“Is this gonna be a good cop, bad cop thing?” Campenelli jeered as she and Jack walked into the interrogation room.
Bob had made it back, reporting in that there wasn’t anything of importance or significant at Mr. Sarchione’s office that Jack and Lorena hadn’t already discovered. It was just another dead-end. He was watching the interrogation from the other side of the glass window.
Lorena pulled out a chair and sat across from Campenelli. Jack stood near the end of the table, quietly observing.
“Or maybe this is dumb cop, dumber cop,” he added with a smile as if he was very impressed with his insult.
“Tell me where you were two Thursday’s ago, Mr. Campenelli,” Lorena started, not wasting time. He was already being combative and obtuse, so she was guessing that it wasn’t going to go smoothly with him regardless.
“At work,” he said, glaring at Lorena. “Where I always am? Someone’s gotta put food on the table.”
“At your job, at Sarchione Foods?” she prodded.
“No shit. Gee, did you figure that out all on your own?” he said with a sneer, spittle hitting the table between them.
Travis Campenelli was a large man, at least six-four, possibly two-forty. He carried extra weight around his middle, but his biceps were huge. Sometimes she came up against opponents who frightened her. Campenelli did not, even if he did have a violent streak in him.
“Why haven’t you gone to work since then?” she asked.
“I was sick. What’s it to you?”
She just kept at him, “Did you see a doctor for this… ailment?”
“Yeah, sure. My HMO pays for everything,” he said with sarcasm. “It was more of a hangover if you know what I mean. You ever party?”
She wasn’t sure why he asked her that, but it wasn’t worth visiting.
“So you’re saying you’ve had a thirteen-day hangover?” she asked with blatant incredulity.
“Nah, I’ve been job hunting,” he said. “I ain’t goin’ back there. That place was a shithole.”
“And why is that?”
He sighed and answered, “That Sarchione was a real dick. The foreman on my shift wasn’t no better. I’m thinkin’ ‘bout going into business for myself. Be my own boss.”
Lorena wanted to suggest that he rethink being a mechanic after she witnessed the state of his vehicle.
“Travis, did you get along well with your boss- Mr. Sarchione? Was there tension between you?” Jack asked, finally taking a seat.
Campenelli’s eyes immediately shot to Jack nervously. He fidgeted in his seat. Lorena wasn’t sure if it was because the question made him on edge or Jack’s closer proximity. She’d been pleased at the ease by which he’d arrested Campenelli. But she was pleasantly surprised by it, as well. It was sure better than fighting and wrestling with him. She hadn’t anticipated it going well at all.
“Tension? No, he doesn’t even know I exist. I’m just one of the pee-ons who works for him. Did we get along? Hell no! That guy’s a dick. I can’t stand him,” Travis said. “I didn’t put up with shit from him, though. I don’t take shit from nobody.”
His machismo was a bit over the top. Lorena had known a lot of men like this idiot, some in her own family. The huffing and puffing and chest pounding were a bunch of bluff and bravado. She was quite sure that Travis Campenelli never stood up to Mr. Sarchione. He was simply boasting and probably also trying to impress her.
“Mr. Campenelli, do you watch the news?” Lorena asked, looking at Jack, who nodded.
“Nah, too negative,” he said. “I got better shit to do with my time. Been workin’ on my rod, baby.”
He was obviously referring to his hunk of junk in the drive. At least, she hoped he was.
“Travis, your boss, Mr. Sarchione, is dead,” Lorena explained to him. Then she patiently waited for his response. She could usually tell a lot by people’s reactions to hearing that the police were onto them. Only Campenelli’s reaction wasn’t at all what she’d expected. He laughed.
“Ha! Good! He got what he deserved,” Campenelli said. “What got him? His heart? That fat bastard finally had a heart attack. We all said he was gonna. Looks like our wish came true. Dickhead.”
Lorena kept her cool but informed her potential suspect, “Not exactly, Mr. Campenelli. Your boss was murdered.”
