Mostly, she chose the youngest, prettiest girls. But a handful were recruited for so-called special-needs clients-men who favored the company of heavy girls or tiny girls or, in some cases, girls who weren’t girls at all.
It was a gold mine. Until, that is, the Sussex police stumbled onto it when they made a prostitution bust at a local motel. The girl, who’d recently been let go by Elaine for using drugs, was looking to cut herself a deal. Not to mention payback. The Sussex police called in the state’s Organized Crime Investigative Task Force, which spent weeks combing through thousands of phone calls and e-mails. Elaine and Tiffany were eventually charged with violation of the CORA act and promoting prostitution in the second degree. Both women were sentenced to a minimum of three years at York Correctional in Niantic
Des sat there at her computer, frowning. York Correctional. Somebody in the middle of the Augie Donatelli mess had a York connection. Although for the life of her, she couldn’t remember who.
There was more to the story. Elaine Gruen claimed that the task force’s lead officer, Captain Peter Bartucca, had accepted sexual favors from one of her escorts. Elaine’s lawyer went public with her accusation, screaming bloody murder. It got looked into by none other than Captain Richie Tedone of Internal Affairs. After conducting a thorough investigation, Richie found zero evidence that Captain Bartucca had engaged in any such behavior. “Mrs. Gruen’s allegations,” he told the Hartford Courant, “are a scurrilous, baseless, despicable attempt to sully the reputation of a fine public servant and family man.”
The escort who Elaine Gruen said had provided Captain Bartucca with those sexual favors? None other than Michael Reginald Toomey, aka Eboni, aka Deelite.
Gotcha, Mr. Sleazeball.
Seated there at her desk, Des allowed herself the luxury of a satisfied smile. Then she took a deep breath, let it out and went to work trying to find Terri E as in maybe Edsen, who worked in a cubicle somewhere in New York and maybe-big maybe-had been getting busy with Hal Chapman while somebody else was beating Augie Donatelli’s brains in.
CHAPTER 13
They took Mitch’s truck.
Very rode shotgun, his head nodding up and down like a bobble-head doll as he took in the sights of the Historic District. “So how did a city kid like you end up in this colonial theme park?” he wanted to know.
“My wife passed away. I needed to make a change, meet new people. Besides, it’s not a theme park-as your friend Augie would be only too happy to attest to.”
“I hear you,” Very said, his jaw muscles clenching. “How about you and the master sergeant? Any problems with the color thing?”
“That’s for other people to think about. We don’t.”
“I’ve never gone there. I got pretty serious with a Korean woman when I was just out of the academy, but her family didn’t want her dating a round eye. Plus she was into Renaissance fairs, which make me totally-”
“Ootsie?”
“I was going to say hurl.”
“Sorry, my bad.”
“She couldn’t handle her parents’ disapproval so she broke it off. But I still think about her sometimes. I’m just so damned tired of being by myself. Know what I’m saying?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Don’t get me wrong-I do okay when it comes to hookups. But the right woman? Someone who I can be me with? No fear? That’s rare.”
“Rare,” agreed Mitch, who was wondering just exactly how he’d managed to wander into Lieutenant Very’s personal eHarmony commercial.
“Talk to me about Yolie Snipes. What’s up with her?”
Mitch smiled to himself. So much for wondering. “She’s a rising star. Real smart. Comes with a lot of hard bark on her but she’s honest and loyal. Des is real fond of Yolie. Me, too. But I’m kind of partial.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“She saved my life once.”
“She got a steady man in her life?”
“No man at all.”
“Get out! A gorgeous sister like that?”
“I don’t think anyone has the nerve to ask her out. She can be a bit intimidating.”
“I know. It’s kind of a turn-on.”
“So take a shot. Worst thing that can happen is she’ll…”
“Just say no?”
“I was going to say beat the crap out of you.”
Very’s face lit up. “I can think of worse ways to spend an evening.”
“Okay, Lieutenant, this is way too much information.”
Maple Lane was cordoned off. A pair of cruisers were there to keep gawkers away. Also a mobile news van from one of the Connecticut TV stations.
Mitch pulled up in front of the Captain Chadwick House and parked. “Augie’s apartment is around in back.”
“We’ll brace Beth Breslauer first,” Very informed him.
“She may not be home.”
“We’ll find out.”
“We could have called to let her know we were coming.”
“Not how it’s done, dude. You always drop in unannounced. Question a suspect before she has a chance to prepare her responses.”
“So Beth’s a suspect?”
“Everyone’s a suspect.”
Beth was home. And she could not have been more poised or polite when Mitch introduced her to Lieutenant Romaine Very of the NYPD. Not a trace of uneasiness. Not a frosted blond hair out of place. She was totally together. “This is such a nice surprise, Mitch,” she exclaimed as she showed them in. “But I’m afraid Kenny’s at the beach with Kimberly.”
“Actually, we’re here to see you.”
“I have a few questions, Mrs. Breslauer,” Very explained. “I’m not here in an official capacity. You’re totally free to decline.”
Beth tilted her head at him. “Questions regarding…?”
“Augie Donatelli. He was like a father to me.”
“I’m so sorry, Lieutenant.”
“I understand he’d taken a personal interest in you. I’d like to talk to you about that, if you don’t mind.”
Beth glanced at the file folder that was tucked under Very’s arm. “Certainly. May I offer you gentlemen a glass of iced tea? I was just having some out on the porch with my neighbor Bertha Peck. I’ll ask her to excuse us.”
“No need,” Very said. “In fact, it’d be great if she stayed.”
Beth’s gaze narrowed slightly. “Whatever you say.”
She fetched two tall glasses from the kitchen and led them out onto the porch. Bertha Peck sat on the white wicker love seat, wearing a trimly tailored linen summer dress and round, oversized glasses. She was a tiny, somewhat scary-looking old lady. Nearly ninety, but with glossy, coal black hair and big blue eyes that were slightly protuberant and more than slightly piercing. She sat very erect, hands folded in her lap. Her legs, as Bitsy Peck had advised Mitch, were still splendid indeed. Slender and finely shaped.
“Bertha, this is Kenny’s friend, Mitch Berger,” Beth said as she filled their glasses from the pitcher on the table.
“You’re that movie critic who lives out on Big Sister.” Bertha looked him over with keen-eyed disapproval.
