Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

Death in the Embassy
Death in the Embassy
Death in the Embassy
Ebook362 pages4 hours

Death in the Embassy

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

How do you prove that something did not happen? How do you prove a negative? This is the conundrum facing Jake Curtis and Vanessa Malone as they tried to prove their beautiful client, Isabella Patrillo, didn't murder her ex-husband. Alberto Patrillo dropped dead of arsenic poisoning at his ex-wife's feet during a gala at the Italian Embassy in Washington, DC. Post mortem tests revealed Alberto had been poisoned over the two months before he died.
The private investigator Isabella hired to look into the possibility of Alberto's unfaithfulness found out Alberto had not only one mistress, but that he had two mistresses. When the PI told Isabella about Alberto's cheating on her, she blocked him her mind and heart. She went to Reno, Nevada to obtain her divorce and returned back to DC three weeks before Alberto's death.
DC police homicide Detective Lieutenant Robert Murdoch is a good cop with one of the highest conviction rates in he department. He is a sometime protagonist of Jake and Vanessa and a sometime antagonist depending on his mood at the time. Murdoch considered the wife, or in this case the ex-wife, the prime suspect in her ex's murder. Isabella maintained her innocence.
Jake's Las Vegas PI friend and former Vegas cop, Linda Hampton, with whom he once had a brief relationship back before he met Vanessa discovered Isabella obtained her divorce three weeks before Alberto dropped dead and she didn't leave Nevada for the six weeks of her residence in Reno and the four days she later spent playing tourist 0in Las Vegas. Vanessa knows of Jake's friendship with Linda, but not of their relationship, or at least he doesn't think she does.
If Isabella didn't murder her ex, then who did? Did Alberto's daughter, Donatella, who stood to inherit her father's wealth, murder her father? Was it one of the two mistresses he promised to marry? Who dun it?
Through interviews with Isabella's daughter and Isabella's closest friends, Jake and Vanessa determined Isabella didn't have the opportunity to administer the poison to Alberto during the day. It was Isabella's nights that proved to be more of a problem. Did Isabella meet with Alberto at night, and if so, did she poison him?
Isabella's Jewish mother suggested that if Jake and Vanessa couldn't prove Isabella didn't meet Alberto at night, then prove Alberto didn't meet Isabella at night. Jake and Vanessa confronted Alberto's two mistresses.
The ex-husband is not the only person murdered in this love rectangle. Tessa Lombardi, Alberto's fiancee with whom he lived when Isabella threw him out dropped dead from arsenic poisoning as Jake and Vanessa knocked on her door. Post mortem tests revealed Tessa died of the same poison that killed Alberto Patrillo.
Jake and Vanessa's investigation led them to a pair of biker bars, a shootout, subterfuge by a waitress, culminating in the chase of an escaped murderer through a busy detective squad room.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherTony Flye
Release dateJul 24, 2016
ISBN9781370720378
Death in the Embassy
Author

Tony Flye

Tony Flye's third book in the Jake Curtis / Vanessa Malone Mystery series, DEATH IN DIVORCE is in the final stages of editing and should be available by Christmas Tony is also working on a collection of short stories tentatively titled STORIES OF HORROR AND MURDER

Read more from Tony Flye

Related to Death in the Embassy

Titles in the series (7)

View More

Related ebooks

Hard-boiled Mystery For You

View More

Related articles

Related categories

Reviews for Death in the Embassy

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    Death in the Embassy - Tony Flye

    DEDICATION

    For Susan,

    You are my reason to wake up in the morning.

    ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

    Cover photograph by commons.wikimedia.org. Cover art by Rocky M.

    Chapter 1

    William Pearson, the Fourth walked into the grand ballroom of the Italian Embassy in Washington, D.C. The golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling two stories above the white Carrara marble floor. The clear glass flame shaped light bulbs reflected off the white ceiling and the golden chandeliers like twinkling white and gold stars. Illuminated goldtone sconces on the walls around the ballroom added to the glittering evening.

