“I love this kid, Nicky. But CPS wants to put him in a foster home. No way they’d let him stay with me.”
Knowing Bugs like I did, there was only one way to advise him. “You love the kid, right?”
“You know I do. I don’t know how or why, but this kid’s got me. And he’s a damn good kid. All he needs is a break.”
“You always were a sucker for a kid needing a break, Bugs.” I thought about what I was going to say, but only for a second. “Alex likes it there, right?”
“Hell yeah. You should have seen him when I first told him he could stay. It was like I’d given him a present.”
“Okay, here’s my advice—fuck the law.”
A second or two of silence was followed by Frankie’s laughter. “That’s it? Fuck the law. That’s your advice?”
“You heard me. Fuck the law. Sometimes you have to decide yourself what’s right and wrong. Or are you gonna let some asshole who never met Alex decide what happens to him for the rest of his life?”
“I’m a cop,” Frankie said.
I did my best to rein in the sarcasm, but I probably didn’t succeed. “Oh yeah, I forgot. That changes everything. Cops don’t break the law.”
“Point taken. I’ll think about what to do. In the meantime, you take care. And say bye to Angie.”
“Yeah, see ya’, Bugs.”
I went back in the house for a refill on coffee. Angie was sitting at the table, shoveling breakfast into Dante’s mouth. That boy loved to eat.
“How was Frankie?” she asked.
“He sounded good. He was glad we asked him.”
Angie smiled. “He’ll make a good godfather.”
I looked around. “Is Rosa gone?”
“She left while you were talking.”
I hugged Angie. “Guess we’ll have to be quieter at night.”
“Or stop.”
“I’ll go with quieter.”
Angie rolled her eyes and blushed as she swatted my arm.
“Did you tell Frankie we’re coming for a visit?”
“What?” I grabbed my briefcase and headed for the door.
“I asked if you told Frankie we were coming up.”
A lump built in my throat. I hated lying to Angie, but making her worry made me feel worse. “I told him,” I said. “See ya’ tonight.”
Now all I have to do is find a way to tell Dominic Mangini.
CHAPTER 5
Following
Brooklyn, New York
Three days after he’d seen High Heels, the killer returned to the café. Good fortune provided the same table he had last time, and a glance at his watch confirmed it was the same time. He ordered tea instead of coffee. That waitress had gotten his order right one too many times for his liking.
“No scone this morning?” Her smile disturbed him. He didn’t have time for that nonsense.
“Just the tea.”
She returned quickly with his order. “Thanks,” he said.
He sipped tea, his gaze roaming left to right, stopping now and then to eavesdrop on a conversation. Every few seconds he glanced toward the street. He was halfway through his tea when his diligence paid off.
The car stopped. She got out, but not before kissing the man goodbye. Then came the show as she paraded down the street, hips moving in tune to the song in his head, “Take Me Home Tonight.” He felt certain that every man who saw her would love to take her home on any night.
He gulped down his tea, left a tip on the table and moved out among the crowd. He fell in behind High Heels at a safe distance, walking at a steady pace, moving with the crowd. Sometimes he raced past her, glancing her way. She wore a wedding band. Did she keep her vows? Soon enough he’d find out.
The crowd thinned then, at the corner, bunched together as they waited for the light to change. He let her go in front of him, taking the opportunity to watch her from behind. Her pert little ass blessed the pinstripes on her skirt with a sexy kiss on every bounce. He reached down to straighten himself.
He followed High Heels for three more blocks, until she disappeared into a large office building. Fortunately, it was the perfect office building. He didn’t bother following her inside. No sense in risking exposure to surveillance cameras. Besides, he had plenty of ways to gather the necessary information. All he needed was time. And patience. He had to keep reminding himself of that. Acting on impulse got you caught.
He went to work, took an early lunch, and got back to her building in time to follow her. Another woman accompanied her to a café across the street. Both of them wore skirts that were too short for decency. When High Heels sat, hers bunched up on her thighs. He wanted to crawl up there and take a peek. He’d like to see what she was so proud of.
He felt confident he could take her now. Dispense with all this trailing nonsense. But everything had to be confirmed. Even an infidelity as sure as hers. No doubt she was unfaithful. But then he reminded himself; observation was required. And patience.
For almost a week more, he followed her. It took a while to gather the information he needed, but now he knew a lot about little High Heels. About Sandy. Where she worked, where she lived, and most importantly, who she slept with when her husband was out of town. That last bit was what he’d been waiting to find. Turned out Sandy had quite the appetite.
For three more days he watched her, waiting for the right time. On day four, the stars aligned. Her husband didn’t drop her off; another man did. And she seemed to have an extra bounce to her step, perhaps in anticipation of a rendezvous. As High Heels sashayed past him, a shiver ran up his spine. He felt it in his bones. Today was the day. He picked up the phone and made a call.
Alibis had to be established. Things were now in motion. Tonight the killer would strike.
***
Sandy finished the report she’d been working on, then shut down Excel and the computer. She put a few folders in her briefcase, then took them out again, laying them on her desk. No way she’d be doing work tonight. She picked up the phone and dialed. Justin answered promptly.
