Chapter 2
The two detectives grabbed their badges and clipped their holsters onto their belts, standard procedure when going out of the office. They slipped on their sports jackets, and then scrambled down the two flights of stairs to the underground parking garage, Pepper sliding behind the wheel of their unmarked car. Pepper manoeuvered the car up the ramp and onto William Street. He turned right, heading towards the university.
Arcs of sunlight shot across the windshield, a teasing harbinger of the first day of spring tickling at the calendar. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful crisp St. Patrick's Day, with mothers zipping up their kid's coats before sending them off to school, while university and college students immersed themselves in green body paint, washing out their mouths with festively dyed beer.
"So how's Michelle doing? Not much longer now, right?" Pepper asked.
"About eight more weeks. She's good. Big as a house, cranky, doesn't know what she wants from one minute to the next, eats everything in sight, wants to burn all her pregnancy clothes, pees about a hundred times a day-so yeah, she's good."
"Has she got that hormone emotional thing going too?"
The exasperated look on Wallace's face said it all. "Hormone emotional thing? Don't get me started on that. You know, for the life of me, I don't think I can remember the last time I did something right, according to her. I'll come home one day, she's nutbar angry with me, over something like the fact that I folded towels the wrong way. And then the next day, she's crying with happiness because she heard some song that reminded her of when we were dating. I'm telling you, man, I can't keep up. I think I need a daily scorecard to know where she's at on that hormone scale." Pepper laughed, the distraught look on Wallace's face too priceless for words.
"Oh, you go ahead and laugh, buddy-it'll happen to you one day. Just you wait and see." Wallace paused, the late-pregnancy phase that had become his life making him cranky and miserable. "And talk about hormones, it must be nuts to be a woman. It's not just the mood swings. Her body temperature's like a frickin' pizza oven. Seriously, you could probably toast marshmallows on her. So not only does she walk around outside with her coat wide open, but every night, she throws the covers off-and I'm the one that wakes up freezing."
"Suck it up, buttercup," Pepper replied, grinning from ear to ear. "I think you better be happy you're getting at least some sleep now. That's gonna change in about two months."
"I know, I know," Wallace replied, the winsome smile of the happy father-to-be on his face. "I'm looking forward to it, actually. We wanted three, and this will be it." He paused as they crossed Oxford Street, the traffic light at this time of day. He turned to Pepper. "So how are those kung fu lessons going with Chin? You had another one today, right?"
"Yeah, I'm still sore from where she hit me." Pepper rubbed his jaw, happy that the police department had a good dental plan. "It's Jeet Kune Do that she's actually teaching me, which is a type of kung fu."
"Jeet Kune Do, kung fu, whatever." Wallace waved his hand in the air dismissively. "The question is, are you learning anything, or are you just there to scope her out in her workout gear?" With a mischievous smile on his face, he flicked his eyebrows up and down rapidly like a silent movie comedian.
"Very funny. Chin and I get along great, but it's nothing more than that. Besides, she's dating an architect or something."
"An architect? I thought it was a dentist?"
"Whoever it is, it's somebody who makes a lot more money than us. Besides, if I did date her, I'd be afraid to do something wrong in case she hit me. Man, that girl can pack a punch."
"Well, Tee, you better find yourself a girl-soon. I'm leaving you in the dust when it comes to the family and kid thing, buddy."
"Oh yes, the sleepless nights, the diaper changes, the three a.m. feedings, the cranky wife. Man, I really do envy you."
Wallace laughed and then held up his index finger, pointing it at Pepper. "But you know, you forgot to mention that feeling when you've had a rough day at work, and when you come home, that little one jumps into your arms and squeezes you like she never wants to let go. Or watching the look on their face the first time they score a goal. Or just watching them sleep-I tell you buddy, when they're sleeping and look like little angels, everything else that they did that day that ticked you off just seems to melt away-there's nothing like it."
Pepper smiled back at his friend, knowing how happy he really was, and envying him for it. He'd seen how Wallace was with his wife and kids, and he had to admit he was a little jealous. Sure, there were times when Pepper enjoyed his freedom, but by no means did he live, or even want, the carefree playboy lifestyle. That wasn't his style-he wasn't a 'player'. Pepper knew that if he met the right girl, he'd be quite happy to settle down. But finding the right girl-now that was a problem.
"Hey, you said the things that your kids did to tick you off just seems to melt away. That reminds me-what was on the B-side of Modern English's, 'I Melt With You'?"
"Are you talking about the seven inch or the twelve inch release?"
"The twelve inch, of course."
