Читать книгу Ailanthus - Antonio De Vito - Страница 10

-5-

Frank Berrimow was sat at his desk and had in front of him a pile of papers through which he nervously went looking for something. There inevitably was his cup with the New York Police Department’s emblem on it. Frank was a Policeman proud of his work and proud of serving his country. The redundancy of symbols that reminded him his affiliation with the Community was so easy to find such in that Police Office as in a simple bar. Frank didn’t escape the stereotypical American guy at all.

When he saw Stacie coming closer, he jumped. It was equally exciting to her. That experience together following the De Sena case, during which they both staked their lives, had the effect of creating between the two a strong complicity. They had worked together just for a few days but their relationship seemed to last long before. Frank didn’t know yet anything about what had happened in Geneva, so Stacie told him right away how it went and tried to let him understand how hard was for her to get back to work now that Sam wasn’t there anymore. Obviously she left out the whole nightmares that were haunting her thing; she wasn’t into the idea that she could be considered crazy, depressed or something like that. They had the chance to talk for a few minutes. You couldn’t consider Frank such a deep man as Timothy Douglas and Stacie knew this. She also knew that what could seem simple set phrases, the only ones that Frank could pull out during their conversation, came straight from his heart.

“Frank, thank you for your words. If I’m here it’s to start working together again. Forget what happened in Switzerland, I’m trying to get over it quickly. I know I will need some time, but also with your help, I’m sure I’ll make it. Douglas told me about the terrible murder in Brooklyn, about your engagement at the Detective Bureau and gave me free reign. Now, tell me everything you know and let’s start without further delay.”

“Great. I’ve been here reading papers for two days, but you’re way better than me in this stuff. Now I’ll tell you. Do you already know the details of the murder, from the throat-cut to the injuries inflicted?”

“Yes, Douglas mentioned something, it’s terrifying.”

“The man murdered doesn’t have criminal records, there was no robbery of money and from the documents we know whose corpse it is. He was a forty-years-old married man. Besides the wife, he left also two daughters, ten and twelve years old. He lived in a nice apartment in Brooklyn. Basically an almost perfect life which didn’t suggest this kind of end.”

“And why was he in that area in the middle of the night? That’s not a nice place.”

“I interviewed his wife very tactfully, given the situation. It seems that that evening they had had a small argument, nothing flagrant, and he had left by car to ‘clear his mind’. She said that he often had this kind of reaction when they argued at home.”

“What were they arguing about?”

“I didn’t feel to insist. Someone just killed her husband and I didn’t feel like insisting.”

“Sure. Obviously we have no validation of this version, but I don’t think it’s important in our killer research. I also think that the wife told the true.” Stacie tended to exclude the wife from this story, maybe making a mistake, because she couldn’t attribute such an atrocious crime to a woman.

“What were you reading before?” Stacie looked at the papers on Frank’s desk.

“Oh, yes. I was doing some research about serial murders happened in the State in the last decades, trying to understand if there are some common elements between this case and the most famous ones.” Frank was clearly clumsy in front of Stacie. He almost feared that he couldn’t live up with her role. When it occurred, he looked away to the floor and started stammer. It wasn’t hard to understand. But Stacie did nothing to emphasize it. That allowed him to rapidly recover and delude himself that, maybe, she didn’t even notice it.

“What have you found of interesting?”

“Nothing at all. And, if I have to be honest, while I was flipping through these papers, I really hoped you were coming back, because you’d surely do a better work than mine.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. While doing a search you never know which way to go. If you’re lucky you’ll turn to the shortest that brings you to your destination, but if you don’t have the stars on your side, you can spend sleepless nights without get blood out a stone. Let’s do this, I take these papers and leave you free to go. Try to know something else about the victim and most of all if there was a reason why someone had to hate him this much.”

“Thank you Stacie, I think it’s a great idea. I’m going to take a walk. I’ll also speak with Officer Michael Pet. He took over me in the first hours after we intervened. I’ll listen what he has to tell me and if there are any particulars that I missed.”

“Before going, who’s your boss now?”

“Jack Folasky. The Chief of the Detective Bureau. He’s a bonsai manic and can’t stand cigars’ smell.” Frank replied whispering.

“Let me know who the coroner is. I want to talk to him.” Stacie already had a plan in her mind. Knowing if the murderer was a male or female would have halved the investigation field. The coroner would have dissolved all her doubts.

“Sure. I’ll give you his contacts as soon as I know something about him.”

Stacie got to work as soon as Frank turned to go away. First she poured some coffee from the jug that was right there in front of her. She had never been a real coffee drinker, but since she had come back from Geneva, she was appreciating its taste. She read some of the papers that Frank selected, but didn’t find much. She spent more time thinking than reading. She thought about the murder’s details. A throat cut and an eye carved out. There was to expect that the killer wouldn’t stop there. It didn’t seem a crime destined to be isolated.