The Heart of A Killer

Eight

“Somehow I thought I’d find you here.”

Anna looked up and cast a smile at Roman as he entered the squad room.

“I couldn’t sleep anyway, figured I’d go over some of my cases. What are you doing here?”

He took a seat at the desk across from hers and opened his laptop. “Same thing. How’s George’s case going?”

“You know I’m not supposed to talk about it with you. You’re not on this case.”

He gave her a look. “Come on, Anna. You know how it works. Officially, yeah, I’m off the case. Unofficially…”

His sentence trailed off. And yeah, she did know how it worked. His name wouldn’t appear on any official records or notes on the case, but he’d work the case with her. That’s just how it was done. She’d do the same thing if it was someone close to her who’d been killed.

“You talk to the captain about it?”

“Yeah. He told me I was off the case. I argued with him. He told me I was off the case.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Then he told you that you could work it unofficially, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

She shook her head. That’s the way it worked. Even the captain knew the drill. With uniforms? No. With the detectives? There was more leeway. You didn’t push out a decent detective just because of involvement.

“Just watch your step on this one and don’t screw it up,” Anna said.

“I’m as good a detective as you. Your dad made sure of it.”

She grinned. “Yeah, he sure did, didn’t he? He’d accept no less than perfect from either of us.”

“I owe him everything, so let’s make him proud by bringing in the bastard who killed George.”

She pushed a few buttons while Roman opened his system.

“How are things with Tess?” she asked while she let Roman take a look at the case file on George.

“Great. She’s working a heavy-duty tax case for a national company, so we haven’t seen much of each other lately. She’s doing a lot of traveling.”

She peered around her monitor. “That must suck.”

“It does. I thought things were getting serious, but she’s a career woman. Hard to pin her down. I think she’s married to her job.”

Anna scooted her chair so she could see Roman. “And does that mean you want her married to you instead?”

He laughed. “Ever the matchmaker, aren’t you?”

Was she? She’d never thought about it that way, but she’d like to see her guys settled. None of them were yet, and it was time. Maybe if Roman got married, that would get Jeff to think about grabbing a woman and settling down. And who knows-maybe even Gabe would turn his life around.

She could wish, anyway. “You know I want you to be happy. Tess is a sweetheart. What’s wrong with tying the knot?”

“Not sure if I’m ready for that step yet, but maybe down the road things could be headed that way.”

She was glad to hear it. She loved him like she loved all the guys. He, like Gabe and Jeff, were the brothers she’d never had.

Dante, on the other hand, was something entirely different.

“So, got any new leads?” he asked.

“Nothing. There was no trash service that morning, no witnesses located. Forensics report on the bag of drugs came back as suspected-an ounce of coke. Pretty good stuff, too. Street value is about eight hundred dollars.”

Roman whistled. “Any prints on the bag?”

“Yeah. George’s. No one else’s.”

Roman grimaced. “That’s convenient.”

“Isn’t it? Anyway, autopsy is scheduled for this morning, so I’ll head over and watch that. You’re welcome to come with me if you’d like.”

He shook his head. “There’s no way I could watch George’s autopsy. I can work the case with you, but that? I just couldn’t.”

“I understand. I’ll go and find out all I can about George’s murder.”

“What’s there to find out? Somebody beat him to death and cut him.”

“Maybe that’s all there is to it, and maybe there’s more. Hoping the M.E. can tell me more. Maybe the CSU will find hair or fibers or something the killer left behind.”

“Yeah, you know as well as I do that shit only happens on television. The amazing find under the microscope that solves the case in the last five minutes.”

“True,” she said with a laugh. “We should get so lucky. It would up our solve rate, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, and we’d all get commendations. But that doesn’t happen. Most of our cases are solved with good old-fashioned legwork and dumbass luck.”

“I’ll take dumbass luck right now. I want to get this guy.”

“Me, too, honey.”

Anna was right on time for the autopsy, gloved and masked and in the room. Dr. Norton had George on the table, ready to cut when she walked in. She stayed quiet and out of the way while the doctor did his inspection of the body and dictated his report, though half the time she wondered if he was talking in his official report or if he was talking to her.

