Lloyd Corricelli - Ronan Marino 01 - Two Redheads & a Dead Blonde (26 page)

SEVENTEEN

When
I got to my house Tony’s Suburban was gone and there was a small brown envelope sitting on the porch with only my name written on it. The letters were in big handwritten script to be sure I knew whom it was for. There was no return address or postage. No wires hanging out or grease stains so it didn’t appear to be a bomb. That was the bad news.

I squeezed it and felt a CD jewel case inside. I opened the door, turned on the lights and went directly to my kitchen. I popped the top off a Harpoon Ale and put down half the bottle in one swig. I thought perhaps one of my neglected band mates had left me a song demo but when I opened the envelope I found I was wrong; it was a DVD. My keen investigative skills and the fact the letters “DVD” were handwritten in marker on the disc clued me in.

A yellow post-it note was stuck to the case. It read, “Is she really worth dying for?” which I said aloud even though there was no one to hear it. The handwriting on the note was all in block letters just like the package, making it hard to determine if a man or a woman wrote it.

There were a lot of things this DVD could be, none of them good. I turned on my television and DVD player and popped the disc in. The player whirred to life and the screen turned blue. I grabbed the remote and my hand shook in anticipation. I fast-forwarded the disk and the first thing that came on screen was a naked man with an erection. Not something I had any interest in seeing. He looked to be somewhere in his mid-twenties and had short dark hair. He was physically lean but most definitely well endowed. Some guys get brains, some get giant penises. I guess I got the brains.

The next thing I saw made my heart sink. It was Karen; nude on her knees fellating the man. After everything I’d learned about her the past few weeks, I wasn’t exactly shocked but this added a whole new dimension to what I knew, or more correctly what I hadn’t knew about her. Part of me didn’t want to see but it was like a car accident. You try to turn your head but you can’t help looking. I slumped back on my couch and continued to watch.

The film was a rough cut, meaning it hadn’t been edited yet, had no music and I could hear the director telling them what to do. It had professional production values and was not done with a home camcorder. I could tell by the furniture style and layout that it had been filmed in a hotel room.

As Karen continued working on the guy, I watched her eyes and they seemed to be clear. In many low-budget porno films, you can see the actors are either drunk or high. She appeared to be neither. Pornography is generally made to arouse but watching this made me feel the exact opposite; I was angry and very hurt.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. I sat up as another party joined the act. It was Cassie. She got on her knees and assisted Karen. Soon they turned their attention to each other and began to kiss. Cassie leaned back and Karen went down on her; so much for going to the same health club.

I turned it off when the guy got behind Karen and mounted her. I’d seen enough and couldn’t stand it anymore. Whoever had left me the DVD was trying to send me a message and play with my emotions. It was working.

I was extremely upset when I found out that Karen had been working for an escort service. This took that knife and twisted it straight in my heart. She lied to me, not directly but by virtue of omission. What else might she have lied about? Was she using drugs?

I popped the DVD out of the player, lay on the couch and stared at it. If I were Superman, my heat vision would have melted it into a wad of gooey plastic. It was late and I was worn out but I didn’t really feel like sleeping, I just couldn’t. More than anything, I needed answers from Cassie. I grabbed some clean clothes, hopped into my Jeep and headed north.

During the drive to Maine, my thoughts wandered from Karen, to Diane and how I had missed calling her tonight, to Cassie, to how in the hell I was going to resolve this situation.

If I had hit the shooter earlier tonight and it was his blood they found in the van, Shea would be able to use DNA to link someone to Fontini’s murder. Finding that someone however was the trick. Most likely, it’d been the two cops that beat me up and ironically, they had worked for Fontini and had probably whacked him. It would have explained how they were able to kill him at close range without the chief even getting his weapon out of the holster.

I didn’t want to be a complete dick so I called Cassie and gave her a heads up that I was coming. She was up watching a movie and sounded overjoyed to be getting company. That would change when she saw what I was bringing.

It took about ninety minutes to get to my place straight up Route 95 past Portsmouth and over the Piscataqua River Bridge into Maine. Once you cross the state line, it’s about another twenty minutes to Perkins Cove. When I got there it was close to two in the morning. Cassie was waiting up wearing a less than modest piece of lace lingerie. There wasn’t anything there I hadn’t recently seen on the DVD. She hugged me and I smelled perfume on her leading to a rather impure through that needed to be forgotten immediately.

