PALINDROME (18 page)

“It’s not pantomime when you use sound
effects,” Denby said.

“No, what is it called?”

“A dramatization.”

“Oh. Anyway, you said extremely close range.
How close?”

“Inches, maybe less. The gun barrel might
have been pressed against the temple. The first victim was Cooper,
right?”

“Yeah, that was Cooper.”

“He had muzzle burns on the side of the head
where the bullet penetrated.”

“All right, so the shooter walks up to
Cooper, puts the gun to his head, and pulls the trigger. So what
happened next?”

“Then the second victim, Riley?”

“Correct.”

“Riley opens wide and puts one in his
mouth.”

“So he killed Cooper and then killed
himself?”

“That’s the way the crime scene reads. The
gun was found on the floor. He took his life after shooting Cooper,
and the gun fell out of his hand.”

“No doubt the gun will have Riley’s prints on
it.”

“No doubt.”

“Tell me why?”

“Tell you why he killed himself?”

“Yeah, tell me why? First of all, what is
Cooper doing here? This is a guy who was just accused of raping the
woman who owns this condo.”

“He’s here for revenge.”

“Most likely . . . but who is this Riley? Why
is he here? Why did he shoot Cooper and then kill himself?”

“That’s your job, man. You’re the
detective.”

“There was a struggle here. We’ll have to
wait until the coroner examines the bodies to see if these two went
at it.”

A partially eaten apple had been placed in an
evidence bag. It was still on the carpet where it had been found.
Sampson picked it up. “Are you sure that Riley shot himself?”

“Why, what are you thinking?”

“One of these guys was munching on an apple.
Let’s say it was Cooper for argument’s sake. Maybe these two
attacked and subdued this Lexa woman, when all of a sudden someone
comes in, picks off Cooper and then shoves the muzzle in Riley’s
mouth.”

“The shooter would have had to move pretty
fast.”

“Yes, he would have to move fast, but it’s
not beyond the realm of possibility. If these guys just fought with
and subdued the homeowner, they were distracted at the very least.
They may have been winded as well. Someone walks in and pops
Cooper. Cooper goes down. Riley’s in a state of shock, standing
there with his mouth open, and the shooter sees a way to make a
double homicide look like a murder-suicide.”

“You’ve got one hell of an imagination,
Sampson.”

“Well, is it possible?”

Denby scratched his chin. “You know what?
Yeah, I could see it. You still haven’t got motive.”

“One step at a time, I’m just getting warmed
up.”

A crime scene investigator walked up to
Sampson. He held a metal canister, which was painted with an
Oriental design. The canister was decorated in black, red, and
gold. It was painted with a picture of an Oriental warrior.

“What do you have there?” Sampson asked.

“I found it in the bathroom,” the crime scene
investigator said. He took the lid off the canister. It contained
white, granular powder.

“Any idea what that is? It doesn’t look like
heroin or cocaine.”

“Could be Oxy, but there’s no way to tell
until we get it down to the lab.”

“Could be your motive,” Denby said. “Lots of
drug activity out this way.”

“Could be,” Sampson said, “and maybe we’re
just pissing in the wind. Either way, it’s time to get busy.”

Thirty-four: Stick ‘Em Up

It
was Rosen’s early day. He was
looking out of his office window and admiring the beautiful,
summer-afternoon day. In better times, he would have been out on
the golf course for a mid-afternoon round with his buddies. He
shook his head woefully and wondered how things had gotten so bad.
He stared at his cell phone to make sure he had not missed the call
from Sparks that he was waiting for. There was no indication of any
missed calls or recently received voicemail. He had been waiting
for more than an hour.

The forty-eight-hour hold on Lexa Ameleon was
up at 5:00 p.m. Rosen had less than two hours time to sign the
release forms at East Pines.
The poor girl,
he thought. He
opened a patient folder and read the MRI report. It was a clean
spinal scan. There were no signs of herniation or stenosis. This
one would get better with bed rest and therapy. He made a notation
on the chart and closed it.

His cell phone rang. It was his wife. “Sam,
dear God, Scott’s been arrested.”

“What?”

“He’s been arrested, Sam. He escaped from
rehab and—”

Dear God, what did he do now?
“Tell me
what happened.”

