Waiting and Watching (16 page)

“Yeah. Whatever, and guys, if there's any way you can get a beer bottle with his finger prints on it, it would be helpful,” Julio said with a smile.

“Anything else, Harriman?” Patrick asked.

“Nope, that's it. Now get those bare asses back on those hogs and make mama proud,” Julio said.

Julio's home phone rang at nearly midnight. It was the call he'd been waiting for.

“Hey man, it's your bare-assed buddie,” Otto said.

“What's up? Did you score?” Julio asked.

“You don't want to know what's up, and of course we scored,” Otto bantered back.

“I should have known better than to ask that. Of course you scored. Those butt-less leather pants on a hangar could score.” Julio laughed.

“We found your guy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. His name's Sammy Vreeland. We saw him get out of a black 1985 Cadillac Seville with the tacky vanity plate I LV2 SEL.

“You're shittin' me. He must be Beth's kid,” Julio said.

“You sent the right guys in to get the job done. We'd love to have you come over and collect the bottle, but we'll just bring it into work tomorrow,” Otto said.

“You mean you actually got his beer bottle?” Julio asked. “You guys are great—all joking aside, let me know what I can do to return the favor. Thanks guys. See you tomorrow.”

Later that morning Julio called Connie to let her know about the bottle. He assured her it was in a Ziploc bag and would be handled cautiously. Connie suggested Julio call Sgt. Reynolds to ask him to check the fingerprints and see if Sammy had any kind of criminal record. “You can express mail him the bottle,” Connie suggested.

“Just keep in mind this could be a dead end, so don't get your hopes up.”

Regardless, they agreed the mystery surrounding Beth Vreeland was worth checking out.

“Reynolds's told me he went through the file again after my incident with Martin. He wasn't in school the day of the murders,” Connie said. There was a note from his mother saying he was sick at home that whole week. He's going to dig further into the file to see why Martin was eliminated as a suspect back then.”

“It was probably because the police were so convinced Andrew was their guy,” Julio said. They weren't going to waste their time looking for any other possible suspects.”

“Reynolds also told me that Beth Vreeland claimed she was on her way to meet clients. The clients confirmed they had an appointment with her at nine that morning and to the best of their knowledge she was on time or maybe just a few minutes late.”

Julio said, “Depending on where she was meeting her clients, she still may have had time to do it.”

“I agree,” Connie said. “We need to find out more about her to better understand Dad and his connection with her.”

“Alright,” Julio said. “I'll get to the bottom of this he/she Vreeland deal.”

“Great and while you're doing that, I'm going to be spending a romantic weekend with Andrew in New York.”

“Well, have a great time Connie. You deserve it.”

Thursday—September25, 1986

Julio was waiting by the designated phone booth near The Lower Level when he received the call he was waiting for.

“Sammy just walked in.”

“Thanks, Otto. I'll be right over.”

Julio nervously walked into The Lower Level and spotted Otto right away. “Where is he?” Julio asked. Otto pointed towards the bar.

Julio saw a thin, drugged-out looking guy who was leaning on the bar smoking a cigarette. He walked over to him and asked if he could buy Sammy a drink in exchange for some small talk. Sammy accepted the drink and they walked over to a booth. Julio had a feeling Sammy didn't recognize him from the elevator and more likely had him pegged as a new trick.

As they sat down in the booth, Julio caught a glimpse of his attorney buddy Patrick slow dancing with some guy. The whole scene gave him a frightening feeling of being in a far out Fellini movie. Julio introduced himself to Sammy and said he wanted to ask him a few questions. Sammy immediately jumped up and started walking away from the booth. Julio grabbed his arm and said. “I'm not with the police or narcotics and I'm not here to threaten you. Please just hear me out. I intend to pay you for your time and all I want to do is talk.” With that, Sammy sat back down; his hands shaking as he lit a cigarette.

Julio decided to go with his gut and assume that Sammy is Beth Vreeland's son. He started out cautiously. “Listen Sammy, I'm just a regular guy whose parents knew your mother in Cincinnati.”