    William Pearson, the Fourth was a tall, dark, handsome man of six feet four inches tall, a hundred ninety-five pounds, dark wavy hair combed straight back. His face clean shaven, brilliant blue eyes and a smile which was just as brilliant. He wore a blue pinstripe suit with a continental cut, from his own premier line of Italian made men's suits, a white silk shirt and a green and red striped silk tie also from his Italian tailors. The shirt and tie were the colors of the Italian flag, a subtle tribute to his hosts. On his feet he wore highly polished black oxford shoes from Gucci because he hadn't entered into shoe manufacturing as of yet.

    William Pearson, the Fourth, nicknamed Will, walked into the ballroom along side his son William Pearson, the Fifth. William Pearson, the Fifth started calling himself Bill Vee in junior high school. Bill Vee stood an inch taller than his father and only three pounds heavier. Unlike his father, Bill Vee's wavy hair was blond, a legacy from his mother who lost her year long fight against cancer three years earlier. Will was devastated over his wife Danielle's death.

    The father and son team had been invited to the embassy by the Italian Commercial Attache, Alfonzo LaFazia. Pearson Manufacturing Industries made hundreds of items seen in nearly every department store, hardware store and high end clothing stores around the world.

    Pearson Industries' clothing division manufactures three prominent brand names of ladies clothes in the world's market place today and a premier line of men's suits, sports coats and slacks in Florence, Italy using the best Italian materials available and only skilled Italian seamstresses and tailors I their factories.

    When most clothing companies moved their manufacturing facilities to China, Will, decided he didn't want the labels in his high end products to read, Made in China. He estimated his manufacturing costs including transportation from the Chinese factories would've been a third of what Italian cost are but from the onset Will decided he would advertise heavily his clothes being made by Italian designers and highly trained and experienced Italian crafts people. His advertising program worked. His brands out sold his competition's cheaper products all over the western world. Pearson Industries and Will, in particular, were being honored by the Italian Government for their contribution to the Italian clothing industry.

    Signore Alfonzo LaFazia greeted the Pearsons warmly. After shaking hands, he introduced them to another pair of guests.

    Signora Patrillo, Signorina Patrillo, may I present Mr. William Pearson, the Fourth and his son William Pearson, the Fifth, Commercial Attache said, in his heavily accented English. Mr Pearson this is Signora Isabella Patrillo and her daughter Donatella, the attache added.

    William, the Fifth, looked at Donatella. Call me Bill Vee, he said offering her his hand.

    "Bill Vee? Oh, I get it now. Vee, the Roman numeral for five, Donatella said, in her soft voice and red faced with embarrassment.

    Yes, the Fifth, Bill Vee said with a laugh.

    Will turned to Isabella. Is your husband here tonight?

    No, Isabella said, in her softly Italian accent. Donatella gave her mother a dejected look. Bill Vee noticed Donatella's look.

    My husband and I are divorced.

    Will looked at her. I'm sorry.

    It was all for the better, Isabella said.

    Mama, Donatella exclaimed.

    My daughter did not approve of my divorcing her Papa.

    Mama, you know...

    Donatella, this is not the time nor place to talk of this. We have talked about it before and we will not talk about it again. Isabella said softly but firmly. Her eyes bored into he daughter's and Donatella, chastised, looked down.

    Isabella was in her early to mid forties, stood five feet eleven in her three inch black patent leather heels, deep brown eyes, full lips and bright smile, Roman nose and dark raven hair styled in a chignon. Her figure flattering off the shoulder black dress fell to two inches above her knees only added to her aristocratic bearing. Isabella Patrillo personified the picture of an elegant, upper class, ancient Roman, patrician woman. Isabella was also one of the most beautiful women Will ever saw. He couldn't take his eyes from her. He didn't want to take his eyes away from her.

    Donatella looked more like Isabella's younger sister than her daughter. Isabella must have been a child herself when she gave birth to Donatella. At an inch shorter than her mother, Donatella had the same raven hair as her mother, only she wore hers down on her shoulders. She had the same deep brown eyes and Roman nose as her mother. Donatella had the same aristocratic bearing as Isabella but Donatella wore a size smaller. She too, wore a little black figure hugging strapless dress with the hem an inch higher than her mother's. She wore black patent leather four inch stiletto heels.

    You both have excellent taste in clothes, Will said, with a smile on his face.