"Too easy. 'Life in the Gladhouse', and...," Wallace replied, purposely stretching out his answer, "'Someone's Calling'. Both songs were on the B-side." Pepper nodded, clearly impressed.
"Okay, I've got one for you," Wallace continued. "Best U2 album, 'Boy', or 'The Joshua Tree'?"
"I've gotta go with 'Boy'. You know, the youthful energy, the pure rawness of their sound on that first album, Edge's distinctive guitar and the power of Bono's voice, you can't beat it."
"But what about 'Where the Streets Have No Name'? You've got to admit, that song is something special."
"Agreed. 'Streets' isn't just a song, it's an anthem." Pepper paused as Wallace nodded in agreement. "But overall, I've gotta go with 'Boy'."
"I have to admit I'm with you on that one," Wallace said as he turned to the paperwork in his lap. "She's a cute young thing." Pepper flicked his eyes over as Wallace held up Yvonne Redmond's photo. It looked like a high school yearbook picture, the pretty blonde girl all peaches and cream, with a big slice of apple pie on the side. It reminded Pepper of a girl he dated when he was about the same age. He prayed the Redmond girl still looked like that, hopefully just passed out drunk and too afraid to go home.
A minute or two later they were at the university, and made their way into the athletic director's office.
"Is Coach Romanuk available?" Wallace asked a young kid sitting behind the desk as Pepper looked around the room, the walls adorned with a parade of plaques and team photos from numerous sports, evidence of the Mustangs' winning heritage.
"I'm not sure-" The kid had a cocky tone to his voice, which Wallace shut down in a hurry by flashing his badge. "Uh yes. His office is right over here." The kid made a grand apologetic gesture as he got up and led them to an office at the back of the room, all gangly arms and legs.
"Coach Romanuk?" Pepper said as he tapped on the frame of the open door.
"Yes?" The football coach said as he sat forward at his desk. His computer in the background showed what looked like game film.
"I'm Detective Pepper, and this is Detective Wallace." They quickly flashed their badges, which the coach seemed to purposely ignore. He looked cagy and rattled, his eyes buggy, and he blinked a lot. Pepper wondered if he spent every moment not on the field in front of his TV or computer watching film, always trying to land the next boy wonder. If he looked this strung out early in the morning, Pepper wondered what he looked like at the end of the day.
"Who is it this time?" the coach asked, looking from one detective to the other, his blinking eyes making them feel on edge, like he was taking their picture with every blink, more game film for him to study later.
"Who's what?" Pepper asked, confused by the coach's response.
"Which one of my players has done something wrong? That must be why you're here, right?"
"We're actually just following up on a missing person's case, C
oach. It's probably nothing."
"You don't happen to recognize this girl at all, do you?" Wallace interjected, showing the coach the picture of Yvonne Redmond.
The man studied the photo. "No," he replied, his ruddy face swivelled back and forth on his wizened neck like a bobblehead as he looked from one detective to the other. "Is she involved with one of my players?"
"We understand she may have left a party with a player on your team named Rico. Do you have a player with that name?"
Before Wallace had even finished speaking, the coach had gone into full bobblehead mode, nodding up and down vigorously. Pepper wanted to reach out and put his hand on the coach's head to stop him, the bobble feeling contagious, as if he wanted to start nodding back at the coach in agreement. "Yes, Rico Bartolucci. He's going to be starting for us at defensive end next year-he's a great edge rusher. But I'm sure it's not him. Good boy, good student, comes from a good family."
Pepper paused, wondering how well the coach really knew his players. "So what's he majoring in? Do you know where we can find him on campus right now?"
The coach flushed red, old swivel head looking from Pepper to Wallace, and back again. "Uh, I'm not quite sure. I think he's recently switched majors."
"Do you have any contact information for him? Where he's living? E-mail address? Cell phone number? That kind of thing."
"Uh, Jason will be able to give you what we've got." The coach leaned forward and yelled to the young man. "Jason, give these officers any contact info we've got on Bartolucci."
Pepper and Wallace nodded their thanks to the coach and walked over to where the kid was pecking away at his computer. He looked at the screen and then moved his mouse, turning as the printer beside him spit out some paper. He took it and turned to Wallace, "Here's what we've got for Bartolucci. He's staying in one of the highrises on Richmond Street. His e-mail and cell number are there too." Wallace nodded as he looked down at the address and other information printed on the sheet.
"Thanks. Jason, right?" Pepper said, putting his hands on the kid's desk and leaning over him ominously.
"Yes. It's Jason."
"Jason, you wouldn't be thinking about calling Mr. Bartolucci to let him know we're coming by, would you?"
The young man flushed, confirming for Pepper what he'd suspected. "Uh?I?uh, no."
