No Mercy (37 page)

The man dressed as the captain nodded as Linda gave him her room key with the number. She had no choice if she wanted to get off the boat. “Let me make a phone call. I will tell them you have an emergency with immediate family and you will pay for the expense. Get your story together.”

“How long?” Linda asked.

“It will take at least a couple of hours,” the captain answered.

Linda was afraid to leave the party and realized something had happened to Brian. She was mingling throughout the crowd and party for twenty minutes when “Alone in the Dark” by Mystic Strangers came on. Her heart started beating faster. She tried to drown out the lyrics, but she couldn't. She pushed herself through the crowd to find the ladies' room.

“Move!” she kept saying. Finally, she found the ladies' room and went inside. She could still hear the song behind the door, but she couldn't hear the lyrics, which was good enough for her.

She went inside the stall, and before she could shut the door behind her a hand reached out, grabbed her hair, and in a second snapped her neck. Linda Tangretti died almost exactly the way Kate Summers and Alicia Hudson had died in the music clubs. Her death was a full circle of the deaths she was responsible for.

Linda's body was picked up and put in a wheelchair that had already been placed outside the door. The mysterious figure dressed in a mirror mask pushed the chair past the Halloween figures hallway. Still the Ghost Face mask was missing. The wheelchair was pushed to the elevator past the spiral staircase to the second level. Once the elevator opened, Linda's body in the wheelchair was pushed to her room. The chair was steered all the way to the balcony as her body was picked up and thrown over the side of the vessel. The killer went over to the bed and picked up all the torn apart photos that had been placed there for Linda. The mysterious figure touched each photo and said “For you” before tossing them over the side with the Ghost Face mask that was taken from the mannequin. The figure left the room and went back down to the party and disappeared into the crowd.

The helicopter arrived in two and half hours, and “Captain” Bob Langer could not locate Linda Tangretti. The expense was building as the helicopter was waiting. Finally he decided to get on the copter himself. It took twenty-five minutes to land about five miles from the hotel as Bob put the $3,000 on his credit card. He went straight to Linda's room and the key didn't work.

“Bitch!” he said out loud. She had given him the wrong room number just in case he betrayed her. Bob was relentless as he discreetly tried the door key to each of the bungalows. The more doors he tried, the more upset he was getting. All he kept thinking about was the $3,000 on his credit card. One hour later he was still checking the doors until finally it worked.

He entered the room and looked behind every nook and cranny until he looked under the bathroom sink. Inside a shoe box was a stack of $100 bills totaling $82,000.

Bob didn't want to waste time so he drove back to the helicopter pad and paid another $3,000 to be brought back to the ship plus the charge for the wait time for the helicopter. As he flew back, Langer was getting his thoughts together as what his alibi would be if Linda Tangretti ever came back for the money. He hadn't even thought about it till now. He was swearing at himself thinking about how many people knew and saw him take the helicopter back and forth. He was back on board by 1:00 am, which was only an absence of two and a half hours. He walked around the ship to try and find Linda but gave up after another hour. He reported to the real ship's captain that it was a false alarm, that the person needing medical attention was OK, and that the passenger did not leave the ship. It wasn't a lie, and Langer hoped there would be no more questions. All he cared about was that he felt like a different person with $82,000 in $100 bills in his possession.
It’s true
, he thought,
it takes money to make money
, thinking about the $6,000 already spent.

S
ince Linda and Brian paid in advance for the entire trip, no one thought twice about it when they did not check out. Left in their room was their only set of clothes they brought before changing their clothes. It was not that unusual for people to leave things in their rooms. Since everyone was in costume, no one missed them the next afternoon when the ship was returning to port. By this time, most everyone only had a portion of their costume on and was so hung-over or tired, no one cared about the way they looked. Only those concerned about their identities in front of strangers kept their costumes fully intact. The vessel hit port at 5:00 pm Sunday, and Bob Langer was in a good mood saying good-bye to the passengers hoping they had a good time.

It was a gorgeous day in Bermuda. Barbara just came out of the ocean, dried herself off, and laid in her lounge chair as she stared out into the beautiful blue ocean.

“Hello, Barbara,” the man behind her spoke. She looked up to see a chiseled, good-looking man with dark sunglasses and a bathing suit.

