No Mercy (5 page)

“Look,” Cronin answered, “this is small potatoes compared to what we have asked your office for help on in the past.”

Ashley nodded and replied, “Why? Why is this so important?”

Cronin leaned back on his chair as he spoke. “Tell me why it's not important; give me ten days.”

Ashley asked the server for coffee as he told the detective he would get back to him after he spoke with DA Steinberg. Then he asked,

“Now, what's the second thing you wanted to talk about?”

The detective took out the folded piece of paper and handed it to the ADA, who opened it and read silently to himself the note left on Cronin's car.

“Would you happen to know who would give me a note like that?” The detective asked.

Ashley dropped the note, saying, “Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Cronin's frown on his face became more pronounced. “Well, let me ask this, do you have an idea what it means?”

The ADA looked around the restaurant like he was in disbelief over the questions.

“Again,” he said a little louder, “what the hell are you getting at?”

Cronin looked at the ADA and said, “This has nothing to do with our conversation in the parking lot in the village after the Face of Fear investigation?”

“Ah,” Ashley replied, “now I know where this is going. I ask you to keep your word on finding out what really happened to Phil Smith and the money and here it is a year and a half later and you're being asked to cash the check, and you're wondering if I have anything to do with it.”

Cronin shook his head and said, “Getting a note with one of the definitions of the word
promise
will do that to you.” It was during the Face of Fear investigation that Phil Smith was eliminated by someone after the attempt on Lindsey Wilkerson's life.

“Kevin,” the ADA spoke up, “I spoke to you directly about what happened to that asshole on the final night of the case. I asked you because I was worried that you felt you needed to end it no matter what had to be done!” There was silence at the table, and Ashley spoke again. “Was I right?” Again there was silence. It was becoming awkward at the table when the ADA said, “Besides you are forgetting my interview with the
New York Times
a week after the case closed.” He had pressure from the FBI to the attorney general's office. Everything was accounted for in the entire case except the timing of Phil Smith's death by a bullet hole to the throat. There was silence at the table again until the ADA changed the subject. “I will get back to you on sending Baker in undercover. We would have to let the chief of the facility know. We just can't risk it without anyone knowing. Things are getting a bit busy, wait, sorry, I know how much you hate using that word busy.”

“Yes” Cronin replied “when people use that word, it makes me feel they are overwhelmed and not in charge of their time.”

Rachelle and Paul were holding hands over the table when his father came in to greet them at Twilight Café, a small, little '50s-themed café inside Harbor Square Mall in the village. Rachelle tried to keep away from Z Pita Restaurant when the meetings were personal. She felt as part owner and hostess that it was best to have some separation when she could. She liked the café because it had a piano in the corner and it was nice when a patron would sit and play and sometimes even sing. They were sitting by the pinball machine sharing a large James Dean salad when Paul excused himself to use the men's room.

“So,” Anthony Powers said as he took Rachelle's hand, “how's it going!”

“It's great,” she answered as her eyes moved away.

“Is it?” he asked.

“I guess,” she replied. “I have my job at Z Pita, I write, I'm fulfilled. I love and adore your son, yet sometimes I worry about where we are going. I want and need him, and I get scared sometimes there is nothing more. I need him to express more to me, do more than what Paul would normally do to show me how he feels about me.”

Anthony Powers squeezed her hand and said, “Rachelle, give him time. He loves you more than life itself.”

Paul walked back to the table and asked, “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no,” his father answered. “Rachelle just asked me to tell her something she didn't know about your father, so here it is.” He pulled out his wallet and opened up a piece of paper that had a pencil rubbing of the name Ronald L. Bond. Rachelle looked at the paper and asked him why.

“Well, my dear,” Anthony Powers replied, “back in the early '70s they sold POW/MIA bracelets, which I wore for Ronald Bond until it fell apart. It didn't feel right to me, so I carried his name with me until I got to the Vietnam Memorial in DC and I made a rubbing of his name. I even communicated with his father until he passed away a few years ago. I still have the card his father, Errol Bond, wrote to me before he died. He never gave up that his son might be alive as a prisoner in Southeast Asia. So for his father and for his son, I keep his name in my wallet.”

