by Jeff Carson
The yard of the house was perfectly manicured, and surprisingly flat for how steep the surrounding area looked. The stucco concrete house was one story in front, with a walkout lower level to a stone patio, where two boys were playing soccer below.
“Ciao ragazzi!” Rossi bent over the railing, then yanked open the door to the side entrance.
“Ciao!”
“Ciao, Daddy!”
Inside, a male Italian singer was belting out high vibrato notes from an unseen speaker system. Smells of cooking Italian food saturated the moist air inside. A slightly disheveled looking woman wiped her hands and kissed Valerio quickly, then gave a loud welcome to Lia as they kissed each other’s cheeks.
“Ciao, sono Maria.” She extended a hand to Wolf.
“Ciao,” he said. “I’m David.”
“Nize-a to meet you,” she laughed. “I am terrible Eenglish.” She pointed to herself with a red-faced smile.
“Not as bad as my Italian.” Wolf replied.
The first order of business for Wolf was to use a computer with internet access. His mother would be distraught at Wolf’s lack of contact. Wolf explained as much to Rossi, and Rossi immediately pulled him through the house to remedy the situation.
Rossi’s home office had dark green ceramic tiles on the floor and color photos of vineyards adorning the bright yellow stucco walls. Rossi turned on the tall floor lamp and ripped open the shades, revealing the incredible view below. The sky outside was now bright orange behind white-stoned peaks, and the city below speckled with lights. Rossi plopped down at the dark wood desk, fired up his computer, signed into Skype, and plugged in some headphones with a microphone.
Rossi opened the door to leave, letting in the loud music from the rest of the house, “Take your time. We’ll be having apperitivo.”
Wolf picked up the headset and took a seat. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
…
“Hello?” His mother answered her cell phone after the first ring.
“Hi, Mom, it’s me.”
“Oh thank God. What’s going on over there?”
“Well, I’m just taking care of everything. Getting John on a plane home.”
She paused. “So?”
“Well, I really haven’t got any news yet, Mom.” His conviction on how his brother had died nagged him. “I don’t think he killed himself, mom.”
She didn’t answer.
“Mom? You there?”
“Yes. I’m here.” Her sobbing echoed in the headphones.
“In fact, I’m sure of it.” Wolf added.
“Good. Good,” she whispered.
“Is everything okay?”
“Have you seen him?”
“Yes, I’ve seen him.”
A rustling sound filled the headset. “How did he look?”
“He looked …” Dead, “Fine, Mom. What … how are you holding up?”
“I’m doing all right. I think I’m going to go up to Rocky Points tomorrow.”
“Good, Mom. Go see Jack.”
“Of course. I hear Sarah is back,” she said.
Wolf sighed. “Yeah, she is back. Look, Mom, I have to go now. I’m sorry for the short call. I’m at another person’s house, on their computer. I’ll try and get back in touch tomorrow. Keep your phone on.”
She sniffed. “Okay. Catch the bastard that did this, David.”
“That’s the plan.” Wolf replied.
They said their goodbyes and hung up.
Next Wolf called Jack and didn’t get an answer, so he left a message. He was a little disappointed, but thankful his son wasn’t answering his “emergency cell phone” when he was supposed to be in class.
He dialed another number.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Wolf.”
“Hey,” Rachette said. “I was wondering what this random phone number was. I hoped it was you. How’s it going over there? You find anything out?”
“Well, maybe. It’s taking some time. There’s definitely something going on that doesn’t look right.”
“Jesus, really? What’s happening?”
“A lot. Too much to explain.” Wolf said.
“Yeah, I under—“ Rachette’s voice cut out.
Wolf turned up the volume a little on the keyboard. “You there?”
“I’m here. Can you hear me?”
“Yeah. Listen, anything new going on?” Wolf asked.
“Yes. A lot.” Rachette’s voice was excited now.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know a girl named Lisa Hardwick?” Rachette asked.
“No. Why? Should I?”
“Apparently not, no one really knows her at the station. She’s a sixteen-year-old junior at Rocky Points High, new in town this year. Her family moved in at the beginning of the summer.”
Wolf nodded. “Okay, yeah. I think I’ve heard of the Hardwicks. The father works at the golf course.”
“Exactly,” Rachette said. “He’s the new head pro at Pine Meadows. Moved up from somewhere in Denver.”
“Okay.”
“Lisa came in and talked to us yesterday,” Rachette continued. “She claims to have spent a lot of time recently with Jerry Wheatman.”
Wolf frowned and swiveled in the chair to look outside. The orange glow behind the Italian Alps had almost faded to black.
“That’s interesting,” said Wolf.
“Yeah. And it gets more interesting,” Rachette spoke fast. “She said she thinks Julie killed Wheatman. She says she’s sure of it.”
Wolf turned back to the computer screen. “And why does she say that?”
“She says Julie was furious about her and Jerry spending time together. She says Jerry talked about breaking up with Julie.”
“To be with this new girl, Lisa?”
“Yeah.”
Wolf stayed silent.
“So?” Rachette asked.
“So what?”