This stopped him. He seemed stunned, genuinely surprised.
“Murdered,” he repeated, looked at his hands. “Wow, that’s…”
“We have it from a few witnesses that you disliked Mr. Sarchione,” Jack said, dropping a bomb.
“Yeah, I told ya.’ He was a real dick. His foreman was worse, though,” Campenelli boasted. “Whoa… wait. Do you think I did it? Is that why I’m here?”
“You’re here because you had outstanding warrants, Mr. Campenelli,” Lorena reminded him.
“How was he murdered? Someone shoot him? Wouldn’t surprise me. He was such a prick, he had to have a lot of enemies.”
Lorena frowned and said, “No, actually he was stabbed to death. And he didn’t have a lot of enemies at all. He seemed to get along well with most folks. Describe the nature of your relationship with your former boss.”
“I didn’t even see him all that much,” Travis told them. “He was always comin’ in, flashin’ his money around, braggin’ about his fuckin’ boat to some of the guys who liked fishin.’ He’s just a real bragger. Nobody likes him.”
“But from what we’ve heard, nobody wanted to kill him,” Jack said, pushing harder this time. “Nobody else went around calling him a pig or talked about kicking his ass for him or burning down his house.”
Some of this information they’d heard second-hand from the woman who ran the human resources department at the plant. Other pieces they’d picked up on in the reports given to them by junior detectives who’d already spoken to a few of the employees at Mr. Sarchione’s food company. It all pointed to Campenelli.
“That don’t mean shit,” Campenelli complained. “It don’t matter. I wasn’t ever gonna do anything.”
“No? Someone did,” Lorena said, nailing him with speculation.
“Not me!” he remarked vehemently. “I didn’t fuckin’ kill that old asshole. But don’t think I’m guilty ‘cuz I don’t care that someone else did. I ain’t gonna cry a fuckin’ river over him being killed.”
“Were you anywhere near the Sarchione residence on Wednesday or Thursday?” Lorena asked, jotting down notes as she went. This guy wasn’t about to confess to anything, but she also wasn’t so sure he was the killer.
“No, what the hell?” he asked, his ire rising. “I don’t even know where that fuck-nut lives. It’s not like he invited me and Bobby Lynn over for cocktails.”
“You said you were at work, but what about after work? Did you go straight home Thursday?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, I went home to pick up Bobby Lynn,” he answered.
“And then what? Did you go out to a nice dinner? Catch a movie?” Jack questioned. “Run by and kill your boss real quick?”
Lorena was content to have him do some of the questioning of Campenelli. He might just catch something that she wouldn’t. In the few short weeks that she’d worked with him, he seemed to be a pretty intelligent detective. He threw out ideas and angles that she and Bob hadn’t particularly visited. He was smart, savvy even. His brown eyes didn’t miss much. She’d seen him studying her the same way as if trying to delve into her soul and pull out all her secrets. That wasn’t about to happen anytime soon, but she hoped he’d hit a weak spot on Travis and punch a hole in his story.
“Yeah, right,” Travis answered with a confident grin. “Nah, we just hit Sonny’s. I went home, picked her up and went to Sonny’s Bar. That’s our place. We always go there. Rick’s a cool guy, not like Sarchione.”
Lorena tried not to frown. He was literally corroborating Bobby Lynn’s story. She’d been hoping he’d slip up and tell them something different.
“Who’s Rick? A friend?” Jack asked.
“No, Rick the bartender. He sneaks us a few freebies now and then,” Travis informed them. “Bobby Lynn just flashes her tits and he’ll pour us two extra free ones. Only when the owner’s not there, though. She’s a super bitch. She don’t want nobody gettin’ nothin’ for free.”
This man was making Lorena want to vomit. Preferably on him. He was about as vile and disgusting a human as she’d ever had to deal with so far in her career. And he obviously felt no hesitation in pimping out his girlfriend or, at least, a free flash of her figure for a lousy beer, beer that was probably warm and stale. What a creep.
