Angel Face, page 4
Vic snickered. “Tell your mutt he’s on the clock. He can take a potty break later.”
“He’s lost the scent,” Erin said. Rolf knew better than to be distracted by the smells of other dogs when he was working.
“So where’d the guy go?”
“Car,” Erin said.
“Great,” Vic said. “Waste of time. Our boy gets in a car and drives away. Fantastic. I don’t think we needed a K-9 to tell us that.”
“It tells us one thing,” Erin said.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
She pointed to the hydrant. “What’s that tell you?”
“You want me to sniff it?”
“I want you to use your brain, not your nose.”
Then Vic got it. “This is a no-parking zone,” he said. “You can’t park next to a hydrant.”
“Our guy was illegally parked,” she agreed. “Either that, or he had an accomplice who picked him up here. But that doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t walk down the street covered with blood if he didn’t have to. He’d have had his ride scoop him up in front of the house.”
“Stupid thing to do,” Vic said. “Why park at a hydrant when you’re planning to carve a girl up? Suppose he’d stepped outside and one of ours was standing right there, writing him a ticket? Our traffic cop sees him covered with blood, maybe still holding the knife. Little awkward, don’t you think?”
“Maybe it wasn’t planned,” Erin said thoughtfully. “Maybe our killer is just the kind of guy who does this sort of thing, breaks laws because he can. We’ll need to try the houses along the street, see if anyone saw a bloodstained psycho get into a car.”
“Nobody saw nothin’,” Vic predicted.
“Probably,” she agreed. “But it doesn’t hurt to try.”
The initial canvas of the neighborhood turned up nothing. Most of the doorbells went unanswered. That wasn’t terribly surprising; it was the middle of a weekday and most people were at work. The couple of stay-at-home moms they did manage to roust were terse and uncooperative. Yes, they’d been home all morning. No, they hadn’t seen or heard anything. Yes, they’d think they would’ve noticed a blood-soaked man walking down the street, but they were doing laundry or watching TV or taking care of their kids.
Demoralized, but hardly surprised, Erin and Vic detailed two of the Patrol cops to keep knocking on doors. It was just possible they might get lucky. Then the detectives went back to check in with Webb.
“Shit,” Erin said as they climbed the front steps.
“What?” Vic asked.
“I need to call the Marshals.”
“What for?”
“I need to set up protection for a guy. He might be going into WitSec.”
“Anybody I know?”
“Alfie Madonna. Mattie Madonna’s kid. A hitman tried to whack him outside the courthouse. That’s how I got shot. I almost forgot.”
Vic stopped, his hand resting on the brownstone’s doorknob. “You got shot, and you almost forgot about it? Christ, Erin, I knew you were tough, but you’re something else.”
“There’s been kind of a lot going on this morning,” she said. “I’m stretched a little thin right now, okay? Go on in and talk to the Lieutenant. I won’t be long.”
Witness Protection was a Federal thing, under the jurisdiction of the US Marshals. Erin hadn’t needed to contact them before, but she knew how it was done. She put in a call to the Southern District Marshals Office. The first person she got was a receptionist, who transferred her to three petty bureaucrats in succession. Erin knew how the Feds operated, so she persevered, finally ending up with someone who might actually have the knowledge and authority to do something useful.
“Deputy Marshal Headley,” the man on the other end of the line said. “I understand you’ve got someone in need of our services.”
“That’s right,” Erin said. “Low-level Mafia soldier. His old Family is out to get him. They’ve already made one play to take him out.”
“Alfredo Madonna?”
“How do you know that?” Erin asked sharply.
“Relax, Detective,” Headley said. “I was at the courthouse this morning on other business. I missed the excitement, but I heard what happened. So Madonna wants to flip?”
“He’s asked for protection,” Erin said, choosing her words carefully.
“Okay,” Headley said. “Where is he right now?”
