The two Detectives from NYPD's Manhattan South Homicide Squad were doing the old "hurry up and wait" routine familiar to most members of the NYPD. The order came FORTHWITH to show up at 0800 Hours, June 15th 1999.
The two cops were awaiting the determination of another “high level” meeting.This specific meeting being held at the the Senior Executive of the New York County District Attorney’s office AKA The Manhattan District Attorney.
The Detectives were sitting on the old worn heavy mahogany bench. This bench sat in the outside corridor of the suite of executive offices. Many a cop has set his ass on this exact bench for this same stupid purpose.
“He’s been in dere width dat guy and his fuckin’ lawyers for about two hours.” Detective First Grade Vinny “The Guinea” Mastoriellio softly said.
The detectives were not invited to the meeting held in the inner sanctum of the offices occupied by the top law enforcement officer in New York City.
So what else is new?
They expected such and knew when detailed outside as a resource. They might be summoned as some small and superfluous utilitarian cog. Just needed to provide a smidgen of insignificant information.
The District Attorney enjoyed having the NYPD at his beck and call.
If so, then they were dismissed. Back to their “holding pen,” after providing the information required.“Not for Nuttin” Vinny said, adjusting his tie in the classic trademark of the legendary comic Rodney Dangerfield.
“Dis whole ting is turning into a fuckin’ circus.”
“What sort o’ deal could dis guy get with dat fantastic story?” Detective Second Grade Rheinado (Ronnie) Golonzzio whispered.
“I dunno, but those fuckin’ media whores are crawling all over dis one,” Vinny responded.
Vinny stared down the 1930’s era marble walled and dark mahogany wood trimmed hallway. It shined with reflected sunlight off the highly buffed geometric patterned alternating square and diamond shaped marble black-and-white floor.
There they were, a few bloodsucking tabloid reporters. They were loitering by the gold ornate elevator bank. One of the last non-automatic human operated elevator banks in the city.
The Barbarian hordes clamoring at the gates of Rome. “Theysez ready to eat one of dier own.” Vinny added after a pause.
“Yea, theysez total fuckin’ cannibals, ‘specially da tabloids” Ronnie answered. “Dere’s dat broad again, da congenital asshole from Page Six.” (The tacky and tasteless Gossip page of the New York Post.)
“I’d fuck ‘er” Vinny with his sly smile said.
He rolled his signature gold plated tooth pick around his mouth with his thumb and index finger. The digits held two of his ten manicured and clear glossed finger nails.
“Think she swallows?” Ronnie rhetorically asked.
The two PRDs (Pinky Ringed Detectives) exchanged shit eating grins. Both of them knew of a Sergeant from the Midtown North Detective Squad who was banging that sexy looking receptacle.
“Word is, she loves taking it up da ass from cops, then sucking them off, as the she prepares to swallow, she holds it in her mouth like a blowfish and with a big shit eatin’ smile she points to her mouth,” Ronnie salaciously said. “Then in one big gulp, she swallows!” He adds.
The two Detectives laughed and then returned to discussing the case.
“I gotta admit, I thought it was all fuckin’ bullshit when da 13th Squad called me in, but youse can’t discount all dat shit he said dat we substantiated” Vinny reasoned.
The two seasoned detectives then settled down into a silent wait. Somewhat resembling that experienced by expectant fathers in a maternity ward. But No Cigars.
Their silence broke when appraising the business suited, professional women attorneys passing them by, their heels clicking and echoing from the marble floors bouncing into the cavernous hallway.
The women summarily dismissed them with one glance as what they were: Two New York City Police Department Ethnic PRD’s dressed in Guido looking suits. Another identifier for the ladies was the copious amounts of obnoxiously perfumed aftershave emanating from the bench.
They were not worthy of any consideration by these females. Intellectually or sexually.
Vinny said to Ronnie, ”That last tall broad looked like she’s suffering from ALS.
Ronnie looked puzzled “ALS?”
“Yea, Abner Louima Syndrome you know like she got a bathroom plunger shoved uper ass!” Laughed Vinny the Guinea.
Note: Abner Loumia was a victim of alleged Police Brutality in the 70 Pct. where he was sodimized by a Police Officer with bathroom plunger in the 1997.
It became the “butt” of jokes among most jaded NYPD cops.
So there they sat, two fast fading caricatures of what soon will describe a dinosaur NYPD Pinky Ringed Detective of Italian American Descent.