“When’d you leave the bar that night?” Jack pressed.
Unfortunately, if the bartender placed them both at Sonny’s that night, then the Campenelli lead may be a dead-end street and wouldn’t need to be pursued further. They knew the crime took place sometime between six p.m. and ten p.m., and everyone knew that Bobby Lynn and Travis Campenelli shut the bar down most nights.
“At closin’ time,” he answered, much to Lorena’s dismay.
She looked at Jack, who nodded with subtlety.
“We’ll be in touch if we need you,” Lorena said as she rose from her chair.
She couldn’t resist it, even though she knew it was inappropriate to taunt a perp while interrogating them. “I know where to find you.”
“Fuck you, cop bitch,” he swore, more spittle hitting the table.
They left the interrogation room, informed the booking officers that they were finished and returned to their office with Bob. “Do you believe him?” Jack asked them both.
Lorena perched on the side of his desk so that she could see them both more clearly. She waited for Bob to answer first.
“He seems like a real winner, but if his alibi pans out, then I’m not sure what we could pin him to on this case,” Bob answered.
Lorena nodded, agreeing with her partner. “I’ve got them checking that partial print that we found in the vic’s bathroom against Campenelli’s. But I don’t think it’s him. He is a genuine asshole, but I believed him. I don’t think he’s got any priors for anything of this caliber, and I don’t think he’s actually smart enough to be a serial.”
“Really?” Jack prodded, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers in front of him.
“Yeah, sure,” Lorena said. “He was just a blow-hard. I’d be surprised if he ever did anything violent. He wasn’t ever even brought up on assault charges. Just breaking and entering, drugs, petty stuff. The guy’s a coward. I could see it in his eyes.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “I think you’re right about that. Guy was a total coward.”
“So, what now?” Bob asked rhetorically, although Lorena knew he was doing his own planning. Sometimes it just helped to think out loud.
“I want to go check out the yacht,” she said. “I called the lawyer last night just to get Mrs. Sarchione’s permission. Gonna run out to Kelly’s Island, too. Someone should go through their vacation house on the island. She said that would be fine, too. Sent an officer over to pick up the keys. Thought if I asked nicely, then it might make their cooperation in the future run a little more smoothly in case we need them.”
“That and the lawyer was into you,” Jack remarked with a grin.
Lorena shook her head and scowled, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The Sarchione lawyer, he had a big crush on you that night. He was probably hoping for your phone number, but not the one here in the office.”
Lorena grimaced and shook her head again in denial. “I don’t think so.”
Jack and Bob exchanged looks and chuckled.
“Hey, focus,” she scolded them both. “We’re supposed to be working on this case, remember?”
She stood and walked to their whiteboard where a timeline was drawn out. Pictures of potential suspects were taped to it with their names. It was bleak at best.
“I talked to our vic’s secretary again this morning,” Bob offered as they got back to it.
Lorena was relieved. She didn’t particularly like being under a microscope. She’d had two failed relationships in her life. She just wasn’t good with relationships, especially with real live people. She was so much better with dead ones who needed her help finding their murderers.
“Anything new?” she asked her partner.
He shook his head and said, “Not really. Just that she was pretty sure one of the lawyers at the firm was taking legal documents over to the Sarchione residence that night like we already knew.”
“Yeah, it’s not like his own lawyer killed him,” Jack joked. “Kinda’ counterproductive killing your client. Not like a lawyer to give up any money.”
Bob laughed and Lorena smirked in agreement.
“We should still talk to her as soon as we can,” Lorena said a moment later, writing it down on the board. “We could get lucky and she saw someone come in after her.”
“Yep,” Bob said. “What’re we gonna do with Campenelli?”
Lorena sighed and tossed his file onto Jack’s desk. “Let him cook over the weekend. Maybe he’ll confess to something else. If the alibi from the bar checks out, we’ll have to drop it.”
