Ruthless (2 page)

CHAPTER 5

Hoodie, watching the local news to see how the investigation of Jay Mancini’s murder was proceeding, was pleased to hear the police admit they had no solid leads.

Hoodie practically danced with glee.
“That’s what I’m talking about. Sayonara, Mr. Mancini!”

The appearance of Louise Sinclair on the live news feed piqued Hoodie’s interest. Louise, Jay’s live-in girlfriend, appeared willing to talk with reporters.

“Miss Sinclair, have the police contacted you about the investigation? What have you told them?” asked a reporter.

“Yes, of course they contacted me. I provided some background information which could very well be of use. We’ll have to wait and see how much it helps, I suppose.”

“And what will you do now? Will you remain here?”

“No, this was Jay’s condo, not mine. I wouldn’t stay here even if it were mine, though. It’s too full of sadness now. I suppose I’ll go back to my old apartment eventually.”

Hoodie turned off the TV and contemplated the blank screen. Louise’s statements had diminished the pleasure of the moment.

After pondering for a few minutes, Hoodie mumbled, “Perhaps Miss Sinclair needs a little attention, too.”

With that determination, Hoodie decided to begin tracking Louise Sinclair’s routine, beginning the next day.

CHAPTER 6

As Alton traveled home from work that night, his cell phone rang.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Al, it’s David,” said the caller. After sustaining his bomb-blast injury, Alton’s closest friend in Afghanistan besides Mallory had been David Dunlow. Being a bit of a class clown, David had unilaterally assigned him the nickname of “Al,” despite Alton’s protests.

“Hello, David. How are you?” asked Alton, rolling his eyes at the moniker.

“Pretty good. Hey—I wanted to give you an update. Fahima’s appointment with the US embassy in Kabul is scheduled for Thursday of next week…finally.” David and the lovely Fahima, an Afghanistan citizen, had become engaged during David’s in-country Army deployment. The couple had intended on marrying in Kabul, but the unexpected death of Fahima’s father ten months earlier had changed their plans. With no other family in Afghanistan, they had decided instead to marry in the US, thereby providing an opportunity for Alton, Mallory, and David’s aging father Jacob to attend the wedding. The process of applying for a US visa, however, involved mountains of documentation and interminable waiting.

“That’s great news,” replied Alton. “So, what are the chances she’ll be granted a US visa?”

“I really don’t know,” replied David. “I wrote a letter to the embassy, explaining that she and I are gonna be married here. But last week I was researching the visa approval process online, and I read that it’s easier for an immigrant to get a visa if they’re already married to a US citizen. The website said that claiming you’re gonna get married in the US doesn’t mean much, since people could use that as an excuse to enter the country illegally. So now I’m a little worried.”

“I see what you’re saying,” said Alton. “How long after Thursday will you have to wait to find out if she’s approved?”

“They’re supposed to let her know at the end of the interview. At least we won’t be in suspense for long.”

“You’re going to let me know what happens, right?” asked Alton.

“You bet,” confirmed David.

Alton and David—who now worked as a Secret Service agent in Washington, DC—conversed for a few more minutes, catching up on events since their last talk several weeks earlier. Their soldierly experiences in Afghanistan had bonded them closer than brothers, and that bond had maintained its strength in their new civilian lives. They wrapped up the call just as Alton pulled into the parking space of his condo.

During his nightly conversation with Mallory, Alton brought up the topic of Jay’s murder, including Chelsea’s hypothesis that it had been a professional job.

“What do you think? Does it seem plausible?” asked Alton.

“If the family’s mob connections check out, I’d say yes,” replied Mallory. “Let me investigate the Mancini family’s background first. If they’re truly part of the mob, we’ll have a file on them. If that turns out to be the case, I’ll call the Organized Crime Division and pass along this information. That group is in the best position to investigate it.” Alton could tell she was talking through pursed lips.

“I’m surprised the Smyrna Police aren’t the ones contacting the FBI about this,” she continued, “but I guess at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. If Smyrna PD
had
raised the question, they’d end up talking to our Organized Crime folks anyway.”