“Somebody really did a number on this guy. Bruising on the torso, especially the ribs. Looks like he was kicked several times.”

“Any shoe impressions on the skin?” Anna asked.

“None apparent. Looks like whoever kicked him did it with the toe of their shoe or boot. We found no fingerprints on the body itself, no hair or fibers that didn’t appear to belong to the victim or the victim’s clothing. You’d think a crime like this someone would leave something, especially if it was an argument that escalated into the beating this man took.”

Damn. Someone had been thorough in making sure they didn’t leave any evidence, which meant it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment crime of passion or anger. This was a deliberate attack and whoever had done it had been meticulous.

“What about the knife wound on his chest?”

The doctor leaned over and examined with his fingers, then put the magnifying mirror over the heart-shaped wound and motioned her over.

“It’s crude, as you can see. Maybe the carving of the heart was done in a hurry, as an afterthought. The cut isn’t too deep.” He measured. “About two centimeters in.”

“Any estimate on the type of knife?”

The doctor looked up. “Yeah, sharp and pointy.”

“Ha-ha.”

“The cut isn’t jagged, so the knife wasn’t serrated. Small blade. Some kind of pocketknife, probably.”

“We found a bag of coke on him.”

Richard nodded. “We’re running a tox screen. I’ll let you know what we find.”

The rest of the autopsy was unremarkable, and Anna left disappointed. She’d expected something that would give her some clues to chase.

Right now she had nothing more to go on than she had when they’d started the investigation.

No witnesses, no fingerprints, no DNA evidence, nothing.

And that just plain sucked.

With nothing to go on and frustration eating away at her, she went to Forensics.

“You get anything on that glass?” she asked Patty, one of the techs.

“I ran that earlier. Hang on.” Patty went to a stack of reports and grabbed a file, flipped it open and strolled back toward her. “Whoever’s prints those are is clean. Not in the system at all. Any system. AFIS, Interpol, nothing. They’re clean.”

Interesting. “Okay. Thanks, Patty.”

She supposed that was a good thing he didn’t come up anywhere, but she’d run a background check on him and it was as if he didn’t exist.

No one didn’t exist. There were records of everyone. Everyone except Dante, and that wasn’t normal.

She decided to pay Paolo Bertucci a visit.

Bertucci lived in a sprawling, private, gated area with plenty of acreage that gave him space away from neighbors, unsurprisingly. His house was a remodeled two-story brick mansion set back in a thick wooded area. Perfect to give him enough privacy, especially with the gate and the security system he’d put in making the place look like a celebrity lived there.

Anna was certain Bertucci thought himself a celebrity of sorts. He frequented the clubs, always had two or three women on his arm. He dressed in designer clothes, wore expensive jewelry and drove flashy sports cars and high-dollar SUVs. He always had an entourage of bodyguards trailing him.

Unfortunately his celebrity status had more to do with his mob connections than Hollywood. And they hadn’t been able to officially tie him into anything hard to make an arrest. All they could do was watch, make notes and work with the feds on gathering evidence, hope their informants continued to bring them information and maybe someday take the bastard down, because Anna knew he was dirty.

She pulled to the front gate, rolled her window down and flashed her badge at the camera. After a minute or so the gate started its slow roll open and she drove down the long concrete driveway toward the house. A tall dude in a tight black T-shirt meant to show off his sizable muscles met her out front. She’d just bet he had a piece tucked into the back of his pants.

He leaned against her window. “Can I help you?”

“Detective Anna Pallino from St. Louis Metro. I’m here to see Paolo Bertucci.”

“You have a warrant?”

“He commit a crime that I need a warrant for? I just want to have a conversation with him.”

“About what?”

“About none of your fucking business.”

He glared at Anna, a look meant to intimidate. She stared back, not even bothering to remove her sunglasses.

He finally pushed away from her car. “Just a minute.”

The guy went inside. Anna got out and leaned against her car, surveying the impeccable landscaping filled with colorful flowers, the trellis with climbing roses and the copious wide windows on all levels that offered a clear view of approaching vehicles. The windows were probably bulletproof, too. You didn’t get to the top of the mob food chain like Bertucci did without making enemies.

The double front doors were thick as hell, which meant no one could kick them in.

