Diana (6 page)

His mom lay dying upstairs in her bedroom, while his father laughed and socialized with friends and other women. Paul Fontella was quite the ladies’ man, Luke recalled. While Mom wasted away, Dad received calls from Mom's female friends. As soon as she died, the women dropped off dinners and other treats. Soon his father was out at night, most likely dating again. It was heart wrenching to Luke, and he would never forget those teenage years.

He hated his father for it. As soon as he was out on his own he joined the fire department, which initially pissed his father off. Paul Fontella had pushed his son to become a cop like himself. Luke had a different vocation in mind.

He'd been through enough over the years. He didn't need this stress now, and it all stemmed from the family freaking gathering he wasn't going to.

"Screw Aunt Jane and her sixtieth birthday party, and screw you, Dad."

Luke refocused on the work he had to do, and cleared his head.

The commander sighed as he sat at his desk. He couldn't quite focus on his work. Thoughts about his son consumed his mind.

Paul wondered about Luke and his emotional state. He never talked about the fire that ended his firefighting career, or the loss of his two closest friends. Fire consumed his life. He'd become a loner, never hanging out with friends or family anymore. He kept to himself, and Paul knew that wasn't a good thing. Anger and hatred filled his son, and there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it.

Paul had a splitting headache. He thought about his wife and the life they once had. Luke was his only son. He loved him and needed him, but it was just too difficult to tell Luke that. Instead, he submerged himself in paperwork and the job.

He heard someone clear her throat. When he glanced up, he realized he never heard the knock.

"Sir, is everything okay?” Diana asked, then waited for him to say she could enter.

He rubbed his chin and sighed. “Come on in, Detective."

Diana stood in front of the commander's desk. She could tell something was wrong.

The commander smiled. “What's going on with the case?"

She explained about the ME's findings and the possible body type of their suspect.

"It doesn't leave us with much to work with, and so far, not too much was found at the crime scene. Jerry and I are going to meet the store manager, where Barbara worked at, later today."

The commander nodded, but Diana still couldn't help feeling that he was half listening.

"Sir. Is everything okay with you? You don't seem like yourself."

The commander ran his hand through his hair. “I'm sorry. I have some personal issues on my mind."

"Family stuff, huh? Take it from me, sir, you love them, but they can drive ya crazy sometimes."

"I suppose that's true."

"I've got three older brothers, a retired homicide commander for a dad, and I'm half Italian and half Irish. Things get crazy in my house, and I have got relatives up the wazoo. There's always some sort of disagreement, end of the world catastrophe, or a celebration going on.” Diana grinned.

"You're right. Thanks.” He moved around his desk and closer to her.

"Your family is great. So close to one another, and that's pretty rare. I know your dad. I worked under his command for a couple of years. Real top notch guy with incredible instincts.” The commander leaned against his desk.

"I didn't know that. I've heard a bunch of stories about how he ran his command."

"Kind of the way I run things here, right?"

She laughed.

"Hey, I learned from the best. So how did he react to your recent chase and arrest?"

"Like any commander/father would."

"I'm sure he did. It has been on my mind a lot, as well. You sure you're all right.” He gazed deep into her eyes.

Diana got a funny feeling, and suddenly they were man and woman instead of commander and officer.

She cleared her throat.

"Yes, sir."

"I've been meaning to ask you about your partner. He could've gotten you killed."

"No, sir. Jerry is a great partner and it wasn't his fault."

The commander's facial expression was more serious and filled with concern. “Spoken like any good detective and partner, but I'm concerned. There's been a decline in his work performance and you've been taking up the slack."

Before she could comment, the commander raised his hand signifying she shouldn't even bother to deny it.

"He's acting funny. I've been hearing some things. I just wanted to get your perspective."

She was quiet a moment, unsure exactly what her commander wanted to hear, and what he was getting at. She'd noticed some changes in Jerry lately, but she was his partner and she wanted him to trust her. Yeah, she should be concerned, though she wouldn't show her commander that concern. Instead, she denied noticing a thing.

"I really don't know what you are talking about, Commander. It was an intense incident and chase. Jerry lost his footing. Our suspect intended for the pipe to block our path. I jumped over it and Jerry landed on it. It was that simple. Shouldn't we just focus on the fact that we caught our guy?"

The commander's arms lay crossed in front of his chest. He squinted, stared, but she wouldn't budge despite his attempt to intimidate her.

"Just watch your back, Pellino. Let me know how things work out later.” He watched her leave his office, and it made the uneasiness in her linger.

Diana gathered the papers at her desk. She was annoyed that the commander's conversation earlier was bothering her in multiple ways. First of all, what was up with the questions about her partner, Jerry?
One tiny screw up and suddenly he's not trustworthy? Shit
.

Jerry had been apologizing so much since the incident that it was getting on her nerves. She let out a sigh. She knew Jerry was a bit on the lazy side, but in other areas, he was the best. They made a decent team and they understood one another. Well, at least, for the most part.

Damn it!

She didn't like this feeling of negativity between her and her partner. It was a sign of trouble. How was she supposed to handle it? After her conversation with the commander, it seemed as if he were warning her. Then there was the way he looked at her. She couldn't put her finger on it. Was he attracted to her? Did he suspect her of something? Was he after Jerry, and trying to win her over?

She ran a hand through her hair. She hated these feelings, and needed some rest. Thoughts of a hot bath and a couple of glasses of wine helped to take her mind off the crazy thoughts.

She had to meet Jerry downstairs. Grabbing her stuff, she headed toward the elevator.

When she got to the car, Jerry was already there. “Hey, Pellino, are you all right?"

She looked at him. “Yes. I'm just a bit tired, that's all. I hope we can get some possible leads on our killer."