“I was hoping you’d call.”
“I’m up for dinner,” she said.
“And…”
Sandy took a quick glance around. “And anything else your devious mind can cook up.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. Meet me at Ming’s. We’ll grab dinner and get a room.”
“How about you pick me up?” she asked.
A pause, then, “Six o’clock?”
“Works for me.”
“Wait for me outside,” Justin said.
Sandy agreed, hung up, and dialed her husband’s cell.
He answered with his usual cheerful greeting. It had gotten to the point where the sound of his voice sickened her.
“What did I do to deserve a call from the busy one?”
“Sorry if I bothered you,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be available on the cell until late. I got called to a last minute dinner deal with our client from Tokyo. They’re in town.”
“And they didn’t give you any warning?”
“No, and that worries Ed. He thinks they may be shopping the deal with a competitor.”
“Some final negotiations, huh?”
“I hope not, but you never can tell. Anyway, I wanted to let you know. When do you get home?”
“Two days.”
“See you when you get here.”
“Love you, honey. Good luck.”
“Thanks. I might need it,” Sandy said, then grabbed her phone and purse.
***
The killer waited in his car across the street. He hoped she wouldn’t be long.
Sandy came out just before six, getting into a car with a man the killer didn’t recognize. That didn’t matter. He wasn’t her husband; that’s all he cared about.
The killer followed them to the restaurant. They used valet parking. He parked a few blocks away and walked back, finding a small café with a clear view of the restaurant
. As soon as he spotted them exiting the restaurant, he would leave. He figured he’d still have time to get to his car and back before the valet returned with theirs.
He didn’t have to wait as long as he thought. She must have been eager.
When they exited the restaurant, the killer paid his bill and walked briskly down the street to his car. He had to circle the block in his car twice before they got theirs. The man opened the door for Sandy and she got in. The killer smiled. Now it was a simple matter of following them. They opted for the Marriott Hotel in Brooklyn Heights, an ideal spot for the killer. It provided ample opportunity to slip in, park, and get back out again unnoticed. Then he could mingle with the crowds at the Fulton Street Mall.
They used valet parking again at the hotel. The killer waited at Tony’s Pizza across the street. He set a fast pace to the back of the hotel, going in through the employee entrance. When he reached the lobby, they were still checking in. He waited until the clerk handed them their room cards, then went to the elevators and pushed the button. They arrived momentarily. When the doors opened he stepped inside and moved to the back. They got in and pushed the button for the sixth floor.
“What number for you?” the man asked.
“Six,” the killer said.
The elevator stopped twice on the way up. When it opened at six, they got out, and the killer followed, making sure to keep a good distance behind. They entered room 632. He walked past, gave them time to enter their room, then turned around and went back to the elevator and down to the lobby.
CHAPTER 6
Judgment
The killer waited. He figured there would be little foreplay. Perhaps a shower, not much else. After fifteen minutes had passed he walked to an isolated phone in the lobby and dialed room 632. It rang several times before the man answered. He sounded agitated.
“Hello!”
“Sir, I am sorry to bother you, but there seems to be a problem with your credit card.”
“What do you mean?”
“It did not go through, sir. They declined it.”
“That’s impossible. Run it again.”
“We have. Twice.”
“Do it again. There is no problem.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, and hung up the phone.
The killer waited less than a minute then called back.
“What!” The agitation level had risen considerably.
“Sir, I am truly sorry, but it was declined. I’m sure it’s an error, but…do you have another card we can use?”
“What? Yes, of course. I still don’t know what the problem is. There’s nothing wrong with that card.” His tone had changed. Still agitated but mixed with embarrassment.
“I understand. It happens a lot. Perhaps we can run another card.”
“Yes, do that.”
“Will you be coming down, sir?”
“Coming down for what?”
“We will need to run another card.”
“Can’t it wait? I—”
“If you prefer we can send someone to your room. It will be less of an inconvenience.”
“All right, but hurry up.”
“He’ll be right up. Again, my apologies.”
Back in the elevator, the killer pushed the button for floor six. He put on his gloves, checked his gun, then put his hands in the coat pocket. When he got off the elevator, no one was in the hall. He knocked gently on the door. The lock turned and the man yanked the door open. He held a credit card in his hand.
“I know one—”
He must have seen the gun, even before he recognized the killer as the man who rode up the elevator with them.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Step to the bed, please. And be quiet.”
The man, dressed only in a pair of boxers, backed up, hands in the air. The killer scanned the room. The shower was running. “Tell Sandy to come out of the shower. Do it in a calm voice.”
“How do you know her name? Who are you?”
“All in good time. Call her.”
“What should I say?”
“Just ask if she’s done yet.”
He seemed to gather himself. “Sandy, are you done yet?”
The water turned off. “What?”
“I said, are you done yet?”
“Getting impatient, are we?”
The killer whispered, “Say, ‘I can’t wait for dessert.’”
“I’m hungry. I can’t wait for dessert,” the man said.