“Yes?” she said. “Who are you?”

The man looked at the ocean, then took off his sunglasses as he spoke to her. “Barbara Sherman, wife of former FBI agent Robert Sherman. My name is Paul Powers, and you and I have much to talk about.”

T
he Priority 1 Task Force was fully intact except for Bud, who was under strict orders to stay at home. Both Deborah and Rachelle took turns checking in on him over the past few weeks. Paul also kept in touch with him by phone on almost a daily basis and was returning to work the Monday after Thanksgiving. While Paul was away, he sent Rachelle a text once a week, but she never replied. She had accepted their life together was over and felt it made no sense to prolong the inevitable. It was difficult for her to check on Paul's apartment upstairs, and each time she did she would take some of her belongings out of the place until everything that was hers was eliminated. There were photos of her and Paul on the bureau and night table, but she did not touch them. Her friendship with Deborah grew closer as they both remained loyal to Bud in his time of need. She knew Deborah loved him, but she was worried she too would fall victim to a broken heart to a cop. She was there for her, and Deborah continued to visit the jail with Rachelle to visit Madison a few times a month.

Lindsey Wilkerson was insistent with her parents that she needed to be involved with Bud and Justin Healey. While she was only fourteen, her intellectual prowess made it much more difficult to hold her back from the lives of the two Suffolk County officers as well as Rachelle and Deborah. She would go over to his new home at 116 South Street and keep him company by playing games or getting into one of their famous debates that was amusing to everyone. The most recent had Rachelle and Deborah beside themselves. Bud was sucking on a couple gummy bears as Lindsey was explaining why she could not be hypnotized, which is common in people who are left-brain-dominant. Bud would argue with her that it made no difference but Lindsey was adamant.

“You will find, Detective Johnson,” she said with a wink, “that most lawyers, mathematicians, judges, and lab scientists are left-brained people and that we are very logical people.”

Bud shook his head. “And you read this where?”

“Never mind,” Lindsey answered. She no longer liked to show she remembered exact times and dates, but she did enjoy her banter with Bud. “There are exceptions as in all things, but this is a fact.”

“OK,” Bud answered as he gave her a hug. “I believe you.” He looked at Rachelle and Deborah and crossed his eyes as they both laughed.

Detective Lieutenant Cronin had just hung up the phone with ADA Ashley regarding the transfer of undercover reporter Gary Reynolds from Bedford Hills to go to the Riverhead facility with Detective Ellyn Baker. Both of them would be there for one month to get close with the inmates and find out what they could about the doctors giving out prescriptions for cash. They had worked it out that the transfer of Reynolds was now safe. Baker couldn't wait for the assignment and was chomping at the bit.

Detective William O'Malley accepted a temporary transfer to Priority 1 while Powers was on his leave of absence, but Cronin was going to try and pull strings to keep him with the task force until his retirement, which he insisted would happen within the year. Justin Healey was back at his role as George Lynagh's partner and occasionally would tease him about what he called “Lynagh's Luck.” It seemed no matter what happened during the past few years, he came out unscathed. Officer Chapman was back on normal duty and was showing the ropes to Officers Dugan and Frank's replacements and what was expected of them at Priority 1.

Al Simmons, Madison's attorney, came by for a visit and told Cronin that the therapist was a big help for Madison and the nightmares were becoming much less. He also requested to see if Madison could have Rachelle spend Christmas Eve with her sister and a correctional officer.

Cronin looked up at Simmons and spoke.

“On the other side of the bars in her jail cell?”

“Yes,” Simmons answered. “She was alone last Christmas, and I don't think spending a couple of hours with her only family should be an issue, do you?”

“Gina,” Cronin said to the speaker, “please have ADA Ashley stop by in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. Cronin looked back at Simmons and told him he would try and see what he could do through the proper authorities. The attorney nodded as he shook Cronin's hand and left the building. Cronin thought how lucky Madison was to have Simmons for an attorney. Then again, $300,000 missing from the briefcase that Phil Smith had from the night he was killed was a help. His thoughts stopped him from paperwork as he asked Gina to bring him the folder on what they had when Phil Smith was found dead in the barn eighteen months prior.

