Identity

by K. J. Cazel

  “Detective how can I help you?”

  Tom took out his phone and scrolled to the picture album. He clicked on it and then turned the phone to the woman.

  “I thought this was going to be something challenging. It is the Greek name for the Roman God Apollo.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Tom arrived back at the precinct before their shift ended. Steve was standing next to Nolan and they were in a discussion comparing notes about the two victims.

  “Gentlemen, what have we found out about these woman?”

  Steve opened up his note pad and started reading the similarities of the two victims and began reading: “Besides each having the same tattoo on their wrist, preliminary examinations by the medical examiner concludes that both women were Eastern European, approximately the same age, with recent needle marks on their left arm. The drug tox screen for our victim won’t be available for a week, but the first victim died of an overdose.”

  Tom addressed both Steve and Nolan, “No identification at all?”

  Steve looked at Tom, “Nothing. What did you find out at the University?”

  “That tattoo is the Greek word for ‘Apollo’, the Roman God.”

  Steve looked at Nolan. A bystander would have been able to see their questioning faces, but Tom knew what was on his mind. ‘All roads lead to Rome.’

  ***

  Detectives went back to their respective desks to clear up the day’s paperwork. When Steve finished he turned to Tom, “How about going out for a brewski?”

  “Not tonight. I have some other paperwork I’d like to finish up.”

  Tom continued working at his desk. When he finished, he picked up the paper he was working on and walked into the Captain’s office.

  “Tom, what can I do for you?”

  Tom handed him the paperwork. “I’d like you to honor my request for five days of vacation. I know it really puts a crimp in the scheduling, but I think it’s important.”

  “Is there something I should be aware of?”

  “No, it just something I have to do. It’s personal.”

  “This does put us in a bind, but I’ll let you know tomorrow if I can change the schedule around.”

  “Thank you sir.”

  ***

  In the morning Steve arrived before Tom. When Tom arrived, Steve didn’t hesitate to charge at Tom with the question. “You’re taking five days off?”

  “So.”

  “Do you know what that means? It means I have Sloan to partner with while you’re gone!”

  Tom gave a laughing smile to Steve. He had once been partnered with Sloan. He had a foul mouth and to make matters worse he continually smoked cigars.

  “This isn’t funny! He’s good at his job, but he’s a pig. The Captain said your time off was personal. Does this have anything to do with Ginny?”

  “Sorta. I’ll keep you informed on what I find out.”

  ***

  It was Tuesday evening when Tom boarded the Alitalia plane to Rome, Italy. He took his first class seat. Fortunately no one was seated next to him, which gave him the opportunity to sleep. Five days wasn’t long enough to adjust to jet lag so any sleep would be helpful. Earlier he called Giovanni Marino, Chief Inspector of Polizia di Stato. Although he hadn’t talked to him directly, he was able to leave a message that he was arriving Wednesday afternoon and would like to meet with him.

  When Tom stepped off the plane the Rome heat hit him. He forgot that Rome was much warmer than Chicago at this time of year. He grabbed his carry-on bag and went to the curb where he hailed a cab to take him to Polizia di Stato. It was more important to talk to the Inspector than to worry about a reserved room at the hotel. He could check in to his hotel after he spoke to Inspector Marino. This meeting could set the schedule for this trip.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Tom entered the police station and was greeted by the officer at the front desk. Tom presented his Chicago Detective Badge, knowing there was no practical use for it in Rome other than to, hopefully, open some doors faster.

  The officer informed him that Inspector Marino was busy and directed Tom to the wooden captain chairs along the back wall. Tom looked at the large clock on the wall — 3:56 p.m. He picked up a magazine in the chair next to him. He flipped through the pages that were all in Italian. He couldn’t stop himself from checking the time on the clock. Twenty-five minutes later, Inspector Marino entered the room, stopping by at the desk before he greeted Tom.

  Marino then strode over to Tom with an outstretched hand.

  “Signore Cassell, welcome to Rome.”

  “You received my message then?”

  “Si, Si. Come to my office where we can talk.”

  Tom followed Marino down a wood paneled corridor to the first office on the right. The glass panel in the door indicated Marino’s status by his name and title on the door.

  “Please sit down. I am pleased you came.” Marino spoke in flawless English.

  Tom took another wooden captain chair opposite Marino. “I’m here on personal business.”

  “I don’t understand. You didn’t bring the extradition papers for Naldo Rizzo?”

  “I wish I could have. It seems the states and cities are in financial straights and bringing a prisoner from Italy to Chicago for trial is very timely and costly. Then, there is the issue that he killed a serial killer. I’m afraid the jury would be having too much sympathy and release him. Now, if he came to the states on his own and we were aware of that, we could execute an arrest warrant.”

  “I understand. I am sorry to inform you that Signore Rizzo is no longer a prisoner here in Italy.”

  “Now I don’t understand. I though Interpol provided you with the case against him in human trafficking.”

  “Si. They do not, however, provide the funds to prosecute the case. Mr. Rizzo is a very influential person in Rome and in all of Italy. He travels in the correct political circles. A million lire here and there can insure one will not be prison.”

  Tom took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair to process this new information.

