fished the ring from the box.
“He graduated from the high school where my niece goes.”
Angelina picked up the wallet. She opened it. There were no photos inside. There was a driver’s license, a couple of credit cards, and a student ID card for Arizona State. Some cash was in the wallet, a couple of twenties, a five and three ones. And there was a baseball card! As Angelina took hold of it, the picture caught Charlie’s eye.
“Let me see that.”
He adjusted his glasses to examine it closely.
“This guy’s a pitcher for the D-backs. The best they’ve got. I’ll be damned it’s got his signature on it.” He nodded to himself, then speaking more to himself than Angelina, he continued, “It’s a hell-of-a valuable card that kid was carrying!”
Angie looked at the address on his driver’s license.
“The victim lived near State.”
The phone rang. Angelina picked it up.
“This is Detective Ramos.”
“Hello,” spoke the voice on the other end. “I’m Detective Rob Moskowitz, with the Chicago’s P.D.”
“Detective Moskowitz, I’m with the Phoenix P.D. Thank you for returning my call,” Angelina said rather excitedly.
“Detective Ramos, what is so important that you would hunt me down, at my favorite bar, on Saturday afternoon?”
In the background Angelina could hear a sudden outburst of cheering.
On the other end of the phone, half way across the country, in a poorly lit bar in Chicago, and seated on a barstool was a virtual hunk in his mid-thirties, wearing a Notre Dame cap backwards. His cell phone was up to his ear. A television set was squarely before him, where his eyes were glued as he sat amidst a host of other like-minded Notre Dame fans.
“What’s all the noise?” asked Angelina
“The Irish just got a first down.”
“Thanks for the scoring update, detective,” Angelina looked at Charlie and rolled her eyes.
“Can you hear me detective?” her voice raised.
Moskowitz, eyes pointed at the television, said, “Oh yeah, I hear you.”
With that remark, he grimaced as the Fighting Irish’s QB went down under a sack.
“Go ahead. What’s this about?”
“I’m sorry to bother you. But you had a case about eight months back, a murder. The victim was strangled in a gay bath house called The Unicorn.”
“Okay,” he took a swallow from a new glass of beer just placed in front of him by a cute hostess. He looked her up and down as she scooted away.
“We’ve had a murder here that happened last night.”
She paused.
“Go on, I’m listening.”
“Several things: There appears to be some potential similarities between the murder there and the one committed here. And detective, did you know there have been at least two other bath house murders since the one there in Chicago, not counting the one here?”
He took another drink. He studied her comments for a couple of seconds.
“No, I was not aware of the other cases. A gay guy dying in a bath house here doesn’t get top billing. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, those guys get into some pretty kinky stuff. Somebody gets carried away. Somebody dies. It can be as simple as that. Beyond that, members of the community here are pretty tightlipped. Cops are outsiders. Not at all high on their list of guys they trust. The case here remains unsolved.”
He downed another swallow of his brew.
“Detective, since this is at least the fourth murder we know about, in a span of a short eight months, I would like for you to come here and collaborate with me on this case.”
Just as he is about to take a final drink, he stopped short and said, “You want me to do what? Come there? Are you kidding?”
“Detective, where I live we solve cases. That very well may not be the case in the big city of Chicago, but in Phoenix we…”
Charlie got a puzzled look on his face as he listened to the lecture she was giving the detective from Chicago.
Before she could say more, he interjected, “Listen, lady, I don’t need you to sing me an aria about doing my job. You don’t need to go getting on some damn high horse! I’ll take this up with my lieutenant on Monday and get back with you.”
“That will work, Detective.”
“Monday, then.” He closed the cover on his cell phone.
He shook his head, indicating disbelief.
The commentator on the television announced, “That’s yet another sack for the Irish quarterback.”
He looked at the screen. “Damn, it’s not bad enough I’ve got to go baby-sit a crusading cop who lives in the middle of nowhere!”
Charlie looked at Angelina for an explanation right as she closed her cell and took a swallow from the fresh cup of coffee.
“Well?” he said.
“Detective Moskowitz said he would love to come to Phoenix to help out!”
CHAPTER FIVE
Charlie and Angelina pulled up to a light.She was driving.They passed a sign that read “ENTRY TO THE SCOTTSDALE MALL.”Charlie was talking.
“My kids are grown.Yet, I still worry about them.Sometimes they come to me for advice.Mostly, they still come to me for money.”
Charlie got a huge grin on his face.
She listened reflectively as the light turned green.
“I don’t know what I would do,” his countenance became somber, if someone came to me to tell me my son had been murdered in a bath house.”
He raised his hand and pointed.“Go right at the next street.”
“Charlie, you know I worry about my kids.Gosh, I’m a mom, what do you expect.However, I especially worry about Ricardo.No father in the house, it concerns me.That he could, you know, turn out.”
“Gay?”
“Damn it, Charlie that would break my heart!And don’t get me wrong.I know that a parent loves her child no matter what!That is every parent, except my ex.The ass hole!But, is there a parent alive who wants his child to be gay?”
Charlie shook his head back and forth.
“What’s