“At a fairly secure location, but it’s temporary,” she said. “He’s feeling a little paranoid right now, so he’s waiting to see me personally before he moves.”
“I copy. Is he ready for WitSec? Does he understand what it means?”
“He hates the Lucarelli boss. He’ll do anything he can to bring the guy down.”
“I meant, does he understand the changes he’ll have to make in his life? He’ll need to sever all his ties. Every one of them. His friends can’t know where he’s going, can’t get in touch with him. His family won’t know his contact info. He’ll have a new name, new identity, the works. And he can’t circle back into his old life. If he does, he’ll forfeit protection.”
“They killed his dad,” Erin said. “It’s because of his family that he wants revenge. He’ll be on board.”
“Understood. Clearly, there’s an established danger to his life.”
Erin touched the bandage on her neck. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“I can set up a temporary detail for him while we build him a new identity. The permanent placement will take a little longer, but he’ll be okay for a few days. You said he’ll only talk to you?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll call you back when we’re ready to move him,” Headley said. “You can rendezvous with my people and me. Then we’ll go get him together. What’s his current location?”
“It’s better if as few people as possible know that, Marshal,” Erin said. “No offense.”
“None taken.” Headley actually sounded pleased. “Glad to hear both of you are taking this seriously. I’ll be in touch.”
With that taken care of, Erin hung up. She was just in time to see the Medical Examiner’s van arrive and Sarah Levine get out. Dr. Levine was already wearing her lab coat and gloves; Erin had only seen the other woman in different clothing once, on New Year’s. Otherwise, she’d have thought Levine slept in her lab gear.
“Hey, Doc,” Erin called, waving her over.
“Where’s the dead guy?” Levine asked, never one for small talk.
“Girl,” Erin corrected. “She’s upstairs.”
Rolf snuffled at the hem of Levine’s coat as they went in. Levine always smelled very interesting, a mix of chemicals, blood, and tissue samples. The Shepherd would have no trouble at all tracking Levine if she ever got lost.
In the Romano apartment, Levine immediately peeled off and disappeared into the bedroom to begin her preliminary examination. Vic, Webb, Erin, and Rolf stayed in the living room, out of the ME’s way.
“I was just telling the boss about Romano,” Vic said.
“What is there to tell?” Erin asked.
“She wasn’t a hooker,” he said. “At least, not as far as the Vice squad knows. But she was a wild child, that’s for sure. Only nineteen years old and she’s got a jacket thicker than some heavy hitters I know. Nothing too major, but she got in a lot of trouble. Long juvie record.”
“What for?”
“Drugs, disorderly conduct, shit like that.” Vic shrugged. “She hung out with a bunch of street hoods. She kept getting busted at parties where there was lots of underage drinking and drugs. Never did any serious time, though.”
“Known associates?” Webb asked.
“I’ve got a list as long as your arm,” Vic said. “Take your pick. Young punks, mostly.”
“What about family?” Erin asked. “Nineteen is a little young to have her own apartment in this neighborhood. Either she had one hell of a nice entry-level job, or somebody else was paying her rent.”
“Next of kin we have on file is a mom and dad,” Vic said. “They’re local, less than a mile from here. Two siblings, no spouse, no kids.”
“Good,” Webb said. “O’Reilly, you can do the notification.”
Erin winced. “Sir,” she said. “I have something else going on, something important.”
“More important than a major homicide?”
“I don’t know. But I may have to leave on short notice.”
“Then you’d better get going now,” Webb said. “Get the notification out of the way before you get interrupted. We’ll keep you posted on what Levine finds out.”
Chapter 5
“I wasn’t trying to weasel out of it,” Erin told Rolf once they were back in her Charger.
Rolf wagged his tail. He didn’t think she was a weasel.
“It’s just that I might get a call from the Marshals any time,” she explained. “I shouldn’t be in the middle of something delicate.”
Rolf stuck his head through the hole between the front seats to see where they were going. Maybe there’d be bad guys to chase when they got there.
