed his eyes. Gobsmacked was how he felt. Things could be much more serious than he’d imagined.
His first call was downstairs.
“I’ve got three people you need to round up for me. They all live at the same address. Don’t tell them anything other than they’re wanted for further questioning. Make it all nice and friendly. Their names are Jonny Fedrano, Skip Blair and Mike Master. Tell your men to go easy, but keep on their toes with Master. If you don’t find them at their house, let me know immediately. Here’s the address…”
Pratt again looked at the faxed report, sighed and made his second call.
“Sheriff Warsh? Pratt here. I’ve read your report…Yes, I have a number of questions.”
Ellis waited impatiently at the same park bench for Carolyn Tucci to show up.
He looked at his watch again. Nearly five. Where was she? He tried her phone. No answer. Checking with information, he found no landline listing for either Carolyn or Jamie. Like many young people these days, they probably relied on cell phones.
By five fifteen, he was getting worried. Ellis didn’t know how reliable Carolyn was, but so far she’d shown no signs of being a flake—especially where Jamie was concerned.
At five thirty, he decided to call Pratt. He couldn’t believe she’d be this late, not without calling.
Something must have happened—possibly something bad.
Chapter Nineteen
“What do you mean, she hasn’t shown up?” Pratt asked.
He’d been away from his desk, filling in McDonnell, and there had been a message waiting when he got back. It was Ellis. He’d called him back as fast as he could punch the numbers in.
“She should have been here by four thirty. It’s now an hour later. This isn’t like her.”
“Do you know where the hell she lives?”
“Only that she lives with my brother someplace other than the house the band rents.”
Pratt was shuffling through the large box that held all the records of the case so far. He hadn’t had time to organize it, so the thing was a disaster, with reports and photos just stuffed in.
“I’ll look for the charge sheet on my computer. Maybe it has the address.” Pratt impressed even himself as he found the info in record time. “Crap! It has the band house’s address. Now why would the kid have done that?”
“I got the feeling they’d just moved in together recently,” Ellis told him. “The coffee shop where she works should have it. I’ll try there.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll make that call.”
“You’re not going to leave me on the sidelines, are you?”
Pratt considered for a moment.
“No. I’ll get the address, then snag a squad car and driver. We’ll come down to pick you up. Sit tight. Call me pronto if she turns up or you hear from her.”
“So in the opinion of this sheriff, as well as a psychologist who examined Master, what we have on our hands is a borderline psychotic,” Pratt told Ellis.
They were in the backseat of a squad car as it sped crosstown as fast as the evening rush would allow.
“So Master killed someone?”
“He’s only suspected of it. A young girl, a classmate, back when he was sixteen. It was a brutal killing. She was stabbed multiple times. Our lad is very clever though. A regular Einstein, according to Warsh, and top of his class in school. But given to very bizarre behavior over many years. Warsh only found out about it later, but a school psychologist had examined Nolen a year before and strongly recommended treatment. Our boy is superb at being able to blend in and appear perfectly normal when it suits his needs. Had his parents completely under his thumb and they didn’t even know it. By the time Warsh pried the results of the psychological tests out of the school board, the kid had disappeared.”
Ellis whistled. “And he used a knife too. Did Warsh have any idea what kind?”
“Most likely a survival knife with a serrated blade. Nolen’s parents claim they have no idea where their son is. Warsh believes them.”
“Where was he between then and now?”
Pratt shrugged. “No idea, but I’ll bet it’s an interesting story.”
The car’s radio squawked.
“They’ve got two of the three you want, Pratt,” the cop in the front seat said.
“Let me guess—Fedrano and Blair.”
“Right, sir.”
“Find out if they have any idea where Master is.”
The tinny voice from the other end said, “The two we’ve got say the third came in screaming that someone had been in his room. When they said it wasn’t them, Master left, slamming the front door so hard, it came off one hinge.”
Pratt looked at Ellis.
“How long before we get to that address I gave you?” he asked the uniform driving them.
“Maybe five minutes.”
“Call for backup. Tell them not to use sirens and to wait for instructions, okay?”
Chapter Twenty
“We’re a block away,” the driver told the two detectives in the backseat. “What do you want me to do?”
“Pull over here,” Pratt told him. “Where’s the backup?”
“Two minutes away.”
Ellis, bent over his phone’s small screen, told Pratt, “There’s an alley behind the apartment building.”
“Tell them to go there and keep an eye on the back door,” Pratt said. “Ellis and I will go in first. If our boy is here, I don’t want to alarm him. He might hurt the girl.”
Ellis looked at Pratt. “It might be too late for that.”
The driver told them, “We’ve got two more cars responding, sir.”