Rachette was incredulous. “So we have motive for Julie Mulroy killing Jerry Wheatman, that’s what. And something else.”
Wolf stayed silent.
“Lisa told us Chris Wakefield is madly in love with Julie Mulroy, that it’s common knowledge around school that he always has been.”
“Okay,” Wolf said. “So you think Wakefield was in on the whole thing. How?”
Rachette sighed. “Well, it fits now why we found both of their footprints coming down the mountain. We have motive for these two to commit murder. Julie does it for revenge against Jerry, and Chris helps so he can please Julie and be with her after all is said and done.”
Wolf thought a moment. “And what does Burton think?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“He doesn’t seem too impressed by the whole thing. But I think they did it. They killed Jerry Wheatman. Had to.”
“Well, if anyone could come in off the street accusing someone of murder, and law enforcement acted on those accusations without proof, we’d live in a pretty messed up country.” Wolf was suddenly famished.
Silence filled Wolf’s headphones. He could sense Rachette’s disappointment from halfway around the globe.
“But that’s not to say I don’t appreciate the heads-up,” Wolf added. “I think something’s not right about Julie and Wakefield’s story the way they tell it now. That’s for sure. But the bottom line is, we need clear proof of any wrongdoing, or our hands are tied.”
Rachette sighed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“So get some proof.”
“How do you think I should do that?” Rachette asked.
“Carefully.”
Rachette sighed again.
“I have to go,” Wolf said. “Thanks for the update. I’m going to give Burton a quick call. Maybe he can shed some light on some next steps.”
“There’s another thing,” Rachette said hesitantly.
“Yeah? And what’s that?” Wolf didn’t like Rachette’s tone.
“It’s Connell. He’s been telling
people you jumped him the other day.”
Wolf swiveled the chair and glared out the window. He should have filed an official report. He should have said something to someone. Hell, he should have been quicker, gotten to his gun and shot him dead before any of this happened.
“Wolf?” Rachette asked.
“Yeah. All right. Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
“You want me to patch you through to Burton?”
“Uh, yeah. Good idea. You know how to do that?”
“What? You think I’m an idiot?” Rachette asked, and before Wolf could answer, a ringing filled Wolf’s ears.
“Rocky Points Sheriff’s Department.”
Wolf didn’t recognize the voice behind the garbled connection. Apparently Rachette didn’t know how to patch him through.
“I was trying to reach Sheriff Burton,” Wolf said, “Can you please patch me through?”
There was a long drawn out pause. “Who’s calling?” Who’s callink. The reception cleared, and Wolf realized it was Connell, sounding like he had a nose plugged with gauze.
Wolf gritted his teeth. “Patch me through to Burton.”
“This is Burton. Well, at least you’ve reached his office,” Connell used the tone of a jovial secretary. “Can I help you with something?”
“What the hell you doing in his office?” Wolf asked.
“Just covering for him for a bit, we’re a bit short handed with officers skipping town and whatnot.”
Wolf paused. “You telling people I jumped you, Connell?”
“I’m just telling people what happened, Sergeant Wolf,” he said. “Doesn’t look too good what you did to me, then skipping town right before the sheriff appointment. Not too good for you, at least.”
Wolf’s face went hot.
Connell chuckled, “Damn good timing for brother John to kick the bucket over in Italia,” he said with an icy tone. “Aaaaaaanyways, have fun over there. I hope you enjoy your vacation.”
With a sploosh sound the Skype session ended. Wolf stared at the screen and ripped off the headset. Wolf hissed through his clenched teeth, then closed his eyes and tried in vain to steady his breath.
…
The dinner turned out to be a much-needed distraction, and some of the best food he’d tasted in his life. Valerio and Maria Rossi’s two boys seemed like good kids, despite Wolf not understanding a word they said.
Wolf found it fascinating to observe the spoken Italian language and animated gestures. They would all laugh, and Lia would stop to translate, and then he would laugh, well after the magic of the moment. Nonetheless, he enjoyed the company.
“Lia used to try to be one of the boys,” Rossi explained. “We would be playing soccer as you Americans call it, or calcio as we call it, and she would insist to play all the time.”
Lia was concentrating on her meal with a quickly ripening face.
“She, of course, was better than everyone,” he said. “Except me!”
Lia kept her gaze on her food.
“No, she really was. All the boys were so confused by her. Here is this beautiful young girl who wanted desperately to kick their butts at every chance she could get.”
Lia jutted her head forward. “I didn’t want to kick anyone’s butts. I just wanted to be treated like anyone else with good skills.”
“It is the same today. She is one of the best soldiers we have in the Carabinieri.” He held his hands up. “And the boys are confused by her once again.”
“They are not confused! They are all …” She looked back at her meal and resumed eating. Tension fell on the table, and everyone ate in silence until Rossi spoke.
“They are confused.” Rossi used a quiet tone. “They don’t know what to do with such a talented, beautiful, strong, and vicious young woman. You have already been recognized for your talents. We have a saying in Italy,” Rossi looked to Wolf, “‘Il tempo viene per chi sa aspettare’—which means ‘All things come to those who wait.’ Isn’t that right, David?”