“Thanks, Mallory,” said Alton. “I’ll let Chelsea know.”

The next day, Mallory called Alton with an update.

“I confirmed the Mancini family’s connection to organized crime. The family’s working files would have taken several days to read.”

“Interesting. What happens next? You’ll contact the Organized Crime division?”

“I already did. I briefed Agent Stewart there.”

“Had he heard about this case already?” asked Alton.

“No, not at all,” replied Mallory. “He said he should have, given the information I supplied. He said he’d look into it, first by contacting the Los Angeles field office so they can pay a visit to the family members out there. The LA office can see which family members do—and don’t—have an alibi for the date of Jay Mancini’s murder. He said he’d keep me in the loop.”

“It’s nice that he’s willing to keep you involved, but it doesn’t strike me as typical.”

“It’s not, really, but he seemed pretty happy to get my call. I believe his words were, ‘It’s hard to pin anything on these bastards, so I’m happy anytime a lead like this comes along.’”

Alton passed the information along to Chelsea, who seemed to find relief in the new line of inquiry. Feeling out of his league in a mob case, Alton felt satisfied that he had directed the investigation to the proper agency and could now put the matter behind him.

CHAPTER 7

Louise Sinclair noticed that Sam, her dog, seemed to bark more often since Jay’s death. She wondered if Sam’s world had been turned upside down, too. Louise herself felt adrift. She had yet to muster the energy to move out of Jay’s condo. And though in the past she had started her workdays in the gym, she had now lost interest.

Louise’s friends, including Jay’s niece Chelsea, had encouraged her to reestablish her normal routine as a means of healing. So, two weeks after Jay’s death, she departed the condo for her morning yoga class once again. The class helped, but the confusion and utter shock into which she had been thrown resisted this early effort at recovery.

Several days later, as Louise left for her exercise session, Sam seemed particularly agitated. Louise couldn’t blame him. The yoga class had thrown another curve ball into his routine.
But it’s important to go
,
to start pulling my life back together, one step at a time
.

As she stepped out into the morning chill, the tranquility of the crisp night air and shimmering stars contrasted with the tumult of emotions still roiling inside her. She wondered when she would start to feel normal again.

As Sam’s incessant barking grew louder, Louise’s wandering attention snapped back into focus. “Sam, be quiet,” she hissed through the door. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

Louise shook her head in exasperation at the frenetic dog. As she turned to walk to her car, a hooded figure emerged from the dense landscaping that bordered the sidewalk, causing Louise to halt in surprise. The figure took one long stride forward and thrust something upward toward her chest.

The explosion of pain nearly blinded Louise. She stared in horror at the blood flowing from her chest and onto the hand that still grasped the hilt of a knife buried deep in her torso. She collapsed almost vertically, her head creating a soft
whump
as it landed on the landscaping’s layer of pine bark. Within seconds, all was still except for Sam’s furious barking and Louise’s shallow breaths.

With her last, labored respirations, Louise’s eyes fluttered open, and she watched the figure methodically remove latex gloves and seal them along with a large hunting knife inside a gallon-size plastic bag. She watched the figure walk briskly to a waiting car, remove latex footies, seal them in a second plastic bag, and calmly drive away.

Darkness began to close in, and her breathing became increasingly labored.
Oh God…why?

CHAPTER 8

The evening of Louise’s last day on earth, Alton was in a middle of his nightly conversation with Mallory when the call-waiting signal beeped in his ear. He glanced down at the caller ID. “Hon, David is calling through. Do you mind if I take his call?”

“No—take it,” replied Mallory, who, like Alton, waited with anticipation for news of Fahima’s visa application.

Alton switched over and answered the incoming call.

“Hello—David?” he asked.

“Hey, Al,” said David. The glum tone of his voice was not encouraging.

“So…?”

“She wasn’t approved,” said David flatly. Alton could imagine David running his hand through his hair, a habit he was wont to do in moments of frustration. “Eight months of winding through the process, and her visa is denied. Crap.”

“I’m sorry,” said Alton. “Did the embassy staff say why she wasn’t approved?”