“This is your lucky night. The wait is over.”
The killer whispered again. “Tell her you’re on the bed.”
“I’m under the covers. Hurry up.”
She opened the door, stepped into the room and toward the bed, towel wrapped around her wet body. A smaller towel around her head.
The killer grabbed her from behind, his hand covering her mouth. He pressed the gun into her back. “Don’t say anything. And don’t turn around. Follow instructions so I don’t have to hurt you.”
Her voice had panic in it, almost tears. “Justin, what’s going on?”
“Kneel on the floor,” the killer said. He turned to Justin, “Put a sock in her mouth.”
“A sock?”
The killer’s voice reflected his frustration. “Put your sock in her mouth or I’ll stuff her with something else.”
“I’ll do anything you want,” Sandy said. “Just don’t hurt us.”
“I’m sure you will, but that’s not what I’m here for.” He glared at Justin. “The sock. Now!”
Justin grabbed one of his socks and shoved it into Sandy’s mouth.
The killer had Sandy do the same to Justin, and then he instructed them to lie on the bed in a “sixty-nine” position. Several times Justin tried speaking, but the killer stopped him with a threatening gesture. Sandy kept her eyes closed most of the time.
“Keep your eyes closed. It won’t take long.”
He walked to the man’s side of the bed, grabbed a pillow and set it over Sandy’s face, which was buried in Justin’s genitals. The killer shoved the gun up Justin’s ass and fired twice. Justin spasmed a few times. One shot to his head took care of that.
The bullet hit the side of Sandy’s face as it exited. She rolled off the bed, bouncing up when she hit the floor. The killer grabbed her, shoved the gun against her head. “Lie down. Be calm.”
She cried, but did as he instructed. The killer then put a shot into Sandy’s head, and two more into her vagina, each one muffled by the silencer and the pillow over the gun.
Cleaning up the place didn’t take long. They hadn’t been there long enough to mess it up. He did, however, fold their clothes and put them in drawers. He hung the towels over the bar, and rinsed the tub. Afterward, he emptied Sandy’s purse and took Justin’s wallet. He put the contents into a small shopping bag he brought for the occasion.
As he left the room he flipped the Do-Not-Disturb sign to the proper side, then rode the elevator to the lobby. The killer made a quick stop at the dumpster, walked down the street and circled around to the restaurant where he parked. Hungry now, he opted for a meal before going home.
CHAPTER 7
Looking for Alex Greene
Alex left school and started down Church Street on his walk home. He passed the crack dealer on the corner by the Indian restaurant, turned down offers to run drugs for the gangs on Rogers Avenue, and ignored the line of hookers offering services to every man who passed, afraid one of them might be his mom. A few blocks later he turned the corner toward home. Keisha was out front by the stoop talking to a woman who looked like she didn’t belong. He couldn’t put his finger on why he thought that, but it was the same feeling he got when he saw a cop in the neighborhood. Except FD.
Keisha gave him the tug-on-her-braids signal, that told Alex to keep walking. He slowed and listened as the woman asked Keisha questions.
“I’m looking for Alex Greene. Do you know where he lives?”
Keisha shook her head. “
Can’t help you.”
“You don’t know where he is?”
“Like I said. I don’t know.”
“When did you see him last?”
“Last time I saw Alex was when his mom left. Six months ago. Maybe more.”
“I have a report saying he still lives here with a man in this apartment building.”
“Lady, I don’t know who told you dat shit, but Alex ain’t been here since his mom left.”
“Young lady, you have a mouth on you.”
Keisha cocked her head and planted her hands on her hips. “Yes, I do. And you got an ass on you. ’Bout twice as big as it should be.”
The lady puffed herself up. “What is your name young lady?”
“It ain’t Alex. That’s all you need to know.”
Alex felt as if his heart would pop out of his throat. He did his best not to stare but it seemed as if the woman could see right through him, as if he wore a name tag that read, “I’m Alex Greene. Come get me.” He swallowed hard, forced his legs to slow down, and kept his pace slow. He nodded to his friend as he passed. “Keisha.”
“What you doin’ walkin’ on my block, little man? Better get your ass home fast.”
Alex picked up his pace, concealing the smile that popped on his face once he passed them. Now all he had to do was find a place to hide.
***
Keisha waited until the woman from CPS turned the corner, then she ran the other way, searching for Alex. She circled the block twice, asked every kid she knew, but after half an hour there was still no sign of him. Panicked, she ran for home. She bounded up the concrete steps of the stoop, up two flights of stairs, down the hall, and flung open the door. “Mom! Call FD. Something’s wrong.”
Keisha’s mom came out of the kitchen, apron stained with chili sauce. “What’s wrong, girl? Something happen to Alex?”
“CPS was looking for him, and now he’s gone. You’ve got to call FD.”
“Keep your pants on. I’m calling. And his name is Detective Donovan, or Mr. Donovan, not FD.”
Keisha rolled her eyes. “Just call.”
***
The call came in while Frankie was sharing coffee with Lou and Sherri.
Murder Takes Patience Page 3