    Thank you, Donatella and Isabella said simultaneously.

    You're both wearing my dresses, Will said.

    Your dresses? Isabella asked.

    My company manufactures them and I must say the two of you make them look even more beautiful then when the seamstresses finished them.

    Thank you, Isabella said.

    Thank you, Donatella said.

    It was such a wonderful thing to say to this old lady, Isabella said.

    You are wrong on two counts. One, you are definitely not old, Will said.

    Isabella smiled. And the second...?

    This beautiful dress pales in comparison to the beautiful woman whom it adorns, Will said.

    Thank you sir, Isabella said. However, untrue your statement may be.

    I would like you and your lovely daughter to model our clothes, especially the more formal dresses like the ones you both have on tonight. Today's models don't have the style and elegance you both give our dresses, Will said.

    Bill Vee stared at Donatella then to her mother. His taste in dresses is as good as his father's and his father relies on Bill Vee's marketing prowess. You're right, Dad, Mrs. Patrillo and Donatella would be perfect models to attract the buyers we want to purchase our dresses, Bill Vee said.

    How about it. Would you both like to model our dresses? Will said. Donatella's eyes lit up at the idea.

    Isabella frowned. "I am not a - a modello."

    We're not looking for models. We're looking for real, live, honest to gosh women with your beauty, elegance and sense of style who know how to wear beautiful clothing and are comfortable wearing them, Will said.

    Let us arrange a photo session with our photographers for the both of you. Bill Vee's eyes lit up as the light bulb over his head flashed on. I have a terrific idea. We'll feature both of you together in our ads. We'll call it ageless beauty. It'll be fantastic, Bill Vee said, as his excitement for the project grew.

    Mama, I'd like to do it, Donatella said, like a little girl begging her mother to take her and her friends to the mall. Please Mama, it'll be fun.

    I can see the ads now, but only in the better women's magazines. You two will give our dresses the elegance and sophistication we've strived for, Bill Vee said.

    Isabella looked at Donatella. Alright, we will take the pictures then decide. No promises.

    That's great. I know once you've see the pictures, you'll love them and the whole idea. Let's celebrate, Will said. He looked at his son who happened to be too busy staring at Donatella. Bill, will you be so kind as to bring us some champagne?

    Yeah, sure, Bill Vee said, not knowing exactly what he agreed to do and not wanting to take his eyes away from Donatella.

    Champagne, his father repeated.

    Will regretted sending Bill for the champagne but he wanted to be selfish. He didn't want to leave Isabella alone and at the mercy of others.

    The four piece Italian band returned from a break and resumed playing as Bill Vee returned juggling four three-quarter filled champagne flutes and passed one to each. Bill Vee engaged Donatella in conversation leading her a few steps away from their respective parents. Will conversed freely with Isabella. Several times during the course of their conversation, Isabella rested her fingers on Will's arm. Will reveled in the sensations caused by her gentle touch.

    Will and Isabella nursed their drinks. I don't like champagne, Isabella said.

    Neither do I. Will said. They turned at the same time to look for and found a convenient place to set their almost full glasses.

    The loud crashing sounds of tables and chairs being knocked aside, glasses shattering and plates breaking filled the ballroom. The band stopped playing. Men uttered curses, both in English and in Italian.

    A large dark curly haired man who appeared to be in his late forties with bushy eyebrows and dark horn rimmed glasses came crashing up to where Will and Isabella stood, interrupting their conversation. The man stood in front of Isabella. Isabella my love, he said before he collapsed to the floor, not moving.

    Alberto, Isabella said.

    Papa, Donatella said, before she screamed when the reality of what happened before her eyes hit her. Bill Vee put his arm around her to comfort her.

    Will knelt beside Alberto feeling his Carotid Artery for a pulse. He didn't feel one. Will looked up at Isabella and shook his head. You know him? He asked softly.

    Yes. He is my ex-husband, Isabella said.

    I'm sorry for your loss, Will said.

    Isabella started to say something, but closed her lips before the harsh words could tumble out.

    Mama! Donatella exclaimed with a look of panic and shock on her face.

    I am sorry for you Donatella, he was still your Papa and loved you very much.

