MASS MURDER (15 page)

She shifted her eyes away from the monk and smiled.
“To strangle the victim, of course.”

A branch from the tree outside finally broke free smacking the window with a heart-stopping crack.
The wall sconces flickered and went out
, leaving t
he room as dark
and silent
as the inside of a grave
.

Chapter Ten

It was after three o’clock in the morning when Rocky’s truck rattled up to the curb in front of Giorgio’s house.
The entire monastery had remained in the dark, eliminating any hope of finishing the interviews.
The team would arrive early the next morning to develop an investigation strategy.
Giorgio knew he was expected to fill out the daily call sheet, but it had to be accurate
,
and right now he felt there was a chance he might misspell his own na
me.

The storm had finally broken
. A
drenching rain obscured his two-story, English manor-style house
,
sending rivers of run-off down the sidewalk.
A brusque wind whipped nearby trees, sending loose branches and twigs
across the sloping front lawn.

“I can come tomorrow if you’d l
ike,” Rocky yawned next to him.

“We could use your help.
Make it early
…
if you can.”

Rocky’s eyes narrowed
,
and Giorgio wondered if he’d implied too much
. B
ut Rocky merely nodded.
Giorgio pulled his jacket over his head and ran for the door.
Inside, he dropped his jacket o
ver the back of a chair
and grabbed a kitchen towel to dry off.
He stopped at the refrigerator for a long swig of milk and then headed for the hallway, stealing a glance out the grated window before locking the front door.
The sound of the bottle rolling across the truck floor came to mind
,
and he silently prayed Rocky would go straight home.

Giorgio locked the front door and started for bed,
stopping to salute a full suit-of-
armor stan
ding at the foot of the stairs.

“Good night, Prince Albert.”

It was a ritual he hardly noticed any more.
He’d rescued Prince Albert from the theater’s green room where the visor had been used as an ashtray.
The insult had given Giorgio the idea to name it after his father’s favorite tobacco.
Though Giorgio had long ago accepted Prince Albert as part of the family, his presence never ceased to spook Angie in the dark.
She’d threatened more than once to melt the armor into scrap metal.
When it disappeared one day, Giorgio thought she’d made good on her promise
,
but she’d only sent it out to be cleaned.
Giorgio had to admit it returned looking and smelling much better
.

While
the prince
stood
guard, Giorgio climbed the stairs and checked on the children.
H
e continued to the end of the hallway where the door to the master bedroom opened at the touch of his hand.
T
he nightlight was on in the bathroom
, as it always was
.
Giorgio slipped out of his clothes and climbed into bed hoping not to wake Angie
. W
hen he settled back onto the pillow
though
, she turned with a sigh and tucked an arm across his chest.

“I brought some ice cream home for you,” she mumbled.
“It’s in the freezer.”

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her cheek.
“You’re a good girl, Angie.
Mama will like you.
I think we should get married.”

She popped open one eyelid.
“Fat chance.
You stay out all hours and come home with coffee on your breath and eyeliner on your eyes.
My mama will never approve.
I’ll marry the baker.”
She tried to turn away.

He grabbed her and drew her close.
“You’ve threatened to marry that baker for fifteen years.
Who the hell is he, anyway?”

She leaned in to whisper in his ear
,
and he could smell toothpaste and a hint of the perfume she’d worn to the theater.
Everything about this woman entranced him.
It always had
,
and he wrapped his arms around her slender body, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath her nightgown.

“I’ll never divulge the name of my lover.
You might shoot him with your six-gun in a fit of jealous rage.
Then, what would the children do for a father?”

“Ha!” he yelled as he slapped her bottom
. He
rolled her over so that he lay on top of her.
“So, he’s the father?
Then why the hell hasn’t he been putting clothes on their backs for the past nine years?”

He nuzzled her neck as she wiggled beneath him giving rise to a potent desire.
She giggled, pulling his face around to kiss him first on the eyelids, then the nose, then ever so gently on the lips.