“Oh, well,” Bob said, interlacing his fingers behind his head. “It was a good lead. Guess we’ll let the D.A. deal with him since he already had a failure to appear.”
Lorena stared hard at the whiteboard thinking about who this Gingerbread was and why he was killing people in Northeast Ohio.
“Kid?” Bob said a few minutes later, snapping Lorena out of her daze.
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“Want me to pick up Grace?” he asked as he rose.
“No, I’ll get her,” she said. “Thanks. I think I’ll pick her up and run over to check out the yacht real quick.”
“Oh,” Jack said as if he was disappointed.
“What is it?” Lorena asked as she grabbed her backpack and blazer. She usually opted for a backpack instead of a designer brand purse. She could carry so much more stuff for work.
Jack shook his head and said quietly as he also readied to leave for the day, “I just thought I was going with you.”
“You want to?” Lorena asked, surprised. “You can go home. Geez. You’ve been with us practically twenty-four-seven since your first day. Don’t you want a break? This really isn’t even your case to work. Don’t you want to go home to your wife or girlfriend or something?”
Bob laughed and grabbed a file from his desk, “He isn’t married, kid.”
“Oh, yeah I know,” Lorena whispered, embarrassed. Her cheeks felt hot. “Sorry. I just… I got busy with this case. I’m not really too good most of the time with conversation.”
Jack chuckled, drawing Lorena’s gaze. He just shrugged and gave her a friendly smile, flashing bright white teeth against his tan.
“No problem,” he said. “I’m not so good with all that, either. Just ask my ex.”
Lorena frowned and then tried a grin. Not only did she not know that he was married or divorced, but she'd also not really taken the time to get to know him at all. She was normally a fairly guarded person, but there was no reason to worry about Jack. He had kind eyes, nothing like those of Campenelli. Jack had deeply troubled eyes, but kind nonetheless.
This case was becoming an obsession. She couldn’t sleep at night. Yesterday she got home to her house and realized that she’d left the garage door up all day while she’d been gone at work. That was a panic moment quickly allayed by her sound reasoning that it had just been her absent-mindedness at work. She felt herself coming toward a crash. It happened sometimes when a case took over her life. She’d work herself to such a fatigue that she’d crash for about fourteen hours. She just hoped it could hold off. She needed a Red Bull.
She pulled her hair into a ponytail and said, “You can go with me if you want.”
“Good!” Bob said. “We’ve been pulling a lot of late hours this last week. The wife would like me to put in an appearance tonight. Zach’s got a game. I should try to be a dad for a change. Besides, I think he’s got a crush on one of the cheerleaders. Gotta check her out.”
“Do not run a background check on her parents, Bob,” Lorena threatened. “That’s just going too far…again.”
He just laughed at her and said, “Oh, yeah? Ya’ think, kid? Just wait till Gracie starts dating. That ought to be fun to watch. I can just see it now. And it is gonna happen. She’s a little looker already. You’re screwed. I’ve already seen boys looking at her.”
Lorena grimaced, trying not to let her empty stomach sour. She’d never noticed boys looking at Grace. Gross. Those little bastards full of raging hormones better stay away.
“Why would she need to date on my watch?” Lorena argued sensibly. “She can wait till she goes to college. Then I won’t even have to know about it.”
“That’ll work,” Bob said with great sarcasm. “See ya’ tomorrow. Call me if ya’ need me, kid. See ya’, Jack.”
“G’night, Bob,” Jack said amiably.
Lorena frowned, still thinking about Grace going on a date.
“So you don’t mind if I go to the yacht?” Jack asked.
Lorena furrowed her brow and said, “No, that’s cool. I gotta pick up Grace. Then we’ll head over there. She can wait on the dock.”
“Got it,” Jack said. “Want me to drive? You look like you’re on your last leg.”
