Rosary girls

16

Simon Close was in love.

Jessica Balzano was absolutely incredible. Tall and slender and sexy as hell. The way she dispatched her opponent in the ring gave him, perhaps, the single most feral charge he had ever felt just looking at a woman. He felt like a schoolboy watching her.

She was going to make great copy.

She was going to make even better artwork.

He had flashed his smile and press ID at the Blue Horizon and gotten in with relative ease. Granted, it wasn't like getting into the Linc for an Eagles game, or the Wachovia Center to see the Sixers, but still, it gave him a sense of pride and purpose whenever he was treated like part of the mainstream press. Tabloid writers rarely got free tickets, never went on the press junkets, had to beg for press kits. He had misspelled many names in his career, due to the fact that he never got a decent press kit.

After Jessica's fight, Simon parked half a block from the crime scene tape on North Eighth Street. The only other vehicles were a Ford Taurus, parked inside the perimeter, along with a Crime Scene Unit van.

He watched the eleven o'clock news on his Watchman. The lead story was the murdered young girl. The victim's name was Tessa Ann Wells, seventeen, of North Philly. Immediately, Simon had his Philadelphia white pages open on his lap, his Maglite in his teeth. There were a total of twelve possibilities in North Philly: eight spelled Welles, four spelled Wells.

He pulled out his cell phone, dialed the first number.

"Mr. Welles?"

"Yes?"

"Sir, my name is Simon Close. I'm a writer with The Report"

Silence.

Then: "Yes?"

"First off, I just want to say how sorry I was to hear about your daughter."

A sharp intake of air. "My daughter? Something has happened to Hannah?"

Oops.

"I'm sorry, I must have the wrong number."

He clicked off, dialed the next number.

Busy.

Next. A woman this time.

"Mrs. Welles?"

"Who is this?"

"Madam, my name is Simon Close. I'm a writer with The Report"

Click.

Bitch.

Next.

Busy.

Jesus, he thought. Doesn't anyone in Philly sleep anymore?

Then Channel 6 did a recap. They called the victim "Tessa Ann Wells of Twentieth Street in North Philly."

Thankyou,Action News, Simon thought.

Check this action.

He looked up the number. Frank Wells on Twentieth Street. He dialed, but the line was busy. Again. Busy. Again. Same result. Redial. Redial.

Damn.

He thought about driving over there, but what happened next, like a crack of righteous thunder, changed everything.