    The D.C. paramedics arrived and entered sovereign Italian soil; the same as if they stood on any street in downtown Rome. The paramedics knelt by the body of Alberto Patrillo. The first paramedic felt all around Alberto's neck looking for a pulse.

    He didn't fine one either. I'm afraid he's dead, the paramedic said to no one in particular. He thumbed the talk button on his hand held radio. After an ear shattering screech, he said, I have a dead man in his late forties in the Italian Embassy. I need the police and the ME. A loud screech coming from the radio rendered the response unintelligible.

    Humberto Ferinelli, the Ambassador of the Republic of Italy to the United States, took charge of the scene in his embassy. He allowed the D.C. Metropolitan Police to take over the investigation. The D.C. police sent deputy chief, Louis Ingles, to the embassy to oversee the investigation. I've assigned Detective Lieutenant Robert Murdoch, the head of our homicide division, to lead this investigation. He will report directly to me, Ingles said to the ambassador.

    Our embassy personnel will give you any assistance you may require, Ferinelli said in his heavily accented English. We do not have the facilities here in the United States to satisfactorily investigate this incident, Ambassador Ferinelli said.

    Mr Ambassador, I appreciate your faith in the MPDC, Ingles said, as Robert Murdoch walked up to the ambassador and the deputy chief. Louis Ingles made the introductions.

    Do ya know who the dead man is? Bob Murdoch asked the ambassador. Ingles frowned at Murdoch. Murdoch saw the frown, knew why, but didn't give a damn. He had a potential murder to investigate and the ambassador was a potential witness to what we must consider crime until proven otherwise. Murdoch had no choice but to ask him the question.

    He was an American citizen of Italian ancestry married to an Italian national. His name was Alberto Patrillo and he was a personal friend of mine. He is, was Isabella Patrillo's former husband. Come and I'll introduce you to her, Ambassador Ferinelli said.

    Murdoch had to look up to look into Isabella's eyes. I understand the deceased was your former husband.

    We were divorced, yes.

    When was the last time ya saw your former hubby? Murdoch asked.

    Hubby? Isabella asked.

    Former husband, Murdoch said.

    Will stood next to Isabella listening to the detective's questions. Are you accusing Signora Patrillo of having something to do with her ex-husbands death?

    Murdoch turned to face Will. Who are you?

    I am William Pearson, the Fourth. Signora Patrillo is a friend. Isabella looked strangely at Will. Murdoch caught her look. She is an Italian National and is not familiar with American legal procedures.

    Are you a lawyer? Murdoch asked.

    No, but I'm calling one now. Will punched a number into his phone then turned back to Isabella. Isabella do not say anything until your new lawyer gets here. Will pressed the speaker button as the phone rang.

    Vanessa Malone, the woman on the other end of Will's call said.

    Vanessa you and Jake need to come the the Italian Embassy as soon as you can. Will paused while Vanessa spoke. "Yes, right now. Your new client is waiting for you.

    Thanks Will. Jake and I are on our way.

    Overhearing Will's conversation with Vanessa, Murdoch said half to himself, Two of my most favorite people in the whole world.

    Chapter 2

    Vanessa Malone, attorney at law and partner with her husband, me, Jake Curtis, in our private investigation agency, were met at the front door of the embassy by two officers of the Italian Carabinieri, the Italian state police, whose responsibility it was to guard the embassy.

    Ambassador Ferinelli is expecting us. My name is Vanessa Malone and this is Jake Curtis, Vanessa said pointing to me. I looked up at the clear, star laden, early Spring night. It was a beautiful night to be out and about. That is, until I found out why we were out and about in this beautiful early Spring night. After a five minute phone call to someone, somewhere in the bowels of the embassy, another Carabinieri officer came and escorted Vanessa and I to the ballroom.

    Original paintings by a collection of Italian artists, both old masters and present day painters, hung on the walls around the grand ballroom. A small art lamp hung over the top of each painting shedding light onto the painting in such a manner as to make it appear the light source in the painting is illuminated. Italian provincial sofas upholstered in a rich ivory brocade material with gold threads woven through the fabric. The ballroom was such an opulent setting for death.