A
DA Ashley was in Cronin's office at 9:00 am sharp.

“The request for Madison Robinson's visit on Christmas Eve will have to be reviewed by our office in conjunction with the commissioner at the jail. Regardless of what we or anyone else thinks, she is a criminal. We have to be careful.”

“Yes,” Cronin replied, “however, she was allowed to serve out her term there to be near her only family. So it's quite a contradiction if it's not allowed. I can just see the papers now:
Vigilante Killer Kept at Jail to Be Close to Family Is Denied Christmas Eve Visit
.” Ashley nodded with amusement at Cronin's sarcasm.

“We will do what we can to make it happen.” He started to walk away but turned back. “Any news on the search for Brian Branca and Linda Tangretti?”

“No,” Cronin replied. “I have a feeling they are long gone.” He looked down at his papers as Ashley tried to get a read on his facial expression.

“Gone?” or “Long gone?” Ashley asked. Cronin looked up for a second as Ashley waited for an answer. He didn't give it to him. Instead he changed the subject.

“Powers is back Monday. I would like to keep O'Malley on our task force until he retires. He deserves to retire from Priority 1. It's only a year, and since he's been with us for three months already I don't think his precinct commander would mind breaking in some younger blood over there. His experience is an asset here.”

Ashley nodded. “What about Powers?”

“What about him?” Cronin replied.

“He goes on leave of absence while Johnson is out on disability. Are you going to keep him in Priority 1?”

“There is not a team better when the two of them are together. Powers will get down to business Monday and Johnson will return January 3. In the meantime our team will hold things together. Bud not coming back till after the New Year is another reason we need to have O'Malley stay on.”

Ashley looked at Cronin and waited for him to look at him. “Is Face of Fear going to be over and out before the end of the year?”

“I gave you a promise, didn't I?” Cronin replied.

“Yes, you did,” Ashley said. “Have a nice Thanksgiving if I don't speak to you.” Cronin nodded as he looked over the folder of papers related to the killing of Phil Smith during the Face of Fear Investigation.

Detective Sergeant Paul Powers returned to work Monday, and the six weeks he was absent only made the heart grow fonder from his coworkers. He was in better shape than when he left and his tan had heads turning from the female officers. He walked into Cronin's office and was there for twenty minutes.

Paul walked over to Cronin's desk and shook his hand.

“Nice to see you, sir.”

His boss stood up and put his left hand on top of both their right hands.

“Please sit down,” Cronin said. “Bring me up to date. How are you doing?”

“I'm feeling good and ready for things to get back to normal,” Paul replied.

“Normal,” Cronin said, “what an interesting word.”

“It's pronounced
normal
, and it means not abnormal; regular or natural, but I think that's a good thing.”

Cronin shook his head.

“Yes, whoever thought that
good
meant
normal
?”

“I'm ready for things to be the way they were,” Paul replied.

Cronin nodded again.

“So you are ready to put everything in the past and look toward the future.”

Paul looked at him with a bland stare. “The past is the past. That part of my life is over. I just want to move on.”

“Do you want to tell me what you have been doing for the past seven weeks?” Cronin asked.

“Well, as you know, two weeks of it was locating Barbara Sherman.”

“And?” Cronin asked.

“She knew he had a policy and their marriage was over. She thought once he was pronounced dead and he got his money they would split it and go their separate ways. She had no part in any of it. Let's just say she fell into a pile of shit luck by ending up with everything from the policy. Why did you have me track her down?”

“I wanted to be sure,” Cronin said, “that she was just lucky and not an accomplice in all of it.” He leaned back in his chair and looked at Powers before speaking again. “Your charts and the Sherman connection, how did you find out?”

“The night in the garage,” Paul answered, “with Branca. He told me there was a connection. It's amazing what people remember when they think you will kill them. I whispered in his ear to be sure no one would hear me and he told me there was a connection. I just needed to put some evidence together. Following the letter of the law can be difficult at times.” He looked at Cronin as if to give him a message.

“Yes,” the detective lieutenant answered. “It can be difficult.” Paul asked, “Did we ever find out who killed Lawrence Stone in the parking lot?”

“No,” Cronin answered, “not yet.”