Wolf took a sip of wine. “In a perfect world, I guess.”
Rossi studied his expression. “What is your job at home? Are you an officer? A captain? How do you say?”
“I’m a sergeant. In our police department we have officers, sergeants, then the sheriff.”
“Do you wish to be sheriff some day?” he asked.
“My father was the sheriff of our town when he was killed in the line of duty.” Wolf took a deep breath and rolled some spaghetti. “I would very much like to be sheriff.”
The table went quiet again. All concentrated on their plates, except for Rossi, who stared at Wolf.
“I, too, lost my father,” Rossi whispered. “A few years ago. It was his time. He had a long life. Your father was taken from you at a younger age. It must have been difficult.”
Wolf nodded. “I’m sorry about your father,” he deflected. “I heard about it from Lia on the way up here.” He stopped himself, suddenly self-conscious of his conversation with Lia on the way up. Like they had gone behind Rossi’s back in some way.
“Yes. My father was a good, hard workingman. At least, that’s the way I remember him. He and my mother split when I was a child. He helped my brother’s family and my family tremendously after his death. He was never around, really. We had no idea he had amassed such wealth. He never taught us about how to invest or save the way he did, he just quietly did it. It was a surprise for the entire family to get such a large inheritance.” He raised his hands and looked around. “It gave us this. And gave my brother a place to call his own in Liguria, as well.”
Rossi’s eyes glistened as he pushed his pasta in an aimless circle on the plate. Maria rubbed his back and gently set her head on his shoulder.
Lia reached to Wolf’s leg under the table and gave it a soft squeeze, looking at him. She pulled her hand away, rolled her eyes and resumed rolling her spaghetti on her fork. She looked up suddenly, “I’m not vicious!”
Hearty laughter evaporated the tension. Rossi’s two boys joined in, giggling and staring wide-eyed at Lia.
When they finished dinner, Wolf tried unsuccessfully to help Maria clear the dishes and clean up. Rossi pulled him to the back porch instead, where they sat on the back patio overlooking the lights of Lecco far below, sipping a local grappa served by Rossi’s wife. Wolf felt like he was observing reality from another dimension, exhaustion overtaking his body and mind.
Wolf threw the tiny bag of white powder from Matthew Rosenwald’s apartment on the table in front of Rossi.
Rossi turned and thumbed it in the dim light. “It looks just like the one that I found in your brother’s apartment. The same size and look of the bag.”
“I don’t know what to make of the whole cocaine thing,” Wolf said. “I’m not sure if this is even cocaine. You’ll need to test it. But I don’t think my brother did drugs. He may have experimented in the past, but he never really did drugs. I know what people act like when they do drugs, and my brother didn’t. I need to find this Matthew guy. And something’s off about that Cezar guy at the pub, and Vlad at the observatory. They are both holding something back. Something’s off about those two.”
Rossi took a sip and furrowed his brow. “What if Matthew was supplying your brother with these drugs?”
“I guess it looks that way. But looks can be deceiving. Then there is the belt. That wasn’t my brother’s belt that was found around his neck. There are only two things that can mean – either he stole a belt and hung himself with it, or someone strung him up with it … or more accurately, smacked him on the head and strangled him, then tried to make it look like a suicide, and did a poor job of it, because the chandelier couldn’t hold his body weight.” Wolf glared into the dark. “That’s what happened, and I’m sure of it. And it would take at least two people to string John from that chandelier. There’s no way one person could have done it.” He stood and went to the patio railing, gazing at the city below.
Valerio sipped his grappa and k
ept his seat. “I think there needs to be more evidence. And until then, I don’t see what we can do. There is no nametag on that belt, there’s no way to find out whose it is, other than finding fingerprints, which we’ll check. But it’s been handled by more than a few people by now.
“Secondly, we cannot bring in this Vlad character for questioning because he was sweating profusely as you spoke to him. We cannot arrest the bar owner for being rude to an officer and a foreigner coming into his pub to question him.” He sighed heavily. “I do think that it is strange that this Matthew fellow left town immediately after your brother’s death, though. So, I think we need to find him. Paulo is working on it. He will look at the phone records and find Rosenwald’s phone, and who knows what else he can uncover. That boy is marvelously talented.”
Wolf yawned uncontrollably once again and nodded his head.
Lia stood up. “You need to get some sleep, David.”
“Yes, you need sleep,” Rossi declared, standing up. “We will know more tomorrow.”
“We need to go over the police report,” Wolf said, sitting back down. “And I don’t know how the hell to read Italian, so I’m going to need your help.” An unstoppable yawn stretched his face again.
Lia stood in front of Wolf and placed her hand gently on his. “You need sleep.”
Rossi looked down at Wolf. “David. Please. It doesn’t do you any good not to rest. We still have all day tomorrow.”
Wolf sat forward. “And if I need your help Saturday? What if I need more time?”
“Then you will have our help on Saturday as well,” Rossi answered.
Wolf sat back on the metal chair. They were right. If they went over the police report now he probably wouldn’t remember it in the morning. Every cell in his body screamed for sleep. “Okay. Let’s go.”