“Okay, I hate doing family notifications,” she said. “They’re miserable.”
Rolf nosed her ear.
“Thanks, kiddo,” she said, rubbing his neck. “I know you’ve got my back.”
The Romano family lived in a small, very ordinary-looking house in a quiet middle-class Brooklyn neighborhood. Erin left Rolf in the car; the K-9’s presence might not be appreciated. She took a second to check herself in the rear-view mirror. She still looked like a mess. She did what she could with her hair and got a tissue to wipe the most obvious smudges off her face. Then she got out and walked up to the front door.
A middle-aged woman with a Mediterranean complexion answered the door. She was good-looking in a stout, sturdy way, her hair obviously dyed and carefully styled.
“We ain’t interested,” she said in a strong Brooklyn accent. “No matter what you’re selling.”
Erin held up her gold shield. “Ma’am, my name is Erin O’Reilly. I’m a detective with the NYPD. Are you Ms. Romano?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” the woman said. “Luisa Romano. What’s the matter? Don’t tell me Bella got herself in trouble again. I told her not to run around with those no-account boys.”
“This is about Isabella,” Erin said. “May I come in, ma’am? We should sit down.”
Luisa considered her. “Okay, sure,” she said. “You want me to put some coffee on?”
“I don’t need any, thanks,” Erin said as she stepped inside. The house was clean and well-kept, but a little cluttered with old furniture. The walls were covered with pictures, mostly black-and-white photographs but with a few prints of landscape paintings interspersed. Luisa led her to the living room and indicated a well-worn couch. Erin dutifully took a seat. Luisa sat down in an overstuffed armchair.
“Is your husband home?” Erin asked.
“Nah, he’s at work.”
“What kind of work does he do?”
“Sanitation.”
That sparked something in Erin. “Garbage collection?” she asked, trying to disguise her interest.
“If you want to call it that. It’s good honest work. You got a problem with that?”
“No,” Erin said hastily. But she was thinking about the Mob. The O’Malleys and the Lucarellis had fought over the garbage rackets on Long Island back in the Nineties. Carlyle was suspected of building bombs that had destroyed several rival garbage trucks, though he’d always been careful to construct the devices so that nobody was killed or injured. The Lucarellis had won that round, in spite of Carlyle’s efforts, but were in the process of getting out of the labor rackets.
“So what’s Bella’s problem?” Luisa asked.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this,” Erin said. “Isabella was found in her apartment earlier today. It appears she’s been murdered.”
Erin had seen many reactions to the news of the sudden death of a family member. The most common responses were shock, followed by tears. However, there was a wide range of emotions that might be on display. Luisa Romano managed to surprise her.
“I told her this was gonna happen,” Luisa said, shaking her head. “How many times did I say it? ‘Bella, if you keep stepping out with those no-good kids down the street, you’re going to end up strangled in a back alley one of these days.’ Who did it? Was it one of her old boyfriends? Or the new one, the pretty one?”
Erin was momentarily baffled. The woman was treating news of her daughter’s death like the girl needed to be grounded. “Ma’am,” she said gently, thinking she might not have gotten through the first time. “Isabella is dead.”
“I know that,” Luisa retorted. “I heard you just fine the first time. This is her father’s fault, you know. I told Gio he was too soft on her. I swear, he let her get away with everything. If he’d have stepped in and put his foot down the first time she skipped school, this wouldn’t have never happened.”
“The boyfriends you mentioned,” Erin said. “Could you tell me their names?”
“Who can keep track of all those boys?” Luisa replied, throwing her hands in the air. “They was always coming and going, all hours of the day or night. I told her, I said, ‘Bella, nobody respects the town bicycle, if you know what I mean.’ She just laughed. Laughed at her own mother, for thinking about her reputation!”
“You said something about a new boyfriend,” Erin persisted. “A pretty one?”
