The Survivors Club

Chapter 27

BY 6:30, THERE WAS STILL NO WORD ON CAROL, BUT Griffin had to go. Waters was waiting for him, plus he had work to do. He left the subdued group inhabiting one corner of the waiting room, an odd sort of family. Dan had started off slightly apart, but then Jillian, of all people, had moved to the seat beside him. Maybe Dan was grateful. It was hard to tell. He should be, Griffin thought. He gave Jillian one last glance, then headed out the door.

In the parking lot, he was immediately assaulted by the gathered press.

“Any word on Carol Rosen's condition?”

“Are you prepared to make an arrest?”

“Is Carol Rosen's attempted suicide connected with Eddie Como's murder?”

Griffin ignored them all and climbed into his car. In all honesty, there weren't as many reporters present as he would've thought. Then he turned on the radio and found out why.

Tawnya Clemente was holding a press conference in downtown Providence. At a law firm. Where her new attorney was announcing the fifty-million-dollar wrongful-death suit he was planning to bring against the city of Providence and the Providence Police Department on behalf of the Como family.

“As recent evidence indicates,” the lawyer boomed, “Edward Como never should have been arrested by the Providence Police Department. Indeed, the premature and irresponsible indictment of Edward Como as a serial rapist set in motion the events leading to the tragic death of this young man, shot down in front of the very courthouse where he would've shortly been found innocent. Yesterday was a dark, dark day in the halls of justice. The city of Providence turned on one of its very own sons. Now the city must make restitution. The city must make amends.”

On cue, Griffin's cell phone rang.

“Are you listening to this?” Fitz yelled into his ear. “Holy mother of God, I am having a heart attack. My heart is literally fucking exploding in my chest. I'm gonna die on this thankless, shitty, fucking nuts job, and then my wife is gonna sue this city for seventy-five million just so she can stay ahead of the Comos. Jesus H. Christ. I should've arrested Tawnya when I had the chance.”

“You have a wife?” Griffin said.

“Eat my shorts, Sergeant!”

“I take it you had another lovely afternoon.”

“Blockbuster,” Fitz moaned. “Goddamn kid seems legit. Showed us the computer records of Eddie's transaction, then practically cried as he told us how he'd been too scared to come forward earlier. His sister goes to Providence College and he was so sure Eddie was guilty, he didn't want to do anything that might set the College Hill Rapist free.”

“So on the one hand, the kid from Blockbuster did see Eddie that night, but even he's still convinced that Eddie is guilty?”

“The DNA. Some people really do believe in that stuff. Why the hell aren't any of them ever on juries?”

Griffin had turned onto the highway. The lack of sleep the night before was starting to catch up with him. So much information, and he couldn't seem to get his brain to process half of it.

“Is this kid the basis of Tawnya's claim?”

“Maybe. I'm guessing, though, her lawyer's mostly focusing on last night's assault on Sylvia Blaire. That case is consistent with the College Hill Rapist attacks and since that happened after Eddie was dead, Eddie couldn't have done it, meaning he couldn't have done any of them.”

“Meaning the heat is on to resolve what happened to Sylvia Blaire.”

“Would you believe the mayor just gave us carte blanche on the Blaire case?”

“Oh, you big boy you.”

“Yeah, apparently you can spend a small fortune on manpower and high-priority forensic tests without coming close to the expense of a fifty-million-dollar lawsuit.”

“I take it you're fast-tracking the tests on the DNA sample?”

“Oh yeah. We're trying to get results by first thing tomorrow morning. Please let it be an ex-boyfriend. About the only thing that will save our asses now is for it to be an ex-boyfriend. Oh, and when we pick him up, he's gotta confess that it was a copycat crime and he learned all the details from reading some Internet site, www.IWannaBeARapist.com, or something like that. Ex-boyfriend. Confession. Yeah, that's about what it's going to take to salvage my career.”

“I think you stood a better chance of having the heart attack,” Griffin said.

“Probably.” Fitz sighed again. He still hadn't gotten any sleep and it showed in his voice. “Hey, Griffin, did Carol Rosen really try to commit suicide?”

“We found her passed out with an empty bottle of prescription sleeping pills. I understand that she'd probably been drinking as well.”

“Ah, shit.”

“I'm sorry, Fitz.”

“It's the Blaire case, isn't it? Has everyone wigged out. Press is going nuts, people are phoning nine-one-one if the bush outside their house moves… It's a copycat. How hard is that for people to grasp? Sometimes you get copycats.” Fitz sounded desperate. He knew it, too. He sighed again, then said gruffly, “It's not her fault, you know. Whatever happened, whatever mistakes we may or may not have made… It's not her fault, not Jillian's fault, not Meg's fault. We're big boys over here. We handled the case the way we handled the case.”

“Fitz, did you guys ever try to find any additional rape victims?”

“What do you mean?”

“Jillian and her mom raised an interesting point. Rape is a largely unreported crime. Sure, we have three known victims of the College Hill Rapist. But that doesn't mean they were his only victims.”

