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I said, “If Barlett was an ex, that makes it sound less like a big-money Vegas guy focused exclusively on her and more like a stalker going after men associated with her. And that could mean Gio was more than collateral damage. Obliterating him was part of the plan, which is why the shooter waited until the two of them were together.”
“Poor Mr. Aggiunta, poor Mr. Barlett,” he said. “And God knows who else…okay, let’s find out about victim number three.”
—
He phoned the San Pietro police and got connected quickly to a detective named Samuel Cifuentes.
“L.A.? What can I do for you?”
“You had a homicide two days ago, victim named Barlett. Was he shot in the heart with a .38, no casings at the scene?”
Silence.
Then: “Your name again, please.”
“Lieutenant. Milo. Sturgis. Here’s my number, feel free to verify.”
“I will,” said Cifuentes.
Three minutes of dead air before he came back on.
“Okay, Lieutenant. Sorry, you never know who’s out there. Yes, that’s exactly what happened. You know because you had the same?”
Milo filled him in.
“A double,” said Sam Cifuentes. “Never had one of those.”
Milo said, “Reason I linked it to Barlett is his name came up on my female victim’s phone log. One call, coupla months ago. Made me wonder if he was one of her boyfriends.”
“That I doubt. From what I’ve been told Richard might’ve been gay.”
“Might’ve?”
“It’s not like down where you are, our gays aren’t always open. Maybe he was hiding something or he was just one of those celibates. Like Father Hernandez.”
“No dates with women or men,” said Milo.
“Not that anyone’s seen or heard about,” said Cifuentes. “I didn’t know him but my wife did, she goes to church and she says he was quiet, peaceful, and what she called delicate. Either way, I can’t see him going hot and heavy with some rich lady in Beverly Hills.”
“Bel Air, but I get your point,” said Milo. “Any motives you’ve come up with?”
“I wish. We’re not like you, people getting killed all over the place. The whole of last year we had two murders. Both cantina things on the South Side, drunk offenders who stuck around, one idiot had a knife in his lap, the other it was a pool cue right on the floor next to him.”
“Got the picture.”
“Our entire department,” said Cifuentes, “is thirty-two officers, which is down two from last year because of budget. The investigation unit is four detectives and we do everything. Mostly burglary, auto theft and shoplifting, a few simple assaults.”
“No whodunits.”
“Thank God,” said Cifuentes. “Until now.” He laughed. “Hell, maybe God got mad because not enough of usgoto church. So this could be related to yours, huh?”
“Don’t see how it can’t be. What else do you know about Barlett?”
“That’s it. First couple of days were spent making sure the scene got processed right. I’m pretty confident it did but unfortunately, no forensics came up. No DNA, no tire tracks, the church has no cameras. No sign of forced entry to the auxiliary, poor guy was shot between the building and his car. No sign of a struggle, just one shot to the chest, very clean. I’m figuring someone waited for him and nailed him while he was walking to the car.”
“What time of day?”
“After dark,” said Cifuentes. “All the Ventura County coroner could do was estimate. Probably tennish, elevenish, midnightish.”