“Yeah,” Luisa said. “He came by the house a couple weeks ago, said he wanted to pay his respects. All dressed up nice. Suit, tie, even a hat. Looked like he stepped right outta one of them old movies. Brought me flowers, if you believe it! Said he wanted to do things right, meet the parents. With all respect. Nice manners, that boy. And good looking, my God! If I was Bella’s age, he’d make me go all weak in the knees too. Gio didn’t never look that good, not even when we was married.”
“What’s his name?” Erin asked. “If he introduced himself, you must have heard it.”
“Yeah, it’s right on the tip of my tongue,” Lu said. “It might’ve been Angelo. Bella called him Angel, see? Like a nickname. God only knows how a girl like her ran into a guy like him. Most of the boys she hung out with was trash, just plain trash like you throw in the gutter.”
“Did you get a last name?”
“Yeah, he said it, but I don’t remember. Maybe it’ll come back to me.”
“Had Isabella been living on her own long?” Erin asked.
“Since she graduated high school in June,” Luisa said. “We had a huge fight when I caught a boy sneaking out of her bedroom the morning after graduation. I found him tiptoeing down the stairs with his shoes in his hand and this big shit-eating grin on his face. Under my own roof! And when I told Bella that, she said fine, she wouldn’t stay under my roof, she’d get her own place. I told her she’d be back in a week. But I guess she made it work, though Lord knows where she got the money.”
“Did you have much contact with her after she moved out?”
“Not a lot. But she’d come by now and again.” Luisa paused and an odd look came into her face. “She’s really gone?”
Erin nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Do you know why anybody might want to hurt her?”
Luisa shook her head. “She was a stupid girl, stubborn, like she wanted to make every mistake there was, but she didn’t have a mean bone in her body. She never hurt nobody. All the boys loved her, and I know why, but they wouldn’t never hurt her.”
Tears welled up in Luisa’s eyes. “Oh my God, the last thing I said to her was a scolding. I shoulda told her I loved her. I don’t remember the last time I told her that. Lord knows, she didn’t make it easy on me. It was Gio she really loved. She’d bat her eyes at him and he’d let her get away with murder! God, he’s coming home this evening. What am I gonna tell him?”
“Tell him we’re doing everything we can to find out what happened to her,” Erin said. She handed the other woman one of her cards. “If you think of anything, like the boyfriend’s name, give me a call. There’s a number there for family assistance, too. They’ll help you with what you need to do.”
“I loved that stupid, stubborn girl,” Luisa said, staring at her hands. “God help me, but I loved her.”
Erin had just gotten back in the Charger, and was dealing with Rolf’s inquisitive nose, when her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number.
“O’Reilly,” she said.
“This is Deputy Marshal Headley,” the man on the other end said. “Are you ready to go get your boy?”
“If you are,” she said. “It’ll take me a little while to get there, though. I’m on Long Island right now.”
“Not a problem,” Headley said. “Just swing by Union Square Park and call me at this number.”
“Copy that. See you there.”
Erin hung up and immediately called Webb.
“Get anything from the family?” Webb asked by way of greeting.
“Apparently our victim went through a lot of boyfriends,” Erin said. “Could be jealousy as a motive. Unfortunately, Romano’s mom didn’t remember any of their names. Just one partial, somebody named Angel or Angelo or something like that. No last name.”
“Helpful,” Webb said dryly. “We’ll run Angelo through the system. I’m guessing we get about five hundred hits.”
“Now I need to head back to Manhattan,” she said.
“For what? Grocery shopping?”
“No, sir. Meeting some Feds.”
“What about?”
“Something I probably shouldn’t discuss on the phone.”
“I see. Any idea how long it’ll take?”
“Probably a couple of hours. You want me to come back here after?”
“No. CSU will be all over the place, collecting evidence. You’ll just get in the way. Come to the Eightball. We’ll regroup there and see where we stand.”
“Copy that. O’Reilly out.”
And then it was time for another drive across the East River.
