Murder In the Past Tense (A Giorgio Salvatori Mystery Book 2) (26 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Giorgio and Rocky converged on Ron Martinelli’s home one last time. He was waiting for them, Ms. Brinson, his attractive and able assistant by his side.

“What’s going on?” he said, from the entryway to his home.

“Your uncle just shot himself,” Giorgio said.

“What?” Ron Martinelli said, the blood draining from his face. He reached out for Ms. Brinson’s hand and clasped it tightly. “So we were right,” he said. “It was the two of them together, wasn’t it? My father and my uncle?”

“Yes,” Giorgio replied. “But now Fritz and Perry are involved. One of them tried to kill us tonight.”

Ron Martinelli’s eyes widened. He backed up, allowing them inside.

“Why…would Fritz try to kill you?” he mumbled.

“Because we think he killed Alex Springer, and Perry killed Carson Montgomery up in Seattle,” Giorgio said.

Ron looked from Giorgio to Rocky and then turned and walked into the living room. He stopped at the fireplace as if in a trance.

“Mr. Martinelli!” Giorgio called, following him. “I need some answers. Another young woman was abducted tonight…a female reporter who has been covering the Lisa Farmer story. We think Fritz and Perry have her. They’re desperate. Your uncle knew we were coming, and he was on the phone to Fritz when we got there. He said something about having a game plan.”

“Game plan?” Ron muttered. “Shit!” he said, slamming his fist onto the fireplace mantle. He turned to Giorgio. “It’s my father again. His legacy lives on. My father lived in New Hampshire for a while. Their motto there is, ‘Live free or die.’ My father coined his own motto, ‘Live
big
or die.’ It was all about excess to him. He prided himself in never having lost at anything. He even once forced me to play in a football game even though I’d ripped my Achilles tendon.” Ron glanced up at Giorgio. “He told me that the Martinellis don’t give up, ever! They die trying.”

“Where would Fritz have taken her?” Giorgio demanded.

“I don’t know,” Martinelli said, exasperated. “Really, I don’t. But this is probably his last stand. Fritz used to fantasize about going out in a hail of bullets. He admired the guys who died at Ruby Ridge and Waco. I’ve always thought he was a little nuts.”

“But you know him. You grew up with him. He runs your real estate business. He knows every nook and cranny of this area. Where would he be likely to take something he wanted to hide? Something he wanted to
play
with?” Giorgio said with distaste.

Ron thought for a moment and then his expression changed. He slowly stood up.

“Wait, I do know. When we were kids, his family had a big tree with a tree house out in their backyard. Fritz loved to go hide up there.”

“So we’re looking for a tree house?” Rocky said with a sneer.

“No,” Ron said. “I climbed up there once when we were teenagers. I found him with a little bird.” He cringed at the memory. “He was pulling the feathers off the little bird one-by-one. The bird kept trying to get away, and he would just laugh. Then I noticed that there were two dead birds lying on the floor. One had its feet cut off, and the other had its wings broken.” He shuddered at the thought. “I asked him what he was doing, and he just turned to me with this horrible, self-satisfied smile and said, ‘This is my little hobby. Leave me alone.’” He inhaled and then said, “Fritz took her to the old Pottinger Sanitarium up in Monrovia. It’s been empty for decades.”

“Why there?” Rocky asked.

“Because he bought it a few years ago. He said he wanted to salvage what he could and then turn it into a luxury hotel.” He paused and looked from Giorgio to Rocky. “When I asked him why he would sink so much money into something so risky, he gave me that same self-satisfied smile and said, ‘Because it’s my little hobby.’”

Giorgio and Rocky turned for the door, but Martinelli stopped them.

“Detectives!” he said. “I’ve been up there. You’ll need bolt cutters to get through the gate. And it’s a monstrosity of a place. It has three stories with three separate wings. There’s no electricity. He’ll have the advantage. And he has nothing to lose. He’ll just kill her if he hears you coming.”

“What do you suggest?” Giorgio asked quickly.

Ron ran fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. But unless you have an army, you’re going to need a bloodhound just to find him in there.”

Giorgio turned to Rocky with a self-satisfied smile of his own.

“I think we have that covered,” he said. “But we’ll need something of his for scent. And I need the address.”

“Hold on,” Martinelli said. He turned and left the room. A moment later, he was back and handed Giorgio a baseball cap. “This is Fritz’s. We had a company picnic here a few months ago. He left it behind.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Giorgio raced back down Colorado Boulevard towards Sierra Madre. As he swerved to pass other cars, Rocky shouted, “So what’s
our
game plan? Should we call Captain Alvarez?”