Caviler Belmondo was successful freelance reporter/writer. The thirty something year old was a tall, blonde, good-looking California Surfer type. He sported an English accent. He always seemed to have the exclusive inside track of any juicy story. The type of story editors of tabloid print, television or the new internet were seeking in 1999.
Right before the New Millennium.
He had the knack to put the sizzle into sizzling. But Caviler seriously and continuously tried to keep a low profile. He was in reality Jaromir Ramonic, an illegal USA immigrant from Canada via Slovenia. If his true identity was discovered, the life he had constructed and now enjoyed would fall like house of cards. Not even a scintilla of his false and self constructed rustic Canadian frontier background was true.
That is why Jaromir wanted to report the story, not be the story. He was on the outer fringes of becoming a celebrity. That means soon he’d be a favorite of the Paparazzi.
The traditional hunter becoming the hunted.
He could not let that happen for several reasons.
Jaromir loved his life, he made excellent money, but he existed on the razor’s edge. It was getting to be too risky. The editors wanted more and more information on his sources and himself.
To gain and maintain entry to the circle of people who had the life which produced the stories the editors wanted, he had to be Caviler Belmondo.
That identity perpetuates his position in that rarified social orbit. That allows his exciting and rewarding lifestyle to indefinitely continue.
But now Caviler has gotten himself into some deep shit. It can keep him in jail for the next 25 years or maybe for life. Even if he beats it, he will now be recognizable world wide.
In addition, the exposure of his Gypsy roots and his methods or as the cops say modus operandi will be a total disaster.
As he sits in the Executive Office of The District Attorney with his lawyers, he contemplates his future and his past.
Jaromir’s father and mother were a Rumanian mix of Gypsy culture. The family somehow landed in Canada when Jaromir was an infant. Jaromir was a natural at having to become someone else in moments notice. Somehow the recessive jeans of his swarthy parents produced a blonde Adonis as Jaromir.
The family used his WASPISH good looks to their advantage in their business arrangements. Or as better described by Canadian law enforcement authorities: scams. Jaromir was selected by his 104 year old Gypsy Grandmother Vadoma to become entrusted with the gift. Over the last 80 years of her life, she has envisioned none of her family deserving of this sacred gypsy gift. Vadoma thought the gift would die with her. Fearing she would be cursed for eternity for not relinquishing the gift as dictated to her upon her acceptance of said gift.
By what she believes was divine intervention, Vadoma would stay alive until seeing Jaromir in a vision. He was the one who the prophets destined to inherit the gift. The gift was transferred to Jaromir on his 20th birthday. In the next year, when Jaromir finally understood how use it, Vadoma quietly and peacefully died the next evening in her sleep.
Jaromir followed her instructions. He revealed nothing about the existence of the gift to any other family member. He was to make of it what he desired. It was fine if Jaromir never used it at all. Vadoma had selected to never use the gift. She did not share the reason for her decision with Jaromir. But he swore and thus was mandated to pass the gift on to another generation so it would not die.
Jaromir was now the sole keeper and present arbiter of the gift for whatever means he desired.
At 25, Jaromir was ready to leave Canada for the United States. He had disowned even the infinitesimals of gypsy culture. He completely and consciously decided to totally assimilate.
Jaromir despised he came from Gypsy blood. He could not help but feel inferior. Jaromir has always let the negative opinions and stereotypes of others shape his concept of self.
Upon completion of the assimilation task, Jaromir had to decide on how to incorporate his aspirations into a workable implementation of the gift. This incorporation will develop a paradigm to reach more than an entry in his new chosen career. With the aid of the gift bequeathed by Vadoma, he envisioned the possibility of total success. But as usual, he sold himself short.
The industry hub of his new career path was in New York City. He wanted to enter the glitzy world of reporting and writing about the Beautiful People.
Jaromir had grown up in Canada mesmerized by celebrity. He was an avid reader of People Magazine and a devoted viewer of “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.” As a youth he would emulate Robin Leach (the British host of LSRF) by perfecting and keeping as his own, the distinctive Robin Leach English accent.
A group of Canadian Gypsies snuck Jaromir into the United States for a price. A beautiful gypsy girl Tsura, (Slavic for "light of dawn”) he had known growing up in Canada was amongst them.
She was now known as Dawn.