Cronin leaned forward and decided to try and change the subject. “Tell me how you are feeling.”

“It would take too long, but I can tell you the rest and relaxation did me good,” Paul answered. He spoke again. “I visited friends, my father, worked out, and even traveled a bit.”

“You know,” Cronin replied, “we never found Linda Tangretti and Brian Branca. The FBI thinks they have either smuggled themselves out of the country or they are just that good at disappearing inside the country.” He looked at his detective sitting across from him. “Do you have any thoughts on what happened?”

Paul answered immediately. “I don't know, but if you want me involved in looking for them, I will be happy to help the FBI.”

“No, it's OK,” Cronin replied. “I think it would be a waste of taxpayers' money.” He turned around and pulled a file open and began to speak again. “Our notes from Face of Fear showed that Linda Tangretti's handle at the time on Twitter was Fun Mom. So I went to Connecticut, and lo and behold, she had a nine-year-old son staying with his grandmother who had a number that the kid could reach his mother at. The phone would ring and ring, only going to voice mail. So we traced the location of the calls and it showed the person using the cell was in Florida. The FBI took the info and covered the state and found video of some guy by the name of Bob Langer using a key to try and get into bungalows in Key West on Halloween. He was brought in for questioning and he told some story of a woman he met on a cruise ship party who disappeared.”

“Why did he go back to her room with her key if she disappeared?” Paul asked.

“I wondered that also,” Cronin replied. “He told us she begged him to help get her off the ship that someone was trying to kill her.”

Paul shrugged his shoulders. “Did he identify her as Linda, and where is Branca?”

“I think,” Cronin answered slowly, “that either Langer is a good liar, which we can't charge him for with no bodies, or whoever did kill them is pretty damn lucky with Langer getting himself involved. If any bodies were to be found, he most likely would be on trial for murder since there are records of him taking helicopter rides from the ship to her hotel and back. Either way I don't think we will be hearing from them again. I'm sure the money was involved. The love of money is surely the root of all evil”

Paul nodded. “1 Timothy 6:10” Cronin looked surprised that Paul quoted the bible as his detective spoke again. “Bud, he taught me that. What would you like me to get started on?”

“Get your things together, get settled, go home, and make sure your personal life is squared away. We have Detective Baker and an undercover person going in to the Riverhead facility in a couple of days. Also get things back in motion with your partner. He will be back in about five weeks. Your work on the Music Club Murders brought Sherman and his crew down. Good work, Detective.”

Paul went to the door, turned around, and spoke.

“You did the right thing by faking your death. You saved the girls' lives. Thank you, but . . .” His hesitation caught Cronin's attention as Paul continued to speak. “Bud, I can't stop thinking about what he did. He took three bullets to the chest and was ready to sacrifice everything for us. Although you saved lives, we would have probably lost them anyway if he hadn't done what he did. I can't get my head around it.”

Cronin leaned back in his chair and was silent for a few seconds.

“Is that why you're letting your personal life go to hell?”

Paul was taken aback by the comment. He did not want to get into a confrontation with Cronin within the first few minutes of his return, but he couldn't help himself.

“Why don't you say what you really mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” the detective lieutenant replied firmly. “Your personal life, you may think it's none of my business, but it is because as good a detective as you are, there is difficulty in having the separation between the two.”

“She is in danger as long as she is with me,” Paul answered.

“Yes,” Cronin replied, knowing he meant Rachelle Robinson. “She is, but you should give her more credit. She is a smart woman who agreed to my plan with Face of Fear. She put her life on the line to prove to me you were not some nut running around with a mask killing the bad guys. Instead, it was her sister, and what does this woman do? She sticks by you. Knowing what the consequences could be. Whether you like it or not this girl is inside your head. Do what you think is best, but I have to tell you, being great at your job means jack shit if you don't have someone to share your life with. You may think you're saving her life, but from where I'm sitting you may need her to save your life. As for Bud,” Cronin continued, “Dr. Ng at the hospital has advised us that it's going to take time for his brain to fully recover from the trauma and the time it was lacking oxygen. Most who had that experience would go out on disability, but if I were a betting man, Bud will be back.”

