Murder In the Past Tense (A Giorgio Salvatori Mystery Book 2) (3 page)

“Don’t you want to see the rest of her?” Pete asked.

He had jumped off the fire truck and was standing at Giorgio’s shoulder, pulling off the harness. Giorgio glanced up at him.

“Don’t need to,” Giorgio replied.

“Why not?”

Giorgio placed the skull back in the body bag.

“Because this just became a crime scene,” he said with a sinking heart.

“You know it’s a crime because she was put in a duffle bag?” the chief asked.

Giorgio turned to him.

“That and the big hole in the side of her head.”

CHAPTER FOUR

That night, the storm that had threatened all day finally blew in. It rattled windowpanes and littered the lawn with leaves.

Giorgio lingered downstairs after Angie went to bed, watching the news and feeling unsettled about the skeleton found in the old well at St. Augustine’s. The story was sensational enough that even the cable news stations carried segments on the recovery.

Mia Santana, the reporter who had dogged Giorgio all through the previous investigation, gave a rousing report of the day’s activities, including interviews with Steve Nicely and a couple of the rescue team members. Nicely dramatized his shock when the body’s skull first popped out of the ground, and then Ms. Santana described the broken headband and heart necklace. And, of course, the young reporter felt compelled to speculate as to whether the discovery had anything to do with the recent Mallery Olsen murder since it was found on the monastery grounds.

Giorgio watched the news accounts with varying degrees of unease.  He knew that, logically, the cases couldn’t be connected. After all, this skeleton had lain undetected in an abandoned well under a concrete patio for decades. Mallery Olsen had been killed in October.

And yet…he didn’t believe in coincidences.

Giorgio turned off the TV and was just about to follow Angie upstairs, when the phone rang. He picked it up in the hallway and heard a familiar voice.

“Hey, they’re gonna spring me tomorrow. Can you pick me up?”

It was Rocky, Giorgio’s younger brother. He’d spent the last thirty days in an alcohol treatment center. Rocky had lost his fiancé to a brutal rape and murder in New York right after Giorgio moved to California. The loss had turned Rocky inside out. A year later, he’d followed Giorgio to the sunshine state, landing a job with the Monrovia Police Department, just south of Sierra Madre. But by that time, alcohol had already become his constant companion. Rocky hid it well, but his normal jovial attitude had become more nervous and on edge. Eventually, he started making mistakes, and the Monrovia PD put him on administrative leave.

While on leave, Rocky had helped Giorgio with the Mallery Olsen case, but had been shot in the process. Once the case was over and he’d recuperated, he’d been offered a job in Giorgio’s department in Sierra Madre. It was the incentive he needed to check himself into rehab.

“Sure, what time?” Giorgio responded.

“Five o’clock is check out,” Rocky said. “But it wouldn’t kill me if you were a little early.”

A rush of wind whistled past the house, making the windows and door shudder. Giorgio looked up to the front window as he answered, “I can do that. How about 4:30?”

“That’s good. By the way, I saw the news. Helluva thing finding that skeleton at the monastery. There’s no chance that it’s…”

“No,” Giorgio said, cutting him off. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Mallery Olsen. All we found today was a bunch of very old bones.”

“Still,” Rocky said. “Weird. Can’t have made you feel too comfortable driving back up there.”

Giorgio was distracted by the wind for a moment, lost in the memory of the big storm that had practically swallowed up the monastery the night Olsen was killed. It was the same night he’d first seen the boy.

“You still there?” Rocky asked.

Giorgio flinched. “Yeah, sorry. It’s really blowing outside.”

“Yeah, here, too,” Rocky said. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Giorgio replied.

He hung up and glanced out the small window in the front door, watching the tops of the trees across the street whipping back and forth. He reached for the wall switch and turned off the light and began to climb the stairs.

He was only halfway up to the second floor, when a rolling gust of wind buffeted the house, forcing the front door open with a bang. He spun around just as a swirl of leaves and dirt blew in, along with something that clinked when it hit the floor.

He rushed back down the stairs and pushed the front door closed, making sure this time that it was latched and locked. Then he turned to study the mess on the floor.

A scattering of leaves and twigs covered the area right in front of him. And sitting right in the middle of it all, was a copper coin.

He bent down and picked it up.

The coin was larger than a penny and had been stamped with the image of a shoreline on one side and the words "Big Bear Lake" on the other. It was a souvenir of some kind.

A chill snaked its way down his back, and he turned back toward the front door.