  “It seems I will have to try another venue to reach Rizzo. Do you have an address where I can find him.”

  Marino reached in his top desk drawer and pulled out a folder. The top sheet of paper listed the Rizzo’s places of business and his homes throughout Italy.

  He took the sheet to the copier in the corner and made a copy for Tom.

  “I would recommend you start with the top address. If Signore Rizzo does come into Rome, he, according to my surveillance team, stops at this address.” He handed the list to Tom.

  Tom looked at the sheet. There were over twelve stores and three homes around Italy, none of the homes with a Rome address. With another deep breath, Tom took the sheet and thanked Marino. As he left, he told Marino he would keep him informed and would appreciate it if Marino would do the same.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Tom left the police station with his carry on. Once outside he was able to hail a taxi. He directed the driver to the first address on the list. Inside the taxi he further studied the list Marino had given him. He doubted Rizzo would be at this address so late in the day, but he had to give it a try.

  When they arrived, Tom paid his fare and stepped out of the taxi to stare at the window of Rizzo’s shop.

  In the right hand corner of the window, the printed name “Naldo Rizzo, Owner” appeared. The little clock sign on the door indicated that the shop was still open. Before entering the shop, Tom took out his phone to take a picture of the window. He smiled. He was now thankful for Steve forcing him to use this technology. When Tom entered the shop, the bell above of the door sprang to life to let the proprietor aware of a customer. Within seconds a hunched over old man appeared at the counter wearing a wrinkled black suit. His appearance reminded Tom of something out of a movie. As he eyes scanned the shop and its poorly lit atmosphere, his detective mind told him that this was a front for another business.

&n
bsp; With a heavy Italian accent, the little man asked, “How can I be of service to you?”

  “I’d like to speak to your owner, Mr. Rizzo.”

  “Ahh, Signore Rizzo is out of Rome today. Perhaps, there is something I can help you with?”

  “Can you tell me when he will be returning to Rome?”

  “If you leave me your name and phone number, when Signore Rizzo calls in I can let him know you would like to speak to him.”

  “I’m only in Rome for a few days and it is important that I speak to him.”

  The old man pushed a pad of paper and pencil that was lying on the counter toward Tom. Tom obliged and wrote down his name and cell number.

  “Please, when you speak to Mr. Rizzo, could you express the urgency in the matter.”

  “Si, Signore.”

  Tom nodded his good-by and picked up his carry on and left the shop. It was a long shot, but he hoped that Rizzo would get back to him. In the meantime, he hailed a taxi and went to his hotel.

  ***

  Before Tom left to enjoy one of Italian’s fine restaurants, he checked his watch. It was almost noon in Chicago. He punched in the numbers to contact Steve.

  “Hi, Tom. How is sunny Italy?”

  “You know it’s not really a vacation. I have a picture I want to send to you. Can you walk me though the steps.”

  “It must be good if it can’t wait until you get back.”

  “Yea, you’re not going to believe it.”

  Steve went through the steps to send the picture of Rizzo’s storefront. Since both had the same cell phones it was easy for Tom to follow the directions. When it was done, Tom was amazed how simple this function was.

  In seconds after the picture arrived on Steve’s cell phone, he immediately responded, “You got to be kidding me. This bastard is involved with these murders too!”

  “Some way, somehow. Don’t know anything yet. Here’s the topper. He’s no longer in prison in Italy.”

  “Your news just gets better and better. Why in the hell isn’t he in prison.”

  “Money, politics. Take your pick.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “One of three homes throughout Italy. I left word at the store where I was today that I wanted to speak to him. We’ll see what happens. If I don’t hear from him, I won’t get any answers to my questions; but at least we have some answers about the murders in Chicago.”

  “When you said ‘all roads lead to Rome’, I thought your were kidding. When is your flight back?”

  “I should arrive Sunday. I’ll be back into the station on Monday for my shift. We can talk further then.”

  “Okay. I’ll see if I can find out more from Vice about the human trafficking in Chicago. Bye.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Not hearing from Rizzo, Tom knew that he had some leisure time in Rome. Before leaving the hotel he stopped at the concierge’s desk to get some guidelines on shopping the tourist spots close to his hotel. He preferred to walk since the March weather in Rome this years was boasting in the 21.1° C. Tom wasn’t quite sure of the conversion, but it felt like a nice Chicago spring day in the 70’s. He checked the map the concierge gave him and followed the directions to the Piazza de Spagna. He could tell by the tourists in the area that he was at the mother lode of a shopper’s paradise.

  Tom entered a men’s haberdashery on the Strada Via Del Corso. It had been several years since he treated himself to a good pair of Italian leather shoes. This bottega didn’t disappoint him. In less than an hour he chose a pair Martinisi black dress shoes. The fit was perfect. He gave the clerk his hotel address that assured him that his shoes would be delivered there today.

  Tom was pleased that his shopping was over. Shopping wasn’t his favorite activity. When he needed some type of gift, he relied on his sister, Jenny, to take on the responsibility. Tom blurted out a soft “damn” when he thought of Jenny. He should get some small item for her. The thought escaped him again and he knew that Jenny would forgive him for not remembering her.