“Yeah. They said she had ‘insufficient assets.’ From what I can tell, an applicant has to have a shit-load of money to prove they’re not planning on coming to the US with the intent of staying on indefinitely as an illegal alien.”

“What about your upcoming marriage? That didn’t help her case, huh?”

“No,” replied David. “The interviewer told Fahima it doesn’t matter. You have to already be married.”

“So now what will you all do?”

“I’m not sure. I know what we
can’t
do. We can’t protest the outcome. The interviewer said visa denials can’t be appealed, and a sponsor letter makes no difference. He said the applicant has to meet the conditions of visa approval on her own, so the kind of letter I wrote—the one explaining our marriage—isn’t part of the equation.”

“Well, dang,” said Alton. “What do you think you’ll do now?”

“To be honest, Al, I really don’t know. I suppose we can get married in Kabul, if that’s our only choice. Just in case that happens…how many frequent flier miles do you have?” he quipped.

Alton chuckled softly. “Enough, if it comes to that.”

“Seriously, if we had to do that, Dad wouldn’t be able to come,” said David glumly. “He’s too frail for that kind of travel.”

“I know,” said Alton. “Keep me posted, will you?”

“You bet.”

Alton returned to his conversation with Mallory and passed along David’s update.

“That’s too bad,” said Mallory, “but I think they’ll have a happy ending eventually. They just might have to wait for it a little longer.”

CHAPTER 9

As Alton conversed with David, Hoodie sat watching the news report on “the latest horrific murder.” Citing an ongoing investigation, the police had shared almost no information with the news crew except for the names and shared residence of the victims and the fact that they had not died natural deaths. Lacking concrete information, the journalists simply described the few known details of the two murders, engaged in speculation about other facts, and conducted the usual interviews of the victims’ neighbors.

Hoodie spoke to the flickering images on the television. “Surely the police can’t be that stupid. They have to be onto the family connection by now. But if they are, it’s no surprise they’re being tight-lipped.”

Turning down the volume, Hoodie pondered the best course of action and addressed the television once again. “Sometimes the best strategy is to lay low, let events unfold by themselves, and then develop the right counterstrategy. This feels like one of those times.”

CHAPTER 10

The next day, a tearful Chelsea appeared in the doorway of Alton’s Kruptos office.

“What’s wrong?” asked Alton, rising from his chair.

“The police just called. Louise—Uncle Jay’s girlfriend—is dead. She was murdered. She…” Chelsea broke down into quiet sobs.

Alton moved towards her, but Chelsea composed herself.

“I’m all right. I’m sorry. I just can’t believe…I feel like I’m in a dream…like this isn’t really happening.”

“Can I help?” asked Alton softly, really at a loss to know what he could do but wanting to make the offer, nonetheless.

“I don’t know…maybe. At least Detective Mason—the Smyrna Police investigator—is taking the idea of ‘family’ involvement seriously now. Between last week’s call from the FBI and this new assassination, it’s pretty clear both murders were professional.”

“I see. So, what would you like me to do?”

“I know the police are working on this, but Uncle Jay told me it’s always hard to pin a crime on the family. That’s why the solidarity code is so important.

“I know you have experience investigating the unusual. Could you take a look at these murders and lend your expertise? See if there’s anything the police or FBI have overlooked?”

“I really don’t have their expertise, Chelsea,” said Alton, “but I’m happy to help. Is there any particular part of the investigation where you think the police may be missing something?”

“Yes—possibly. No one has come to me for information about the Mancini family. I called the FBI agent you put me in touch with, and he said they already have a file a mile long about my family. I can believe that. He said with me living on the east coast for so long, I wouldn’t be able to shed any new light on the family. But it seems like I might know
something
that could help. Maybe having a second set of eyes, especially someone who has a talent for unraveling mysteries, might help. Could you go over some of the family history with me? Help me decide if there’s something important I should tell the police and the FBI?”

“Sure. When would you like to meet?” asked Alton.

“Would it be asking too much to get together tonight at my place? I have some materials there I’d like to review with you.”

“That’d be fine.”