Cronin's words felt to Paul like someone just hit him in the chest. He looked at his boss with silence and nodded as he tapped the side of the door molding before leaving. There was no use to continue to look at him. No one ever won a stare-down with Kevin Cronin.
Except maybe his wife
, Paul thought. He managed to smile, reflecting on that thought as he walked to his desk.

Everyone in the office gave him his space for a few minutes until Ellyn Baker walked over and welcomed him with a big hug, bare feet and all. She was followed by the others who were in the precinct, including Gina, who didn't realize how much she missed him until he walked through the door. Officer Carol Wright came over and introduced herself as a new assignee. Paul couldn't help but notice she had black sneakers on while Baker refused to wear any shoes at all. How ironic it was that the high heels of her shoes may have saved her life that night at the club with Sysco. Ellyn Baker couldn't help but notice how muscular he had gotten in his arms, and she tried not to stare long enough for Paul or anyone else to notice. He looked over at the desk with pumpkin seed bags and smiled that O'Malley was still with the task force.

The detective sorted through his desk and stopped long enough to look at the framed photos sitting left to right across the top. Two of the photos were of him and Rachelle. One of them was of Rachelle, Bud, Deborah, and himself wearing Santa hats from the previous Christmas. One was of his dad and mom, and the last one was of Rachelle with the dogs. He reached to put them away but stopped as he thought to himself he needed more time before he could put them in a drawer.

Lynagh and Healey came into the precinct and hugged Paul at his desk. They exchanged comments about how each of them looked, and Paul got everyone laughing when he told Healey he was impressed he had not been shot in the past six weeks. He looked at Bud's desk and examined the photos on his desk. Deborah, Lindsey, one of himself with Bud, his parents. He had two greeting cards from Deborah with notes to him. Paul knew that Bud even kept a drawer of notes and cards in his desk. The other drawer was full of various sunglasses. He would tire easily of the same style, buy a new pair, and then forget to wear them. He was a tough cop, but he was turning out to be the most sensitive man Paul ever knew.

He looked over the folders of cases that the team had worked on the past two months until 3:00 pm and said good night to drive over to see Bud in his new home, the Henry Hallock house on South Street. When Bud opened the door his face lit up and he hugged Paul until his partner begged him to let go. He showed Paul around the house, starting with the basement.

“Jesus,” Paul said, “it looks like nothing has been touched for fifty years.”

Bud shook his head. “Aw, come on, maybe only forty-five years. The street is terrific; all the people are really nice. I have a great neighbor across the street. Louise loves to cook for everyone, her fish fries are the best!”

Bud continued, “I swear, the place is not haunted. I like to call it ‘occupied,' and if it wasn't for the fact they were friendly ghosts, I would have moved already. And are you ready for this? The owners of the house own Marchese Motors on Route 112. I get free oil changes as long as I'm a tenant.”

Paul was laughing and was starting to feel good again seeing Bud returning to being “Bud” again. Even his love of eating was returning. By the time Bud and Paul were upstairs in his bedroom he almost had convinced him there was a ghost in the house. There was an awkward silence for a moment as the two detectives, who had been through more together than any partnership on Long Island as cops, looked at each other.

“Why?” Paul asked. “Why did you bait Simpson for him to shoot you?”

Bud looked at him and then smiled.

“I was sure he was going to kill Deborah and try for Rachelle if he wasn't taken down. When you love someone, Paul, you forget about yourself and think about them.”

There was a noise at the front door and Paul could hear Deborah and Rachelle's voices as they walked in.

Paul looked at Bud.

“You didn't tell me you were expecting company.”

“What a great detective you are,” Bud answered as he walked down the stairs.

Paul followed him and watched Bud kiss Deborah and Rachelle. He walked over, but the dogs rushed to Paul and were jumping on him. Even Craven, who was normally less anxious to say hello, was happy to see him. Rachelle forced a smile but could not help that her heart was beating fast. She thought she was over Paul, but looking at him playing with Wes and Craven she felt heartache, nervousness, and suddenly missed him. She couldn't help but notice what good shape he was still in. She attempted to talk to Bud, but Paul walked over and gave Deborah a hug and a kiss and then reached over and did the same to Rachelle, who found herself putting her arm over his back. She was mad at herself for doing it, but it was an uncontrolled response.