The Bounty Hunters: The Marino Bros.: Box Set (103 page)

Andreas finished his water and threw the bottle in the recycle bin in the corner of his well-appointed kitchen. Then he made his way up the back stairwell. In these older houses, these staircases had only been used by servants at one time. Other than a cleaning woman who came twice a week, he lived here alone now. The house had been full just three years ago when they had moved here from New York. His brothers had stayed with him until they found places of their own.

That was one of the reasons he had chosen it. Large, open concept in the reception room and living and dining areas. An office downstairs, and a room he turned into a gym that must have been a servant’s quarters at one time. The massive kitchen and two baths made the downstairs more than comfortable. Upstairs had five bedrooms, and four bathrooms. It had been perfect for them. But now it was much too large although useful on Sundays when the family returned for Sunday dinners.

He quickly slipped into his room passing directly into his bathroom. Being an ensuite to the master, it was the most grand in the house. He had it updated when he moved in and expanded removing part of one of the closets to do so. But it was his oasis, and he treated himself to the sauna and spa additions. His former job, the stress of starting his own business, and keeping watch over three younger brothers, he had felt he would need something to ease the tension. This was it. Women were not. He couldn’t commit to that. He had enough to deal with, look out for. He didn’t need, nor want the added responsibility.

He decided to head in to work early as he walked into the shower. He wanted to check on this new possible serial killer. He needed to keep busy. Get his mind off of the nightmare he had the night before. With Nikko gone for the next ten days on his honeymoon, Bella and Blaze expecting, things would be busy with just him and Gio running things.

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Marino Bros. Bail,
Bonds & Bounty was quiet when he entered through the back door. He made his way towards his office and entered the security code to disarm the system. Angela wouldn’t be in for at least an hour. That gave him some time to put in a few calls about those dead girls. After turning on his computer, he put on a pot of coffee white it booted up. It was still early and his friend Mark down at the police station wouldn’t be starting his shift for another thirty minutes. He would catch up on his mail and maybe do a little surfing. Read up on the two murders the cops thought might be linked.

His mail wasn’t extensive and by eight he had already read several articles on line. But none had any more information than what he had heard on the news. Two female victims, both raped and mutilated. One was Hispanic, the other Caucasian. Both in their early twenties. Both college graduates, but not the same universities. He saw no links other than being about the same age after looking at their photos, but the reporter last night said the investigators felt they were possibly linked. He wondered if the killer had left something on the scene to make the police draw that conclusion.

He heard the keys rattling at the front door. Angela, his office manager, was arriving. He called out to her so she wouldn’t be startled.

“Hey, thought you were going to sleep in.” He could see her through the open door, putting her things away.

“You know me.”

“Yup, I do. No moss grows on you.”

“Yup,” came his reply as he heard her start up her computer. He continued to read the article he was perusing.

“Coffee smells good,” he heard her call. Andreas nodded though he knew she couldn’t see him at this angle despite his door being open. “Why don’t you get me some, and then come fill me in on the wedding details?” she suggested.

Andreas shook his head, but got up. She was his office manager, but not his secretary. They got their own coffee around here. He knew better than to order her to get it. She’d have his balls served to him on a platter.

He poured them each a cup, setting her ceramic mug, the one that read “World’s Greatest Office Manager,” down on her desk. Leaning against the counter that separated her from the small waiting area, he took a sip from his own black mug.

“Thanks,” she murmured picking up the cup and blowing on the black brew before she took her first sip. “Sorry, I couldn’t make it. My daughter-in-law is a nervous wreck and thought she was going into labor.”

Andreas smiled. Angela was only in her forties, but looked younger. “Can’t wait to be a grandma, huh?” he teased.

She shot him an evil look. “I can’t actually. But, I prefer nanny.”

Andreas nodded. “The wedding was perfect. Ronnie looked gorgeous. I sent you pictures to your email as requested.”

“Good,” she barked. “Now, why are you here so early today? I thought you would stay home and sulk a bit.”

“Sulk?” Andreas laughed knowing she was about to goad him as usual.

“Yeah, sulk. Brood. Whatever. All the boys are married now. You are the oldest, still a bachelor.”

“And that is perfectly fine by me. You know that.” He took another sip of the coffee still steaming in his hands.

“M-mhm.” Angela set down her cup. “You need to be at the court house today at eleven. Michael Johnson’s bond hearing. Gio coming in?”

“Yes, he and Blaze will be in around nine.”

“Good. Gio needs to check on some of the bonds. I have a list here, and Blaze can go with him. But Blaze has that meeting today at two to renew our license. You’re going to that, right?”

Andreas nodded. “Yes, a formality, but I should be there.”

“Okay, and then don’t forget about checking in with Leon Snyder. He called twice yesterday. His kid’s hearing is tomorrow and he wants you to handle it personally.”

“Will do. He emailed me. Nervous?”

“You could say that.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t get him off the phone for a half an hour yesterday.” Angela skimmed her emails. “Oh yes, I got one from him as well. When does Nikko come back?”

