The Damascus Chronicles (10 page)

“Anyway, the police commissioner wants to see us later to report in, but first let’s head to the funeral. They’ll probably have good food for breakfast after the service,” said Watson.

“Is all you can think about is your stomach? How can you want to eat anything after seeing that?” The two hopped into Frank’s squad car to proceed to Saint Mark’s abbey for Fitzgerald and Scalipelli’s service.

Inside the church abbey the dull and melancholy sounds of the old brass pipe organ sung a sad hymn as the procession of Las Vegas’ finest entered the church, shaking hands and passing out hellos. Father Paul Sullivan, a handsome middle-aged priest, approached the pulpit to speak a few words. “Dearly beloved family members and friends, we gather here today on this day to remember and honor the lives of two great officers, Larry Fitzgerald and Joseph Scalipelli. These two officers fought valiantly to save the lives of the people coming home on the interstate a week ago when a shoot-out occurred on the highway that caused them to lose their lives in an accident caused by violence. It is sad for us to lose these two men, men of honor who showed their duty to their community and to their loved ones. Tragedy seems to be a daily occurrence today now that murder has become so common. It is such a sad thing to see that human life has grown cheap in our fair city, a city that was once a family city, now gone down hill. However, through all of this we still stand vigilant in the face of our God who is with us each and every day. Let us pray for these two souls who have left this world to be with our God through his Son our Lord Jesus Christ. Our Father who art in Heaven….”

As Father Paul continued the service, Jack and Frank sat in the back row of the church, talking about the families of the deceased men.

“Damn shame about what happened to those two guys. They were just kids, rookies. They both just got married a few months ago. Their wives must being going out of their minds with grief,” said Frank sadly.

“Good lord, we have to do something about this; every day things are getting worse; we lost nine men last week,” said Jack.

“Too many guys are taking bribes and not standing up for the ones who are clean.”

“The department is going to hell.”

An hour had passed and the service came to an end. “Come on; let’s go give our condolences to the widows,” said Jack, just as Father Paul finished speaking.

Jack and Frank walked up the aisle with the other officers to give their sympathy to the widows. Frank first spoke to Marsha, the widow of Fitzgerald. After hugging her and the other widow, he told them, “Don’t cry too hard, we’ll get the bastards who did this. Justice will be served, I’ll see to it.”

The two widows nodded sadly as the family members of both slain officers proceeded to carry the caskets to the graveyard outside. Once the service was over the two officers headed to the station to report to Commissioner Hamilton.

Back at police headquarters, Commissioner Sarah Brooke Hamilton sat in her cluttered office, her desk stacked to the sky with homicide and drug raid reports. The one window in her office was cracked and a dead plant sat on the grimy windowsill. The commissioner was a young and beautiful woman of 33. She had long black curly hair and wore a beige long coat and dress pants; she had beautiful legs, blue eyes, a cute nose, and lovely red lips. Upon the death of her father, the former commissioner, she had been voted into office.

Frustrated and upset, she called in Frank Watson and Jack Harris.

“Harris, Watson get in here.”

“Easy Commissioner, down girl,” joked Frank.

“Don’t patronize me Frank. What do you have on those two corpses from midtown on the Thirty-fourth?” Commissioner Hamilton barked.

“We just got the autopsy report back from the morgue. One of the deceased has been identified as Louis Scarfo, cousin of mob boss Franco Scarfo, and the other is a John Doe; one with gunshot wounds, the other with ice pick and broken bottle wounds to the chest. John Doe’s wallet was missing and the carved symbol was carved into the flesh of his back. Nobody can decipher it. It’s probably a calling card of the killer or killers, but we just don’t know. If this is another mob hit, it’s not a typical one.”

“That’s great; we’ll have the evidence department do a cross check reference on the symbol to match it to any criminal tattoos or markings in our files. We should come up with something,” said the Commissioner. “Anyway we just got a report from uptown. There were 12 more homicides in a high class apartment, an uptown penthouse owned by one Franco Scarfo and another report of a robbery of half a million dollars from the Las Vegas First National Bank.”

“Shit!” Frank whistled.

“Shit is right; whoever killed those twelve was fast and quick, messy but quick. Shards of explosives were found, Uzi Mac 10 shell casings and a whole bunch of dead bodies piled up nicely, not to mention a safe that was cracked open. The thief left a few dollar bills and jewels still laying around.”

“Any clue as to the perps?”

“They dusted the bills and jewels for prints, but no luck, just a bit of gasoline residue but not much to go on.”

“You want us to check it out?” asked Frank.

“Yes, you might find something,” said the Commissioner.

Just as the two detectives were preparing to head out, a strange report came on the TV.

“This is Mike Lee with a bizarre story that might just leave you afraid, very afraid. At the corner of Otis Way and Devonshire, a local pet shop owner faced a horrible discovery at his shop this morning when he found all of his animals dead in the store. Perhaps the oddest part of this story is that the animals all had died in exactly the same way; drained of their blood. Foul play is suspected.”

“But no one knows for sure,” interjected Frank Watson over the TV.

“And now our main story; a rise in crime and violence on the streets with a string of grizzly murders has plagued the Otis Way area, each victim drained of large amounts of blood, and drug pushers found murdered in alleyways. Even more disturbing is that the police have not been able to solve these crimes, but sources tell us that police homicide divisions have been working around the clock to find clues. We will have more details on these stories and will bring you any new information that surfaces. This is Mike Lee reporting for Channel 8 News. Back to you in the newsroom, Todd.”

Upon hearing this, the Commissioner gathered all the men and women in blue to the squad room. “All right everyone, listen up. We’re getting increased reports from our homicide division and narcotics. Both departments will be now be working together to combat the killings and the increase of illegal drugs in the worst parts of town. Now get on it and let’s go nail us some bad guys.”