"That's good." Pepper turned and nodded towards his partner. "It would be a shame if Detective Wallace and I were to find out that someone had tampered with our investigation. And hey, Jason, our computer guys, they're pretty good. It would be too bad if we felt we had to confiscate anyone's computer or cell phone to see who they've been contacting, or even just what they've been looking at."
"No sir. I mean yes sir. I mean, I understand," the kid responded, shaking his head from side to side, letting Pepper know he was one tinkle away from making a mess of himself at the thought of the cops taking his stuff.
"Very good," Pepper replied, smiling down at the young man as he rapped his knuckles on the top of the desk. "You've been very helpful. Hopefully we won't be back." Setting one more firecracker under the guy wouldn't hurt.
"Okay," Wallace said once they were back in the car. "Bartolucci's in the second highrise north of the University gates. Apartment 1802."
"Really? 1802?"
"Yes Tee, 1802. And you're not taking the stairs."
Pepper had a phobia when it came to elevators. He didn't know what had caused it originally, but he'd had it since he was a kid. It wasn't exactly claustrophobia-he actually drove a Mini. No, it was something specific to elevators. It didn't matter if he was going up one floor or fifty-one floors, the anxiety would hit him just the same. That was the main reason he always took the stairs when possible, and was happy that the police station had only two storeys and a basement.
"It'll be all right," Wallace continued as they pulled into an empty visitor's parking spot in front of the apartment building. "We've been through this before. You've been on an elevator thousands of times in your life and nothing bad has ever happened."
"I'm sure it hasn't been thousands," Pepper said as they made their way into the building, catching the door as a student left.
"Well, hundreds then." Wallace walked over to the bank of elevators and pressed the 'Up' button, Pepper lagged purposely behind, stopping halfway across the lobby. His fingers tapped the side of his thigh.
"Tee, listen to me. Relax. We'll do it just like the last time-you'll stand right at the front of the elevator and I'll talk to you the whole way up. Just listen to my voice and you'll be fine."
Pepper nodded as he chewed nervously at his bottom lip, like a cat clawing at a scratch post.
"Okay, let's go," Wallace said, motioning Pepper forward as the elevator doors opened. Pepper stopped short as he looked inside at two young women chatting away, baskets of clean laundry in their arms.
"Ladies," Wallace said with a nod as he pushed Pepper forward. As soon as Pepper was inside, he turned to the front and stood to one side in front of the panel of buttons, grasping tightly onto the metal rail running around the walls of the car. He stood totally inert, his heart racing as Wallace reached to the bank of buttons on the other side and pushed 18. Pepper looked down, noticing the buttons for floors 10 and 14 were illuminated as well-the stops for the two women coming from the laundry room. He'd hoped they would have gotten an empty cab, but no such luck. He could feel his breath coming in short little gasps, like a puppy who runs for two minutes straight and drops in his master's lap, tongue hanging out-only Pepper's tongue was lodged behind his gritted teeth instead.
"I'm telling you, Tee," Wallace began jabbering as the elevator doors closed, "you've got to get yourself a real car. That Mini you've got, what's with that? Do people ask you if your wife drives the other half? And that reminds me, it's Michelle's birthday next week. I have no idea what to get her. She likes jewelry, but with three little kids, where is she gonna wear it? I'm serious, maybe I should get her a dog to help with the kids. A big St. Bernard, or something like that. Maybe a cat would better. Yeah?a cat."
The two women looked at each other, both of them listening to this squirrelly-looking guy ramble on while his friend white-knuckled the safety rail. The elevator chimed to a stop at 10, and one of the women got off, rolling her eyes at her friend.
"This is a nice elevator," Wallace continued chattering away. "Nice lighting, emergency button and phone. The background music is nice too. What is that, an instrumental version of Barry Manilow's Mandy? No, that's not it, Springtime in New England-that's it."
The elevator stopped at the fourteenth floor, the other women hurrying off, happy to leave the magpie and the statue behind.
"Only four more floors, buddy. You're doing fine. Now three. You're good as gold. Now two?almost there?almost there. Okay, here we are." Wallace took Pepper's arm and led him out as soon as the doors opened on 18. "Okay, safe and sound. Now take a deep breath and let's go see this Rico Bartolucci."
Wallace started down the corridor as Pepper followed, feeling like the real Tee Pepper again as he took a few deep breaths, the anxiety washing out of his body and taking Zombie Pepper with it.
"All set?" Wallace asked, stopping in front of the door labelled 1802.
Pepper let out a long breath and rolled his head around his shoulders. "Yeah."
