Excerpt Two

East of Niece Sex and Murder.com
From Chapter Two

By Mark Richard Zubro

I like it best when they're complacent. When they don't believe it could happen to them. I want to deflate them. Their indifference to real human problems causes pain and suffering. I'm going to make them pay for all the indifference, and all the pain, and all the suffering.

Vinnie Girote, the mayor's press secretary, and Alex Yerson, the director of news affairs for the police department, showed up fifteen minutes after the evidence techs. Fenwick spotted the unwanted intruders. He asked, "Why are we being inundated with these fools?"

Turner said, "A desire to work on the side of truth and light? The politicians are frightened about the impact of the killing? One of our prominent fair citizens committed the murder? Hysterical overreaction? Damage control? I don't know, Buck. How many more guesses do I get?"

Fenwick said, "You can be Mister Question Man, and I'll be Mister Wisdom."

"How come you always get to be Mister Wisdom?"

"I'm better at making cute-corpse comments."

"That's getting just a trifle stale today." Turner knew that Fenwick was always one to beat a good joke to death.

Girote was a short, bald man in his late sixties, whose clothes never seemed to fit him quite right. They might be the most expensive, but he always looked like he'd just lost or gained fifteen pounds, so his clothes either clung too tight or billowed out too far. He had one characteristic Turner found most annoying. The detective had seen the type before: those who believed that if you were shouting, you were being effective.

Turner had seen Girote on the news and in person. His role as cheerleader seldom got in the way of his avoiding giving out information that was helpful or informative. The press corps, however, seemed to like him. He always made sure they had copious amounts of food at press buffets at major events and his sound bites resonated perfectly for the evening news. The reporters got plenty of advance notice of hot stories, which might be mostly geared to shed favorable light on the mayor and his administration, but it also made the reporters' jobs easier. Girote was also fantastic at doling out perks. If a writer needed tickets for their kids to an important sports event, they got them. If a reporter wanted front row seats at a hot theater opening, the tickets would miraculously appear.

Girote bulled past the beat cop stationed at the hallway entrance. He attempted the same maneuver on Fenwick.

"Going somewhere?" Fenwick asked. He moved his bulk to block Girote's progress. Fenwick's heft was legendary. His ability to pack away food second to none. His ability to devour chocolate unrivaled. His size, as much as his determination, effectively blocked the way.

"I need to see the body," Girote said. "I'm Vinnie Girote, the mayor's press secretary." Turner wished he had a volume control knob so he could bring the guy down several decibels.

"No." Fenwick's voice matched Girote's in volume, but Fenwick's tone also gave the syllable enough finality to impress a hardened gangbanger. Girote, at the moment immune to Fenwick's best, tried to push past him again.

"How would you know where the body was?" Turner asked.

Girote ignored him and attempted to surge forward for the third time.

Fenwick put a large fist on the man's chest. He said, "You are not going to disturb my crime scene. You are not going any farther. You are going to turn around and march out of this house faster than you came in."

Girote drew in more than his full share of oxygen and resumed shouting, "I told you who I am. You're only a cop. I represent the most important politician in this city. That makes what I want to know important." He began rocking from foot to foot, a prize fighter out of his element, or a case of nerves in someone unable to conceal his emotions.

Turner liked it when press people were nearly out of control. They were actually easier to handle at such moments and far more likely to blurt out something indiscreet.

Fenwick laughed. He asked, "Are you the pope or a close relative of his? Wouldn't matter. He wouldn't get in there either."

"Why are you here?" Turner asked. "And why do you need to see the body?"

"The mayor is very concerned."

Turner said, "How does him being concerned have anything to do with you seeing the body or the crime scene? I see no connection. What is it exactly he is concerned about?"

"I don't answer to you," Girote said.

Fenwick gave his lowest grumble, before which crazed, heroin-addicted triple murderers had quailed. He said, "This is a murder investigation. If necessary, you will answer to me."

He took a step forward.

Girote stopped talking and moving. He eyed both detectives carefully.

Turner said, "I asked you once already. How did you know which direction to go in to look for the body?"

"Am I a suspect?" Girote demanded.

"Not if you have a good alibi," Turner said.

"Would you like to be?" Fenwick asked.

The man continued to breathe heavily. His eyes bugged out like a fish on a cold slab waiting to be grilled. His mouth gaped like a nozzle on a vacuum cleaner hose.

Finally Fenwick said, "I'll get someone to escort you out." He took the man's elbow in one massive paw.

Girote tried to yank his arm away from the grip. "Let me go!"

Turner said, "Buck, wait a second. Mr. Girote, if you give us some useful background about Craig Lenzati, perhaps we can accommodate you in some way."

"Well, I suppose," Girote said.

Fenwick let him go. They repaired to the kitchen, out of the way of any technicians. The director of news affairs for the police department followed silently.

Fenwick asked, "Why are the politicians so concerned about this murder?"

"It's obvious. He's a prominent citizen. One of the richest in the city. He was thinking of buying a professional sports team and bringing it to Chicago. He's brought a lot of high tech jobs to this town. His loss will be severely felt. The mayor wanted to make sure the investigation was being pursued with all vigor."

"Why not just call our boss and apply pressure?" Fenwick asked. "Why send you?"

"Is that really germane to solving the case?" Girote asked. "I think the mayor's concern is natural."

Without discounting this explanation, Turner remained highly suspicious of this level of direct personal concern.

"Tell us more about Lenzati," Turner said. "What's his background?"

"I thought everyone knew about Craig Lenzati. Don't you detectives read Kup's column or the INC column or anything?"

"Humor me," Turner said.

"Well, he and a friend started one of those Internet businesses in their garage while they were still in college at Northwestern. They were very rich before they were twenty-five. They sold their company for over a billion dollars. Now they have an experimental technology company that's making even more money. The original company employs several thousand people in this area. The new company is expanding very fast. They are on the cutting edge. It is only a slight exaggeration to say that he and his company were responsible for the technological renaissance in the city. Before them, it was moribund. Forget Motorola. They were pikers compared to these guys. He has also invested heavily in real estate in cities around the world, but nowhere more so than in Chicago."

"What kind of guy was he?"

"Great. Smart, a genius. A big tipper. A big contributor to charitable causes. He always had a big smile for everyone, but shy. A computer nerd, after all. Socially okay, in a if-I-don't-make-a-move-I-won't-make-a-faux-pas kind of way."

"Did he live alone?" Turner asked.

"As far as I know, he did. He came to many functions with eligible young women. One more beautiful than the last. I don't know if he was serious about any of them."

Fenwick said, "I hate it when they have mostly frivolous relationships with women."

Girote gave him a puzzled look.

"Gritty cop humor," Fenwick said. "Not important to solving the case."

"Do you think you should be approaching this with a flippant attitude? Maybe the mayor should get someone else on this case."

Fenwick said, "You're the one who wants to look at a dead body for no discernible reason, unless you've got a corpse fetish."

They glared at each other.