“Ten days. He’ll be back in plenty of time for Thanksgiving.”

“Good. Anything you need me to do today aside from head to the clerk’s office?”

“I’d ask you to drop off my tux at the cleaner’s, but I know better.” He grinned turning back towards his office.

“Damn straight.”

He turned back at her comment, and decided to ask her for a favor. “But there is one thing. You see on the news about the murders of two college girls?”

“Yes, what’s up?” She looked up at him knowing he would be interested in this latest news.

“You want to see if Michael has heard anything about the cases, the investigation? Off the record, of course.” Her son Michael was Tampa PD.

“Yeah, I’ll ask.” She knew the story, knew why he was interested in this case.

“I’m going to call Mark Jennings, but it’s not his precinct that’s handling the case. The detective they mentioned was from Mike’s.”

“Gotcha. I’ll give him a call just as soon as I get back from the clerk’s office.”

“Thanks, Ang. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Not much. But, I’ll make you a list,” she laughed, focusing her attention on her computer screen as Andreas headed back into his office.

Obsession

S
alvatore Mazzelli, er,
Darryl James now, shook out the vacuum canister and dropped it into the storage closet unceremoniously. He had lost his passion for his job. He had been caught twice in the last two months by his supervisor on the wrong floor. To make matters worse, the Burbanks were still in residence. The snowbirds usually only stayed in Florida from January to April, but this year they had arrived early for some unknown godforsaken reason. He was tempted to kill them. He hadn’t seen much of Catarina for nearly two months.

His urges had returned.

Arriving after Labor Day, unbeknownst to him, he had entered their apartment at his usual time for his rendezvous with Catarina when he heard the unmistakable sounds of the old man’s snoring. He immediately backed out of the apartment and descended the stairs to the floor he was supposed to be on. That had been two months ago. He had spent several afternoons hanging out in a café outside the building reading a paper and was lucky enough to catch the Burbanks departing for an afternoon appointment. The old lady was easy enough to chat up outside while her husband retrieved the car from the parking garage.

A simple comment on the weather got her chatting. She explained her husband’s allergies had been bad and provoked their earlier departure for Florida. She did not mind the heat as long as her husband felt better.

When she waved to an approaching car, he made his excuses and hastily departed, leaving her to her errand. Inside he fumed. How was he going to get access to Catarina now?

Walking down the block to catch a bus to take him home, blackness and despair began to settle in his soul. He had not wanted to think about their return. He thought he had plenty of time to see and be near Catarina. But he did not know when he would get the chance to see her again. He had not been able to ask those kinds of questions of Mrs. Burbank when her husband arrived in his large sedan.

Getting on the city bus, he made his way to the rear of the bus which was relatively empty for the early afternoon. He lowered his ball cap to cover his face and settle in. He held in his frustration and tried to think things through. What could he do?

He could try to find access to Catarina in other ways. He had only seen her one time outside of her apartment. Walking through the parking garage toward the bank of elevators designated for employees, he caught a glimpse of her heading towards the ones earmarked for those who lived in the building. He had been working there as Darryl James for six months, using his new fake identity after his old identity had been compromised. He met the man at a truck stop in Miami where he had been working at the time doing dishes. The middle aged man came in often and was always alone. They talked on occasion. The man had no family, no relatives nearby and worked as a janitor at a local high school in the evenings. It had been fortuitous for him, but not so for Darryl.

While bussing some tables that evening, Darryl chatted him up a bit. Told him he had just left his job and was planning on moving to California. He hated the cold, but had heard it was less humid in Cali. He left a big tip and walked out the door forgetting his wallet on the table.

Sal followed him out to give it to him. He liked the guy, one of the few people he had even spoken to in the past year despite the other employees who worked the night shift with him.

Out in the parking lot, luck had struck. An eighteen wheeler came careening into the lot, the driver asleep at the wheel and after first hitting Darryl proceeded to hit the gas pumps. The explosion knocked him backwards onto his ass. Quickly scrambling backwards, Darryl James’ wallet still clutched in his hands, Sal immediately thought of an idea. He scanned the parking lot for a car. He spotted the one he recognized as Darryl’s and made a dash for it. He just slipped inside as the first of the night shift employees made their way outside.

Sal quickly popped open the glove box, and sure enough the car registration lay before him. Darryl’s’ car. The noise of the fires and the screams of Becky telling everyone to get back inside penetrated his brain. He chanced a glance out the window. His three co-workers watched the burning inferno before them and were not looking his way at all. This was his chance. He would have an identity. He had to take that opportunity.

He heard sirens approaching. He knew he had to leave before any of the emergency vehicles arrived. He quickly pulled two wires out from under the steering column, and then crossed them and then rubbed them together to create the friction and spark needed to get the car running. The old continental sputtered to life.

He backed up and steered the car behind the restaurant. Still no one saw. He drove off. He was on the road once more. But with the best possible identity of his life. Thank you, Darryl. Goodbye, Fred.

It was fate. He got the job at Trump Towers, had seen Catarina again, and now she had been ripped away from him once more. He needed her like air.

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