Insatiable Appetites

42

Dino called in Detective First Grade Carmine Corretti for a chat late in the day.

“How you been, Carmine?” he asked, when he had settled Corretti into a chair and poured him a scotch.

“Pretty good, Commish,” the detective said.

“How much longer to retirement?”

“Four months. We bought a condo in Boca.”

“Sounds good. Think you’ve got one more good case in you?”

“I just might be able to muster the strength.”

“You spend much time in the neighborhood these days?”

“I still live there.”

“You know the old painter guy Scali?”

“Sure. Haven’t seen him for a few years. My old man used to play boccie with him. ’Course, the old man is gone now, but he and Stefano Scali were tight.”

“You know about the dead Irish priest?”

“The one that turned up in Jamaica Bay in pieces?”

“That’s the one.”

“I heard about it. Any leads?”

“No leads, but a hunch, maybe.”

“You still get hunches, Commish?”

“Yeah, and I still got a few of my own teeth.”

“What’s your hunch?”

“I think the priest may have been killed in a building up a creek from Jamaica Bay.” Dino got a map of the area from his desk and spread it on the coffee table. “The building’s right here,” he said, pointing at a dot near the creek.

Corretti gazed at the map, then there was a tiny flinch. “I know this location,” he said.

“Do you, Carmine?”

“Sure, that’s the Bianchi place.” He pointed. “The big house is right about here.”

“Right. Eduardo died, you know.”

“Everybody knows. Who lives in this building you’re talking about?”

“Nobody. It’s used as an art studio, and it had some recent renovations.”

“And Scali painted it?”

“You’re way ahead of me, Carmine.”

“You think the priest was chopped up there?”

“No, Pietro would have been more careful than that.”

“Pietro? That’s one sinister guy, you know?”

“I know.”

“Why would Pietro want the priest dead?”

“Pietro didn’t even know about the priest until he was already dead. I think he might have died in that old stone barn, and if he did, he could have done some bleeding before the body got moved.”

“So, you want me to get a warrant and have a look around?”

“No warrant. I just want you to talk to Stefano Scali and see if he noticed anything out of order in the barn. Then get back to me, and we’ll see where we go from there.”

“Sure, Commish.”

“And don’t take your partner.”

“This gonna be just between us, Commish?”

“Just between us.”

Carmine Corretti got home around six and kissed his wife, Gina. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she replied. “You up for a scotch?” They had one together every evening.

“Yeah, but first I gotta run an errand.”

“What kind of errand?”

“I gotta talk to a guy a couple of blocks over, on Mulberry.”

“What guy?”

“It’s about a case. I can’t talk about it.”

Gina kissed him on the neck. “You can always talk to me.”

“Not this time, babe. I’m doing this for the commissioner, and he wants no talk.”

“Secret stuff, huh?”

“Just confidential stuff — you know how it is. I’ll be home in half an hour, forty-five minutes.”

“I’ll keep the ice cubes warm.”

Carmine left his house and walked over to where Stefano Scali had his business. The garage door in front was open and Scali and two of his men were sweeping and mopping the floors.

“Carmine!” Scali said, dropping his broom and pumping the detective’s hand. “Long, long time. How you doin’?”

“I’m doin’ good, Stef. You?”

“Never better.”

“Business good?”

“Can’t complain. People always need a coat of paint on things. You want a Strega?”

“Thanks, but Gina’s expecting me home. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Did you do some work out at Eduardo Bianchi’s place recently?”

“Me and my old man before me been doing Eduardo’s painting for forty years.”

“Recently?”

“Yeah, the girl turned the old stone barn into an art studio.”

“And you painted it?”

“Sure, I did. She’s a looker, that girl — bella, bella!”

“While you were there, you notice anything out of order?”

“You mean like the toilet, or something?”

“Nah, I mean, like was there a mess or anything?”

“The place was neat as a pin while I was working, and we didn’t spill a drop.”

“Anybody else spill anything?”

“You mean like food?”

“You see any stains on the floors or walls?”

Stefano thought about it. “Our last day there, we got to work at eight, and there was some stains on the floor. I cleaned ’em up.”

“How’d you clean them?”

“I wiped them up, then I used some spray I got to get in the crevices. It’s a stone floor.”

“You got a blank piece of paper?”

Stefano went to his desk and came back with a clean sheet of paper.

Carmine drew a rectangle. “If this is the barn floor, where were the stains? Draw an X.”

Stefano looked at the rectangle. “There was doors here and here. This wall was the last thing we painted, and the stains were about here.” He drew an X. “Just off our drop cloths.”

“You said you wiped them first. Was it paint?”

“It was red and sticky, but it wasn’t paint. I know paint.”

“What did you wipe them up with?”

“A clean rag, I think.”

“Have you still got the rag?”

“Nah, I threw it away.”

“Where?”

“In the trash can. We’re cleaning up this morning — we do it once a week, whether it needs it or not — and we put all the trash in the dumpster out back. We share it with the hardware and the undertaker.”

“Let’s take a look,” Carmine said.

Stefano led him out back and raised the lid on the dumpster. “Them three bags we put there,” he said, pointing.

“Can we take ’em inside and have a look?”

“Okay.” The two men carried the three trash bags into the shop, and Stefano opened them all. “This one,” he said, upending the bag and dumping a lot of rags on the floor.

Carmine took a pen from his coat pocket and moved the rags around. “You said it was a clean one?”

“Yeah. Here, let me do it.” Stefano went through the rags and came up with a clean one. Except for two stains, now turned brown.

“Can I have this?” Carmine asked.

“It’s trash. You want a clean rag?”

“Nah, this one will do.” Carmine produced a plastic evidence bag and stuffed the rag inside.

“What’s this about, Carmine?” Stefano asked. “Why are you wanting my rag?”

“I want to see what’s on it.”

“I’m not getting anybody in trouble, am I? I like the girl. I wouldn’t want to cause her any problems.”

“How do you feel about Pietro?” Carmine asked.

Stefano made a face and a noise. “He’s a snake.”

“Did somebody ask you to clean up the stains?”

“No, there was nobody there when we got set up. I saw ’em and cleaned ’em up. The girl didn’t get in until later.”

“Did she ask about the stains?”

“No, I told her I found them and cleaned ’em up. She had a look at the place on the floor, and said it looked fine. Thanked me, like the lady she is.”

“Thanks, Stefano,” Carmine said. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Don’t make it so long next time?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be seeing you.”

Carmine went home and had his scotch with Gina, then they had the dinner she had made. The rag could wait until tomorrow.