On the night Mallery Olsen was found hanging by her bra strap in a supply closet at the monastery, a burst of wind had blown a metal button down the walkway outside the theater, just as he and Rocky were about to leave for the crime scene. The button had bounced off the curb and landed at Giorgio’s feet. It had been stamped with a Latin cross. And that very same night, the large, wooden door at the monastery had blown open only moments before he’d seen the ghost of Christian Maynard for the first time.

“Shit!” he murmured.

He rushed to the front door and threw it open again, stepping onto the front steps.

Outside, the wind seemed to thrash the neighborhood. Trees bent to the wind. A garbage can lid came rolling down the street. And the corner streetlight flashed off and on as if it had a short.

The same thing had happened the night of the Olsen case.

He glanced up at the streetlight, thinking the night was alive with the storm. Again.

But there was no boy.

He riveted his head back and forth, looking up and down the street, but there was no one about. Anywhere.

Giorgio waited a full minute, his heart hammering in his chest. But the boy didn’t materialize.

Still, he didn’t believe in coincidences.

CHAPTER FIVE

With the discovery of the skeleton, Giorgio decided to go back to work early.

The next morning, he pulled around to the back of the Sierra Madre PD, where all the officers parked. The parking lot was populated with a small swarm of local press and TV news reporters. He spied Mia Santana standing near the back door of the building as he pulled into a parking space, her ever-present camera man lurking behind her.

As soon as Giorgio killed the engine and stepped from the car, a young man shoved a microphone in his face.

“Who’s the woman in the well?” the man blurted.

Giorgio gently pushed the microphone away and sidestepped from in between the parked cars, giving himself time to think. While he had ignored pleas from the press for information during the Mallery Olsen investigation, this case was different. Whoever this woman was, she’d been dead a long time. Maybe the news reports would help.

He stopped and turned to the man who still had his microphone extended. “We don’t know who the woman is yet. She’s a Jane Doe at this point.”

“So what steps will you take to find out who she is?” the man asked.

“The body has been sent to the county morgue,” he replied. “They’ll do the forensics work.”

“Is there DNA evidence?” a female voice shouted above the rest.

Giorgio turned to find Mia Santana pushing ahead of the other reporters, her microphone aimed directly at Giorgio.

“We don’t know yet,” he said patiently. “The coroner will have to tell us. Now if you don’t mind,” he said, attempting to step past her.

“Detective,” she persisted, blocking his path. “Does this have anything to do with the Mallery Olsen case?”

He stopped, glaring down at the petite brunette. “I don’t see how it could. Excuse me.”

He shouldered his way through the group of reporters and climbed the few steps to the back door of the police station.

The rear hallway passed two small interrogation rooms and opened up into the squad room. A fake Christmas tree and some fake garland had been draped across the reception counter to give an air of holiday cheer. A few people greeted him as he entered, and he acknowledged them with a nod. He turned left and hurried to the far end of the hallway, where he shared an office with Detective Swan.

“Damn!” he said to Swan when he walked into their office. “It’s a feeding frenzy out there.”

He threw his jacket over the back of his chair and went to the coffee pot that sat in the corner.

“Can’t blame ‘em,” Swan said, moving a chess piece on the game board set up by the back window. Swan was always in the middle of a chess game with someone, and they communicated through the internet. “They want to know if it’s connected to the Olsen case. After all, it’s only been six weeks or so,” he said, returning to his desk.

“I know,” Giorgio replied, pouring a cup of coffee. “But it would be nice if just once they’d give us five minutes to do our job.”

He sat behind his desk and came face to face with a stuffed Santa, secured to a metal base.

“What the heck is this?” he snarled.

Swan laughed. “Merry Christmas. I thought you might need some cheering up, especially since you had to come back early. Push the button.”

Giorgio shot him a surly look and reached out to push a small button at the base of the stand. The doll began to wiggle its butt and sing
All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth
.

Swan burst into laughter, while Giorgio grimaced.

“Gee, how can I ever thank you?” he said.

He flicked the button off and pushed the Santa to one side.

Swan was still chuckling and said in between laughs, “You know the captain is still looking for someone to play Santa at the kids’ breakfast next week. You’re the best actor we have in the department.”

“I’m the
only
actor we have in the department,’” Giorgio said. “But I don’t play department store Santas.”

Giorgio sat on the board of the community theater group and was one of their leading actors. In fact, he was scheduled to play Teddy Roosevelt in the upcoming production of
Arsenic and Old Lace
.

Swan took a deep breath to keep his mirth in check. “Okay, so what’s the order of the day?”

Giorgio took a swig of coffee and sighed.