Fitz was silent for a moment. “Well, we ran the details of the case through VICAP to see if we'd get any hits. No crimes matching these descriptions came up in any other states. Of course, that's not exactly foolproof. Another victim might not have filed a police report. Or maybe she did, and the police department still hasn't gotten around to entering it into the database, etc., etc. D'Amato waited six months before going to the grand jury, just in case we could find any other women willing to come forward and add their charges to the package. That's one of the reasons he didn't mind Jillian and her group going on TV all the time. He figured if anything would influence another victim to come forward, it would be seeing Jillian, Carol and Meg standing tall.”

“But no one came forward?”

“Not that we ever heard of.”

“But that doesn't rule out the possibility…”

“Griffin, there is no way of ruling out that possibility. You could interview every woman in this state, point-blank ask her if she was ever raped, and still not rule out the possibility because one of them might lie. We're cops. We can't focus on the impossible. We have to focus on the probable.”

“I can account for everyone's money,” Griffin said abruptly.

Fitz was clearly stunned. “No shit.”

“Yeah. I even asked Vinnie Pesaturo if he arranged for a hit. He said no. And call me crazy, but I actually believe him.”

“In other words, you just ran out of suspects.”

“I ran out of suspects for this theory,” Griffin said.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning maybe it wasn't a vengeance case. Maybe it was about something else. You tell me, Fitz. Why else would someone want Eddie Como dead?”

Griffin had no sooner set down his cell phone from that call than it rang again.

“Sergeant Griffin,” he said.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Lieutenant Morelli! My favorite LT. Have I told you how lovely you look today?”

“You wouldn't know how lovely I look today. You haven't bothered to see me today. Funny, but my memory of the primary case officer's job is to keep the higher-ups informed. To actually be at headquarters overseeing information, generating theories and keeping the ball rolling. What is your memory of the primary case officer's job, Sergeant?”

“Good news,” Griffin said hastily. “We're making lots of progress.”

“Oh really? Because I've been listening to the news, Sergeant, and it seems to me that this case is going to hell in a handbasket.”

“It's the fifty-million-dollar lawsuit, isn't it?”

“That's one problem.”

“And the fact that the public is now convinced there is a serial rapist on the loose, and they're all about to be raped and/or murdered in their sleep?”

“That would be another problem.”

“The mayor is getting calls, and the colonel is getting calls and the media is having an absolute field day at our expense?”

“Very good, Sergeant. For someone who's never around, at least you're keeping up-to-date. Detective Waters taking pity on you?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Griffin acknowledged.

“Well, that speaks highly of Detective Waters. Whom, I understand, you have running around Cranston looking for associates of Eddie Como. That sounds an awful lot like you're poaching on Providence's rape case. Are you poaching on Providence's rape case?”

“I'm being thorough,” Griffin said carefully.

“Sergeant, don't make me kill you.”

Griffin smiled. He'd always liked Lieutenant Morelli. He took a deep breath. “Here's the problem. We started out with a basic theory. Eddie Como is an alleged rapist, ergo the most likely suspects in his murder are the rape victims.”

“I remember that conversation.”

“Pursuant to that angle, the financial crimes detectives did a full workup on the three women and their families. That yielded two good leads: Jillian Hayes and Dan Rosen have both made substantial cash withdrawals with no identifiable recipient.”

“They could've hired the gunman.”

“They could've. Unfortunately they didn't. Jillian Hayes donated her money to a Cranston parish, as confirmed by the parish priest. And Dan Rosen blew his money at Foxwoods, as corroborated by Vincent Pesaturo. It appears Mr. Rosen has a gambling problem.”

“Which means you now have a problem.”

“Yeah. At least as it stands now, none of the known victims and their families make good suspects, not even Vinnie Pesaturo.”

“Where are you going with this, Sergeant?”

Griffin laughed. It was the hollow, stressed-out laugh of a detective watching his case go down the tubes. “Well, we have two angles left. First, we hold with the vengeance theory, and pursue the possibility that there were other victims of the College Hill Rapist. Ones that have never come forward to the police.”

The lieutenant was silent for a moment. “That's an interesting theory.”

“Isn't it? Jillian Hayes and her mother came up with it. Remember, rape is a drastically underreported crime. I checked with Fitz, and they did some initial legwork. Ran the rape profile through VICAP, etc. No hits, but that doesn't mean much. If there are other victims, they may never have gone to the police at all.”

“Did they try the rape hotline or a rape-crisis organization?”

“Uh, no…”

“Well, maybe you'd like to send out some detectives, Sergeant. A rape-crisis organization won't give you names, but they can tell you if they received calls from someone who suffered a similar attack. Then at least you'll know if you're on the right track.”

“Ummm, good point.”

“That's why my name starts with the initials LT. Now what's your second theory?”

“It involves the Sylvia Blaire case. Fitz is hoping it's a copycat, praying really, that it's a copycat, but there are some problems with that theory.”

“The douche.”

Griffin scowled. “For a neglected lieutenant, you're keeping well informed.”