“Sure,” she conceded gratefully. “I’ll meet you out there. Gotta get something.”
He nodded and left. Lorena hit the vending machine for an energy drink and a candy bar.
When she climbed into his Jeep, he eyed up her loot and laughed.
“You sure are skinny for eating so much junk,” he remarked, pulling out onto the road.
“I know the calorie count of just about every food out there,” Lorena said, swigging her drink. Then she tore open the wrapper on her Snickers and took a big bite.
“And that makes it ok?” he asked. “Where to?”
“Lakeside Christian Academy,” she told him. “It’s…”
He interrupted and said, “I know where it is.”
“It doesn’t make it ok,” she told him about her sugar addiction. “I just know about the calories ‘cuz then I know how hard I need to work out if I go over for the day.”
He placed his hand over hers, covering her chocolate bar.
“How many calories are in that Snickers bar?” he asked.
Lorena jerked her hand away and replied, “Two-hundred and thirty.”
Jack laughed and placed both his hands back on the wheel.
“Why don’t you just eat healthier?” he asked with a grin, hooking a right on the next road.
The traffic was always heavy at this time of day in the city. People were getting off work. Some were picking up their kids. Others were off to take in dinner or a charity event somewhere in the arts district. And more rarely, some were apparently running around the city killing people and painting a cookie symbol on the wall.
“I’m not going to get the rush I need to keep working from an apple,” she said, pointing to the red apple in the drink holder between them.
He chuckled again and said, “Yeah, probably not.”
“Besides, it’s faster. I don’t have time for a lot of planning,” she told him. “Heck, I can barely get Grace to school on time most days.”
“Or shower,” he said with a laugh.
Lorena chuffed nervously and smoothed down her hair, “Um…yeah. I guess so.”
She didn’t talk to him again after his comment on her appearance. She was also trying to remember if she’d taken a shower that morning. Did she have b.o.? Probably, since she was pretty sure her last shower was yesterday morning. How embarrassing! Damn this case.
They pulled up to the front of the private school, the old brick architecture stately and polished. Lorena exited his vehicle and went to retrieve her niece since she wouldn’t recognize Jack’s Jeep. Grace waved goodbye to her friends and joined her as soon as she spotted Lorena.
“Who’s that?” Grace said, indicating the strange vehicle.
“Oh, he’s just working with me and Bob till he gets a partner,” Lorena explained. “He’s new. From Miami or Portland or somewhere. Maybe both.”
Grace just looked at her with the usual amount of teen judgment.
“Aunt Lo, that’s two different ends of the country!”
Lorena nodded and said, “Well, at least you’re learning geography in school.”
Grace chuckled and got in the back.
“Hi!” she blurted loudly, her only decibel lately. “I’m Grace.”
Jack attempted a handshake from the front seat and smiled warmly, “Jack Foster. Nice to meet you, Grace.”
“Where we going?” she asked as Jack pulled away.
Lorena frowned and said, “I gotta go down to a dock and check out some rich guy’s yacht. Do you mind if we detour?”
“No, cool,” Grace answered. “Is this for the case you’re working on?”
“Yep,” Lorena answered her while scrolling through her phone looking at emails. The one she was hoping for was there. FBI was tagged in the sender’s address.
“Super cool,” Grace said with her normal enthusiasm. “Maybe I’ll help you catch him!”
“Yeah, maybe,” Jack answered for them.
“No, you’ll be waiting on the dock,” Lorena said, being the bad-guy. “I can’t take the risk that you could tamper with evidence.”
“Crap,” Grace said. “I have on my uniform and even these dorky loafers like Nancy Drew. I was all ready to go.”
Jack laughed, entertained by her young niece. Lorena just smiled and shook her head, continuing to read the email.
“But, we might run out to Kelly’s Island real quick, too,” she told her.
“Super way cool!” Grace said, even more excited.
Lorena looked over her shoulder and said, “Again, you’ll have to wait outside.”
