Ailanthus - Mastroianni Eva Melisa 2 стр.

The Starbucks was already quite crowded at that time and Stacie tried to look around to observe people’s faces. She really liked it. Sometimes she dwelled so much, risking being even misunderstood. She liked finding details, analyzing the uniqueness. Often, even simple moves captured her attention. This habit distracted her and deflected her thoughts from the daily routine. This time she needed a huge concentration exercise, but her commitment was very laudable.

She went to the DA’s office by cab; it was only a few miles far from there and, once reached her destination, she went almost running towards Timothy Douglas’ office.

“Stacie! You have no idea how much seeing you in this office fills me up with joy. First of all, how was Switzerland?”

“Unfortunately Sam didn’t make it. I’m here about this, too. I know that it’s more than two months that I’m away. I don’t expect any special treatment and I don’t think that you could afford such a low-efficient coworker...” Stacie started off like a shot. She didn’t even look the Prosecutor straight in his eyes. It was the only way. On the other hand, she didn’t release the frustration since the moment when the doctor had stated Sam’s death to her.

“Keep calm; let’s have a seat, so you can tell me what happened.” Douglas was extremely understanding, like a father. They sat close for almost one hour. He poured her a cup of coffee and Stacie could tell him everything she had lived in Geneva, from hopes to harsh reality. Douglas knew how to listen and understand Stacie’s state of mind and she felt like having in front of her a man able to understand pain.

“I can only imagine how you feel. You don’t have to feel ashamed of your pain, but try to draw strength from this situation. I met you a few months ago because you were mentioned by Detective Cross. I didn’t know how you were, and even less if your decanted abilities were real. But I came to know a determined woman, almost stubborn, without for this reason renouncing to her fragilities.” Stacie was listening to him inebriated. “From this meeting I understand more than ever how complicated it is to let live together work and emotions. What I can assure you is that, the day that you’ll fully make it, you will be able to say you have control of yourself and live totally your life without having to necessarily sacrifice a part of it.”

Stacie listened impressed to Prosecutor Douglas. His words hit the mark. They weren’t advices, but traced a road that seemed already covered. It was her turn and she had to get back in the game taking all the risks of the case.

“I thank you a lot for your words, and even more for the way you welcomed me. To me that’s an extra reason to show you all my gratitude. If and when you consider it appropriate, I still will be available to give you my professional help.”

“Good, that’s how we talk. You are so needed here. Frank Berrimow already called twice in the last hours to get informed about you. You know, he works at the Detective Bureau now and he’s the one who will help you on your next case. In your absence I’ve been designated as Prosecutor of New York Southern District. Now, we’ll deal with the cases happened in Brooklyn or in the Bronx, too.” Douglas poured more coffee in Stacie’s cup.

“Are wheels already in motion?”

“Unfortunately yes. A murder in the Flatbush neighborhood in downtown Brooklyn. A man’s throat was cut and the right eyeball was taken away.”

“Oh my God!” Stacie seemed horrified at Douglas’s words.

“Unfortunately given the details, everything makes us think of...”

“… Of a psycho cut-throat around New York’s streets.” Stacie finished Douglas’s sentence.

“Exactly! And now it’s on you. Do you feel like diving out there again?”

“Yes, absolutely! I’ll go to Frank, so we can start as soon as possible. Prosecutor Douglas, remember that I owe you one.” Stacie, even if she was still recovering, seemed to take stock of Timothy Douglas’s words.

-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.

-6-

Jack Folasky was in his office attempting to fix some papers, when he saw Stacie coming in from the partially open door.

“Welcome back, Stacie. Frank was in anxiously waiting. I guess you’ve already met, so I can spare you the details.” Folasky wasn’t as fascinated as Douglas about Stacie’s investigative abilities. In addition, he didn’t have a big estimation of women. Despite everything, he was used to give everyone a chance.

“I’m here most of all to know you better and understand if there are some suspects, some traces I can start following. Prosecutor Douglas gave me free reign and I’m completely at your disposal.”