The place was a fortress.

Muscle man returned within a few minutes and motioned her inside. She stepped in, impressed with the Italian-marble flooring, the wide-open floor plan that led to an expansive living area on the right and a dining area on the left.

The furnishings, the artwork on the walls and tables-everything screamed high dollar.

“This way. Mr. Bertucci is out back in the pool area.”

Must be nice. She was taken down a long hallway, past the kitchen where a cook was busily chopping vegetables and didn’t even bother looking up at her. She’d just bet the staff here saw a lot, and were paid very well not to notice a damn thing. Or ever say a word about anything they “didn’t” see.

The kitchen was huge, with stainless-steel appliances, a giant center island and an eating area that would serve all her friends and possibly the entire precinct. Since she loved to cook, Anna would kill for a kitchen like that. She could spend hours, days and possibly the rest of her natural life enjoying that kitchen.

Muscle guy opened the back door and led her outside to what had to be the Garden of Eden. A sheltered arbor covered with greenery provided cool shade where a table sat filled with drinks. Beyond that was a sizable pool where Paolo Bertucci lay floating on a raft in his board shorts, his buffed hairless body well tanned, his bald head reflecting the sun with the same intensity as the giant diamond earring in his left ear. He was surrounded by a bevy of beauties sporting very tiny bikinis.

Anna was most definitely overdressed.

“Ah, Detective Pallino, welcome to my home.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I offer you something to drink? Sangria, perhaps?”

“No, thanks, I’m on duty.”

“Then how about some lemonade or iced tea.”

Both sounded great. It was hot and the back of her shirt stuck to her. But she stepped out into the bright sunlight and walked to the edge of the pool. “No, thank you. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“You can ask. Depending on the questions, I may or may not answer.”

“There was a murder in an alley off Lindell two days ago. A man named George Clemons.”

Paolo stared at her, then shrugged. “Name doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t, but he was found with an ounce of cocaine on him.”

“Mmm, bad boy. Someone kill him over the drugs then?”

“If they did, I’m sure they would have taken the drugs with them, don’t you think?”

Paolo raised his hands, the two diamond rings on his fingers glinting in the harsh sunlight. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

She crossed her arms. “I would think you’d know a lot about the drug trade in my city, Mr. Bertucci, since known dealers are seen coming and going from your house all the time.”

Bertucci flattened his lips. “You watchin’ my house, Detective?”

“Me personally? No. But I believe you’re well aware that you’re under surveillance, so I think we can cut through the crap and get down to an honest discussion.”

He sat up on his raft. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a lot of friends who come and go. Sometimes there are parties. That’s probably what your surveillance people see.”

“Uh-huh. Look, I’m not here to bust you for drugs. I want to know if you have any dealers working the area around the alley where the murder occurred.”

He laughed. “Like I’d tell you if I did. Maybe it was your friend Gabe.”

He’d throw Gabe under the bus just to piss her off? “Gabe’s not a suspect.”

“So you want me to give you a name?”

“That’d be helpful.”

He took the cocktail offered by one of the bikini-clad women and grinned up at Anna. “Now, that would be me doing your job for you, wouldn’t it?”

“I would appreciate the help,” she said, gritting her teeth the entire time. “We just want to question anyone who might have been around the alley at the time of the murder.”

If there was recognition on Bertucci’s face, he didn’t show it. Instead, he shrugged again. “I’ll have to put some feelers out and see if anyone knows anything.”

Right. In other words, she wasn’t going to get shit from him. “If you hear of anything, or your memory has an epiphany and you think of anyone who might have been in the alley that night, do let me know. I’ll leave my card with one of your associates.”

“You do that. Always nice to see you.”

“Likewise.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Detective Pallino. And it’s a very hot day. Care to take a dip in the pool?”

She gave him a lift of her lips. “Gee, Mr. Bertucci. I’m kind of overdressed for a swim.”

“My ladies here have many extra bikinis. Or you could go without.”

She eyed the women, who looked as though they couldn’t care less if Paolo added one more to the harem. They must be well compensated. Ugh.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have to get back to work.”

“Some other time, perhaps.”

Yeah, around the time pigs sprouted wings. “Have an enjoyable day.”