Wallace knocked on the door, a good hard rap. They could hear movement inside, but nothing sounded like anybody was coming to the door. He knocked again, sharp and loud. "Mr. Bartolucci!" Wallace spoke loudly. They heard more sounds from inside, including the sound of a door closing, and then soft heavy footsteps approaching. They stood to each side as the door opened about a foot, the young man inside poking his head out. They instinctively took a step back as they looked up at the huge face staring back at them. He had to be at least six-seven or six-eight. Of what they could see, he looked massive, as if he could play the whole defensive line all on his own. Irritation was written all over his face as he blinked and shook his head,
clearing out the cobwebs.
"W'sup?" the guy said, making Pepper immediately think he should have brought Wallace's four-year old along as an interpreter. Maybe the guy would offer them a fist bump.
"Rico Bartolucci?" Wallace asked.
"Yeah, who the fuck are you?"
Both men pulled out their badges as Wallace spoke, "I'm Detective Wallace and this is Detective Pepper. We have a few questions."
Like water poured over a sand castle, the attitude on the kid's face washed away, replaced by a white pallor. "Uh, sorry officers. What can I do to help you?"
"It should just take a minute or two. We're pretty sure it's nothing, but if we could just ask you a couple of questions, we'll be out of your way in no time." As someone came out of their apartment door down the hall and started towards the elevator, Wallace tried to look past Bartolucci. "If we could do this inside, sir, we'd appreciate it."
Bartolucci paused, and Pepper could see the wheels going around in the big guy's head, like turbo-charged bumper cars. Bartolucci let out a big sigh, decision reached. "Uh, okay." He turned back into the apartment and lumbered away, leaving the door open behind him.
Wallace and Pepper followed, knowing this time Wallace would lead the questioning while Pepper hung back and looked around while keeping an eye on Bartolucci. The big guy walked into the living room. The blinds were closed on all the windows, giving the place a dank dingy look. There were empty pizza boxes and liquor bottles everywhere. Pepper felt like he'd just arrived at the intersection of Bedlam and Squallor.
Bartolucci reached down to the littered coffee table and picked up a sports drink, draining it in a single slug and wiping his mouth nervously with the back of his hand. He turned back to the two of them. His enormous frame blocked out what little light was filtering in around the curtains. He was huge all right, with shoulders like a tank and arms like bridge cables. His hands were enormous, capable of palming a basketball and holding it downwards in a gravity-defying gesture. One forearm was heavily inked, tattooed flames running from his wrist up to his elbow. A string of barbed wire circled the bicep of his other arm. He was naked except for a pair of long baggy sport shorts, which hung precariously low on his hips. He coughed and turned, spitting a big wad of something unfestive into one of the open pizza boxes. His eyes were watery, and piggish. His face was round and flat, as if he'd been dropped on it repeatedly at birth. His head had been shaved, but seemed to have what looked like about four or five days of growth-suedehead.
The place smelled like a drunken locker room-a mixture of sweat, booze and rotting food, with a little B.O. thrown in for extra spice. It was a one-bedroom with a galley kitchen that looked more like a landfill. The door to the bedroom was closed, the door to the bathroom open. Against one wall was an enormous TV. Screw the school work, screw the decent food-it was all about the big TV.
"We're looking for a girl by the name of Yvonne Redmond," Wallace said. "Ever heard of her?"
"Don't know no Yvonne." The switch of majors must have been to English Literature, thought Pepper, looking at the kid closely. Bartolucci had replied quickly-almost too quickly.
"Apparently she was seen with you at a party over on Broughdale a couple of nights ago."
"Look, officers, I go to a lot of parties," Bartolucci held up his hands with a 'why-me' look on his face, as if it should have been obvious how in demand his presence was at university parties-like he'd do anything to keep the masses happy.
"Take a look at this picture. Are you sure you don't know this girl?" Wallace held out the photo for The Defensive Line to look at. Pepper watched the kid intently, to see how Bartolucci would react if he knew the girl, expecting to see some sort of glint of recognition in those piggy eyes. But there was no incriminating spark there-if anything, there was a surprising look of relief.
The kid started to shake his head. "No officer, I've never seen-"
"Help! Help me!"
A girl's scream from behind the closed bedroom door made all of them stop dead, like a game of schoolyard statues. Bartolucci moved first, lashing out with a vicious backhand of one huge paw that caught Wallace in the upper chest, launching him against the wall behind him. Pepper saw Wallace's head snap back and his glasses fly off as he crashed into the wall, dropping to the floor like a sack of wet cement.