    A four piece combo played a variety of Italian music ranging from some of what was popular two or three hundred years ago and are now considered to be classics to modern popular music of the day.

    Groups of party goers milled around the ballroom, a drink in their hand. Various conversations took place throughout the ballroom filling the room with the muted rumbles of many separate conversations which sounded like crowd noise at a ball game during a lull in the action. An occasional outburst of laughter pierced the muted rumble. The sound of a stiletto heel tapping on the marble floor as a woman passed nearby could be heard over the rumble of conversation.

    Along the east wall, the caterers set up a buffet line with Italian finger food. The pleasant fragrance filled the air around the buffet and extended to the nearby open bar. It's two bartenders had drinkers lined up two and three deep waiting their turn.

    The first person I recognized upon entering the grand ballroom was police Detective Lieutenant Bob Murdoch. I waived to him. Then I saw our friends Will Pearson and his son Bill Vee. Will made the introductions.

    Mrs. Patrillo's ex-husband charged into the ballroom and died at her feet, Murdoch said.

    I need some time with my client, alone, Vanessa said. Turning to face the ambassador, she asked. Is there some place where my client and I can have a private conversation? We were shown into a small private meeting room a few doors down the main hall from the ballroom.

    Original Italian oil paintings of scenes of Italy hung on each of the four pale blue painted walls. The Colosseum and the Trevi Fountain in Rome, the Grand Canal in Venice and an aerial painting of the view from the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio of the city of Florence with the Florence Cathedral and the Arno river. Each painting has a small art light above it casting artificial sunlight down on the painting. A highly lacquered rectangular walnut table sat in he center of the room. Two chairs with well upholstered cushions and carved wood backs sat on each side of the table. Two love seats upholstered to match the chairs sat catercorner to each other. A square end table filled the space between the love seats. A table lamp on the end table cast a soft glow in the room. Two Italian magazines sat on the end table next to the lamp's base.

    Curtis, where do ya think you're goin'? Murdoch asked in his usual fractured grammar as I followed Vanessa and Mrs. Patrillo into the meeting room.

    Bob, you know better than that, Vanessa said. Jake's a part of my legal team and as such has the same right as I do to sit in on this meeting. Murdoch mumbled something indiscernible and watched Vanessa, Isabella and me walk into the meeting room.

    Isabella, may I call you Isabella? Vanessa asked.

    Yes.

    Did you cause Alberto's death? Vanessa asked.

    What do you mean? Isabella asked.

    Vanessa came to the point. Did you murder your ex-husband?

    No. Vanessa made a note in her ever present notebook while I made use of my Marine Corps training in lie detection and stared into Isabella's eyes as she spoke. I saw none of the usual involuntary eye movement signs of lying in her eyes.

    How long have you and Alberto been divorced?

    Our divorce became final three weeks ago.

    Where did you obtain your divorce? Vanessa asked.

    Reno. Six weeks in a hotel room. Done.

    Who filed for the divorce?

    I did.

    Why?

    My husband cheated on me with his mistress, Tessa Lombardi; and he cheated on her with his second mistress, Mariellen Cipriani. Vanessa didn't know what to say. She'd handled many divorces in her practice but never one where the husband cheated on his wife and then cheated on the woman he first cheated with, by cheating on yet a second woman. If you're confused, I was too at first.

    How did you find out who the other women were? Vanessa asked.

    I sensed something was not right in our marriage. Alberto spent more and more time away from our home than normal. I hired an investigator to discover why Alberto stayed away from home, why he stayed away from me. My investigator found proof of Alberto's infidelity. He said it was not hard. Alberto did not bother to hide his mistresses. It took the detective I hired only two weeks, pictures and tapes. With what the investigator found, I filed for divorce though it broke Donatella's heart when I did.

    Donatella?

    Alberto's and my daughter. She loved her Papa and he loved her. Vanessa made a note.

    Did Alberto agree with the divorce?

    No. Isabella paused for a long minute as if remembering. "He defiled our marriage bed with those puttane..."

    Puttane?" Vanessa asked.

    Whores, Isabella said.

    Oh, Vanessa said. I knew what puttane meant but it wasn't my place to tell my wife.