At the end to the trip, she softly kissed him goodbye. Her eyes told a story of unrequited love for Jaromir. He knew he also suddenly felt something strong for Dawn.
Jaromir felt empty at the prospect of leaving her.
She was only twelve years old when her family forced her to marry a rich, old, obese, swarthy gypsy businessman named Boldo. Boldo died of a heart attack before the marriage could be consummated with his deflowering of her.
Boldo’s younger brother Zindelo (age 40) immediately claimed Tsura in the name of his family and married her.
The second husband died from a beating within a week of their marriage. The murder occurred during a violent dispute with the Canadian Hells Angels.
But he got to violate her. Since then, no Gypsy man will even look at her, let alone take her as a wife. They believe at birth she must have been a victim of an amira (curse.)
Unbelievable for such a beauty.
But Jaromir pledged to rid himself all Gypsy infinitesimals. They would become part of his hidden history. That includes anyone who knows his true roots.
That means Dawn.
Jaromir made it to New York City and made it big, using his natural talents supplemented by the gift. Or was it visa versa?
Jaromir’s prime objective was to get to the heart of the juicy stories. He would retrieve the inner thoughts of the essential characters holding the scandalous details. This quest involved his sexual abilities while using the gift.
Jaomir's good looks coupled with his totally fabricated history helped him in the seduction of those unwilling to relinquish the facts.
The gift allows Jaromir access to their inner thoughts during sexual activity.
Meanwhile, back at the Manhattan District Attorney’s office: Caviler Belmondo (They still don’t know who Caviler’s. true identity. ) He knows they will discover that info soon, but hopefully he can delay their knowledge of his Gypsy background. Caviler instructs his attorney to tell the story he told the cops at the 13th Pct. Detective Squad.
He knew those facts are now substantiated by the NYPD specialized Detective units.
Caviler’s lawyer starts by telling the story of Caviler’s self-assignment to get the impossible interview of the century. Caviler wanted to get the juicy and gory true details from Karen Kisnewski. She is a former nurse know as the “New Jersey Angel of Death.”
Karen was making sensational headlines by being arrested, tried and found not guilty for a series of murders of patients in several New Jersey hospitals.
She was a genius and guilty serial killer who cleverly beat the system.
Karen had the best legal team money can buy. But it was her cunning and genius on the stand that amazingly beat the system by ignoring advice.
How did she accomplish that?
Karen, an only child, inherited millions of dollars (estimates range as high as 75 million dollars.) Her parents mysteriously died in a tragic accident involving carbon monoxide poisoning in their New Jersey mansion.
No one ever suspected the child genius of perpetrating this crime.
But she did.
Karen inexplicably became a nurse after that tragedy.
To dedicate her life to saving sick people.
During her trial and after her acquittal, Karen would never talk to the press. Offered millions for her memoirs, she has refused. Karen remains an enigma - a very wealthy enigma.
Nobody knows what is going on in her head. She baffled both the court appointed psychological team and her own team of experts.
Caviler saw this as the ultimate challenge. All he had to do was devise a way to have sex her. It would be the “scoop of the century!”
Caviler has not shared with his lawyers or the DA the fact he had decided it would be worth the risk of his exposure as Jaromir to seek Karen and expose her inner thoughts.
That’s his holdout intel. Hopefully they will never find out. At this point in time, they don’t know of his lifetime deception.
Caviler hired private detectives for an around the clock 27/7/365 study of Karen’s habits. He invested in a six month operation. The op produced thousands of pictures and schedules.
He synthesized all intel down to a predictable equation of a probability and a variance of events, locations, people and routes.
It only took Caviler three weeks of trying to accidentally bump into and meet Karen. Her used an inspired different identity for himself. The two met in a controlled and contrived circumstance designed by Caviler.
Based on his intel, he knew what possible outcomes could be interpreted by Karen as seeming natural. But they were predictable to Caviler. He was prepared for any direction this surreptitious meeting would take.
He borrowed the identity of a reclusive and obscure writer Karen had unsuccessfully tried to contact during her trial. She was an avid fan of the writer prior to her notoriety.
Karen was photographed every day carrying one of the author books into court. It started rumors swirling around as to her relationship with the mysterious author. The tabloids speculated about passages in the book she was reading and how they might have motivated Karen’s alleged killing spree.