Morelli said, “I'll have you know, I do look very good today. Plus, it just so happens that Lieutenant Kennedy from Providence has the hots for my sister. Which is, by the way, the only thing that is keeping Detective Fitzpatrick from wringing your neck. Well, that and the fact that Detective Fitzpatrick has his own problems at the moment.”

“I appreciate that,” Griffin said seriously. “Well, okay. So Fitz and I had an interesting discussion on the Sylvia Blaire case this morning. One possibility is that Eddie Como led two lives, one as the loving fiancé, and the other as a sexual deviant. And maybe Sexual Deviant Eddie had some friends to whom he liked to brag.”

“Drinking buddies?”

“Maybe.”

“Who knew all the details of what he did, including the douche?”

“That's the thought.”

“Another interesting thought,” Morelli concurred. “But why just a drinking buddy? Why not an actual accomplice? We've seen rape duos before.”

Griffin shrugged. “Only one semen type was ever recovered from the vics. Plus, Carol and Jillian only reported seeing one man.”

Morelli was silent for a moment. “What if the second person was more of a passive partner? Maybe a lookout?”

Griffin pursed his lips. “Oh,” he said. “Ooooooh.”

“I'm good, aren't I, Sergeant?” she said knowingly.

“You're good,” he agreed. “The times! That would explain the times. See, it would appear that the first vic, Meg Pesaturo, was a quick in and out. Like the rapist was afraid of being discovered. But he spent a lot of time with Carol, who was always considered a last-minute substitute. Why wasn't he worried about someone coming home? And it would appear that the rapist had been in Trisha Hayes's apartment for a while, too. He'd already completed the rape before Jillian arrived, but he hadn't left yet. And even though in theory Jillian walked in on him, he was aware she was coming. He hid and jumped her from behind. Now, part of his lingering at the Rosen and Hayes crime scenes probably had to do with his escalating appetite for violence. He needed more and more to get the same thrill. But maybe he also had a lookout, or gained one as he went along. Someone whose job was to give him the security to stay as long as he liked. Except in Trisha Hayes's case, when someone did unexpectedly appear, it was a basement apartment with only one point of entry/exit. So he couldn't bolt without being spotted. His better move was to ambush her instead, which he then prepared to do.”

“And now this accomplice is no longer just a lookout?” Morelli said.

“That could be. Huh, that might explain the incident last night at the Hayes residence. Someone spray-painted ‘Eddie Como lives' across a bank of windows. Maybe that's what this guy thinks he's doing. Carrying on the tradition of Eddie Como.”

“But this person would also have reason to kill Como, correct? Both to protect what he'd done in the past and what he was thinking of doing in the future.”

“Yeah, maybe. When Fitz brought it up this morning, I thought he was pushing the limits. But then again…”

“It assumes a shift in behavior.” Morelli was thinking out loud. “Perpetrator number two was willing to be just a lookout, and now has graduated to actually committing sexual assault-and murder.”

“A graduating level of involvement is not uncommon in sex crimes, though,” Griffin added. “Most rapists start with bondage fantasies, then commit lower-level acts of violence against women-battery, assault-before moving to rape. In this case, we have a perpetrator who's definitely interested in rape. He's hanging out with a rapist, taking some role in the crimes. To have his first solo incident involve a high level of violence, homicide…” Griffin scowled. “That doesn't fit the pattern as well, but there could be mitigating circumstances. If Sylvia Blaire was attacked by Como's partner, the guy had gone a whole year without doing anything. Maybe the tension had built too high. He saw a potential victim. He went nuts.”

Lieutenant Morelli was silent. He could tell she had to think about it, too. “It's worth pursuing,” she said at last. “So I can tell Lieutenant Johnson that you're searching for associates of Eddie Como as possible suspects in our murder case?”

“You can say that.”

“I think I will say that. Providence has enough problems without feeling as if they're at war with us, too.”

“Providence has problems,” Griffin agreed.

“Speaking of which…”

He knew what was coming next. His grip tightened on the phone, but at least he kept his breathing steady.

“Sergeant, have you spoken with Corporal Charpentier at the ACI?”

“Not yet. I've heard of the issue, though.”

“No one here is taking him seriously,” she said quietly.

“I appreciate that.”

“On the other hand…”

He didn't say anything.

“This case is growing hot,” Morelli said evenly. “It's getting a life of its own. You know what happens when a case gets a life of its own.”

“I'm on top of it.”

“Speed, Sergeant. We need to close this one. Quick. Before the public gets more frightened. Before Tawnya Clemente's lawyer gains more ammunition. And before the press realizes there is a man in the ACI who claims to have information relevant to the case. You understand?”

Griffin closed his eyes. He understood perfectly.

He was pulling into his driveway now. Waters's blue Taurus was already parked to one side, the detective sitting behind the wheel.

“I gotta go,” Griffin said.

“First thing in the morning-”

“I'll have a report on your desk.”

“Damn right, you will. And in the meantime?”

“I'll put detectives on the rape-crisis organizations and others on the Cranston bars.”

“Good luck, Sergeant.”

“Yeah.” Griffin flipped shut his phone, thought about Carol lying in the hospital and Price sitting behind bars. “Good luck.”