He could hear her sobbing on the other end of
the line. “He tried to rob a bank, Sam. He’s in jail.”

“In jail. Isn’t there an arraignment
process?”

“How should I know? I got a call, and they
said they’re holding him. Jesus, Sam, what do we do?”

Rosen was silent while he thought about the
new catastrophe. “What to do? I don’t know what to do. I don’t know
any lawyers in Pennsylvania. This kid is killing us.”

“I know.” He could hear the sadness in his
wife’s voice. “I’m broken, Sam, I have nothing left. What do we
do?”

“I have to think.” His cell phone buzzed
again. It was Sparks.
Oh dear God, I can’t deal with this
now.
It was a moment before he decided what to do. “I have to
go,” he said to his wife. “I have an idea.”

“Call me right back, Sam.”

“I will. Bye.” He switched calls. “Hello,
Sparks, we’re running out of time, I—”

Sparks’ voice was devoid of emotion. “Have
them hold her until morning.”

“We can’t; the forty-eight hours are up
tonight.”

“Have her readmitted. Do what you have to. I
want her there one more night.”

“I am not going to do that. I’ve done too
much already. What’s this girl done, anyway?”

“That’s none of your business, and you’ll do
exactly as I ask. I have an associate on his way to the Tioga
County Courthouse in Pennsylvania as we speak. Do I allow him to
continue, or should I tell him to turn around and go home. Tell me
doctor, how would you like me to proceed?”

“You’re such a bastard. How did you know
about my son?”

“I’m a bastard? I’m surprised at you, Sam.
I’m about to do you a huge favor. Scott can be back in his warm bed
at Seabrook House this evening, or he can spend the night in jail.
So what do you think? Can you keep this woman in the psychiatric
facility overnight? I mean really, doctor, what are we talking
about? Give her a horse tranquilizer and have her sleep until
morning. I’ll be there bright and early to pick her up. I
promise.”

I only wish God would give me a
choice.
“Call me when Scott has been released.” He ended the
call with Sparks and called his wife.

Thirty-five: Down to Business

Peter
Sampson munched on a McDonald’s
Egg McMuffin on his way to police headquarters on Old Willets Path
in Hauppauge. As usual, the morning traffic was slow on the Long
Island Expressway. It wasn’t grind-to-a-halt slow, it was just
sluggish, and he opted to wait it out instead of going around the
traffic with his lights and siren on. He was still easing into the
morning, and the quiet car provided a perfect environment for him
to think about the double-homicide investigation.

The previous day had flown by. After leaving
the crime scene, he spent the balance of his shift questioning
neighbors. No one had heard the two gunshots.
I understand that
they are seniors,
but no one heard two gunshots? I wonder
what I’ll be like when I’m that old.
The neighbors knew
surprisingly little about the homeowner. Many were unaware that
Susan Martin had passed away. Some of them reported seeing young
people coming and going from the condo but knew little more than
that.

Sampson picked up his cell and called the
forensics lab. It rang eight times. Sampson knew better than to
hang up. The phone was answered on the tenth ring. “Yeah, hi, this
is Detective Peter Sampson, who’s this?”

“Hi, Pete. It’s Tommy Drew. What can I do for
you?”

“Hi, Tommy. Are you familiar with the firearm
that was dropped off at the lab yesterday afternoon?”

“Familiar? We’re having a field day down
here. We haven’t had a gun to play with in weeks. You’re a hero,
Pete.”

Sampson laughed. “Don’t go shooting yourself
in the foot or nothing, Tommy. It’s not a toy.”

Drew imitated a child’s voice,
“It’s
not?
So what can I do you for?”

“Any reports back on it yet?”

“We pulled prints from it. I’m still waiting
to see if the prints match either of the two victims.”

“How long for ballistics?”

“By the end of the day. Like I said, we’re
like kids in a candy store with this thing. We’re all over it.”

“Can you check to see if the weapon had been
silenced?”

“A silencer, really? I thought the crime
scene report indicated murder-suicide?”

“Maybe, I’m not so sure.”

“Okay, I’ll check the barrel right away.”

“Thanks, Tommy. Can you give me a holler as
soon as you know?”

