Chapter Five

Joey Mantegno was probably one of the most popular staffers at the Chicago Police Department’s central headquarters. Petite, only about five two and weighing in at around one hundred pounds, Joey’s youthful face was graced by reddish-brown hair that curled around her chin, wide-set, large green eyes framed by thick black lashes, and a ready smile. Many detectives and officers found a daily excuse to go in and request information, whether they needed it or not. Never mind that she was happily married to an attorney, lived on the Gold Coast, one of Chicago’s wealthiest neighborhoods, and had three children, ranging in age from seven to thirteen. There was always hope that such a beautiful soul might suddenly need to shore up her self-esteem by inviting the attentions of one of Chicago’s finest.

When her phone rang early on Monday morning, Joey had just completed filing the records on a drawn-out rape case that had finally been solved when the perp confessed over the weekend, after the eighty-six-year-old woman he’d raped died in the hospital. For Joey, such gruesome incidents were her daily fodder, and although her heart was sympathetic, her intellect prevented her from becoming too heavily weighed down by the heinous acts she read about each day from her basement office.

“Good morning.”

“Joey? This is Ed Comparetto.”

Joey’s heart sank. She had heard what had happened to Ed before she left on Friday and had brooded about it all weekend. Ed was not only one of the force’s best and brightest detectives, he was a good friend too. The two had shared many lunches together, and Joey knew all about Ed’s break-up and the resulting despair. She knew the last thing he needed was to lose a job he valued. She had intended to call him and let him know that if there was anything she could do to ease the situation, she’d be happy to. But like most good intentions, it had been swept away by the tide of demands of her own personal life.

She wondered why he was calling her now. “Ed? How are you, honey? I’m so sorry about what happened. There had to be a screw-up somewhere.”

“Yeah, a colossal one. When I find out what it is, I’ll let you know.”

Ed’s voice had lost its vitality and came out almost in a monotone. Joey had heard he’d falsified a witness statement but was certain the Ed Comparetto she knew wasn’t capable of such a thing. If anyone went by the book in these large granite headquarters, it was Ed.

“What can I do for you today?”

“A simple favor. I was wondering if you could get together some information for me on a murder that took place about two years ago. Sorry, I don’t have exact dates. But I do have the name of the victim.”

“Ed, you know I really shouldn’t—”

“I know you really shouldn’t, and I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t really important.”

Joey laughed. “Just because I say I really shouldn’t doesn’t mean I won’t. God knows it’s how I ended up married with three kids.”

“See? ‘Shouldn’t’ shouldn’t be in your vocabulary.”

“I guess you’re right. So, who do we got here?” Joey pulled a legal pad in front of her and grabbed a pen.

“The guy’s name is Timothy Bright. Lived up in Rogers Park, on Paulina, I believe. And I know it was around two years ago that the guy was killed.”

“What do you need to know?”

“That’s what I don’t know exactly. Maybe it’ll come clear to me when I have more information.”

Joey wondered if Ed needed a rest.

“If you could just get me exact dates, places, and so on, I’ll take it from there.”

“Hey, Ed, you know I’ll do my damnedest.” Joey scratched her head. “But honey, in case you haven’t heard the gossip, you’ve been let go. What do you need this for?”

“It’s a long story. And one that, in all fairness, I should tell you about. But right now, if I just clue you in on what I know so far, you’ll think I’m completely nuts.”

“Sweetie, I already do.”

They both laughed. Ed went on. “But listen, this is really important to me. Maybe if I can find some answers—and this guy could lead me to them—I could save my job. Let me just say that this Bright character is the reason I lost my job. So if you could be an angel and help me out, you might be doing me a bigger favor than either of us realizes right now. I guess I just have to ask you to trust me on this.”

“No one trusts you more. Listen, you know I could get in some real hot water for doing this, but that’s not the problem. It may take me a little time. I don’t want any inquiring minds wanting to know why I’m spending department time on a two-year-old case.”

“Sure, Joey. I understand. I also understand that you’ll do your best for me.”

“Oh, if only you’d get over this gay thing, you’d see what my best really was.”

“Harlot.”

“Slut.”

“Thanks a lot, Joey. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“You better.”

*

Ed hung up the phone, blew out a sigh, and looked around his apartment. Mia sniffed anxiously at his legs, and he knew he should take her out. Outside, the sky was the shade of blue that only autumn brings, rich, vibrant color, so Ed felt if he could reach high enough, he could touch the sky.

But he had no interest in going out and enjoying the Indian summer day. In other times he and Dan would have hit the lakefront on mountain bikes or roller blades.

But those were other times.

Ed fingered the Round Up card in his hand, looking at the scrawled blue ink on the back.

“Timothy Bright, who the fuck are you?”

He pressed the Talk button on his cordless and punched in the numbers. Listening to the distant ringing, he pictured Timothy Bright perched atop a piece of furniture, an imp, waiting for his call.

After three rings, a woman answered. “Hello.” From one word, her deep voice told Ed a lot. She was cultured, probably affluent, and definitely not an evil little man who was turning his life upside down.

“Good morning,” Ed stammered. “Could I speak to Timothy Bright, please?”

There was a long pause on the other end, and Ed feared the woman would hang up. “Who is this?” she whispered.

“My name’s Ed Comparetto. Timothy Bright gave me this number. He wanted me to call him.”

“What is this? Some kind of joke?”

“No, ma’am. Not at all.”

“I don’t think this is amusing in the least.”

“It’s not intended to be, ma’am. Do I have the right number?”

“No, Mr. whatever the hell your name is, you most assuredly do not have the right number. I don’t have time for this.”

“Wait! Please don’t hang up. I really don’t mean to trouble you, and I’m not playing a prank. Do you know of a Timothy Bright?”