“Just you?” she asked.

“Yeah, sorry. No Tony.”

“I’m surprised to see you this late.”

“Something urgent came up.”

I took the DVD out of my overnight bag and slapped it into the player. I clicked play and stood back with my arms crossed.

“What’s that?” she asked innocently.

The DVD started to play and it picked up the action with Karen getting it from behind from the guy and going down on Cassie at the same time. She put her hand over her mouth.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Someone left it on my front steps. Any particular reason you didn’t tell me about this?”

“I didn’t think it was important,” she said.

“Didn’t I ask you to tell me everything?”

She sat back on the big overstuffed couch, her legs underneath her body and her eyes never leaving the screen.

“I’m sorry, Ronan, I really am. That wasn’t exactly my proudest moment.”

“I want to know about this. Was it the only one?”

“What?”

“The only film you made?”

“I wish. You have to understand, I was confused and they offered me more money than I could have ever made as a waitress.”

“How could you have sex in front of a camera with all those people around?” I asked.

“It was easy, especially when I was all coked out. They made sure there was plenty around the set.”

I sat down on the opposite end of the couch and my body went limp. Fatigue overwhelmed me. The movie continued to run; the guy was now screwing Cassie as Karen knelt over her face. I wanted to turn it off but I was too tired to get up and do it.

“I did what I did and it’s too late now I guess,” she said.

“Did you sign a release?”

“Yeah, they made us sign a contract so they could sell the films.”

“What about Karen?”

“I think this was the only one she did. She didn’t seem too into it.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’d never been with another woman before. I had to show her how.”

Either I was really feeling out of it or really naïve.

“How to what?”

“Eat pussy for the camera. It was actually kind of amusing.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. You didn’t mind?”

“No, I’m bisexual. I was really excited to be with her even if it was only on-camera. She was so hot. You didn’t know I liked women too?”

“I must have missed that memo.”

“I figured everyone at Max’s knew.”

“Did Karen ever do any drugs on set?”

“No, she told me she’d done coke a couple of times before but didn’t like it. She was the smart one. Most girls I know get hooked and then spend all their money on it.”

“Then they’re stuck.”

“Yeah, Karen was saving her money though. I figured she must have had a good amount socked away somewhere when she decided to quit. I wish I’d done that.”

She suddenly started to cry and hugged me.

“When you leave here, you’ll be free to start new,” I said.

“Sounds great, except for one problem. What am I going to do? Karen had it all planned out, she was in college and had money saved. I’ve got nothing. I’m afraid that I’ll go right back to selling myself when things get tight.”

“Can you stay off the coke?” I asked.

“I haven’t done any since I’ve been here, other than the little I had on me.”

“Alright, don’t worry about it right now. Between me, you and Tony we’ll figure it out.”

“Okay.”

She held me tighter as I struggled to stay awake. I had that intense feeling you have when you’re so exhausted that things start to get blurry.

“I want to thank you so much for what you’ve done,” she said. “No one else would have helped me like this.”

“That’s okay, maybe someday you can do something to repay me.”

Her hand slid across my thigh and up to my zipper.

“I could start now,” she offered.

This was wrong under any circumstance. I never want to be accused of taking advantage of someone and sleeping with Cassie would definitely fall into that category. I summoned my last few ounces of strength and pushed her hand away.

“It’s okay, Ronan. I want to.”

“Cassie, I don’t want to be repaid in blow jobs.”

She seemed insulted. “I have nothing else to give you.”

“Look, you have to stop measuring your self-worth by the amount of money you have or the amount of…”

“Cocks I suck?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t exactly sure how to phrase it.”

“I don’t know what else I’m good at.”

“It’s time you figured it out. This might be the only chance you’ll get to think about it in a peaceful environment where your head can be clear. We can talk about it some more tomorrow but right now I really need to get some sleep.”

I forced myself to stand up and shuffled off toward the bathroom. I managed to take a shower and get the dirt, grime and sweat from the park off before I fell asleep. I didn’t even remember hitting the pillow. I woke up sometime in the late morning and found Cassie had come into bed and snuggled up beside me. As long as it wasn’t sexual, I could live with it. I fell back asleep and my last thought was of Tony calling me an “H-mo.”