“Okay, here’s my address,” she said, handing him a slip of paper. “How about seven o’clock?”

Alton checked his calendar. “That would work.”

“Thanks, Alton.”

Alton arrived at the appointed hour. Chelsea ushered him inside and introduced him to Pam Edwards, her apartment-mate. Alton thought he recognized the figure before him and scoured his memory to place her below-average height and mild expression in context.

“Hi, Pam. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Alton Blackwell. You look familiar. You work at Kruptos, too, right?”

“Yes,” replied Pam timidly, “that’s how I met Chelsea. I moved here from Birmingham to take a job at Kruptos.”

Chelsea laughed. “Pam’s being a little modest. She was heavily recruited out of college and is an exceptional member of the Aegis project team. Kruptos is lucky to have her as an employee, and I’m lucky to have her as an apartment-mate.”

“How’d you all end up together here?” asked Alton.

“We were both assigned to the Aegis project team, and Chelsea and I became friends,” replied Pam. “After a while, she asked me if I wanted to share this apartment with her.”

“Yep,” confirmed Chelsea. “It’s worked out fine, hasn’t it?” Pam nodded, and Chelsea continued. “We both work a lot, and Pam is as quiet as a mouse. It’s more economical and fun to share the place, isn’t it? Who wants to live alone?”

It was Pam’s turn to nod. “Chelsea has been really nice to me. It’s been great living here.”

“I’m sure you’ve been a help to Chelsea during her recent difficulties,” said Alton.

“To be honest, it all kind of freaks me out. I’m probably not as helpful as I should be.”

Chelsea chimed in. “It’s fine, Pam. It’s not your problem.” Turning to Alton, she added, “Pam may be one of the best software developers on the team, but she doesn’t have the stomach for talking about…what happened to Jay and Louise. She usually has to leave the room.” Alton could believe it. Pam’s demeanor was that of a frightened rabbit ready to scurry back to its warren at the first sign of trouble.

Alton chatted with Pam about her Kruptos work for a few minutes. In the midst of this conversation, his cell phone began ringing. Looking down, he saw the caller was David. “Excuse me a moment. Do you mind if I take this call?”

“No, it’s okay,” replied Pam.

Alton stepped into the adjacent kitchen and answered his ringing phone. “Hello?”

“Al, it’s David.”

“Hi. Any news on Fahima’s visa?”

“No, but I do have a different sort of update on her. You remember how her dad died without a will?”

“Yep.”

“Well, because he didn’t have a will, it’s taken a long time for the Afghanistan court to settle his estate.”

“Kind of like the US,” said Alton.

“Exactly. Well, Fahima said a probate judge finally set a date for early next week to disburse her dad’s estate.”

“That’s good news, right?” asked Alton. “How is Fahima feeing about that?”

David paused before answering. “Well, on one hand, it’s hard for her to be reminded of her father’s death. She and her dad were really close. It’s been less than a year since his passing, and Fahima still gets sad when she dwells in it. On the other hand, I think it’ll be good for her to put it behind her. Having this final probate hearing should help do that.”

“That’s good. If there’s anyone to cheer her up, you’re the man for the job,” said Alton, thinking of his friend’s propensity for comical antics and bad jokes.

“Yeah—that’s what Fahima said,” confirmed David, “but I’m gonna need someone to cheer
me
up if we don’t get through the visa red tape somehow. It feels like we’ve been waiting forever.” He sighed. “I just want to get married.”

“I can understand that,” replied Alton, pacing the kitchen as he spoke.

“I think we’re just going to have go back to plan A—have a Kabul wedding after all,” said David. “I know it’s not what we expected, but I don’t think we have any other choice. I’m bummed my dad won’t be able to come, what with his health and all. I hope you and Mallory can still make it somehow, but I understand if it doesn’t work out.”

“I think we’d be able to swing it,” said Alton. For a moment, he recalled his last day in Kabul, which had also been his last day in the Army. Believing it to be the final time he would lay his eyes on Mallory, he had flown out of the Afghanistan capital in a state of black depression he hoped to never repeat. How different his emotions would be on such a return visit!