Giorgio shot him a look. “No. You heard Ron. If he hears a cavalry coming, he’ll just kill her. We go in quiet and alone.”

“Are you kidding me?” Rocky exclaimed.

“We’ve got one chance to get her out,” Giorgio said, leveling a somber look in Rocky’s direction. “One chance. Are you in or are you out?”

Rocky turned to look out the front window as they sped forward. “I’m in. But as usual, you’re insane.”

“Okay, call Angie and tell her to have Grosvenor ready. We’ll be there in less than ten minutes. And tell her to make sure the kids are up in their rooms.”

“Why?” Rocky said, taking the phone.

“Because we need to raid my gun cabinet,” he said with a grim expression.

Rocky pulled out his phone and dialed Giorgio’s home phone.

“Hey, Angie, this is Rocky... No, no, everything's okay,” he said quickly. “We’re…we’re on a case and we need to pick up Grosvenor. Can you have him ready?” Rocky paused as he listened to the response. “Really? Shit,” he responded. “Um…okay, thanks. But, well, we need you to get the kids up in their rooms. Can you do that?” He listened for a moment. “Like I said, Ange. We’re on a case. We need extra firepower. The kids don’t need to see that. Okay? What’s that? Okay, thanks.”

“Why’d you say shit?” Giorgio said, glancing toward his brother.

Rocky flicked off the phone and threw it onto the console. “Grosvenor’s not there.”

“What?”

“Angie said he ate a whole rash of chicken bones earlier. She took him to the vet and they wanted to keep him overnight.”

“Damn!” Giorgio swore, hitting the steering wheel.

“Now what do we do?” Rocky asked.

“I don’t know,” Giorgio said. “It’s too late to try and get a search and rescue dog.”

Rocky shrugged. “Guess it’ll just be you, me and those hunches of yours.”

“What did you say?” Giorgio said, glancing at his brother in surprise.

“When we get there,” Rocky said. “We’ll have to rely on your hunches.”

“No,” Giorgio said, turning back to the road. “We need something more reliable than that.”

He suddenly switched lanes and made a tire-screeching U-turn in the middle of the street. As Rocky flew against the door, he snarled, “What’s going on?”

“We need to pick up someone.”

“By the way,” Rocky whispered, as they raced down Colorado Boulevard. “Angie said something about Detective Abrams coming down. I guess he called.”

Giorgio’s eyes lit up. “How soon?”

Rocky shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t say.”

Two minutes later, Giorgio was pulling up to the small white bungalow. The porch light was on, as well as a light in the front window. The brothers got out and hurried up the walk. Rocky spied the sign for Madame Mirabelle on the door.

“We’re picking up a psychic? You’ve got to be kidding!”

“You have a better idea?” Giorgio said as he rang the doorbell.

A moment later, the front window curtain was pulled aside. Dark eyes glared at them through the window until the individual recognized Giorgio. Then, the latch was released and the door opened. Flame stood there, dressed in sweat pants, a pajama top and a pair of baggy socks.

“Detective,” Flame said, standing back to let them in. “What’s going on?”

He and Rocky stepped into the reception area.

“We need your help. We need you to come with us.”

Her eyes opened wide. “What? Why?”

“A young woman has been abducted,” Giorgio said breathlessly. “By the son and grandson of the men who killed those girls. We don’t have much time,” Giorgio said. “Please, get dressed quickly.”

She hesitated. “Detective, it’s after eleven o’clock. I…”

“PLEASE!” Giorgio barked. “This time it’s to
save
a life.”

She flinched at the intensity in his voice.

“But I don’t understand. Why… do you need
me
?”

“Get dressed and we’ll explain on the way. Please,” he said in a softer tone. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was critical.”

She glanced at Rocky and seemed to make a decision. She turned and disappeared through a door behind her. It was only a few minutes later when she re-emerged dressed in jeans, boots, a turtleneck sweater and a hoodie jacket. She held a backpack over one shoulder.

“Okay, let’s go.”

÷

On the way to the house, Giorgio filled Flame in on the situation.

“So, I’m your bloodhound?” she said without animosity. “Okay. I get it.”

Flame was sitting in the front seat. Rocky was in the back.

“I don’t mean to gloss over the seriousness of what’s happening here,” Giorgio said gravely. “Or the risk. This is a very dangerous situation. But we won’t expose you any more than we have to. We just need help in finding where these guys have her in this building. Then you’re done.”

She glanced at him and then back through the front window. “I’m not afraid, Detective. I want to help. I’ll be okay.”