“Stacie, It’s clear to everyone that this murder preludes to something else. Because of this, all of my best men are with their eyes open in the worst streets of Flatbush neighborhoods. Unfortunately, from my experience, I think that the next victim will hardly be in that area. In the meantime, Frank and you can take any action. Keep me updated about any aspect, even apparently insignificant.” Although he doubted of Stacie’s abilities, Folasky couldn’t refuse the expertise of the District Attorney’s assistant.

“I’ll try to give my aid to the investigation. I see that this story has some totally different edges from the one I previously dealt with, but my engagement won’t be different, that’s for sure.” Stacie was lying. Surely she was scared of what was going to be. It wasn’t about a missing person but a brutal murder. The difference was obvious. Moreover, she was entering that case in the worst state of mind possible, after Sam’s death. Only a huge strength of character, united to her huge commitment to her job, could give her back full confidence in herself.

By the time Stacie got back home, it was late in the evening. The return had been definitely challenging. If only Sam was there with her, now she would have gone to bed tired but willing to go back to the Department deciding with Frank how to give the first breakthrough. Unfortunately she unavoidably dragged with her the pain from the separation with Sam, a pain that was going to accompany her over a very long period of time.

From the manholes was coming out so much steam that visibility was really reduced. As if it wasn’t enough, the street lighting seemed to work worse than usual. It was really cold and that wool coat wasn’t enough at all to shelter her. It was hard to move forward without risking to trip over something or simply catch the corner of a wall.

She was walking slowly putting her hands in front of her to make her way. She started hearing her shoes making a strange noise. She had the feeling of walking in mud. She started to have difficulties to move forward and didn’t understand what was over the shroud of mist. A few more steps and just a little more light showed her the most horrible scene in which she really was. She was walking in a gigantic blood pool that went from one side to the other of the street. At least a centimeter of smoky liquid blood was covering the asphalt that she was hurrying so hard to traverse. She managed not to vomit and walked another couple meters until she turned the corner to understand where was that stuff coming from. She saw a black car with the motor off and the lights still on. From the driver’s window she could see a shadow. She forced herself to move forward in that terrible situation. The stink was so strong to get into the brain. She could feel the smell of blood inside her.

When she was two steps from the car, she stretched out a hand towards the shadow. A street-lamp lighted again in that very moment and lighted up what was Sam’s face with the throat torn apart so that he had lost river of blood, that same blood that was rinsing down the whole street. Stacie didn’t ‘t hold back a scream, although her hands were on her mouth. Then she backed off of a few steps but she fell disastrously on the ground swallowed by mist and blood.

In that very moment, Stacie opened her eyes and found herself on the floor next to the couch of her apartment swallowed by blankets. She took a few minutes to get over the state of panic which she had drowned in. Another nightmare. She burst into tears and stayed sit there for a while before deciding that having a shower was the only way to get that discomfort away. So she did.

-7-

Stacie that morning was showing off bags under her eyes worthy of the best insomnia.

“Hi Frank, what’s new?”

“Good morning, Stacie, you don’t look well. I’ll try to cheer you up with some fresh news. I know well that, when you start working, whatever your discomfort is, then it goes away.”

“You’re absolutely right. Tell me everything then.”

“I had a chat with the coroner, doctor Andrea Coretti. The weapon that provoked the mortal cut to the throat was a switchblade, while the eyeball could have been removed with the same knife used for the murder as well as with a fruit corer.” Frank was excited, not at all disgusted by those macabre particulars. He couldn’t give any sense to the information received by the coroner, but he was sure that Stacie knew how to interpret them.

“Well, we know that the killer didn’t use common weapons. He might not be a professional killer. Are there any fingerprints?”

“Apparently not.”

“Did your coworker Michael give you any useful detail?”

“Unfortunately not.” Frank, as it usually happened to him when he was embarrassed, took his eyes off Stacie. After all, he didn’t come with big news.

In that moment Officer Pet came to call the two of them.

“Please, follow me in the Boss’ office. There’s something you two should know.”

Frank and Stacie looked at each other with a mixed expression of surprise and dismay.