Rachelle looked at Paul and grabbed his father's hand, saying, “That is so sweet. I would love to know more about him. Maybe I will look him up on the Internet.”

“Yes,” the elder Powers said, “it's all just a small part of keeping his memory alive.” Rachelle mouthed the words ‘Thank you' to him for keeping their conversation private as she leaned over and kissed the side of Paul's cheek.

She looked down at her watch as she said, “I told Joey Z that I would close the restaurant tonight and be there by eight.”

Paul stood up as he said, “Well then, we should go,” with a grin. They stopped at Rachelle's favorite store in Harbor Square called Sea Creations. She loved all the trinkets in the store but the one thing she bought the most were the signs of the towns in Long Island with the longitude and latitude coordinates. It was always a hit when it was given as a gift. They walked Paul's father over to Danford's Hotel on Broadway and then walked back up Main Street so Rachelle could close up.

Paul pulled Rachelle to his body as he spoke. “After you close up come on upstairs. Spend the night with me.”

She put her finger on his mouth and said, “Only if you walk Wes and Craven tonight and let them stay in the apartment,” and kissed him before walking in the back door of Z Pita.

The detective smiled as he walked through Trader's Cove parking lot up to Prospect Street to Rachelle's and Madison's home to walk the dogs. Paul grew to love the King Charles Cavalier dogs. They were originally given to him and Bud from Lindsey Wilkerson, the young girl who was the center of the Face of Fear investigation with Deborah and Rachelle. Both Bud and Paul thought Rachelle should have the dogs for company and some security while Madison was in jail. Paul smiled as he thought about the day Rachelle surprised him by naming the dogs Wes and Craven. She knew how much he admired the director, and he thought it was how she was expressing that she wanted to start a life with him. Whenever locals asked their names, it always brought a smile to their faces when he told them. Wes was the happy-go-lucky dog who would lick a burglar to death, and Craven would bark at anyone who got too close to Rachelle unless he knew them. Rachelle spoiled them by allowing them to sleep in her bed, which made it a problem when intimacy was desired between her and Paul.

Paul finished walking them and brought them back to his apartment, saying, “Mommy will be back soon.” When he reached the top of the stairs to his apartment above Z Pita he sent Rachelle a text that he had walked the dogs and asking her to please stay for the night with the dogs. He turned on the TV and saw his favorite; Monica Crowley was substituting for Sean Hannity tonight. “Let them have it,” Paul said to the conservative warrior princess.

The Pajama Club in Huntington had been busy since they opened it the previous year. What made this club different was that the doors opened at 10:00 pm and once you were in, there was no leaving until 8:00 am. You were not allowed to come in with regular street clothes, only loungewear and pajamas with an overnight bag. A $100 cover charge to get in, plus the cost of drinks, and you got the overnight party of your life for Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. A private room and shower were yours for an additional $500. The club was closed Sundays once the Saturday overnight party was over at 8:00 am and did not open again until Tuesday for the regular music scene from 8:00 pm to 4:00 am. On Tuesday and Wednesday nights the club was known as Decades. A decade of music was selected and the clientele would get in free if they dressed appropriately. Last Tuesday was the '70s decade, which continues to be the most popular among the crowd during the week.

The twenty-five-thousand-square-foot club was once a movie theater, and the investors had done a magnificent job with total reconstruction of the inside. The music tonight was current, for it was Friday night. There always seemed to be many more young women on the dance floor than men. While many women danced with the opposite sex, there were even more women dancing with other young ladies. The music never stopped as the DJ was masterful in syncing up one song after another while talking and rapping to the crowd.

