Page 32 of Craving Vengeance
“Doesn’t the orchid symbolize death?” Walker asked.
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s the lily. I think I read that somewhere once.”
The two debated the issue for a moment before Spinelli cut in, “For chrissake, shut up about the damn flowers already.” His gaze locked in on Marsh. “Have you found anything like this on Rosso’s or Carter’s computers?”
Marsh shook his head. “Not really, but just think about Rosso. According to his financial records, apartment, and the personal belongings we saw, he’s living way beyond the means of a bartender. Maybe this guy was a male entertainer on the side, you know, maybe he’s got himself a couple of rich, old, sugar mommas.”
They stood in silence for a moment. Spinelli suspected Walker and Marsh were of like mind. It seemed to fit.
“And just look at Mike Carter’s bank statement. The guy lost his job over six months ago and has been living with his sister since he ran out of cash. Then suddenly, bam, a $2,000 deposit was made into his bank account about a week ago. Maybe it was a payment for services rendered.”
Walker shook his head. “I hear what you’re saying, but this all seems just a bit far-fetched. How in the hell would someone be able to specifically contact four of Shannon’s ex-boyfriends through a general ad onbackpage? I mean, really, a shit-load of guys could have answered that ad. How would the killer even possibly begin to devise a way to reach these four specific guys? I’ve never been onbackpagea day in my life. How would anyone know these guys would be?”
“I didn’t get that far yet. I’m just saying we’ve got proof one of the vics answered an ad for a male entertainer, one of the vics was living a lifestyle above and beyond what his job could support, and one of the vics was unemployed and received an unaccounted for lump sum payment into his bank account,” Marsh recapped.
“What about Meyers? He just got back into the country today,” Walker commented.
“What, the Internet doesn’t reach Nicaragua?” Marsh asked sarcastically.
Spinelli sighed. There were times he just wanted to smack the shit out of Marsh, and this was one of those times. He sucked in a deep breath to calm his temper. He thought for a moment. He massaged his pounding temples. On top of everything else, now he had a headache. “How could they possibly be connected?”
Walker and Marsh’s eyes shifted to Shannon who sat silent, listening to their entire exchange.
Spinelli cocked his head to the side. “Other than the obvious. Maybe we need to talk to Sonny Tomes again. See if Carter and Williams frequented his bar.”
Spinelli dialed Tomes’ cell number. He answered on the third ring.
Music blared in the background.
“Mr. Tomes?”
“Yes.”
“This is Detective Spinelli. I take it you’re at the bar?”
“Yep. Couldn’t find anyone to fill in tonight for Tony.”
“I see. So you’re going to be there for a while?”
“Yep.”
“We need to ask you a couple more questions. We’ll be there shortly.”
“Do what you gotta do. I’ll be here.”
Spinelli and Walker loaded into their unmarked. Shannon rode along as well. Spinelli wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. Spinelli caught a glimpse of Shannon in the backseat. He’d debated sitting back there with her when they climbed into the car. Part of him wanted to hold her, comfort her. She looked confused and exhausted. He could tell by her silence that the day’s events had taken their toll on her; she was rarely ever quiet. But another part of him was still angry with her, and this kept him at a distance. He still wanted an explanation as to why she’d kissed Meyers the way he’d seen her kissing him; all lips, teeth, and tongue. A friendly peck on the cheek he could have understood.
Walker parked on the street in front of Sonny’s bar. All the bars and restaurants up and down the street looked busy. Full of patrons enjoying their Valentine’s Day, Spinelli suspected.
They entered the establishment. It was busy. A wiry young man tended bar along with Sonny. He was tattooed and pierced. Looks wise, he couldn’t be more opposite of Tony Rosso.
Sonny waved them over to the far end of the long worn wooden bar.
There were fewer patrons at that end.
Spinelli pulled a photo of Mike Carter from the manila folder he carried and handed it to Sonny. “Do you know this guy?”
Sonny nodded. “Yep, he comes in pretty regularly. Never stays very long though.”