Pepper turned back to see Bartolucci rushing at him, eyes wild with fear, lumbering with arms outstretched like he was trying to chock up another sack on his stats sheet. Pepper ducked as the big ox flew past, his closing arms whistling by Pepper's ear as he dove to the side, the lug's overripe scent pummelling Pepper's nostrils. Pepper tried to pull out his gun as he scrambled to his feet, but Bartolucci was on him again. Pepper was glad he was a football player instead of a boxer, seemingly more intent on tackling and crushing him, knowing that a punch from one of those big fists would have sent him to the dentist for a week straight.
Before he could get his weapon drawn, Bartolucci grabbed him by the shoulder as Pepper ducked again. The big lug was surprisingly fast, and this time Pepper hadn't gotten away. Pepper felt the huge hands squeezing down on him as Bartolucci let out a big roar and flung him across the room. Pepper reached out and grabbed the side of the couch, interrupting his intended meeting with the wall. He hung on as his body whipped around, his feet hitting the wall instead of his head.
Bartolucci was right on top of him again, having him cornered, his hamhock arms outstretched, as if ready to tackle Pepper and slam him to turf. Remembering some of his training with Chin, Pepper surprised Bartolucci by darting inside his circling arms and firing two quick jabs into the guy's solar plexus. The bear didn't move, but Pepper's fists almost shattered, the brick wall midsection he'd slammed them against winning that battle. With a grunt, Bartolucci swatted Pepper away, intent on squashing him like a pestering mosquito. Pepper slammed against the wall, the breath almost knocked out of him for the second time that day. As the giant lunged forward, Pepper ducked and darted to the side, kicking out viciously as Bartolucci went past. Pepper heard a sickening 'snap!' and felt something give beneath his foot.
Bartolucci roared as he went down with a tremendous thud, clutching his knee. "What'd you do to me, man? You fucked up my knee. I'm supposed to be starting next year." He rolled around on the floor, clutching his knee, whining like a baby that needs its diaper changed.
"I don't think you'll be starting anything, asshole," Pepper said, reaching down and slapping a pair of cuffs on the guy, the circling rings of metal barely able to fit around his huge wrists.
With his heart still pounding, Pepper turned to see Wallace slowly getting to his feet, reaching in front of him to pick up his glasses. "Rupe, are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. I'll watch him. You go check on the girl," a wobbly Wallace said, nodding towards the closed bedroom door.
Pepper raced across the room and flung open the door. Standing in the doorway, he looked over at a naked girl lying on the bed, her slender arms outstretched, ropes securing her wrists to the top corners of the headboard. A bandana of some form had been wrapped around her mouth as a gag, but now hung around her neck. He could see that she'd worried it to the point where she could move it off her face enough for her to call out when she heard them talking with Bartolucci. Tears were streaming down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably, afraid and shattered.
"Jesus Christ," Pepper muttered under his breath. As he strode across the room, he noticed bite marks on her breasts and the sides of her neck. She had her legs pressed together as she instinctively tried to twist sideways away from his gaze, but he still caught a glimpse of a couple of bruises on her upper thighs.
"It's all right. You're okay. We're the police," Pepper said, trying to keep his voice calm, but a quiver of concern crept in as he spoke. He grabbed a sheet that had slipped to the floor and drew it up over the girl, covering her as best as he could. She was crying harder now, with relief this time as Pepper reached forward and undid one of the ropes from her wrist, and then m
oved to the other side of the bed to do the same to her other hand. As soon as she pulled her arm back, she turned on her side and curled into a ball, pulling the sheet up to her shoulders, her tears staining the pillow beneath her, her body trembling and quivering as she cried.
Seeing she was okay for the moment, Pepper stepped back and looked out the door, seeing Wallace standing over the whimpering Bartolucci but looking towards the bedroom, concern in his eyes and his cell phone in his hand.
"I think she's okay." Pepper said as Wallace nodded back. "Call it in. We need at least one ambulance." Pepper gestured to Bartolucci. "I think we should make him walk down the stairs." The levity helped to take the edge off after their encounter with Bartolucci.
As Wallace raised his phone, Pepper went back to the girl. He knew not to touch her-a man's hand on her right now would likely send her into hysterics. He sat on the bed next to her, letting her know someone was there to keep her safe. He spoke to her as calmly as possible while she rocked back and forth, nibbling on her thumb like a soother now. "You're going to be all right. My partner's out in the other room and we've got that guy in handcuffs. He's not going to hurt you anymore." He could tell she was listening, but she just kept crying, twisting the sheet around her hand now. Pepper wanted her to talk-he didn't want her drifting off to a place she might not come back from. "Talk to me, Yvonne. Let me know if you're okay."
The girls' eyes flicked up to Pepper's and she sniffed, trying to compose herself. "My name's Jennie."