Caviler took an entire week reading everything he could on this mysterious author. Besides reading every one of his books. Caviler's photographic memory aided in the successful outcome of this deception.
The incidentals of Karen and Caviler’s actual meet are not worth any concern and are pedestrian. That was the beauty and genius of it.
The two became fast friends and became lovers. After a few weeks of seeing each other, Caviler finally achieved his sexual penetration of Karen. He gained all the truthful knowledge of her murderous past.
“This is where it all goes south.” The Executive Assistant Attorney whispers to his boss as one of Caviler’s lawyers continues the fantastic tale. “I want his lawyer to lay it all out for us, this way we can nail it down when Caviler gives the allocution.” The ADA added.
After taking a long drink from the bottle of water in front of him, Caviler’s lawyer continued:
“Somehow, and my client does not know how, call it female intuition, Karen found out what had happened during the sexual encounter transference. She considered Caviler (or the person known to her as the author) to be a spurious individual deserving death.”
“She was furious, but did not let on to Caviler she knew what the circumstances were at that point in time.”
Karen decided not to confront Caviler with her new found knowledge, but kill him with poison. She believed he deserved to met death with a slow and painful agony.”
“Violating her inner most self made her loose control of her combined Sun Tzu - Machiavellian talent. That was the genius which empowered the continuance of her executions as perfect crimes, if she so desired to renew that activity.”
Utilizing a dramatic pause, and then lowering his voice the lawyer said:“Karen would shoot him.” He then looked around the table as he remained silent for another few seconds.
“Caviler was contacted by a Dawn Wilson, a former friend who we can not locate at this time. Dawn claimed she experienced a vision in which Caviler was poisoned by a woman named Karen. She also stated Karen was wearing a white nurses uniform in her vision.”
“Caviler internalized the frightening similarities. He had no chance but to believe this friend somehow knew what would happen.”
The lawyer picked up the pace of his delivery:
“My client confronted Karen with the details of the vision at the meeting Karen had arranged where she planned to surprise Caviler and shoot him.”
“It is unknown as to her plans to dispose of the body.” He added as if an afterthought.
“According to my client, it was striking that Karen was dressed in a white nurse uniform.”
“My client then realized, she had lost it. She began screaming. Karen knew what my client did and he was going to pay!”
“Karen grabbed her illegal firearm from her purse.”
“He tried to disarm her, the gun went off and she was shot and immediately died of her wound.”
The lawyer took a breath and waited 10 seconds before continuing.
“Caviler has gained and now knows, through his sexual osmosis with Karen, all her fiendish conspiracies and machinations.” The lawyer stated as if
Caviler was “doing the right thing.”
“The New Jersey authorities will be able to clear up the “New Jersey Angel of Death” unsolved murder mysteries. Caviler will be honored and humbled to confidentially provide closure to those grieving victim families.”
“He will keep those details secret for the rest of his life. They will never be published.” The lawyer then turns to his learned colleague.
“He has shared for validation, some of that information with your colleagues in the NYPD. So now, what’s the deal?” asks the second chair attorney for Caviler.
The two PRD NYPD Detectives are still awaiting their instruction from the meeting. They are deciding where in Little Italy to dine later that evening.
As the lawyers continued to wrangle, Caviler now knows, Dawn has the gift as well. Maybe even a better and more enhanced telepathic version? Neither of them was aware of the others possession of the gift.
They are now.
That discovery put the both of them in a strange predicament. He knows the kiss that Dawn gave him was quite powerful. The kiss was her way to monitor Caviler. She had always loved him and knew he always had loved her.
Caviler’s statements have always had one omission from the beginning. There was no struggle between Karen and himself for the gun.
He will never tell Dawn was there. He did not know Dawn was hiding when he arrived at the secluded rendezvous with Karen. He remains adamant it was he who shot Karen.
But in reality, it was Dawn in the struggle for the gun with Karen. Dawn was intent on killing Karen.
One Way or the other.
Dawn is and remains out of the picture. The authorities will never find a Dawn Wilson from Culver City, California.
But actually, she isn’t out of Caviler’s picture. They remain in each others visions. Hopefully, the deal made with the DA will set Caviler free or drastically reduce the time he must spend in prison.
He swears when he gets out he will find Dawn.
Dawn swears she will find Caviler.
So she can become Tsura again.
And he will return to her as Jaromir.
Published 8/10/17 www.short-story.me