“One at either end of the street, but not within the block. No one goes in or out—especially the press. I’m sure they’ve heard all of this. Give me your handheld radio, please. Once we’re inside, you come up slowly and secure the front door. Got it?”
The two detectives got out of the car and cautiously approached the five-story brick low-rise from the same side of the street—that way, there was less chance of being spotted if someone was watching.
“You carrying?” Pratt asked his partner as they walked.
“I took my gun from the lockbox in my car’s trunk while I was waiting for you to pick me up.”
“Good boy. Hopefully, there won’t be any need for it today. But be ready.”
Both men longed to look up. Carolyn’s apartment number was 4A. It could very likely be at the front of the building.
“Just be casual,” Pratt said as they entered. “Let me do the talking.”
Luck was with them, and the super was in.
“Police, ma’am,” Pratt said into the phone. “We need to get in.”
“Just a moment. I’ll be right there.”
Pratt flashed his badge and ID when she came to the door. She stepped aside.
“We just want to talk to one of your tenants. Won’t be a minute.”
Behind his back, Ellis crossed his fingers.
“Do you want me to come up with you?” she asked.
“Won’t be necessary, but thanks for offering.”
The detectives got on the elevator and pressed 4.
The elevator was old and slow. The building had clearly seen better days, judging by the graffiti. Still, it was clean and didn’t smell of urine. Eventually, the doors opened on the fourth floor.
“Moment of truth,” Ellis said in a low voice.
“I’ll take the lead,” Pratt said. “You back me up.”
Apartment 4A was down the short hallway on their left, next to a window that gave the hallway light. They moved forward quickly.
At the door, Pratt knocked. “Miss Tucci? Are you in there?” he asked loudly when he got no response. “Please open up.”
Nothing.
He turned to Ellis. “Break it down, but pull back or drop. I’ll go through after.”
Ellis nodded. The door and frame were made of wood. Being young and strong, he splintered the door next to where the lock was with one good body blow. Since he was off-balance, he went through but quickly rolled to the side. Pratt came through right behind him, gun drawn and ready.
The living room was small and sparsely furnished, but the attention of the two men was immediately drawn to the body in the middle of the floor. A stream of blood ran across the wood and disappeared under a chair.
The dead person, lying flat on his back with a wicked knife in his chest, was Mike Master. Curled in the chair, looking dazed, was Carolyn Tucci. She had cuts on both hands and one on her right shoulder.
Ellis went to her while Pratt used the handheld to summon help.
“We need an ambulance. Make it snappy!”
Carolyn began speaking, her voice wobbly. “He came here. He was very angry with me. He had a knife. We struggled. I knew he would kill me.”
Pratt told Ellis to find some towels to help with the girl’s bleeding. “And bring her a glass of water.”
Ellis soon returned with both.
Pratt asked her, “How did this happen?”
“I…I’m not really sure. We were struggling. He knocked me down. I kicked at him. After that, I don’t remember anything.”
Sirens could be heard in the distance.
“Help is on the way, Carolyn,” Ellis told her. “The wounds aren’t too deep. You should be okay.”
She turned to look at him. “You’re sure? I’m so tired.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I was so stupid to think I could trap him. He was like a wild animal.”
“Everything will be okay now.”
Tears started falling from the girl’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “The nightmare is over.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Pratt and Ellis led Carolyn Tucci, barefoot, around the perimeter of the room to the paramedics waiting at the door.
Pratt told one of the uniforms in the hall to accompany the girl to the hospital. “And make sure you keep a close eye on her until you hear from me.”
“What was that all about?” Ellis asked. “The danger is over.”
“You don’t get what’s going on yet, do you?”
“What am I not getting here?”
“A lot. Come on. We’re going back downtown. Let the boys do their work in peace.”
The older man pulled him over to the side of the hall to let the forensics team through. As the lead passed, Pratt pulled him aside, telling him to get prints off the body right away.
“And that glass on the side table. I want prints off that too. Some are Ellis’s, but the others are the girl’s. I need everything on my desk, like, right now. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure. Shouldn’t be a problem, Pratt.”
Pratt borrowed Ellis’s phone and was on it most of the drive back to headquarters. The younger detective remained mystified by his mentor’s behavior.
On the sidewalk, Ellis stood in front of his partner, blocking the way. “What the hell is going on? Master is dead. We got our man.”
Pratt put his arm around Ellis. “Come upstairs with me. All shall be revealed.”
Ellis refused to move. “Just tell me one thing first.”
“Sure. Fire away.”
“Is Carolyn Tucci a goddamned suspect?”
“Yes.”
“How the hell is that possible? And how did I completely miss it?”
Pratt laughed. “Those are questions two and three. I promised to answer only one. Come upstairs.”