When I got up, Cassie was sitting in the living room watching soap operas. I felt the urge to take another shower and we went out to lunch at one of the few places at the beach that stayed open during the off-season.

We talked more about her future and what she wanted to do. I learned she was interested in art and had actually done pretty well in high school. She thought she might like to go to college but had no idea how. There was a desperation in her voice that I found near heartbreaking. She only desired what deep down we all want, someone to look past our faults and love us unconditionally. For something so simple, it’s near impossible for many of us to find.

In many respects I was just like her. I was tired of being alone and when my relationship with Karen started to blossom, I hoped I had found something to build on. When she was killed, I’d been cheated out of that. Some of those same feelings were there for Diane. Maybe I was just desperate and saw it in every woman I slept with. Things had to be easier when cavemen just bopped a woman over the head with a club and dragged her back to the cave.

I took Cassie to get some groceries and gave her some money to tide her over until I could come back. She wanted me to stay for a while but my presence was going to be required for the Fontini murder investigation.

On the way back to Lowell, I listened to my voicemails. There were about twenty. Half were from my brother who’d heard the news about Fontini and wanted to know what was going on. I went through the first nineteen, hoping to hear from Diane. Somewhere in the middle was one from Shea who wanted to meet at his office today at four. It was about three when I heard that one so I called him and left a message that I’d be there.

The very last message made my day.

“Hey mister, you were supposed to call me last night. I hope everything’s all right. A certain body part is still aching and it’s getting worse. Help!”

Calling Diane back would rate high on the list of things to do after my meeting.

EIGHTEEN

At
the police department they directed me to a large conference room on the first floor. I walked in and Shea was talking with his boss, Superintendent Mickey Halloran. Halloran was somewhere in his late fifties, medium-height, heavy with graying temples and a full head of hair. His uniform was starched so stiff you could have shaved with the creases.

Marc was also there along with Garcia, Morley and a couple of guys in suits I didn’t recognize. Marc saw me and walked over but Shea motioned me over to Halloran first. I held up a finger giving my brother the “just a minute” sign.

“Superintendent Halloran, this is Ronan Marino,” Shea said.

He looked me over and didn’t smile. I got the distinct impression he wasn’t very happy with me and it wasn’t because I didn’t bring donuts.

“You’ve been causing a lot of fucking trouble in my city,” he said in a gravelly voice that sounded like he’d swallowed broken glass.

“It’s not intentional.”

“He’s not as big as I expected,” he said.

“Only his head, sir,” Shea said.

No one laughed and I was starting to feel uncomfortable.

“I know who you used to be,” Halloran said emphasizing the words “used to be.” “But you’re just a private citizen now, war hero or not. Leave the police work to the professionals or so help me God, I’ll have you locked up in a dark fucking hole so deep no one will ever find you.”

He looked at Shea, glared once more at me and exited.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“He’s had a lot of explaining to do to the higher-ups,” Shea said.

“So I’m the bad guy here?”

“No, but you have to understand something. Three deaths in three weeks, including a well-respected chief of police, are causing a lot of grief for him. The mayor expects him to wrap this up and catch whoever killed Fontini and quickly,” Shea explained.

“That’s right, we have an election coming up. You can’t give the voting public the impression that Lowell has turned into Tombstone.”

“Good, you do understand,” Shea replied drolly.

The two suits came over. Both were tall, athletic, had crew cuts and looked to be a few years older than me. They had to be state police. I could tell because neither smiled and they both had a Dudley Do-Right cleft chin.

“Ronan, this is Lieutenant Marcotte and Sergeant Smolinski from the state police. They’re the primaries on the Fontini case.”

I shook each of their hands. Both had a strong firm handshake, probably former Marines like Garcia.

“Mr. Marino, we’ve heard a lot about you,” Marcotte said.

“All good I hope.”

“Some of it,” Smolinski replied.

“I understand you managed to take out Oisen Donohue,” Marcotte said. “We’d been looking for him for quite a while for a number of contract murders.”

“A very dangerous individual,” Smolinski added.

“Not anymore,” I said.