  It was noon and the church bells were ringing around Rome. Tom stopped at one of the outside café’s that lined the street. As he ate, he watched and identified several pickpockets trying to practice their trade. They knew how to watch for the local police who would arrest them without hesitation.

  When Tom finished, he walked over to the Basilica San Carlo al Corso. At the vestibule of the basilica was a pamphlet describing the history of San Carlo al Corco. Tom took it and entered the sanctuary sitting in a back pew. He shook his head in disbelief when he discovered in his reading that on the left side is the Chapel of St. Olav of Norway. Many Norwegian expatriate celebrate Christmas in Norwegian at the Chapel. Tom could see how one could spend a lifetime in each basilica and finding strange facts. Time was Tom’s enemy now. He decided his tourist jaunts needed to come to an end.

  As Tom turned the corner to start back to his hotel, he could see a small woman’s shop, with the name of several Italian fashion houses listed on the window. When Tom entered, a distinguished fiftyish something Italian woman who was eagerly ready to assist this American immediately approached him. He debated with himself if he should buy a gift for Sarah also, but that thought was put aside with the realization that Sarah was still an emotionally fragile woman. He did not wish to push her into something she could not handle. After reviewing all his options, Tom decided that a Hermes Denim Pointus scarf was his best choice. He was sure his sister, Jenny, would be delighted that Tom remembered her.

  At last Tom arrived at his hotel. He checked with the front desk. There were two messages for him. He opened the first; it was from Rizzo inviting him for breakfast tomorrow morning. His limousine would pick him up at 7:00 a.m. in front of the hotel. The second message was from Steve asking him to call back. The clerk then reached behind the desk and handed him a box containing his new shoes. Tom thanked him, smiling as he entered the elevator. Things were looking up.

  Once in his room he sat down to call Steve.

  “Hi, do you have something for me?”

  “Yes, I talked to Vice. It seems that that the Apollo Escort Service has been in Chicago for the past ten years. However, they have a very private clientele, many of whom are well connected. There doesn’t seem to be any complaints about their services. Vice suspect that the two murders of their ladies was a message to the others. If they wish to leave the organization, this was the only way out.”

  “Maybe I should ask Rizzo about it when I have breakfast with him tomorrow.”

  “You’re having breakfast with him?”

  “That’s the message I received today. His limo is picking me up.”

  “Tom, hate to be a worry wart, but you don’t have your gun with you. This could be trouble for you.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. But, I’ll give Inspector Marino a call to let him know where I’ll be tomorrow.”

  “And, exactly where will that be?”

  “Ah, your guess is as good as mine.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  At 7:00 a.m. a stretch limo pulled to the front entrance of the hotel. The chauffeur got out and opened the back passenger door.

  “Mr. Cassell, please. We must be on our way. Signore Rizzo does not like tardiness and we must get through Rome before the morning traffic.”

  Tom entered the back seat of the limo. When the chauffeur got back into the vehicle he turned to Tom.

  “There is coffee in the thermos. I believe it is as you like it. Sit back and enjoy the view. The drive will take at least an hour.”

  “Can you tell me where we are going?”

  “Yes, we are going to Mr. Rizzo’s home.” He then closed the glass window between the passenger and the driver.

  The scenery was quite beautiful and Tom could see that they were headed up the coast. He tried to watch for road signs to give him an idea where Rizzo was currently living, but it was like every highway sign had been removed. Around 7:30 a.m. Tom could see that the vehicle was
now climbing into one of the hills that surrounded Rome.

  At 7:57 a.m. the limo pulled up the front gate of an estate. The chauffeur pushed buttons on the keypad and the gate slowly opened. The limo pulled up to the front door. A butler automatically appeared at the passenger door to let Tom out.

  “Welcome, Detective Cassell. Signore Rizzo is waiting for you in the solarium. Please follow me.”

  Like a little duckling, Tom followed the butler in the house, through several exquisitely decorated rooms. When they reached the solarium, the butler stepped back and allowed Tom to enter the solarium.

  Rizzo sat at the white wrought iron and glass table reading a newspaper. He folded the paper and stood up to greet Tom.

  “Detective, welcome to my home. Please join me.”

  Tom took the seat opposite Rizzo. The butler entered the solarium with a silver pot and poured each man a cup of cappuccino, placing the silver pot on the table. He then exited the solarium as a maid entered the solarium carrying two dishes. As the guest, she placed down Tom’s meal first. Tom watched as she placed Rizzo’s dish down. It was quite obvious that his meal was different. Tom’s meal consisted of an omelet with sausage. Rizzo’s was a croissant with a small pastry on the side.

  “I hope you are pleased with your meal. We Italians do not eat such a hearty breakfast, but I know that your would appreciate your favorite breakfast meal.”

  “My favorite meal?”

  “Detective Cassell, I know many things about you. It is in my best interest to know everything about my enemies. I know that you met with Inspector Marino upon your arrival. I know that you bought a Hermes scarf and an Arbiter pair of shoes. Both excellent choices I might add. Most of all, I know what you would like to ask me.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “But, before you ask any questions, I’d like to tell you a story.”