Murder My Love (6 page)

Chapter 5

Pressured by her boss, Susan Angel could no longer keep the story under wraps. It first appeared in the early Wednesday morning edition of the West Warwick Gazette. The only concession she could extract from her editor was to run it on page six, hoping that other newspapers would not delve into the guts of a small town newspaper. She, too, did not want the harsh eye of the major newspapers and TV media focused on her town. The scrutiny of outsiders could very well tarnish its reputation. She was well aware that the college’s reputation and vitality depended on the public perception of West Warwick.

Officer Steven Huff was at home eating his breakfast, a stack of pancakes slathered with butter and dripping Vermont maple syrup, when his wife brought in the newspaper from the porch. She sat across the table from her husband and began to leaf through it. They exchanged little conversation. After thirty years of marriage they had become accustomed to a pedestrian life. Their childless marriage was the gulf that separated them. She had tried desperately to become pregnant, but all the tests she’d endured failed to provide a reason why she was infertile. Steven refused to participate in the process. He thought it demeaning to provide a sample of sperm by pleasuring himself. His reluctance became a bone of contention that led to a tepid relationship. As affable as Steven could be about so many issues, so too was his intransigence when it came to issues of sex. He chose to deny the possibility that it was his biological fault.

Karen continued leafing through the newspaper, reading aloud headlines she thought would interest her husband. If it were to his liking, he would acknowledge with a grunt. When she came to page six, she shrieked, “Oh my God!”

Steven looked up from his stack. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Two people were murdered on Elm Street. Do you know about this?”

Huff grabbed the paper out of her hand and read the article. He thought for a minute how he would explain to his wife why he hadn’t told about the gruesome event, that it was he who first discovered the bodies. Then he recalled what the chief had said, “Tell no one, not even your significant other.” Now that it was public knowledge he felt relieved. He was free to share with his wife the horror he witnessed. He put down the paper and with teary eyes began to recount the events of the past two days. When he had completed his retelling, Karen got up, walked around the table and kissed him on his wet cheek.

“Honey, I know what you told me the other night but you have to tender your resignation right now,” she whispered in his ear. “You’ve served this town long enough.”

“I know. But I’ve got to see this through. The chief gave me responsible assignments, and I don’t want to quit on her now.”

Huff got up from the table without finishing his breakfast. He pinned on his badge, hooked up his radio to his collar and strapped on his belt and holster. Kissing his wife on the lips he whispered, “Thanks for listening.”

He bolted from his home eager to tell his boss that he had interviewed Linda Greenwell’s co-worker and that he had learned the name of the other lady who lived in the Elm Street house.

As Huff was parking his car he could see that the sidewalk outside the police station and the reception area were crowded with cameras, television crews, and reporters. The story of the murders as reported in the local paper had been leaked to the Hartford Gazette and to the local television station. Reporters had descended, as expected, like a horde of locusts. As Huff wormed his way into the police station, the questions came fast and furious, The media was relentless. It took several policemen to herd the mob into an orderly crowd.

Chief Wilson would have been relieved if all that she’d have to contend with was the media. No sooner had she worked her way through the mob, than she received a call from an irate District Attorney.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Abby, keeping me out of the loop?” he screamed into the telephone. Rocklein vented his anger at her for not keeping him abreast of the crime and the progress of the investigation.

“Greg, please! Just look outside my window and see what the news has done to this town. I tried to contain the story until I had some facts.”

“Well, you didn’t.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I’m up to my ass. I will brief you in person by the end of the day.”

“Tell me something right now so I don’t look like a jerk if someone asks me a question.” She provided a condensed summary of Kruger’s presentation. She also told him about the audiotape.”

“I want a daily briefing, Abby.”

“I promise,” she said.

While Abby had been on the phone with the DA, a woman had stormed into the lobby of police headquarters and confronted Sergeant Skinner.

“Who the fuck wrapped yellow ribbon around my house?” she demanded.

“Hold on lady, who are you and what house are you talking about?”