“So what does that have to do with me?” Sammy snarled.

“Did your mother ever mention a man named Dr. John Harriman?” Julio asked.

“What's it worth to you?”

Julio took out a one hundred dollar bill and laid it on the table. “Look Sammy, I intend to give you this for the time you're spending with me now. I know you and your mother have been running a scam and extorting money from your mother's married lovers. I'm not planning to blow the whistle on you, if I can help it. I just need to know where your mother is.”

“I honestly don't know and that's the truth,” Sammy said as he tucked the hundred dollar bill into his pocket. “Hell, she comes and goes as she pleases. When I don't see her, she's usually shacked up. She's been gone for months. This guy either has plenty of money or a huge dick.”

“Look man, it's none of my business, but I can't help but notice you look pretty strung out.”

“You're right. It's none of your business. Thanks for the beer,” Sammy said, making a move to leave.

Julio quickly pulled out another hundred and said, “Just a few more minutes and this is yours, too.” Sammy's eyes lit up and he sat back down.

“Look Sammy, your Mother and my Father were involved somehow in Cincinnati. I think they were having an affair. My parents were murdered and your mother might be able to give me some insight into who killed them.”

“So let me get this straight. You think my mother killed your parents?”

“Doubtful, but she may know something about who did.”

“Look, like I told you before; my mother comes and goes as she pleases. I spent my whole life traveling from place to place because of my mother's selfish whims,” Sammy whined.

“Alright. I concede that you don't know where she is. I can't help thinking you're still living off her schemes and now you've got another way of existing which doesn't look too healthy to me.” A waiter, naked except for a leather thong, came up to the table and asked if they wanted another beer. Julio nodded yes.

“What do you care, anyway?” Sammy asked, taking a long pull on his cigarette.

“I guess in some way, you and I are both victims of our parents. You must have had a tough life and you deserved more,” Julio said.

“How do you know my life is so bad?”

“It's pretty obvious. You have track marks all over your arms and you're turning tricks in here. It doesn't look good to me, that's all. I understand being gay, but this place is a sleazy, bottom-of-the barrel kind of place.”

“Ironically, this is where I feel the most comfortable. I finally found men like me, men who accept me for what I am. You're right. It wasn't easy growing up a shy, skinny, gay guy. I had few friends and my mother left me alone most of the time. The only thing she needed me for was to help her pull off her scams.”

“Did you finish high school, Sammy?”

“No, but a social worker helped me get my GED.”

“I guess that means you never went to college.”

“Oh, sure I did. I was big man on campus, Mr. Frat boy,” he said sarcastically.

“You also look sick. You need to get on some medicine and get off whatever you're shooting in your veins.”

“Listen, in this lifestyle, we're all sick. Shooting smack only helps me shut out the inevitable. If getting high makes me feel better, why shouldn't I do it? Living my lifestyle is like playing Russian roulette every day. You don't know what's in store for you, so you might as well block out reality. Is that what you wanted to hear? Now, if you're done with the twenty questions, I'll be joining my friends.”

“Alright, here's the other hundred and my phone number,” Julio said, handing Sammy one of his business cards along with the hundred, “just in case you think of something else that might help me later on. Or if you just want to talk. Or if…well, if you decide you want to get clean, give me a call and I'll do what I can to help you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, sliding out of the booth. “Thanks for the beers. See you around.”

Julio walked back to Otto and offered to buy him a beer. “That's okay man. You can cut out of here. I know you're uncomfortable.”

“Thanks, Otto,” Julio said, buddy-slapping his burly shoulder before leaving.

He couldn't get out of this place fast enough.

Friday—September 26, 1986

Andrew couldn't contain his excitement about seeing Connie again. He was on his way to the airport to pick her up for the weekend and they were driving to upper Westchester to a romantic bed and breakfast. They were to spend the night in the country and then go back to Andrew's apartment on Sunday. As Andrew drove up to the baggage claim area at JFK, he spotted Connie immediately.