Her niece’s smile faded slightly.
“Do you even have your seatbelt on?” Lorena asked.
“I’m fine,” Grace said with a touch of defiance. “I don’t need it. I’m not a baby.”
“I’m not a baby, either,” Jack said, helping Lorena out. “I’m still wearing mine. Seen a lot of nasty accidents out there. You’d better listen to your mom. I’ve seen her question suspects. She’s not gonna get off your case till you do it.”
This made Grace laugh and pull on her belt.
Then she said, “She’s not my mom. She’s my aunt, silly.”
Jack looked at Lorena with surprise. Apparently he still didn’t know much about her. She’d just assumed Bob had told him.
“Oh, sorry,” he said to Grace.
“Geezow, Aunt Lo,” Grace lectured. “You sure don’t talk much to people. Does he even know I’m fourteen? I’m like two years away from getting my license, Jack!”
“Not if you don’t wear your seatbelt, you’re not,” Lorena remarked, trying to sound parent-like.
“Whatevs,” Grace complained, making Lorena smile. “Aunt Lo’s so strict. She won’t even let me get my ears pierced. I’m like seriously the only girl in my grade who doesn’t have her ears pierced. Good grief!”
“If God wanted you to have holes in your earlobes, he would’ve put them there in the first place,” Lorena said. “Besides, you’ll look like a gypsy. That’s what my grandpa always used to say.”
“Double whatevs,” Gracie pouted from the back seat.
Jack laughed and said, “Yeah, double whatevs. Maybe triple.”
Lorena looked at him and raised her eyebrow, trying to hide a grin. He just chuckled again.
“So, are you married, Jack? Got any kids?”
“Grace!” Lorena scolded. “Try some discretion, young lady.”
“No, she’s fine,” he said. “Interrogation skills seem to run in your family.”
“Gracie’s just a snoop,” Lorena corrected.
Jack laughed and said, “This is what people do. We talk. We share information about ourselves. Double hint.”
This time, Lorena tipped her head to the side and pursed her lips at him with irritation. He just grinned, dimples showing behind his five o’clock shadow, also laced with gray.
“No, not married. Not anymore,” Jack explained, his expression turning sour for just a second. “I don’t have any kids, but I’ve got a lot of nieces and nephews. I like being their uncle.”
“That’s cool,” Grace answered.
“Yeah, they’re great,” he acknowledged. “It’s good to be back home where I can be a part of their lives.”
“When are you gonna have your own kids?” Grace asked nosily. “I mean, you look kinda’ old, so you’d better stop wasting time.”
“Grace Holcott!” Lorena yelled this time. “That was rude.”
Jack just laughed and said, “It’s ok. It’s my salt and pepper that’s throwin’ you off, Grace. My sisters all color their hair to hide the premature graying we have in our family.”
“Oh, sorry,” she apologized.
“I don’t know if I’ll have kids or not,” Jack admitted as he peered through the windshield.
“You have brothers and sisters? A big or small family?” Grace pursued.
He asked for this. She tried to help him. In twenty minutes, when Gracie finally came up for air, Lorena would remind Jack of this.
“Yeah, all sisters. Four of them,” Jack said with considerable exaggeration. “No brothers.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of sisters,” Grace remarked. “I wish I had a sister.”
Lorena was punched in the gut. Or at least, that’s how she took this news. Grace had never said anything like that to her before. She found it strange that she’d confess something so personal to Jack, who she just met.
Jack laughed, perhaps to lighten the mood. “Yeah? You can have about four of mine then!”
Gracie laughed in the back seat. “Why? Don’t you love them?
“Oh, sure. I love them. But boy do they drive me crazy,” Jack said, pausing.
“How? What do they do?” Grace prodded.
“They’re always trying to hook me up on dates with their friends and stuff like that. They all fancy themselves the world’s greatest matchmakers.”
“Maybe you should let them help you,” Grace said.