Giorgio pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, and the three of them emerged from the car and moved quickly toward the front door. Angie met them.

“What’s happening?” she asked, alarm written all over her face.

“Mia Santana, that reporter, has been abducted. We’re going after her.”

Angie paused momentarily and then nodded and stepped back to let them in.

“The kids are upstairs,” she said.

“Angie, this is Flame. She’s…she’s helping with the case.”

Angie nodded and smiled briefly at the young woman. “Joe, there’s someone…”

“Evening, Detective,” a voice cut in.

Giorgio turned to find Detective Abrams standing in the middle of his living room.

“Hey,” Giorgio responded, stepping forward with his hand out. “Boy, am I happy to see you! I don’t know why you’re here, but I don’t care. We can use you,” Giorgio said, giving Abrams’ hand a quick shake.

“From what you said on the phone yesterday you’re getting close to nailing the guy who killed Montgomery,” Abrams said. “I thought I could help. Besides,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “I have some new evidence I thought you should see.”

He pulled out a grainy photograph of a van parked in the nursing home parking lot. The California license plate was clearly visible – XTC 434.

“Where did you get this?” Giorgio said.

“Turns out there’s a domestic violence shelter right next door to the nursing home. It sits on the other side of the parking lot. They have security cameras everywhere. They got this shot. They also got a shot of the kid who wheeled Montgomery out there. It’s not too clear, but we’re working to clean it up.”

“Good to go,” Giorgio said. Giorgio handed the photo back. “By the way, my brother Rocky just joined the force,” he said, nodding towards his brother. “Sean’s with the Seattle PD,” he said to Rocky. He turned back to Abrams. “We believe the guy who killed Montgomery and his father have now abducted a young woman – a reporter.” He strode into the hallway and started moving toward the back office. Everyone trailed after him. “It’s a long story, but this is all part of the same family. Their modus operandi is to torture the women and then kill them. We have to find her
tonight
. We just stopped to get armed.”

“Okay, I’m in,” Abrams nodded. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“Are you carrying?” Giorgio asked as the three men moved into the back office.

“Yeah,” he said patting his waistband.

“Okay,” Giorgio said, stopping at the gun cabinet.

Giorgio turned and saw both Flame and Angie standing silently in the doorway, Angie with her arms crossed. He paused.

“It’s going to be okay, Ange. We have plenty of back-up. We just need to save this girl.”

Angie’s pretty features were drawn into a mask of defeat. A look of resignation he’d seen before. She knew the drill and knew she had no hope of changing his mind.

“Just be careful,” she murmured, and she disappeared up the stairs.

Flame watched her go, her hands hanging onto the backpack strap slung across her shoulder.

“What back-up?” Rocky asked quietly after Angie had left. “The psychic?”

Giorgio shot him an angry look.

“By the way,” Giorgio said to Detective Abrams. “This is Flame. She’ll be our way finder.”             

Abrams nodded, as if having a civilian along was no big deal. Giorgio unlocked the gun cabinet. Standing on end were three rifles, two for hunting and one Remington Arms M24. Held in drawers below the rifles were two Glock pistols and loaded magazines.

He and Rocky each pulled out a second handgun and two extra magazines, and Giorgio grabbed a high-beamed flashlight.

“Mind if I take one of the rifles?” Abrams said, studying the weapons. “I’m pretty good with a rifle.”

“Suit yourself,” Giorgio replied.

“This is nice,” Abrams said, pulling out the Remington Arms. He held it up and pointed it toward the far window, adjusting the scope.

Giorgio turned to his brother.

“Can you get the bolt cutters from the garage? They’re hanging above the workbench.”

Rocky nodded. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

As Abrams grabbed extra cartridges for the rifle, Giorgio pulled out his cell phone and dialed McCready.

“Drew, where are you?”

“I’m at the hospital. They just took Edmond Martinelli into surgery.”

“Okay, do me a favor. We’re going after the girl. I need you to come watch and my house, just in case.”

“Uh…okay. What about Martinelli?”

“Get an officer to stand in for you. Edmond won’t be going anywhere for a while,” Giorgio said. “I don’t trust these guys, and they know where I live.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” the young officer said.

“Okay, just park outside. Don’t let my wife know you’re here unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Got it,” McCready answered.

Giorgio hung up and turned to Flame. Her dark eyes were staring at the rifle in Abrams’ hand.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Giorgio asked her.

She glanced up at him. “Of course I’m not okay with this. But we’re wasting time.”

She turned on her heel and led them back outside.