“I am Alice Chicciarelli and the house would be 172 Elm Street. I just flew in from Arizona on the red-eye and I can’t even get into my own god damn house. Who’s in charge here?”

“That would be Chief Wilson. I’ll get her for you.”

“The Chief is a ‘her’? You’re joking!”

“I’ll let the Chief know you’re here.”

“Why is it wrapped in yellow tape?” she screamed.

Sergeant Skinner asked her to take a seat while he got someone to answer her questions. He stepped from behind his desk and hurried into the Chief’s office first knocking on the doorjamb.

“There’s a lady here to see you, sir.”

“Not now, Skinner.”

“Begging you pardon, Chief, nothing could be more important.”

The Chief concluded her call with the DA and looked at Skinner who was partially standing in the doorway. From that vantage she could see the woman through the bulletproof glass standing in the lobby. She was dressed in a gray business suit gripping a piece of roll-on luggage by its handle and tapping one foot nervously. A black purse hanging by a strap from her shoulder was tucked under her arm. A scarf tied at the neck filled the gap between the lapels of her jacket. She wore no jewelry on her suit. The Chief said she would take care of the situation and dismissed Skinner. She slowly walked out to the lobby and greeted the lady.

“I’m Chief Abby Wilson. How can I help you?” she said as soothingly as she could muster, knowing intuitively who she might be. The lady repeated what she had said to Skinner without the vulgarity. The Chief extended her hand and invited her into her office.

“Where have you been, Miss …?”

“Alice. Alice Chicciarelli. I just got back from a business meeting in Arizona.”

“I assume you live at 172 Elm.”

“Correct. And I can’t get into my own house.”

“I’m sorry. I have very bad news for you.”

The Chief told her what they had discovered three days before. She said, “Linda Greenwell has been murdered.”

Her statement was direct, brief and to the point. She told her nothing of the savagery. Alice collapsed to the floor and broke into tears. She sobbed like a baby. She was inconsolable. The Chief didn’t try to allay her sorrow. She sat impassively and allowed her to vent her emotion until she was spent. An eternity seemed to have passed until Alice reached into her purse, took out a packet of Kleenex and began to wipe away the tears. Her mascara had dribbled down her cheeks and her lipstick was smudged across her face. As one woman to another, Wilson felt a twinge of sympathy.

“Would you like to freshen up?”

“No, no. I’ll be all right.”

She stood up, straightened her skirt and brushed back her hair.

“Who could do such a thing?”

“We were hoping you could lead us in the right direction,” she said.

Wilson proceeded to expand on her terse announcement of Linda’s death. She enlarged the story to say that her housemate was brutally attacked but continued to keep the morbid details in reserve. She then told her there was another victim. At that, Alice asked, “Was it another woman?”

Wilson declined to answer. She remained impassive. She wanted to know why Alice would even suspect another woman. Alice looked directly at Wilson. The tears had dried up. Her composure was restored. She asked the chief, “Are you aware of my relationship with Linda?” Alice paused to collect her thoughts. “She was more than just a roommate, if you know what I mean.”

“Look, Alice, I’m not living in the eighteenth century. I’m not here to judge anyone’s lifestyle. My job is to solve a murder.”

Alice seemed relieved. She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. Her black patent leather shoe with a stiletto heel swung nervously. She looked like a woman at a bar about to take out a pack of cigarettes from her pocketbook and light up.

The chief then repeated her question. “Why do you suspect the other victim is a woman?”

Alice took in a deep breath, almost a sigh. “Because I believe Linda was fooling around with someone else.”