He glanced at her a few times as he maneuvered the car through the shopping center parking lot.

"Are you sure? You keep sighing and running your hand through your hair."

"I'm fine."

"You only do that when you're nervous or something has upset you."

She stared at him, and realized only her partner, someone close to her who cared about her, would notice such body language.

She smiled. “I'm fine, really."

Jerry pulled into a parking space near the front door of the shopping center.

"Listen, I really am sorry about..."

"Cool it, will ya? It's done, and I don't want to hear any more about it."

He raised his arms in the air as if giving up.

They exited the car and made their way to the front entrance of the store.

Diana gazed at her partner. His facial expression indicated to her something wasn't right about any of these employees. They didn't seem to give a shit about anyone, anything, or the fact their co-worker was brutally killed. There was no sign of remorse, concern, empathy, nothing. She wondered how the hell anyone could work in such an environment.

There was a young store clerk who stayed quiet but appeared bothered by the news of her co-worker's death. Yet she wasn't crying or showing any sign of breaking down. Diana moved closer to her, as Jerry questioned the manager of the store.

"So, what's your name?” Diana asked.

"Lee,” she whispered.

"Hello, Lee. My name is Detective Pellino. Were you friends with Barbara?"

Lee was silent a moment.

"I wouldn't exactly say friends."

The girl appeared to have a chip on her shoulder. Her gut told her the woman knew more. “What would you call your relationship with Barbara?"

"Sometimes we worked the same shifts. Most of the time, I shared the register next to hers."

"Barbara worked a lot of hours. She seemed like a hard worker just trying to pay bills and pay the rent."

"She was miserable here.” Lee leaned closer to her and whispered, “The management sucks."

Diana smirked but thought about the comment. She'd been in this particular store only a couple of times. She recalled their lack of help, especially on the checkout lines. It was frustrating, and people who frequented the store had to know it was one of the drawbacks.

"Did you work with her on Sunday?"

"Yeah, but I got to leave an hour early. The store was dead and the manager kicked me out before my shift was through."

"Did Barbara appear to be acting differently than usual?"

"No. She was in an okay mood. Tom, the manager, had given her a hard time earlier in the day when she overtook her break by twenty minutes, but she just seemed to let it roll off her shoulders. Barbara was funny like that. She got her revenge."

"How so?"

"She lifted a bunch of lip glosses and some other stuff. You won't tell Tom, will you? Ahh, I guess it wouldn't matter anyway, considering Barbara is dead. Man, that stinks."

Diana finished her conversation with Lee, then spoke to a few other employees. None of them seemed thrilled about working in the store and everyone had complaints.

After speaking with Tom, the manager, Diana and Jerry found out Barbara wasn't exactly the hard working employee she appeared to be. Apparently, she had a reputation for irritating the customers and doing just about anything to agitate her boss.

He was a difficult man to question, not only because of his thick accent, but also because of his lack of empathy toward the death of his employee.

Diana tried her hardest to speak with him.

"She wusnt-exatly empoyee ub da munt. Nun a tese lowlife peple er,” the store manager said, in his thick Pakistani accent.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and appeared annoyed at the situation. Further questioning by Diana revealed his true feelings about his employees and his lack of respect for human life.

"Tis wus bund ta appen. Whud-da-ya dink, I hire grad-school-studnt? Lowlife, ull lul lifes!” He waved his hands in the air as if signifying he gave up, there was nothing more to say about the situation.

He started yelling at the employees, telling them to get back to work.

Diana and Jerry left the store and compared notes from the interviews they conducted at the store.

Getting into the car, Jerry uttered, “Maybe it was just some kind of random attack. Barbara never left her apartment, except to go to work or the supermarket. She didn't have a boyfriend. No one gave a shit about her."

She glanced at him a moment, finding his tone odd. It was almost as if he didn't care either way. It was their job to find out who was responsible for Barbara's death whether she was a good person and employee or not. Where was the respect for human life? Wasn't Jerry standing right beside her in the morgue?

"You were at the ME's office. You heard Bob describe the force and strength used to inflict pain and cause Barbara's injuries. That was no random act of violence. No way. This individual knew Barbara, wanted to cause her pain, and it's our job to find out who that person is."

She was surprised at how easily her partner wanted to pass this homicide off as a random act of violence. It annoyed her, as he drove the car back to the precinct.

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He stared at the television screen before heading out to work. What was this world coming to? He'd not heard a word about the killing, not one tad bit of information or celebration about the removal of such trash. There was media coverage of a small blaze that took out one shit-ass house in the middle of some shitville town in Yonkers. What about the store clerk? How about the investigation into the case? He wanted praise. He wanted to feel the triumph and collaborated thank you from all the patrons who frequented Guthrey's Department store.

He paced back and forth in front of the television set, getting angrier and angrier, when it suddenly hit him. The local news would have to have something on about the murder, the community network station that talked about the local events and news in town. Quickly, he grabbed the remote control and pressed in the numbers to the channel.

It was perfect timing on his part. The reporter stood outside of Guthrey's Department store in downtown Yonkers. She spoke about the young sales clerk whose body was found eight blocks away, inside a wooded area of the well-known park.

As the reporter interviewed patrons of the store, there was a mixed response to the incident. One guy actually stated that the workers were incompetent and rude and that he wouldn't be surprised if the killer was a frustrated shopper. He laughed out loud at this, his actions condoned by the one man's comments.

Then the reporter interviewed a sales clerk from the store who was described as a friend of the victim's. He recognized her. She was the one who told Barbara it was past break time.

His anger continued to grow. With each statement she made, and with every chomp on the gum she chewed, his imagination went into overdrive.

He watched the woman closely. Kneeling down near the television set, he absorbed her features, her tone of voice, everything he could memorize about her. Then the camera zoomed in closer.