Jack laughed again. He seemed to be enjoying his interaction with her precocious niece.
“Are you kidding?” Jack asked, turning left as Lorena indicated. “No way. Besides, I don’t need their help.”
“Maybe you do,” Grace suggested.
“Gracie!” Lorena corrected.
“Well, he’s not married, so maybe he does need help,” Grace defended herself.
“Did it ever occur to you, young lady, that not everyone wants to get married?” Lorena drilled.
“Nah, everyone wants to be happy,” Grace said with a youthful naiveté. “Aunt Lo just wears a ring so dudes don’t bug her,” she tattled to which Jack nodded. “But, you do want to be married, too, Aunt Lo. You just don’t know it. I need to meet Jack’s sisters and get some matchmaker pointers. Then I can use them on you.”
Lorena groaned as Jack just laughed again. He pulled into the parking lot near the docks.
“Thank God,” Lorena said and got out of the car. “Come on, matchmaker. And bring your homework. You can find a seat down there somewhere and work on it.”
Lorena grabbed her backpack and shut her door. She always kept a few evidence bags and tools she’d need for evidence gathering in the bottom of her bag.
They walked three wide down to the docks, and Jack helped her find the right boat. She knew nothing about boats, yachts, whatever people wanted to call them. The Sarchione yacht was the last boat on the dock and bobbed gently in the lake water as they approached. Luckily, there was a bench on the dock where Grace could sit and wait for them.
“Nice yacht,” Jack remarked.
“Is it?” Lorena asked.
He chuckled. “Yeah, this is the size of my house.”
“Oh,” Lorena said.
“I lived on a houseboat in Portland for a while,” he said out of the blue.
“That would be weird,” she replied, not considering that it might come off as rude until the words left her lips.
“It wasn’t anything like this baby,” he said as he held out his hand to help Lorena onto the boat.
They both pulled on blue, latex gloves in case they found anything that seemed like evidence. She was glad he was a seasoned detective. If she’d been working with someone else, she might be worried they could spoil evidence if they didn’t know proper procedure.
Nothing turned up as important on the top or main decks, so they headed inside after she checked on Grace again, who rolled her pretty blue eyes at Lorena.
They descended the stairs, careful not to touch the railing as they went. The luxurious yacht was well-appointed with a white leather sectional and built-in, burled wood end tables. A bar area off to their left revealed two wine glasses, one of which contained a lipstick mark. Lorena left an evidence marker near them.
“He may not have been coming here with his wife, but he was here with someone,” Lorena called over to Jack, who was looking at an open DVD case, tipping it with his pen so he didn’t have to pick it up to read the title.
“Yeah, and I don’t think it was for a meeting about processed food,” he remarked, referring to their vic’s company. “This is porn and I think we can assume it’s in the DVD player.”
Lorena brought over another marker and placed it beside the case and the DVD player as Jack wandered into another room.
“Hey, Evans,” he called a second later. “You’d better take a look at this.”
Lorena joined him in a room that was obviously the master suite. It was spacious and also done in subdued hues of cream and silver. The ceiling was covered in mirrors above the bed. Jack wasn’t standing in the room, however. He was standing in the door opening to another room. His eyebrows were raised. His face an expression of disbelief.
Lorena brushed past him, trying to be careful of touching the door frame. She walked into the Sarchione antechamber. She swallowed hard as Jack came in behind her.
“I’m guessing the wife hasn’t been here in a while,” Jack said. “Or, hell, what do I know?”
“She said she hasn’t been on the boat for a long time,” she said. “And why would she? They led separate lives, remember?”
“Wonder why?” he said with sarcasm as he passed by her.
Lorena walked around, admiring the sex swing in the middle of the room, the mirrors on the ceiling, the various ties and restraints hanging on the wall.
“Further pushes your theory that he knew the killer,” Jack said, pointing at the length of rope hanging on a hook.