The woman didn’t answer, and Ed was already anticipating the click that would separate them when she said, “Timothy was my nephew.”

Ed nodded and then felt stupid because she couldn’t see and he didn’t know what else to say. “I see.”

There was another long pause. “No. You see, my nephew has been dead for over two years, so I don’t see how he could possibly have given you this number. Unless, of course, you hang on to numbers for a very long time before calling.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I have to go.”

“Is there any chance I could talk to you? Just for a few minutes? I could explain why—”

“Goodbye.”

Ed’s mouth was poised with more persuasion when he heard the click. He looked over at Mia, who was pawing at the door.

“All right, all right. I’m coming.”

*

Joey called back later in the day, when Ed had given up on hearing from her. After all, it was almost five o’clock, and Joey was not big on overtime.

“Hi, honey. I got the information you wanted.”

“Great.”

“This is no pretty picture.”

“I didn’t expect it would be.”

“No. I mean, this is really ugly. And I really want to know why you need this information.”

“Is that a condition?”

“Of course not. I’m offended, Ed.”

“Oh, don’t be.” Banter with Joey was fine, in the real world. Ed no longer lived there. “What did you find out?”

“Why don’t I stop by on my way home and fill you in? I don’t want to be staying here late, and I don’t want anyone to overhear and start asking questions.”

“That’s fine. My calendar is pretty clear these days.”

“Not funny. I’ll be there in about an hour or so.”

It had been a long time since the buzzer in Ed’s apartment had sounded. The noise jarred him. Mia yipped and ran to the door.

Joey was like a visitor from another country. Just seeing her made Ed feel suddenly excluded from almost everything he had ever known. She brought with her all the memories of working for the force, all the hopes and ambitions he’d had had when he started working there just a few years ago. Now she was like a member of an exclusive club to which Ed had been permanently denied access.

“Come on in, come on in. Grab a chair. Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee?”

“Coming right up.”

After they were settled in, Joey pulled a sheaf of papers from her purse. “I could get fired if they knew I took these out of Records.”

“I appreciate that, Joey.”

“Two years ago, August. That’s when Timothy Bright was murdered.” Joey thumbed through the papers. “August seventeenth, exactly.”

“What happened?”

“No one knows.” Joey looked down at the floor and sipped her coffee. “I can see why you’re interested.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that this killing echoes real well these new killings, the ones you were working on before they, um, let you go.”

“Similarities?”

“Similarities, hell. It’s almost an exact replica of what’s happened with the two killings from the summer and a couple of weeks ago. Mr. Bright was found, after several days, by his landlady in his bathtub. The water in the tub was red with blood. Mr. Bright’s penis had been severed and inserted into his rectal cavity.” Joey looked up at him, her face flushed. “I’m quoting from the report.” She paused. “He had been strangled, but the coroner’s report showed that the strangulation marks occurred after the guy was dead.”

“That’s a difference. The first guy, Tony Evans, was strangled to death. Mutilation was postmortem.”

“Right. The coroner’s report showed Bright died from a perforated rectum. When that happens, all kinds of poison can—”

“I know, I know.”

“The case was closed after a year. No one could find a clue. No motivation, nothing left behind. A big zero.”

“Kind of like the more recent killings.”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

Joey tapped the papers. “It’s all in here. The victim’s parents were dead. His only relative was an aunt up on the North Shore. He had no close friends that anyone could find. No enemies either, I suppose. Chalk it up to random insanity.”

“Random insanity? Somehow I get the feeling there’s more to it than that.”

“There usually is.” Joey sipped her coffee and set it on the floor. She scratched Mia behind the ears and looked out the window at the darkening sky. “I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to be getting home. Family obligations and all that crap.”

“Understood.” Ed rose from the sling-back chair.

Joey shrugged into her windbreaker and caught his eye. “You gonna tell me why you wanted this information?”

Ed dug in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the Round Up card, now tattered and worn from Ed’s having handled it so much. He handed it to Joey.

She took it from him and examined it. When she saw the name and phone number on the back, she gave Ed a blank look. “I don’t get it.”

“A bartender gave me this card. He said it was from the person who sent me a beer.”

Joey cocked her head.

“That was yesterday.”

“Someone’s playing a joke.”

“Why would they want to do that? And how would they know I had any association with Timothy Bright?”

Joey shrugged.

“You know, don’t you, that Timothy Bright was the first person I interviewed last August when the killings began? He discovered Tony Evans’s body. And, I asked the bartender to describe the person who gave him the card.”

Joey’s face reflected confusion, and it wasn’t much of a leap for Ed to understand why. This whole scenario seemed too bizarre and ghoulish to be believable. Joey cocked her head. “So you’re saying this person who gave the bartender the card looked like Timothy Bright?”

“Yep.”

“So, have you called the number?”

“Yeah. The woman who answered said Timothy Bright was her nephew.”

“So this person had some knowledge of Bright.”

“Of course, but who the hell is it?”

“And Bright was the person who got you in trouble with the force.”

“Yeah.” Ed hung his head and whispered, “I just don’t know what’s going on.”

Joey put her arms around him and squeezed. Her lithe form felt strange in Ed’s arms, almost insubstantial, but comforting nonetheless.

Ed pulled away. “There aren’t any photos in with those papers, are there?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t get anything like that. Besides, from the report, any crime scene photos would make the victim look pretty damn unrecognizable.” Joey reached for the doorknob. “If there’s anything more I can do to help, you just call me. Hell, call me anyway. We can still do lunch.”

“Sure thing.”

Ed watched Joey walk out the door and back into her normal life. Again, he felt excluded. He went to the couch and sat. He picked up the papers, knowing they would only add to his confusion.

Perhaps somewhere, there was a clue.