The Caller by Alex Barclay Read Free Book Online Page A

memoirs.’
    Bobby shot out a laugh. ‘I got a few chapters of my own I might like to add to that.’
    ‘Really?’ said Joe. ‘What can I—’
    ‘Actually I’m calling because I think I’ve got something you might be interested in. The Upper West Side homicide you got? Your vic – Ethan Lowry. Was there a phone by him when they found him?’
    ‘Yeah. There was. Why?’
    Bobby sucked in a breath. ‘Sounds a lot like this case I caught in SoHo back in December. Guy’s name was Gary Ortis, badly beaten about the face, gunshot to the head, phone in the hallway beside him. We never got the guy.’
    ‘Jesus. And it looks like we’re already linking this one to a case a year back. Was your guy gay?’
    ‘He was single and he dated women,’ said Bobby, ‘but who knows? Yours?’
    ‘Ethan Lowry was married with a kid,’ said Joe. ‘William Aneto was gay.’
    ‘Hmm.’
    ‘I know where you’re coming from,’ said Joe, ‘it has that feel about it. That was some hardcore facial damage and I don’t know about you, but last few times I saw shit like that, it was two guys, lovers’ spat. No-one died, but …’
    ‘Yeah, I know,’ said Bobby.
    ‘Look, why don’t you call in to the Two-Oh, bring what you got.’
    Joe put down the phone and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket hanging on the back of his chair. He pulled out two pills and took them with a can of Red Bull.
    ‘Guys,’ he said. ‘That was Bobby Nicotero from the 1st. Looks like he got a third vic, happened back in December. He’s on his way over.’
    ‘Holy shit,’ said Danny.
    ‘On Lowry’s records? said Blazkow. ‘The last call at 10.58? Was to a woman – Clare Oberly. Lives on 48th Street between 8th and Broadway.’
    ‘OK,’ said Joe. ‘Danny and I’ll go check her out this evening.’
    * * *
    Half an hour later Bobby Nicotero walked into the twentieth precinct with his partner. Bobby was thirty-nine years old with a thick neck, broad shoulders, short legs and suits too cheap to flatter any of them. He had close-cut black hair, a heavy brow and a range of facial expressions that stretched to pissed off.
    ‘Hey,’ said Joe. ‘Good to see you.’
    ‘You too,’ said Bobby, shaking his hand. ‘This is my partner, Roger Pace.’
    Pace was shockingly gaunt with eyes set deep into dark sockets.
    ‘Nice to meet you,’ said Joe, shaking his hand. ‘Thanks for coming in.’
    ‘No problem,’ said Pace, slipping back behind Bobby.
    ‘OK,’ said Joe, walking over to the others. ‘Bobby, you know Danny Markey. And this is Aldos Martinez and Fred Rencher from Manhattan North. Tom Blazkow and Denis Cullen from here at the Two-Oh. Everyone, Bobby Nicotero and Roger Pace from the 1st.’
    Everyone nodded.
    ‘Do you want to tell us what you got?’ said Joe.
    ‘Sure,’ said Bobby. ‘I read the paper and I just saw our friend, the “source close to the investigation” saying that the vic was found naked and his face was severely beaten. I figured there could be something to it, could be nothing.’ He opened the file.
    ‘Our vic’s name was Gary Ortis, DOB 07/10/69, cause of death – GSW to the head from a twenty-two. There were signs of oxygen deprivation, you know, petechial hemorrhages. He was found naked in his apartment on Prince Street in SoHo.’
    ‘Body behind the door,’ said Joe.
    ‘Yup.’
    Everyone nodded. ‘That sounds like our guy,’ said Joe. ‘Any leads?’
    Bobby shook his head. ‘Nothing. We thought it was a gay thing, but the guy had lots of girlfriends—’ He shrugged. ‘Not that that means anything.’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Martinez looking at Danny.
    Danny rolled his eyes.
    ‘Looks sexual to me,’ said Blazkow. ‘They’re all found naked like that, beaten so bad.’
    ‘We got the ME talking about a homosexual motive,’ said Joe.
    ‘Makes sense when you look at the physical damage,’ said Rencher. ‘When I was in the 17th, I caught this case – a high school junior, one of those small,