Wilson did not respond. She remained impassive, displaying not one whit of emotion. She tented her hands, thumbs together, and the tips of her fingers barely touching. She absently looked at the construct they made and was struck by the conformity of her fingers. They were in the shape of an upside down heart. How symbolic, she thought. She wondered how much to reveal. While considering this, she was able to look at Alice more thoroughly. Alice had a trim figure. Her jet-black hair was parted in the middle and evenly combed straight down each side to frame her face. While her makeup was a mess, her skin was smooth, except for a beauty mark on her left cheek. Her green eyes were rimmed in red but they sparkled nevertheless. Silver earrings shimmered in the light from the window. She was an exceptionally attractive woman. She thought of how many men would be drawn to her and would give anything to be in her company. What man would not want to have such a beautiful woman at his side? Or, in his bed? And like many men who judged beautiful lesbian women, she also wondered why Alice had chosen the life she led. Or, was it a choice at all? In a fleeting moment, like a flash of light, she wondered if she, herself, could ever be attracted to a woman like her? Or, any other woman? Was she attracted now? Could she see herself wrapped in the arms of this gorgeous creature? She snapped out from her reverie and said, “The other victim was a young man.”

“Well, that’s a bit of relief.”

“I hope you can help identify him.”

Alice assured Wilson she would do whatever she could to help solve the murder. Wilson asked her if she was up to looking at a few photos. She responded affirmatively. Wilson walked into the conference room to the locked evidence file-cabinet to retrieve photos of the crime scene. She quickly sorted through them and selected two that were the least horrific. She returned to her office and gently placed the photos on the desk in front of Alice who quickly glanced at them and turned away. Her furtive look suggested that she was fearful that a trick had been played on her. Would the Chief show a photo of another woman instead of the young man, one that she knew? She didn’t want confirmation that her lover had cheated on her, and that it may have led to an act of violence. She looked back at the photos, picked them up and studied them. She placed them back on the desk and said, “That’s her cousin from Pennsylvania. His name is Klopowitz. Don’t ask me how to spell it.”

Wilson then asked if she knew a person named Rita. Alice said she knew the name, but not the person. She never met her, but Linda had told her that a woman named Rita was Linda’s former lover.

“Do you think she could have committed murder?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I doubt it.” Alice said she was told Rita was “a short dumpy grandmotherly type.”

Wilson was incredulous. “A short dumpy grandmother?”

Alice looked at her squarely. “You don’t know much, do you?” She sighed audibly. “When you’re tired of a dildo, it’s any willing partner, even an older woman.”

The Chief made every effort to withhold comment either verbally or with a gesture. She thanked her for her cooperation and told her she understood how devastating the news had been. She also told her she could not return to her home because it was still a crime scene and had not yet been released by the medical examiner. She offered the service of the department to locate living accommodations. Alice wanted to know for how long she would be displaced. Wilson said she didn’t honestly know. She offered that homicide of this magnitude was something new in West Warwick. One thing they did not want to do was contaminate the crime scene. Alice said she understood. Wilson began to escort her to the front door and said, “If anything comes to mind, I mean anything, please know my office is always open to you.” Alice looked at her intently and said, “I will.”

As they were walking Abby asked, “By the way, why were you in Arizona?”

“A convention.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not what you think. I supervise thirty claims adjusters at Federated Insurance. It was all business.”

“It sounds like you have a lot of responsibility.”

“You have no idea.”

Abby ushered her out the door and said good-bye. She returned to her office and slumped in her chair, emotionally exhausted. She could not get out of her mind the image of Chicciarelli seated before her, rocking her leg back and forth. While Abby was deep in thought, a woman among the crowd wormed her way into the reception area and stood before the desk sergeant’s window. She said she was related to Stanley Klopowitz and she wanted to speak with whomever was in charge of the investigation. Skinner recognized the name and immediately ushered her into one of the smaller rooms that were used for informal interviews.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked.

“No. No, thank you.”

“I’ll call the officer in charge. He’ll be with you in a few minutes. As you saw when you were outside, it’s a little hectic around here right now.”

“I’ll wait as long as necessary. It’s been a long trip.”

Skinner briefed the lieutenant and gave the Chief a “heads up.” Abby felt that she’d had enough with one emotional interview and couldn’t handle another. She deferred to Stanton by saying she was writing up a report about the Chicciarelli interview. Besides, if she was also present it might overwhelm the woman. Within moments Stanton entered the interview room and apologized for the delay.