They both nodded in agreement. Marc wandered over.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I requested Chief Marino be here since he seems to have run a license plate of a vehicle potentially involved in this case,” Marcotte explained.

Marc frowned at me. His look said I had just lost a future source for running plates and background checks.

“Why don’t we get started?” Shea said.

Garcia closed the doors and we all took seats around the worn wooden conference table.

Marcotte took charge. “There seems to be a real mess here. We’ve got three deaths that appear to be tied together, yet no one seems to have anything to really link them; except for one common thread.”

As if rehearsed, everyone in the room looked at me.

“I did not have sex with that woman,” I said with my best Bill Clinton impression.

“If there was ever a time to quit fucking around, Ronan,” barked Shea, “this is it.”

I looked over at my brother. His eyes pleaded with me to spill.

“So, Mr. Marino, it’s time to tell us what you know,” Smolinski said.

“Everything?” I asked.

“Every damn thing,” Shea growled.

What choice did I have? These men were here to help me with a situation that was way over my head. For the next twenty minutes, I shared everything I had; how Karen had indirectly worked for Duffy as did Oisen whom Duffy had sent to kill me and that Fontini was a client of Karen’s who I believed had two rogue cops on his department that also appeared to work for Duffy. I also mentioned my favorite congressman. Using one of my many talents, I said it all without taking a breath. The story seemed so twisted and unbelievable that I was starting to have a hard time making sense of it myself.

Everyone listened intently with Smolinski occasionally taking notes. When I finished, there was a moment of silence while they all took it in.

“That’s a pretty fantastic story, Mr. Marino,” Marcotte said.

“You want us to believe that Congressman LaValle was involved with a prostitute that worked for Duffy Fitzpatrick?” Smolinski asked.

“I know that’s pretty farfetched guys, a politician screwing around on his wife with an escort, but it’s true.”

“Dan LaValle is beyond reproach,” Marc said.

Shea rolled his eyes and Garcia looked bewildered. Morley seemed pretty disinterested, especially for a guy who spent so much time with the accused.

“Morley, you work security for LaValle. Ever see anything that might lead you to believe he was using escorts?” Shea asked.

“This guy is so full of shit his boots are overflowing,” Morley said with more than a hint of distaste for me in his voice. “I don’t know why we even bother wasting our time with him.”

Shea looked at me waiting for a response.

“I’ve said all I am going to say about it. You can either believe me or there’s option B,” I offered.

“Which is what?” Garcia asked.

“You can all kiss my ass.”

Looks were exchanged around the room for a brief few seconds.

“Okay, we get the point, Mr. Marino. Excuse us a minute,” Marcotte said. He and Smolinski got up and stepped outside.

“They don’t believe you,” Shea said.

“Master of the obvious,” I replied. “Should I drop my pants now or will the ass kissing be later?”

“Stop this, Ronan. I know you don’t like Dan but did you have to drag him into this?” Marc said.

“Pull your head out of your ass, bro. I know he’s your hero but face facts. I have no reason to make this shit up.”

He folded his arms and sat back in the chair indignantly. Morley leaned forward and pointed a long crooked finger at me.

“You know what I think?” he asked.

“No, but I suspect you’re about to tell us,” I fired back.

“You made up the entire story about LaValle to throw us off your scent.”

“You couldn’t pick up my scent, Morley if I gave you a handwritten itinerary,” I said. “Your shoddy police work forced me to get involved in this to begin with.”

“Excuse me, but I think we’re getting off track,” Garcia interjected.

“He’s right. Maybe LaValle was involved with Karen Pommer but it doesn’t mean he had something to do with Fontini’s death or hers,” Shea said.

Marcotte and Smolinski re-entered.

“Lieutenant, we have copies of your case files. We’ll be in touch,” Smolinski said.

Marcotte added, “Don’t go too far, Mr. Marino. We might want to talk to you some more.”

“I thought we were going to work on this together?” Shea asked.

“We’ll be in touch,” the troopers said in unison as they exited.

Shea’s face turned red and it looked like steam was about to pour out of his ears.

“Son of a fucking bitch,” he barked.

“They’re going to go at this on their own,” I said.

“Stupid bastards won’t get far,” Shea fumed. “They don’t know this city like I do.”

We all sat there looking at each other taking in this new development. Shea’s secretary entered and handed him a brown manila folder. He opened it and looked over the contents.