“Lot of tying up options in here,” Lorena nodded with agreement. “Our killer knew he was into bondage, cheating, S and M.”
“This would probably categorize you as an alternative relationship status on Facebook,” Jack said, staring at the sex swing.
“Look,” Lorena said as she flipped over a four-by-six card printed on expensive cardstock and embossed on the front with a masquerade style mask.
Jack joined her at the bedside table and squatted to get a better look.
“Not the same address as our party in the abandoned steel mill, but looks like the same freaky shizz,” Lorena said.
The invitation was printed in a cursive scroll naming the date and time and location of the event. This party was set in the high-rent district and seemed to be hosted by an event planner named, Clint Fuckwood and Angelina Get Your Jollies. Real clever. She frowned at the idiocy and juvenile nature of these people. That was bound to be a dead-end since fake names were given. She wondered if any of these people ever used their real names at any of these events. Probably not. They were likely all married, but perhaps not every wife or husband of the cheater was fine and dandy with it like Mrs. Sarchione.
The invitation was nothing out of the ordinary. It sounded like nothing more than a masquerade party, except for the undertone and insinuation of an anything goes attitude and bringing your own condoms and sex toys.
“It’s from last month. We should check out that place,” Jack said. “I gotta go and meet with that drag queen later. Maybe I’ll run by the address on that card. See what turns up if anything.”
Lorena nodded absentmindedly.
“Someone in this alternative social circle,” she said with a wink, “has killed this man. It had to be.”
“So far, the vic’s got no enemies,” Jack concurred with her. “All we got is an underground of freaks and kink. And he was bound and stabbed to death by someone who was familiar with tying someone up. I looked at the photos. Those weren’t simple knots around his ankles and wrists.”
“No, they weren’t,” Lorena said, impressed that he’d also picked up on that. “I’m gonna call this in. Get the lab geeks in here to do a sweep.”
“I think we’d better,” he agreed as he exited the torture and sex party room. “Wonder if our vic ever hosted one of these parties.”
Lorena followed him back to the bedroom where she checked the bed for any stray hairs, especially long black ones. She even scanned the white bedding for red hairs like the wig. She didn’t come up with anything. The Sarchiones probably had the yacht cleaned at least monthly, even when it wasn’t in use. The wine glass was just missed by the maid service. If there was anything to find in the bedroom, the geeks would track it down.
Running her fingers along the wife’s clothing in their joint closet, Lorena wondered if perhaps Maria Sarchione didn’t have a pretty strong motive to murder her husband, after all. He was a cheater, and it might’ve bothered her more than she’d let on. She’d also alluded to the fact that they led very separate lives. Lorena could see it in the other woman’s eyes that she’d also been unfaithful to her husband. She wondered if maybe Maria had a steady relationship on the side with someone other than her husband and that they wanted him out of the picture. Her alibi had checked out, however. And the gingerbread hallmark had also checked out. They’d been careful not to leak that to the wife and the attorney. Sometimes murderers, jealous extra-marital boyfriends or girlfriends, would attempt a copycat murder to pin the deed on whatever serial killer was in the news. Gingerbread was not at all in the news. As far as Lorena could tell, nobody had linked him to being a serial until her and obviously the FBI. And they sure as heck weren’t about to tell the lawyer. Lawyers were great for tipping the media off to insider information if for no other reason than to help out their client.
She turned to find Jack staring at a professional photograph of the Sarchione family, complete with their one and only and now dead son hanging on the wall in the walk-in closet.
“Ready?” she asked.
Jack turned to look directly at her, “Wonder why they keep this family portrait in here?”
Lorena shrugged and frowned, “Maybe they don’t want the memories that come with it. I don’t remember seeing anything with their son at their house, either. I saw a few framed photographs of the husband or wife, but not with him. He was handsome.”
“That’s a damn shame,” Jack said.
“You’re right,” Lorena agreed and turned to go. “That’s just one more reason why we need to find the creep who killed this kid’s dad.”