She beamed as soon as she recognized Andrew pulling up to the curb in a sporty red Camaro ragtop. She was thrilled to see him and couldn't get over how handsome and confident he looked as he sprinted out of the car and eagerly embraced her in his strong arms. He was dressed casually in khaki shorts and a navy blue polo shirt. Both emphasized his toned and muscular physique.

Andrew was still struck by Connie's natural beauty. Her silky brown hair glistened in the morning sun and haloed her finely sculptured features. Her lightweight cashmere jacket, unbuttoned to reveal a pale green turtleneck, brought out the green specks in her hazel eyes and did nothing to hide her slender figure. The passage of so many years seemed only to enhance her wholesome good looks. Andrew thought she could easily pass for a young woman in her early twenties. Once Andrew had Connie and luggage loaded into the car, he drove off happier than he had been for a long time.

It was a beautiful fall day in New York, and the air smelled clean and fresh. “Do you want the top down?" he asked.

“Yes. I'd love the top down.”

Andrew looked at Connie and smiled widely, almost laughing as he set the top in motion. The ragtop folded itself back into place behind the back seats.

“What are you looking at and what is that goofy smile about?” Connie asked.

“I can't believe you're here and this is happening.”

“Well, it is, so let's go. And keep your eyes on the road,” Connie said, laughing as he pulled away from the curb. With the side windows up, the air barely stirred her hair. Of course, the posted speed limits on the airport exits were low. Once they got moving, that would change. She pulled a scarf from her pocket and tied it around her hair.

“I've got directions to the inn printed out in the glove compartment,” Andrew said. “When I get off at the Salem exit, let me know where to go from there,”

Driving up the Hutchison River Parkway was breathtaking with all the fall colors. It started to get a little cool, but they kept the top down and Andrew turned on the heater.

“This is a great little car,” Connie said.

“I think so, too. I just rented it this morning.”

“You rented it…why?”

“I rented it because I don't own a car.”

“Why not?” Connie asked.

“Because I'm a New Yorker now. I don't need a car. I live eight blocks from my office and two blocks from my dry cleaner and grocery store.”

“You're kidding?” Connie exclaimed.

“Haven't you ever been to New York?” he asked.

“No, never. Why?” she asked.

“Well, I'd better prepare you. I live in a very small, one-bedroom, single bath apartment. It's a co-op building in an upmarket neighborhood. If I had a car, the garage would cost me almost half as much as my monthly mortgage. I make a good living, but New Yorkers live small. Space is expensive. Kitchens, bathrooms and closets are going to look tiny compared to what you're used to. I moved stuff around and even put my summer clothes in storage at the dry cleaners. However, know in advance we are going to have to be creative or stretch the budget and get a bigger place. You're not getting cold feet, are you?”

“You can't scare me off that easily, Andrew. I don't care where you live or what you do, you're stuck with me.”

After they took the exit, they drove through winding tree-lined roads and passed deep blue lakes and ponds. They followed the directions until they came to a sign that read Mayfair Cottage Inn.

The inn looked like something out of a storybook. It was white clapboard with dark green shutters and it seemed to go on forever. The public rooms were decorated in early American colors with original Duncan Phyfe furniture. There was a beautiful dining room, lounge and guestrooms in the main building. Connie and Andrew were in a private little cottage towards the back of the inn. They planned to ride bikes and do some hiking while they got to know each other all over again.

They checked in and the bellboy showed them to their little cottage. It was charming with a four-poster bed and wood-burning fireplace. The room was decorated in yellow chintz with a yellow bedspread, curtains and comfortable overstuffed upholstered chairs.

Andrew suggested they start out with a hike in the woods. They donned their shorts and hiking boots and began following the trails mapped out by the bellboy. There was a wonderful smell of hickory-smoked fires from nearby fireplaces and a musky sage smell in the air. Connie felt alive and energized as they walked and talked.