“Sure, Pete. On your cell?”

“That’s your best bet.” A second call was
coming in. “Got to go, Tommy. Thanks.” Sampson switched lines.
“Detective Peter Sampson.”

“Pete, it’s Dick Aiello.”

Aiello had been the county’s special services
officer for twenty years. “Richard, how’s it hanging, man?”

“Why are you letting people get shot on your
watch, Sampson? I just left the coroner’s office with Cooper’s
mother. It was
not
a pretty scene.”

“Am I to infer she made a positive ID?”

“Yeah, she knew her son immediately, even
though half his head was blown off. I wouldn’t wish that on
anyone.”

“I know. The poor kid was a mess.”

“I mean what are you guys doing out there? I
used to have a cushy job. Five kids have been murdered in the past
twelve months; my job is getting tough. You think I like waking
parents in the middle of the night to have them ID their children’s
remains? I mean step up your game, man. This is getting out of
control.”

“Heroin has become a big business out here.
Addiction and fatality go hand in hand. Kids are getting hooked as
early as middle school. The last homicide I investigated was a
twelve-year-old girl.”

“That was the drug overdose, correct?”

“Yeah, they found her at home. She had been
dead for hours when her mother came home from work. The needle was
still in her arm.”

“I’d ask you what DEA and narcotics are doing
about it, but I already know the answer. You think it’s time for me
to put in my papers?”

“No. I’d miss you too much.”

“You big sap. Got any advice?”

“Buckle up.”

“Great, I’ll book two sessions a week with
the department shrink.”

“Sorry, my friend, I only get involved after
someone bleeds. Shawn Riley wasn’t any better. What’s the deal with
him?”

“I’m still trying to locate his next of
kin.”

“Really, no parents?”

“None that I can locate. Shitty way to
go—your head gets blown off and there’s no one around for you.
That’s really awful. Maybe I’ll head over to Mulrooney’s Pub. It’s
not too early is it?”

“It’s never too early. Just don’t drink and
drive.”

“You bet. Okay, take it easy, Pete. I’ll let
you know when I find Riley’s parents.”

“Later, man. Thanks.”

His Egg McMuffin had grown cold in his hand.
He warmed it up in his mouth with hot coffee. He smiled as he
chewed and swallowed the mush.
Now this is living.

He was thinking about the case and growing
impatient. The traffic had now ground to a dead stop. “Enough is
enough,” he said. He switched on his lights and siren, maneuvered
over to the shoulder, and made a beeline for Exit 56.

Detective Sampson walked into police
headquarters holding a McDonald’s bag filled with sandwich wrappers
and his empty coffee cup. He disposed of the bag and refilled his
cup with coffee from the lunchroom before settling down at his
desk. He logged into his computer and began his background checks
on the parties involved in the double murder.

Keith Cooper’s recent arrest popped up
immediately and corroborated the information he had received from
Gabrielle Andersen at the crime scene. He had no other prior
records. Sampson would move on to doing a complete background check
on Cooper after he searched for criminal records on the other
victim.

Shawn Riley had a tight little list of
misdemeanor drug arrests going back about three years. There was
nothing that screamed “major offense” about Riley. Sampson’s
instincts told him there was more to this pair than he was seeing
on their rap sheets.

“How’s it going?” Lieutenant Steven Janik
said as he put his hand on Sampson’s shoulder. Janik was sipping
coffee from a Suffolk County Police Department mug. He leaned over
to review the information on the computer screen.

Sampson turned toward Janik. “Just getting
started, boss. One of the victim’s has a recent list of drug
arrests. The other was recently arrested for the attempted rape of
the homeowner.”

“So there’s motive.”

“Sure, I guess the revenge angle looks pretty
convincing, but why two dead bodies? Alexandra Ameleon, the
homeowner, is described as a woman in her early twenties, a college
student. How did she get away?”

“How do you know she was home at the time of
the altercation?” Janik raised his eyebrows. “The two perps could
have come looking for her only to find the house empty. They get
into an argument, toss it up, and then Riley pulls out his gun and
shoots Cooper.”

Sampson made a face that said,
I doubt
it.
“I will concede that possibility but only because I respect
you so much.”