Expectation: A Francesca Fruscella Mystery

Chapter 2. Vier Lieder op. 2

chapter 2 Vier Lieder op. 2 Expectation 9 I. Erwartung I closed my office door and opened the window blinds, letting the late afternoon April sun stream through. The bright yellow light was stronger than I expected and I squinted, shielding my eyes with my hand. Looking down at the small entrance plaza, and then at the parking lot across the street, I thought about all the work I had: a likely gang drive-by and a relatively straightforward escalated barfight. The image of that woman at the Oxford—tanned limbs against the white of the sheets, the black blood dark against the cream colored wall—came to me and I began to feel sorry for her. I hadn’t felt anything while I was there, save a mild interest in trying to uncover a pattern. But now, as I thought of her splayed open, well, I hoped they didn’t find me like that. No matter who or what she was, that was no way to go out. And Benderson’s behavior nagged. 10 DeShell I heard a knock and turned. Captain Schlaf, a large, well-built man, walked into my office and closed the door. Besides his block-like shape, the captain had two defining characteristics: he looked like he needed to wear glasses, and he sported a huge green and red ring, big as a ping-pong ball, from his college football team. He was always working that fucking thing, twisting it, sliding it up and down his finger, moving his hand back and forth and admiring it from different focal distances. “Fruscella, where are you in the Kinney case?” “Confession imminent and, according to the DA, a likely plead to manslaughter.” “You going to send the drive-by to Gangs?” “I want to check out a couple of things first.” He leaned forward and put his hands on the desk. His ring caught the light and sparkled: green, red, green, like a Christmas disco ball. “You recognize the stiff at the Oxford?” “No.” “Does the name Magdalena Lowenthal ring any bells?” The Lowenthals were a name in Southern Colorado when I was growing up: this was big. “No.” “Wife of state senator Augie Lowenthal? Best friend of one Peter Coors? You have heard of Coors, right?” “My best friend in high school was a Coors.” He stopped working his ring and looked me in the eye. “The woman you saw on the bed at the Oxford was Magdalena Mary Lowenthal. This has priority, so I might need to take some of your team. Thought I’d let you know.” Expectation 11 He turned and walked out quickly. It wasn’t every day that a state senator’s wife got herself kilt. An ambitious state senator as well, a pro-life and anti-immigration rising star with a smooth, dulcet voice, sweetening and stoking the sour shrill message of Caucasian resentment. He had a few enemies, which meant there’d be a few suspects. And he himself would be prime. But it wasn’t my case. II. Schenk mir Deinen goldenen Kamm On April 2nd, 2009 at 14:30, I, officer Benny Guiterrez, was dispatched to the Oxford Hotel, 1600 17th Street, Denver CO in response to the discovery of a body in a room of the hotel. When I arrived, I was met by a Mr. Henry Larsson, 3237 Umatilla Street, Denver DOB 6/26/65, the assistant manager of the hotel, and a Mr. James Harold, 572 Race Street, Arvada DOB 8/6/57 desk clerk. Mr. Larsson told me that at approximately 2:10 pm, a Ms. Dolores Raez, of 1830 Sacramento Street Apt 1279 B DOB 2/13/78 Permanent Residence # 2398BZ459GZX23, maid, opened the door to clean the room, 242, and found the body. Ms. Raez immediately ran down the stairs to inform Mr. Harold, who called 911. Mr. Harold then called Mr. Larsson, who went to inspect the room. Mr. Larsson entered the room to ascertain if the victim still exhibited vitals and seeing that the victim was deceased, he locked the door and returned to the desk. He took Ms. Raez downstairs to the employees’ room to comfort her. I went up to Room 242, accompanied by Mr. Larsson, who unlocked the door. I asked him if he knew the identity 12 DeShell of the woman...