The Frenzy War (4 page)

“Somebody call for Rodriguez's Cleaning Service?” Hector's mustache undulated as he spoke. “Oh,
madre.”

“Bag it up,” Willy said. “Everyone in the store is forbidden to discuss this with anyone but a superior officer.”

“Why are you looking at me?” the PO said.

Willy turned to Karol. “You want to interview the witnesses?”

Sitting at his desk in the K-9 Unit, located at Floyd Bennett Field, where NYPD maintained its Aviation and Emergency Services units, Captain Anthony Mace filled out an online requisition for dog food.

Ever since being removed from Homicide South in the wake of the Manhattan Werewolf killings, which he had been unable to solve to the satisfaction of his superiors, Mace had been relegated to pushing paper in one of the most unglamorous units in the department, his rank largely meaningless, with no chance of escape or promotion. He followed the same routine day after day, scheduling training sessions, assigning new dogs to human partners, and acting like a bottom level administrator in any bureaucracy.
In the span of one case, he had gone from being a celebrity cop with a promising future to a forgotten soldier gathering dust in an office. Now technically part of the transit police, he looked forward to retiring in two years.

His position did have its benefits, though: the phone never rang in the middle of the night; his hours never varied; his wife, Cheryl, didn't worry he might be killed in the line of duty; he didn't agonize about departmental politics, losing the life of a detective under his supervision, or dealing with life-or-death situations; and he was able to spend plenty of time with Cheryl and their daughter, Patty, in their Bay Ridge home. All he had to do was survive the boredom of the next two years without going insane, and he'd be free to pursue other interests while collecting his pension. He daydreamed about that possibility every shift while gazing out his office window.

His cell phone rang, and he checked its display. Willy Diega, one of his former detectives. Pressing the phone against his ear, he settled back in his chair and stared at a framed photo of himself with Cheryl and Patty, taken on Patty's first birthday. “Lieutenant Diega, good to hear from you.”

“I'm calling from Synful Reading.”

Mace's fingers tightened on the phone. “What's happening there?”

“I caught a DOA related to a likely kidnapping. A teenage boy got decapitated inside the store.”

A fear Mace thought he had forgotten resurfaced. “Is his head—?”

“Present and accounted for. But get this: it was cut off. Looks like one blow did it. My guess is the perp used a sword.”

The base of Mace's skull turned numb.
The Blade of Salvation.
Almost a year earlier, Willy had told him that both halves of the broken sword had been claimed by some big shot at the Vatican. Closing his eyes, Mace rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had hoped the Wolves would be able to maintain the secret of their existence. “Maybe it's just a coincidence.”

“Yeah, and maybe—ah, shit.”

“What's wrong?”

“I gotta go. Your wife just showed up.”

Pocketing his phone, Willy watched the Manhattan Minute News van prowl the street, its driver searching for a parking space.

At least they'll have to go around the block,
he thought as he joined Karol and the witnesses.

“This is my partner, Detective Diega,” Karol said to the woman and two men.

“Hello,” Willy said to them. “Do we have all their information?”

“Yes,” Karol said.

“Folks, we're going to release you now. We'll probably need to follow up with you later, maybe even tonight. Don't discuss what you've seen with anyone, especially the press.”

“They're not going anywhere just yet,” a male voice said behind him.

Turning, Willy saw Detectives Larry Soares and Nick Cato from Missing Persons. The detectives now outnumbered the witnesses.

“We co-own this mess,” Soares said.

“That's fine with me. You guys can have the whole bag of shit if you want it. Can we move this conference inside?”

“We'd like to interview these witnesses.”

“We'll share the information we have. Let's get them out of here before they describe what they saw to everyone with a TV.” Willy turned to the witnesses. “Thank you for your assistance.”

They nodded and left.

“The woman saw four adults—three men and a woman— drag a teenage girl into a van,” Karol said. “The woman was Asian. One of the men was black. With the driver, that makes five.”

Willy saw Cheryl Mace speed walking toward them on the sidewalk, followed by her cameraman, Ryan Costas. “Karol, show them what we've got, okay?”

“You're the boss.” Karol led Soares and Cato into the store.

Willy met Cheryl at the crime scene tape. She had been a TV reporter when Willy was first promoted to Homicide, then took a more humane job as an associate producer for an afternoon talk show before she and Mace announced her pregnancy. After her maternity leave, she had returned to active reporting, this time for Manhattan Minute News, a local cable station. She had wasted no time making a name for herself as an aggressive reporter who played by the rules.

“What have you got for me, Willy?”

“A DOA and a probable kidnapping.”

Ryan caught up to them, his forehead sweaty.

“DOA,” Cheryl said. “You mean a homicide.”

“I'm a homicide detective.”

She seemed amused by his sarcasm. “Method of murder?”

“That's under investigation.”

“Who's the vic?”

‘We're not releasing a name until we confirm the deceased's identity and notify the next of kin.”

“What's the story with the kidnapping?”

“That's also under investigation.”

“Look, we're the first ones here. Give me something to go on the air with before the circus comes to town.”