McDonnell was waiting in his office. “What the hell is going on, Pratt?”
Gordon was also there. “What is your clown prince doing with you, Pratt? He’s supposed to be on leave.”
The jolly mood began to seep from Pratt’s face.
“You weren’t here, Flash, and I needed to make a quick decision. Ellis knew where Carolyn Tucci lived and was close by. I grabbed him.”
McDonnell frowned. “Pratt, can you assure me we’re not going to have any problems because you included someone whose brother is involved in this case?”
The detective sat down on one of the chairs facing his boss’s desk.
“No problem whatsoever. Mike Master was dead when we got there.”
“Did you get her statement?”
“No. We sent her off to hospital. She had a few cuts on her hands and left shoulder.”
“Defending herself from her attacker?”
“Maybe.”
“What the hell do you mean, Pratt?”
Everyone else’s expressions held the same question.
“All will be revealed after the hospital’s got her patched up—when she’s brought in to give her statement.”
McDonnell’s phone rang.
“Yes…I figured as much…No, I’m not exactly sure what’s going on…I understand that…Yes. I will call you as soon as I have a handle on where we stand…Right. ASAP.” He hung up. “That was the press office. The lobby is flooded with media. They’re all demanding to know what’s going on.” He leveled his gaze at Pratt. “Would you mind telling me just what the hell is going on?”
“I hope to be able to tell you that in a few hours.” Pratt stood up wearily. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare some things for the last act in this little drama. The other two band members are waiting in one of the interview rooms. I need to talk to them.”
“Now you’re saying the girl is involved in these murders?” Gordon nearly shouted. “Where did you come up with such a stupid theory?”
Pratt stopped in the doorway and smiled. “On Facebook.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Carolyn Tucci wore a look of abject misery as she was led into the interview room. Pratt and McDonnell were sitting at the far side of the table. In the next room, Gordon, Ellis and Cheevers were looking on from behind a two-way mirror.
“Why did you drag me out of the hospital? Haven’t I been through enough today?” she asked, obviously annoyed.
Pratt ignored her questions. “Thank you so much for coming down.”
“But I don’t want to be here!”
“Just the same, we appreciate you assisting us. I have a few things that need clearing up. Just minor questions, really. May I offer you a coffee or a cold drink? Perhaps a sandwich?”
“I don’t want anything. I just want to get out of here.”
Pratt said soothingly, “I understand that you’ve been through a lot.”
“Been through a lot? I should be dead. Someone tried to kill me today! How do you think that feels?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“I don’t believe it.” She put her head down on the table and moaned, then looked up. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
“We will, Carolyn, as soon as we straighten out a few things. We came to your apartment and found a person who’d been stabbed to death. You were the only other person there. We have to be certain about what happened. You told us you couldn’t remember.”
“I still can’t. Master came at me with a big-ass knife. The next thing I know, he’s dead and you’ve just broken down my door. I have no idea what happened in between.”
“It did look like self-defense.”
Tucci sat up str
aight. “Looked like self-defense? It was self-defense. That madman tried to kill me!”
“Did he?”
“Are you saying I made this whole thing up?”
“I’m trying to get to the truth.”
McDonnell tapped Pratt on the arm and got to his feet, and they left the room. Pratt followed him to the observation room next door.
“Where are you going with this?” McDonnell asked.
“Yeah,” Gordon chimed in. “I’d like to know that too.”
McDonnell pointed a finger at him.
“You know what, Flash? Just shut the hell up if you can only make stupid comments.”
Pratt looked through the mirror into the next room. Carolyn was slumped back in her chair, eyes shut.
“The two other boys in the band told me some interesting things,” he began slowly. “They didn’t say anything earlier, probably out of a sense of loyalty. The long and short of it is, Carolyn was playing both Jamie Clark and Mike Master. She’s not what she seems.”
Pratt went back to the interview room. Sitting at the table across from Carolyn, he waited until she finally looked up. McDonnell slipped in but stayed near the door.
“Carolyn,” Pratt said, “I have Fedrano and Blair down the hall. They’ve been telling me about you and Jamie Clark and Mike Master.”
“What did they tell you?” she sneered. “They don’t like me. Everything they’ve said is lies.”
“Did you sleep with Mike Master last night?”
“I wouldn’t do that to Jamie.”
“Even though you tried to sneak out quietly, both of the other band members saw you leave. They also heard you earlier in Master’s room.”
“All lies!”
“Would you submit to a vaginal swab to prove that?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a couple of deep breaths. “Okay. I was with Mike last night.”
“The fact is, you’ve been with him many times, haven’t you? Don’t bother telling me they’re lying. They’ve signed statements confirming it.”
Again a pause. “Yes…”