A figure standing up against the railing had his eye on a young woman by the name of Michelle Cartwright, who was moving her slim body on the dance floor. The way she shook and touched her body and hair while moving her legs was giving him great pleasure. As the song “A New Life” by Mystic Strangers came on, his heart pounded with excitement as he watched her slim body move as if she had no bones. Her eyes closed yet her body language was that she wanted to do this with her clothes off. The man moved closer, as he couldn't take his eyes off her. He could feel his heart beat through his chest as the words “You cannot hide from me, you will see. I can give you a new life,” were sung. Just twenty feet from her, he moved and bobbed his head so he didn't lose sight of her as the other dancers were getting in his way.

The lyrics to the song were a turn-on to Michelle. He could sense it. The darkness of the music to the haunting lyrics was making his heart pound. He couldn't take his eyes off her as she touched her body during the song. He didn't move until it was over, and as if he was no longer hypnotized he moved back over to the side and would not take his eyes off the beautiful young woman. Her long, flowing brunette hair almost made him approach her too soon. It was another twenty minutes before Michelle had enough of dancing and decided to go to the ladies' room. The man in the shadows of the crowded room watched her go into the ladies' room and planned how he would pretend to go through the wrong door if he was caught by others coming out.

He was lucky. He stepped in and caught Michelle stepping into the middle stall as he walked in behind her and covered her mouth with only a second-long scream coming out of her mouth. She was not strong enough to handle him as he snapped her neck and sat her down on the toilet seat. He kissed her lips, the side of her face, and forehead before leaving a note in her hand. He took out his baseball hat with the fabric that came down to hide his face from the back of his pants, put it on, and walked out of the ladies' room just as a group of women came in. Their smiles were wiped off their faces as he rushed out, and they looked inside to be sure nothing happened. They heard a trembling sound coming from one of the stalls as they tried to open the door, but it was locked.

“Are you OK in there?” one of them spoke. The trembling and crying continued as the leader of the group tried to convince whoever was in the stall to open the door. Suddenly one of the other girls let out a scream as she pushed the other stall door to find Michelle Cartwright lying against the wall on the toilet seat with her eyes open with the stare of death. As the other girls ran out of the ladies' room Wanda, another patron of the club, convinced whoever was in the next stall to unlock the door. As she pushed it open, she saw it was twenty-four-year-old Taylor Black, who had her legs on top of the toilet seat with her arms wrapped around them. Tears ran down her face as she shook uncontrollably. Wanda continued to hold her tight for comfort when management came into the bathroom and called the police.

As Rachelle locked up Z Pita, she went up the back stairs and climbed into bed with Paul. He was half asleep, but she loved the challenge of getting him awake and aroused. Without saying a word to each other they kissed and touched each other's bodies until only the sounds of their moans could be heard during their lovemaking. Paul enjoyed late-night sessions with Rachelle because it seemed he lasted longer to give Rachelle more pleasure when he was a little tired. They started laughing when they brought up the subject of the dogs, because it seemed like Wes liked to watch them while Craven didn't care and slept. The difference in their personalities was quite fascinating to them.

Detective O'Malley was still up looking at the film of the City nightclub and finally spotted the man coming out of the private room. He was wearing a baseball hat with the fabric hanging down, so he knew there was a camera in the general area inside the club. O'Malley moved the film faster to see Bruce Roberts also go into the room about fifteen minutes later, according to the timer. He looked at his watch and knew Detectives Wyatt and Hansen had probably informed the parents of Kate Summers of her murder. They also spoke to Jake Wiley, who was supposed to meet Kate in the private room set up by her girlfriends, but he was forty-five minutes late due to traffic and parking. By the time he got to the club there was such a commotion, he had sent Kate a text to meet some other time.

O'Malley wrote a text to Wyatt and Hansen to bring Kate Summers's girlfriends in for questioning. He told them to also bring Detective Caulfield along. He was getting ready to go home when his cell phone rang. It was Detective Wyatt, who was awakened from bed to get to the Pajama Club. The only thing O'Malley had eaten all evening was his pumpkin seeds. He became addicted to them ten years earlier and could now eliminate the seed shell, eat the seed inside, and spit out the outer white shell without the use of his hands if he wanted to. O'Malley told him he would be there in twenty-five minutes and told him to bring Hansen and Caulfield with him.