“I've got nothing to share at this time.” Willy saw a taxi pull over to the curb and two men he recognized get out: Gabriel and Raphael Domini, the owners of the store. He had interviewed them when their sister, Angela, disappeared during the Manhattan Werewolf investigation.

Cheryl turned to Ryan. “Get some B roll.”

As Ryan adjusted the settings on his camera, Willy raised the police tape for Gabriel and Raphael. Both men had dark hair and appeared ashen faced.

“Lieutenant Landry called me,” Gabriel said.

“I'm Detective Diega. We spoke two years ago.”

“I remember.”

Willy recalled that Gabriel had done most of the talking during their previous interview even though he and Raphael were the same age. Angela was the third triplet. He saw Ryan focusing his camera on them. “Let's speak inside.”

Gabriel and Raphael gave their names to the PO at the door, which Willy opened for them. Inside, Landry and the Missing Persons detectives stood looking at the head on the floor. Karol shot digital photos while Hector and Suzie
set up their equipment.

The circus is already here,
Willy thought as Gabriel and Raphael stood motionless before the pool of blood. “Watch your step. Is this Jason Lourdes?” He watched the brothers join the MP detectives on the other side of the corpse. Their eyes widened, and their mouths opened in tandem.

Gabriel swallowed. “Yes.”

“We have a witness who saw four people drag an unconscious woman out of here and take her away in a van. Any idea who she might have been?”

“I'm technically the manager here,” Raphael said in a quiet, intense voice. “The young woman scheduled to work with Jason this morning was Rhonda Wilson. She's eighteen, like him.”

Willy gestured to Soares and Cato. “These gentlemen are with Missing Persons. Can you provide them with any photos of Rhonda?”

“Yes, whatever you like.”

Willy pointed at the security camera. “Someone spray painted your camera. Is it hooked up to a recorder?”

“There's a digital recorder in the back office,” Raphael said.

“Hector, dust that back door and the office for prints before you do anything else.”

“We'll take care of that right now,” Hector said. He motioned to Suzie, who carried her fingerprinting kit to the back.

Willy turned to the Domini brothers. “Can one of you let us into that office when they're done?”

Raphael looked at Gabriel, who nodded, then followed Suzie. Without prompting from Willy, Karol followed her
in turn. Soares elbowed Cato, who joined the party.

“Let's start with the obvious question,” Willy said. “Do you have any enemies who would want to kill one of your employees and abduct another one?”

“No, of course not,” Gabriel said.

“Did you receive any kind of threats or a ransom note?”

“Nothing. Your call was the first I heard of this.”

“Why were two kids allowed to run this store alone?”

“They're both eighteen,” Gabriel said. “Jason was just promoted to assistant manager. Most of our staff is made up of college students. This is a small specialty bookstore, not a high volume megastore. My brother and I focus our energy on our primary business.”

“The funeral home.”

“That's right.”

“What about angry ex-employees?”

“We treat our staff well.”

“Whatever happened to your sister?”

“She's in Canada.”

He didn't miss a beat.
“Two years ago, I asked you to have her get in touch with me.”

“I gave her the message. As I remember, she didn't seem to care. Since the murders stopped, I never pressed the issue.”

“Will you tell her about this?” Willy gestured at the body. “I'll have to do it through the mail because she doesn't have a telephone.”

“That's convenient.”

“I find it just the opposite. You could always extradite
her, but for what purpose?”

“Our primary concern right now is Rhonda. Do you maintain a list of customers?”

“Just an e-mail list and only of those customers who sign up for it through our website.”

“We'll need a copy of that list and the names of any unusual customers you can think of.”

“This is an occult bookstore. Many of our customers are eccentric.”

“We'll also need a list of your managers and employees dating back two years.” Willy's hand radio squawked, and he raised it to his mouth. “Go for Diega. Over.”

A male voice came over the radio. “We've got a distraught woman who says she's the mother of the girl who works in there. Two more news crews showed up too. Over.”

“Deidre Wilson,” Gabriel said. “I called her.”

Willy eyed Gabriel. Who told him to call anyone? “Send her in. Over.”

“Copy that,” the PO said. “Over.”

“It's getting crowded in here,” Hector said under his breath.

You can say that again,
Willy thought. “We'll be out of your hair soon.”

The bells on the door chimed, and a brunette in her forties entered the store, her features twisted with emotion. She zeroed in on Gabriel, then at the head and body on the floor. She stumbled toward Gabriel, who caught her.

“Where's Rhonda?” Her voice threatened to crack.

“We're trying to figure that out,” Gabriel said. “Some
men may have taken her.”

She glanced at the body again. “Is that Jason?”

“We haven't told his parents yet.”

“Oh, my God! Who did this? Who?”

Gabriel looked into her eyes. “We don't know.”

Soares stepped forward. “Mrs. Wilson, has anyone contacted you about this?”

“No, no one.”

“Has Rhonda said anything about seeing strange people around your home or receiving troubling phone calls?”

“No! She's a normal eighteen-year-old girl. She spends all her time with—with Jason …” She broke into sobs.

“What about an ex-boyfriend or someone who was jealous because she wouldn't go out with him?”