“There isn’t too much we can do until we get preliminary findings from the coroner’s office. But we
can
search cold cases going back ten or twenty years. I think I’ll also see if Drew can find out when that well was covered over at the monastery.”

Drew McCready was their tech whiz and did most of their research.

They got to work while the press milled about outside. By noon most of the reporters had drifted away. At 3:30, a tall, good-looking man with dark hair interrupted them. He was wearing jeans, cowboy boots and a chambray shirt.

“Jeez, is this the famous crime-busting team of the Sierra Madre Police Department?”

Both Giorgio and Swan looked up. Swan laughed, and Giorgio rolled back in his chair and got up. He strode over and gave the man a half hug and a solid pat on the arm.

“Hey, little brother. I was just about to leave to pick you up.”

The man smiled, exposing a perfect set of white teeth, his dark eyes dancing.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to break out of that place and come get my paperwork done here.”

“So you start tomorrow, Rocky?” Swan asked.

“Yeah, if the captain will let me.”

“Hell,” Swan said, rolling his eyes at the two of them. “Two Salvatoris working here at the same time. I might have to retire early.”

“Don’t worry,” Rocky said. “I’m the easy-going brother. You’ll
like
working with me.”

He and Swan chuckled, while Giorgio grimaced and returned to his chair.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll see you get assigned to patrol.”

Rocky laughed half-heartedly and shook his head. “Right now patrol looks pretty good to me.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Besides, I guess I’m gonna have to prove myself, anyway.”

The mood in the room darkened momentarily as an awkward pause hung in the air.

“Don’t worry,” Swan said, picking up the moment. “Your brother’s bark is far worse than his bite.” He got up and approached Rocky. “And most of the guys around here…they’ve got demons of their own.”

He gave Rocky a reassuring pat on the arm and crossed out of the office into the hallway.

“How do you feel?” Giorgio asked, once Swan was out of earshot.

Rocky was over six feet tall with the kind of George Clooney good looks Giorgio could only dream about. They shared some family resemblance; Rocky took after their father, while Giorgio took after their mother. That meant Rocky was tall, with broad shoulders and a lanky physique, while Giorgio was three inches shorter and had a tendency to put on weight. According to his wife, Giorgio’s best features were his dark, brooding eyes, which she said were all he needed to get her in the
mood
.

Rocky moved into the room and took the chair across the desk from his brother.

“I feel okay,” he said, folding his hands into his lap. “They say you’re never cured, so I’ll always have to be careful, but I feel better than I did.”

“That’s good. We missed you.”

“Yeah? Well, I missed Angie’s fried chicken,” he said.

Giorgio smiled. “I’ll tell her. How about tomorrow night? Six o’clock?”

Rocky smiled. “Done. By the way, how’s she doing?”

Giorgio paused and dropped his gaze to the desk for a moment, his fingers toying with a pen. “She’s okay. We’ve had our moments, but getting the house ready for the state inspection for the day care center has helped a lot. It’s not going to totally fix things, but you know Angie… Put a kid in her lap and she’s happy.”

“That’s good,” Rocky said. “I’m glad. So, any news on your find up at the monastery?” Rocky asked, changing the subject.

“No. We’re still waiting on the coroner. All we can do right now is search old cold cases.” Giorgio began clicking the end of a pen. “Your timing is perfect, though. Swan’s dad died a few weeks ago, and he’s scheduled to take some leave and help his mom clean out the house.”

“Sounds good.” Rocky stopped. “I mean, not that his dad died, but…”

Giorgio smiled. “I knew what you meant. It’s not too soon for you though, is it? To get back on another murder case?”

Rocky glanced up at his brother.

“Sorry,” Giorgio said, dropping his head. “That was stupid.”

“No, it’s okay, Joe. One of the things my therapist told me is that I have to talk about it…about Rebecca and what happened to her. Let’s face it, the fact that her killer got away is one of the things that… drives me to drink. But I’ll have to accept that the bastard may never be caught. It’s the only way I’ll heal.”

Giorgio sat back and took a deep breath. “How the hell do you talk about something like that,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know. But I have to try,” Rocky replied. “And you’re going to have to listen.”

The two brothers stared at each other. The moment drew out until Giorgio recognized the need for rescue.

“Okay, but not here. Not in this environment,” he said, glancing around.

“I know,” Rocky said with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to bare my soul around here. But I
am
a cop. Just like you. And I want to find the son of a bitch that killed her. And then, if I’m lucky, I’ll get to kill the mother fu…”

“Well,
that’s
a wish I hope you get,” Giorgio interrupted him. “C’mon, let’s get you signed in.” He stood up. “I’ll walk you down to HR.”