After dismissing the officers from the squad room she called over Jack and Frank. “You heard it boys, get down to the Otis Way area and get this case solved. It’s making the department look bad.”

“You got it, Commissioner baby,” smirked Frank. “Cute. Now go, and don’t come back until you bring some evidence. Go kick ass.”

Frank and Jack headed out of the station.

Jack and Frank arrived at the Otis Way area in 10 minutes. With forensics on site combing the area for clues, Jack and Frank went to take a look inside the pet shop and Franco Scarfo’s penthouse, as it was close by. The first thing they noticed was skid marks on the sidewalk and alleyway, with indentations in some mud of the tracks. Jack took a shot of the scene with his camera while Frank walked up to the door of Franco Scarfo’s penthouse, at least, what was left of it.

Sonny Scarfo and his insurance agent were surveying the damage to the building when Frank Watson walked in to scope out the flat. The place looked like it had been blown up, with bullet holes and large burn marks in the wooden floor and tattered curtains cut to pieces from the gunfire. The apartment itself smelled of sulfur. While surveying the room, Frank tried to link the murders to the other victims he had seen earlier that morning.

After the insurance agent left, Sonny noticed that Watson was still in the room upstairs. He was pissed about a fat boy cop snooping around his side of town. “Hello officer fuck face, what do you want here? You got no warrant!”

“I’m making it my business. Look here, asshole.” With the warrant in his hand, Frank pushed Sonny against the wall with his big hands, scaring Sonny shitless with a loud crack against the brick wall. “Alright listen, you little fat bald headed mother fucker, I don’t want to hear your shit, I don’t want to even hear you breathe, all I want to know is who did this!” Watson demanded.

“Why don’t you eat a doughnut and get the fuck out of here. It’s a federal offense to commit an act of brutality to a man who is unarmed,” sneered Sonny.

“I don’t follow the rules and neither do you, you fucking gangster.”

“Piss off, pig.”

“That’s it, let’s take a trip,” said Frank, blowing his lid as he pulled Sonny to the window, halfway holding him out the window six stories from the ground, holding his gun to the back to Sonny’s head.

Sonny was petrified. “Hey! Hey! What are you doing!”

“You want to give me some answers now asshole, or do I have send you on a one way ticket to the pavement?”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll talk I’ll talk! Just don’t let me fall,” screamed Sonny.

“That’s better guinea,” said Frank.

“My boss got robbed a few nights ago. We were having a business dinner with some building contractors at 9 pm when some asshole breaks in and shoots up the place,” said Sonny.

“Go on,” said Watson.

“I didn’t get a good look at the guy, I just saw he was dressed in black and had long black hair and a girl was with him, but I didn’t see her that well.” Just then Jack walked in and witnessed Frank’s method of questioning. “Frank! For God sakes man! What the hell do you think your doing?”

“Just getting a little info from this cockroach here,” said Watson.

“Let him down lad! Now! You’re out of line.”

“Shut up Jack!” yelled Frank.

“Let him go now!” roared Jack. Frank let go Sonny go, not because of Jack’s orders, but because he didn’t think he could get any further information from Sonny. Frank stormed out, angry for being reprimanded by his superior officer.

“What were you thinking back there?” asked Jack.

“Nothing, I just like doing things my way. The system is too soft with these mob pricks,” sulked Frank.

“You know that if any officer saw this they could report you to the DA,” said Jack, disappointed at his partner’s reckless behavior. “I’m not afraid of internal affairs,” huffed Frank.

“I’m not going to say anything, Frank, but you better get with the program. We’re not above the law,” Jack lectured.

“Old man, you’re getting too soft,” said Frank.

“Yeah I know, now come on, let’s go,” said Jack as they proceeded to leave. Sonny flipped them off out the window.

“Listen Frank, we need to get more information, we don’t have enough to connect these murders to the Scarfo mob or the Santerini mob as a hit.”

“I agree. We’ll comb the area by checking with any business owners who might have the seen the crime at the time it was committed. If we can find them and get them to give us an eyewitness statement, we’ll have evidence,” said Frank, lighting up a cigarette, then slamming his mini steel lighter shut.

“That’s good. We’ll check with the owner across the street that runs the All Night Printing Shop. It’s open seven days a week. The owner comes in to run the shop himself from 8 pm until 6 am,” agreed Jack.

“Any other businesses open at the time that the crime was committed?”

“Gino’s Deli,” replied Jack.

“What time you got?”

“It’s 2 pm right now.” Jack looked at his watch. “We’ll come back when the printing owner comes in and when the deli opens at 8 pm. Why don’t we check back in at the station to see if the boys in forensics found any information on that carving?”

“Let’s go; we better get answers quick. The DA is getting plenty pissed that homicide isn’t getting the job done,” said Frank scratching the back of his neck.

Jack and Frank hauled ass to get back to the station.

“Tell me Jack, why’ve you chosen to stay on the force all these years?”

“Lad, I can’t stand to see the good people in this city being stepped on,” Frank gave Jack a look of concern. “I know I’m getting up there Frank.”

“I care about you partner. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Yes we have. It’s been seven years,” said Jack. Frank sighed. “Don’t think about it lad, we have a job to do. Besides, I think I would hate being stuck behind some desk; you know how I hate paperwork.”

Heading to the computer records room with cups of black coffee and a couple of case files, they ran into Doug Dickens, the archives’ keeper.

“Hey Douggy boy how’s life in this shit hole!” joked Frank.

”It’s better than working internal affairs,” Doug replied. “Anyway I dug up the file with picture carvings on the John Doe victim like you asked”