It was a well-known fact Drayco loathed coincidences. And one of the biggest coincidences of this entire case was the fact both a husband and wife were murdered a year apart. It happened on rare occasions, but not usually in such bizarre ways.
None of the alleged facts of Ophelia Zamorra’s death made any sense. Thugs carrying around a baseball bat? Nowadays, it was more likely to be a knife or gun. Cramming a debit card down their victim’s throat? Then being careful to stay out of the line of sight of the bank’s security cameras. The two young men arrested for Ophelia’s murder hadn’t bothered to hide themselves from the banks when they robbed the other two customers.
Drayco waited until well after noon when the church crowds were out, then navigated his Starfire through several neighborhoods in Fairfax where home values matched those of Ashley’s. A few fractions of a mile later he was in a different kind of suburban landscape, with bars across the windows and hardly any “For Sale” signs. The metro D.C. area might be home to seven of the ten highest-income counties in the country, but pockets of poverty were still here hiding in plain sight.
The woman who ushered him into her house was in her mid-sixties and walked with a cane. The yellow sweater she wore contrasted against her dark skin and salt-and-pepper hair like a jonquil opening to the sun. She lived alone now that her grandson, Leon Mecko, was one of the two boys in jail for Ophelia’s murder.
The room was spartan, but homey, with rainbow quilts hanging on the walls. The only thing out of place was a stack of hand-painted blocks in one corner labeled with symbols from the periodic table of elements.
Every inch of every surface was spotless. He caught a whiff of something vanilla and smoky and glanced at a table in a corner filled with lighted candles and a little statue of the Madonna.
Rozalia Mecko hadn’t seemed too enthused to talk with him when he called her on the phone until he told her the reason for this visit. Now, she made sure he was comfortable on the only recliner in the room. He didn’t want to offend by offering to switch seats, but he was pretty sure the recliner was of the lift variety, designed to make it easier for the disabled to stand.
He thanked her and came right to the point. “I want to be upfront with you, Mrs. Mecko. Both your grandson and my mother are in jail for murder, murders I’m not convinced they committed. There’s an outside chance the two cases might be related. If I can find the real culprit in my mother’s case, I might be able to prove your grandson’s innocence.”
She smiled at that. “Leon deserves a second chance. My grandbaby made mistakes. Admitted he stole money, but I know my Leon. He’d never kill another soul.”
She perched on the arm of the only other chair in the room, grasping the cane in both hands. “I’ve tried to do my best. Leon never knew who his father was. And his mother, God bless my daughter’s soul, OD’d on prescription drugs. Painkillers.”
He winced at that bit of irony. She died from too much prescription meds while Edwin’s customers could have died from too little.
Mrs. Mecko continued, “He ran with a bad crowd. But he’s a smart boy, he’s good at math and science. I know he could make something of hisself, given the chance.”
Drayco pointed at the blocks in the corner. “Is that Leon’s handiwork?”
She beamed. “Did them all by hisself. Cut and sanded the wood and painted ’em up.”
“Did Leon or the other boy, Dante DiBiase, own a baseball bat?”
“That’s what I tried to tell those police officers. He most certainly did not. Neither did Dante. And the police admitted they wasn’t any prints on that bat. Where did those boys get gloves? And why did they go to all that trouble with that poor woman and not the other two robberies?”
He smiled at her. “Those are the same questions I’ve been asking.”
She leaned over to rest her head on her hands that still gripped the cane. “Like I said, even though he made some bad choices, Leon was smart. Too smart to do one robbery then go back an hour later to the same bank to rob some other poor soul.”
“Did the police tell you the victim’s debit card was placed in her throat after she was beaten?”
Mrs. Mecko straightened up and shivered. “A horrible, evil thing. That’s what makes me know for sure Leon didn’t do nothing like that. He has a good heart, don’t even like to kill bugs.”
She shook her head. “I try and put myself in the place of that killer. It was dark, I’ll grant you. But why take time to do a thing like that with the card? Seems to be me they’d run off straight away, less chance of getting caught.”
Drayco added, “With the gloves and the bat, it seems carefully planned.”
“You see? That’s what I’ve been trying to tell those officers. But they like to close cases, get them off the books, go on to the next crime.”
With a heavy sigh, she added, “They was rushing to convict somebody. And my Leon was the scapegoat. That prosecutor, he’s working to get him tried as an adult.”
“You never heard Leon mention the names Ophelia Zamorra, Jerold Zamorra, or Maura McCune before?”
“Leon and me, we talked about a lot of things. We was close, and I felt he trusted me. Leon didn’t mention those people. He didn’t even own a car. It was Dante’s brother’s car they used for those two robberies. I had Leon on a curfew. He had to be back by ten.”
“Did he ever miss curfew?”
“Not once.”
Drayco stood up, not wanting to hog the recliner any longer. “You were very gracious to see me, Mrs. Mecko. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best.”
She started to rise off the arm of her chair, and he reached over to hold her arm and steady her while she stood. She searched his face and nodded. “You said your mother was also in jail for something she didn’t do. I shore hope you can help her too. She’s lucky to have you.”
Drayco wasn’t entirely sure Maura would agree, but he thanked Mrs. Mecko and headed to his car. His car wasn’t alone.
It was hard to miss the man leaning against it, his arms folded across his chest. Bald, at least six-six, an African-American clone of Iago. The stranger stared at Drayco, then said, “Hear you’re trying to help out Leon.”
“I believe in justice. And putting an innocent young man behind bars isn’t justice.”
“Leon’s a good kid. Sees a lot of people on TV having nice things. Sees the Jaguars and the BMWs driving around, and a bag boy job sure don’t buy that.” He turned around and ran his hand along the top of the Starfire. “Sure wouldn’t buy this.”
“That was a gift.”
“A gift, huh? From a rich relative?”
“For helping someone.”
“Well, Mrs. Mecko in there don’t have nothing to give you for helping.”
“I don’t expect anything in return. Except maybe seeing Leon graduate from a place like MIT or Harvard.”
The other man tilted his head. “You think he could do something like that?”
“If he’s as good at science as his grandmother thinks, why not?” Drayco added, “I don’t think I caught your name ...”
“Washington Gaines. But everybody calls me Wash.”
“You’re a friend of the family?”
“I help out now and then. Odd jobs, mostly.”
“They must be grateful.”
“I owe ’em. Mrs. Mecko, she let me stay here when I got booted from my hotel job—one of those big chains bought up the place and changed out all the staff. Took me three months to find another gig.”
“So you got to know Leon pretty well.”
“Kinda like a kid brother to me. And I owe him, too.”
“How so?”
“That’s how I know Leon didn’t whack that woman.”
“What do you mean?”
Wash looked around and lowered his voice. “I got in over my head with some dealers. Percs, Oxy, Dillies. Leon knew I was taking some heat. And between jobs, ya know? How was I gonna pay?”
Drayco connected the dots. “The bank ATM robberies? He gave you some of the money?”
“He gave me all the money. Not only that, he came straight to me after he’d knocked off the bank that night. No way he coulda killed anybody.”
“You were afraid to go to the police?”
Wash snorted. “Think they’d believe me?”
“Then why are you telling me all this?”
“You’re not a cop. And I can’t let Leon take the rap for something he didn’t do. You told Mrs. Mecko you were goin’ to help. You a man of your word?”
“Always.”
Leon held out his hand, and Drayco shook it. “Mrs. Mecko told me earlier your name was Mr. Drayco, that right? Well, Mr. Drayco, you play poker?”
Drayco nodded.
“Just make sure you wind up with a royal flush. Otherwise, Leon’s out of the game. For good.”