“The paint transfer comes back with a high probability of coming from either a 2004 or 2005 Cadillac Eldorado.”

“Dammit, that’s not their car,” I said. “Fontini’s guys drive a Dodge Charger. At least they were the day I saw them.”

“So much for your theory, hotshot,” Morley laughed.

I sat there bewildered. I had put a lot of hope that the transfer would come back to Red and Goatee’s car. I hated being so wrong. Shea stood and stretched his arms.

“Garcia, go and get everything we have on this case,” he said. “I want the five of us to review it all again. Maybe there’s something we missed.”

We spent the next few hours going over every statement, every report and every piece of information Shea had. We threw out random ideas, off the wall guesses, wild conspiracy theories and anything else that came to mind but were no closer than we’d been when we started. Morley sat in the corner, barely paying attention. If I had been Shea, there would have been a big bootprint on his ass.

“Anything else, gentlemen?” Shea asked.

“We could get pictures of all the Medford cops and have Ronan pick the guys out,” Garcia offered.

“Good idea, but I doubt they’d cooperate,” Shea said. “Think about how we’d feel if another department tried to implicate our guys in a murder, especially of our own chief.”

“Couldn’t we get the state police to force them to?” Marc asked.

“Those two clowns aren’t going to do jack shit, Chief,” Shea explained. “Once they heard the name LaValle, they ran off scared.”

“What about the feebs?” Garcia asked.

I got a cold shiver up my spine and I saw Shea did as well.

“You ever work with the bureau, Garcia?” I asked.

“No.”

“Pray you never have to,” Shea said. “You’ll do all the heavy lifting and they’ll swoop in, make the arrest and claim all the credit.”

“You’d be lucky to even be mentioned in the final report,” I added.

Morley stood. “I hate to be a party pooper, but I have to get going.”

Shea shrugged. “Yeah, whatever,” he said.

“Thanks for all your help, Robert,” I added.

He didn’t reply and only glared at me over his shoulder as he left.

“What a putz,” Marc said.

We all nodded as one.

We continued to work for another thirty minutes. I sorted through a folder that included
The Sun’s
headline about Karen’s death clipped out and taped to a piece of scrap paper. I stared at her face until it was almost burned into my retinas. I read through the article for what must have been the thousandth time until I could almost recite it by heart.

It covered finding the body and her car, her employment at Max’s, her service in the Navy and that she was a senior at UMass Lowell. Then suddenly it hit me. If my life had been a cartoon, clouds would have formed overhead and God himself would have appeared and slapped me across the face.

“Gary, did you or the coroner release the autopsy report to the press?” I asked.

I’d followed everything in the paper pretty diligently but as beat up, tired and busy as I’d been maybe I’d missed an update.

“No, we kept the autopsy report under wraps. The press is still pretty pissed off about it too,” he explained.

“Why is that important?” Marc asked.

“It might be nothing,” I said.

“We’re getting used to nothing around here,” Shea replied.

“Did you share the report with anyone outside the department?” I asked.

Shea looked at Garcia and he shook his head no.

“Other than the staties and you, not that I’m aware of.”

“Ronan, what do you got?” Garcia asked.

The possible link we were looking for had been right in my hands all along and I’d been too distracted to see it. It was like the curve ball I struggled to hit in my days as a college baseball player, only now I had just figured it out and planned to smack this pitch out of the park.

I explained my epiphany and we formed a plan to draw the potential guilty parties out into the open. Shea reluctantly agreed with my strategy as long as Garcia was involved and could get credit for the pinch. I had no problem with that.

Marc wanted to get involved too but I convinced him to stay out of it. If I was wrong, it might torpedo his political aspirations for good and become a huge embarrassment that would cause him a lot of unnecessary explanation to the town bosses. The big brother in me also wanted him kept out of harm’s way. In all likelihood this could again turn violent, which meant Tony was once again about to get called off the bench. Other than Shea and me, he was the only one who’d ever seen any heavy-duty gunplay. He wouldn’t hesitate to neutralize anyone threatening my life or his. That was an important attribute for what I had planned.

It was close to eight when I finally left the station. Garcia and Shea were coming to meet at my house after I picked up some Chinese food to finalize our plans.