After talking for a few minutes more, Alton and David wrapped up the call.

Alton emerged from the kitchen. “Sorry for the wait.”

“No worries, Alton,” said Chelsea. “I’m the one taking you out of your normal routine.”

“Are you ready to begin?” asked Alton.

“Yes, but I meant to ask you…have you had dinner yet?” asked Chelsea.

“Um…no, actually,” replied Alton, realizing he hadn’t thought about it until that moment.

“I could make a quick dinner while you all work,” suggested Pam.

“Sure—if you don’t mind,” said Alton with Chelsea nodding in agreement.

“Nope,” confirmed Pam. “I was going to anyway. Now I’ll just make enough for three.” She immediately moved to the kitchen and set about pulling ingredients from the refrigerator.

Alton turned his attention to Chelsea. “How would you like to tackle this?”

“I have a family scrapbook from my last trip out to San Diego a few years ago,” said Chelsea. “Why don’t we start with that?”

They sat at the kitchen table and reviewed the many branches of the sprawling Mancini family tree. Alton was surprised at the quantity of people contained within its pages. “It’s no wonder the FBI has a large file on these guys,” he observed to Chelsea.

They reviewed each page of Chelsea’s scrapbook. Chelsea provided a running commentary, while Alton occasionally asked questions and studied the album’s contents. After an hour, Alton had to admit that he hadn’t yet experienced any flashes of insight.

When all other pages had been reviewed, Chelsea turned at last to the pictures of Jay, who was featured prominently. Chelsea hung her head for a moment. She rubbed a tear from her cheek and looked at Alton with determination.

“Were you two close?” he asked gently.

“Yes, I used to see Uncle Jay a lot. He’s—he
was
—my only family in this part of the country, so he’d come visit pretty often. That’s how he met Louise, actually.”

“Really?” 

“Yes. Louise lived in the complex here. We were pretty good friends, and she’d came over all the time. On one of the days she was visiting, Uncle Jay was supposed to come pick me up for lunch. I threw out that I had family coming over, but Louise was a bit of a chatterbox and didn’t take the hint. She hadn’t left by the time Uncle Jay arrived. They met, and it seemed like love at first sight.” A quivering lip betrayed the melancholy behind her smile.

Alton drummed his fingers in thought. “You said she was a chatterbox. How long did she live with Jay?”

“About half a year—maybe a little more. Why?”

“After that much time, she would have known Jay pretty well. I wonder if the person who murdered Jay was concerned about how much information Jay had shared with Louise. I think I’ll give my FBI contact a call.”

“Are you all at a good stopping point?” called Pam from the kitchen.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, we are,” answered Alton, mindful of his empty stomach’s increasingly-vigorous cacophony of growling sounds.

Pam laid out three plates of chicken parmesan, and the three Kruptos workers crowded around the table.

“Sorry again for the unexpected call earlier,” said Alton. “I know I’m here pretty late as it is.”

“Alton,” said Chelsea, “It’s no problem—really.” She looked him squarely in the face and smiled, revealing two rows of dazzling white teeth.

“Thanks for being understanding. That was David, a friend of mine from Afghanistan.” He explained Fahima’s recent visa denial and his friends’ subsequent uncertainty regarding the next step in their quest to marry in the US.

“Hmm,” said Pam, looking thoughtful. “You know, during my last semester at college, I had an ‘International Relations’ class. Professor Riley, the teacher, said he used to work at the US embassy in Quito, Ecuador. I wonder if he could give any good advice on how to proceed. Maybe there are options your friends haven’t considered. Would you like me to give him a call?”

“Yes—that’d be great. I don’t see what harm it would do to contact him,” said Alton. “And I’m glad you offered to make the introductions. I’m not sure what kind of response I’d get if I called him out of the blue.”

“Okay,” said Pam. “I’ll call him tomorrow and let you know what I find out.”

“Great—thanks,” said Alton. “Worst case, we’ll confirm David and Fahima have no other avenues to pursue.”

“That’s right,” said Chelsea. “Who knows—maybe you’ll be able to surprise them with some good news.”