“God, woman.
I can’t ever seem to get enough of you,” he said, sinking into her embrace.
His tongue played with her ear
until her breath caught
.
“Tell me you’re mine forever,” he whispered, reaching a hand under her nightgown to stroke her breast.
“Tell me.”

She pulled back to look at him with the rich sable eyes
,
and he felt himself sink into their depths like a man si
nks to the bottom of the ocean.

“I’m yours forever,” she said breathlessly.
“Forever and one day,” she emphasized, before clamping her mouth over his.

H
is hands moved across her body knowing every curve, every soft spot, and within seconds
,
she was on fire, reaching for him, bringing him to her and laying his soul bare.
It seemed there was room in this night for at least one more standing ovation
,
and this one would be the sweetest of all.

Chapter Eleven

Giorgio awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon and turned a sleepy eye to the digital clock beside the bed.
Angie was already downstairs fixing breakfast.
He smiled.
How lucky could a man be?
When his brain registered the time, he jumped out of bed catching his toe on the foot of the bed.

“Shit!”

He’d never been an early riser and always had trouble making that first adjustment to the new day.
Angie, on the other hand, popped out of bed like a piece of toast.
The thought of toast made him forget his foot
as he hobbled to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he entered the kitchen, patted his wife on the behind and nibbled his favorite ear lobe.
He received a slap in return and was told to sit before she called the cops.
It was a game he never tired of.
It was Sunday
,
and the kids would sleep another half hour, allowing him to lean back on the chair legs to eye his wife.
She was still in her nightgown
,
and the curve of her breast caught his attention.

“What happened last night?” she inquired, pouring him a cup of black coffee.

“I think you know what happened last night,” he said, reaching for the object of his desire.

“At the monastery,” she exhaled, pushing his hand away.

He retreated with an apologetic
grin and took a sip of coffee.

“A young woman was found hanging by her bra strap in a supply closet.
Dead of course.”

 
Angie turned to him, the fry pan in her hand.
“Giorgio, you shouldn’t be flippant.
Someone died.
That’s not a joke.”

“Sorry.
It was just so weird.
She was hung like a doll on a utility hook in the supply closet of a Catholic monastery.”
He twisted his mouth in a dry smile.
“It was like one of those things.
What do you call it?
An oxymoron.
Like naval intelligence.”
He chuckled and held up his hand when she turned with a stern look on her face.
“I know.
I shouldn’t make fun of the dead.
I’m sorry.
It appears she was strangled.”

Angie drained the bacon grease out of the pan and proceeded to make pancakes.
“One of the cable stations already reported on it.
I turned it off.
I’d rather hear it from you.
Who was she?”

“A literary agent.”

“You mean, like books?”

“Mysteries as a matter of fact.
Funny, hunh?”
He smiled, but kept his mirth in check.
“Anyway, she wasn’t supposed to be there.
They were having a writers’ conference
,
and she
was standing
in for someone else who couldn’t make it.
So, no one really knew her.”
He purposely omitted the part about the missing finger.
No need to remind Angie of the kind of crimes they’d hoped to leave behind.

“Someone so young,” she ruminated.
“It’s so sad.”
Angie flipped a pancake.
“Somewhere a mother suffers.”

He watched her thinking it wasn’t easy being a cop’s wife.
Although Angie never complained, he saw it in her eyes.
The shooting in Queens had been a turning point he couldn’t quite explain.
Before then, she hadn’t always waited up for him.
Now, there were signs.
A half empty coffee cup or a warm television set.
Sometimes, like last night, it was the simple mist left
behind
in the bathroom after a late night shower.
He got up and put his arms around her waist.

“You won’t ever lose a child, Angie.
God won’t let you.”

She patted his hand
,
and he kissed the top of her head before returning to the chair.
She piled a stack of pancakes onto a plate, added the bacon
,
and placed it in front of him, bending over so that he could ju
st see the crest of her breast.