    He begged me not to file for the divorce. He said he would do anything I asked of him if I would stop the divorce. He never thought of leaving his mistresses. If he had, I would have taken him back."

    Alberto shamed me with those whores. I couldn't hold my head up among my friends any longer. I felt they all knew he cheated on me and laughed at me behind my back. I wanted to get back at him, hurt him like he hurt me. Isabella paused. I loved him. He was my life. I gave him my heart and body when I was eighteen. I gave him a daughter and this is how he treated me. I hated him for what he did to me, to Donatella. I wanted to make the bastardo pay. My lawyers made Alberto pay me a large amount of money." It wasn't hard to figure out what bastardo meant. Isabella was questioning the validity of Alberto's parent's marriage.

    Do you hate him now? I asked.

    Isabella turned to me. No, I no longer hate him. I no longer care if he lives or...

    ...dies, Vanessa said, softly.

    I didn't want to see him die. I only wanted him take his whores and be out of my life for good. I feel sorry for Donatella. Like I said, she loved her Papa, but there was nothing I could do, Isabella said. A tear rolled down her cheek. A tear for her hurting daughter of her lost love?

    Vanessa paused to change the subject. We're going to have to talk with Detective Murdoch. If his questions calls for a yes or no answer; just answer yes or no. Don't add anything to your answer. Don't volunteer anything. When I tell you to shut up, shut up. Do you understand?" Isabella nodded. Vanessa nodded back.

    Jake, have Bob Murdoch come in, Vanessa said.

    Murdoch as he walked into the small meeting room, facetiously said, I'm so glad y'all could take the time outta your busy lives ta talk with little ole me,

    "We're glad you could join us, Vanessa said, almost as facetious, but not quite.

    How have you been. I haven't seen you since our adventure in the Smithsonian, I said, in the same tone as his comment. (Death in the Smithsonian.)

    Murdoch cleared his throat and looked at Isabella. "Why did ya kill your ex-husband?

    Isabella jumped back as if Murdoch's punched her in the face. I didn't kill him, she said. Isabella started to say something else.

    Quiet, Vanessa said. I was about to make the same warning. I'd been in enough interviews with my beautiful, lady lawyer, wife to know when she would tell the client to shut their mouths.

    What killed my former husband? Isabella asked Murdoch.

    I was just goin' ta ask ya that question myself, Murdoch said.

    Has Mr. Patrillo's body been taken to the morgue? I asked.

    Yeah, he left a few minutes ago. The ME said he would do the autopsy as soon as he got Mr. Patrillo's body on the table, Murdoch said.

    You'll see we get a complete copy of the autopsy report, won't you Bob? Vanessa asked.

    Of course, Murdoch said. He actually smiled at Vanessa.

    Are you planning on charging my client with her ex-husband's murder? Vanessa asked.

    I looked at Murdoch. "You don't even know if Alberto Patrillo was murdered."

    We'll know more after we get the ME's report back, Murdoch said. He started for the door, stopped and turned back. We'll talk again later, I'm sure. With those parting words, Murdoch left the meeting room, and the embassy.

    Chapter 3

    Isabella, Vanessa and I sat quietly for a time absorbing the impact of Alberto Patrillo's sudden death and the implication Bob Murdoch tried his damnedest to imply.

    Bob Murdoch's suit had more wrinkles than an elephant's skin, but he's a good cop from the old school. His most notable trait, other than being dogged investigator, is the dead cigar stub usually found clamped tightly between his teeth and a trail of gray ashes down his loosened necktie. The second most notable trait is his arrest record, a rate somewhere between ninety-eight and ninety-nine point nine percent conviction rate. He's been offered the Chief of Ds job, twice, and turned it down twice to stay in the field. He once told me in confidence, maybe next time, if offered, he'll take the promotion.

    I know if Patrillo's autopsy shows anything which hints of foul play, Murdoch will latch on to the case and will not let go until someone confesses, is tried, convicted and rotting forgotten in some prison cell somewhere. I would hate to see him latch onto Isabella Patrillo.

    "Isabella, do you want me and my husband Jake, as my investigator, to represent you with regard to Alberto's death? As my investigator, he has

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1