Bertucci was cool and not very forthcoming with information, but it was always a brain game to spar with him, and she had to admit she enjoyed it. And he knew something. She was sure of it. She just didn’t know what he knew, or how he was connected to George’s murder.

The bad thing was, if Bertucci was connected, then Gabe was connected.

Did Gabe know anything? Was he withholding information from her?

Now, that really would piss her off. Would he place his position with the Bertuccis over the death of his foster father?

Sometimes she wasn’t exactly sure where Gabe’s loyalties lay.

Maybe she needed to find out.

Once summoned, you didn’t ignore Paolo Bertucci. Gabe had been in the area anyway when he’d gotten the text from Bertucci’s right-hand monkey, so he’d ridden over.

Bertucci was on the patio in the backyard, his typical group of bikini babes serving lunch.

“You’re just in time for some salsiccia-and-polenta sandwiches. You hungry?”

“Sure, boss, thanks.” Gabe grabbed a bottle of beer from the center of the table and popped it open, leaned back and waited. Darla brought him a sandwich. He thanked her and ate, watching the girls frolic in the pool. Paolo talked on the phone while he ate and barked instructions to one of the black-clad morons standing guard over him.

Finally, he wiped his mouth with his napkin, sat back and lit a Cuban. “Detective Pallino dropped by today.”

“Yeah? What did she want?”

“To grill me about some dead guy in an alley. They found drugs on him and she thinks I’m connected.”

Gabe finished the last bite of his sandwich and pushed his plate to the side, then grabbed another beer. “She’s got nothin’.”

“That’s what I figured, too. She wouldn’t have come fishing at my house if she did.”

“So no problem then.”

“She’s your friend.”

“Yes, she is. And you’ve known that since the beginning. I’ve never hidden that from you.”

Paolo nodded and smiled. “I know. Your honesty has always been refreshing, Gabriel. That’s one of the reasons you’ve risen so fast in my organization. I trust you.”

“And I appreciate it, Paolo. Anna might be my friend, but you know where my loyalty lies.”

“I also know having a ‘friend’ like Anna can be useful.”

Gabe leaned back in the chair and offered up a sly smile. “It serves its purposes. She cuts me slack and feeds me information even when she doesn’t know she’s doing it.”

“Because you know all the right questions to ask, and because she trusts you.”

“She thinks I’m not going to cause problems for her, and so far I haven’t-that she’s aware of.”

“Cultivate that relationship.”

Gabe crossed his fingers. “We’re like this.”

“Good. But keep in mind the time may come when you may need to sever that tie.”

Gabe shrugged. “Whatever needs to be done for the greater good. Like I said, I know where my loyalties lie.”

“Good boy. Everything set up for tonight?”

“Yeah. MacKenzie and Smith are meeting me at eleven. Shipment comes in at midnight.”

“Excellent. Let me know how it goes.”

That was his signal he was no longer needed. He stood. “Will do. Thanks for lunch.”

“Care to stick around and play with the ladies?”

He took a quick glance at the mounds of available breasts floating in the pool. He leered at the ladies, then turned to Bertucci. “Tempting as hell, but some other time, Paolo. I want to scout the warehouse in advance, make sure nothing’s going to pop up that might surprise us.”

Gabe left the house, climbed on his bike and headed out toward the location of the drop tonight.

Bertucci was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. That’s why it had taken Gabe two years of working for him to get where he was now.

People like Paolo Bertucci ran these cities, smuggling in drugs right under the noses of the cops, lining the veins of the rich, the middle class and the poor. And the ones Paolo got to push it? They were the real victims.

Gabe had no idea what George had been doing with drugs in his pocket, but those drugs were linked to Bertucci. Someone had planted them there. Someone connected to Paolo’s hierarchy.

And there wasn’t a damn thing Gabe could do about it. He could find out with a little legwork and clear George, but it would blow his cover. And he’d spent two years getting himself dug into the Bertucci organization. No way was he going to screw this up. He’d get his ass fired for one thing. Or dead if Paolo found out who he was really working for.

So he’d have to keep his mouth shut and hope Anna could figure it all out, while he sat on the sidelines and played dumb.

Sometimes he really hated his job.