Ruthless (17 page)

CHAPTER 58

Alton remained standing. “Of course, Doug Mancini isn’t the only member of the Mancini family. He admitted a few minutes ago that his trip here wouldn’t be viewed favorably by the rest of his clan. He may be the ‘whip’ of the family, but what would other family members do if they realized Doug wasn’t going to act against Jay? Why, they’d take action themselves.

“We assume that Jay was murdered for breaking the family code, and Louise was murdered to prevent her from disclosing any sensitive knowledge of family operations that Jay might have shared with her. Both Jay and Louise saw Chelsea regularly and were close to her, so after their deaths, the FBI was concerned that Chelsea might be next on the list. Would the Mancini family kill Chelsea, just in case Jay or Louise had shared family secrets with her?

“Wait a minute—,” began Doug Mancini.

“Siddown!” growled the FBI agent sitting next to Doug. “Listen to the man.”

Alton continued, “These suspicions were augmented by an ‘accidental’ pizza delivery from the same deliveryman twice within the space of a week. This particular man,” said Alton, looking at Delvecchio, “tried aggressively to enter the apartment, ostensibly to call his boss. Did some other member of the Mancini family order Jay and Louise killed, and could that hired gun be on the trail of his third intended victim? Was he just looking for an excuse to enter the apartment, using a pizza-delivery disguise he knew wouldn’t attract anyone’s attention?”

Delvecchio’s face turned white, and he opened and closed his mouth several times without uttering a sound, much like a trout fresh off the hook. Finally he spluttered, “You got me all wrong. I admit I ain’t no saint, but you gotta give me a chance to explain.”

“The only way out of the predicament you’re in,” said Alton, “is to be completely honest from this moment forward. Do you understand?”

Delvecchio nodded wordlessly.

“Do you admit that you came to this apartment—twice—under false pretenses? That you claimed to be making a delivery, but in fact you were never given such an order by Marco Polo Pizza?”

Delvecchio swallowed. “Yes, but—”

Alton held up an interposing hand. “And do you admit that you came here tonight with the intention of carrying out a crime?”

With an agonized look in his eyes, Delvecchio nodded again and whispered, “Yes.”

“And isn’t it also true, Mr. Delvecchio,” asked Alton in a more gentle voice, “that you were laid off about a year ago?”

The question seemed to tap into a deeper emotional well, and Delvecchio could only stare at the floor as he again whispered, “Yes.”

“And that you’ve had trouble making ends meet since then?”

To this question, the deliveryman simply nodded as he struggled to regain control of his emotions.

Alton limped over to the man and stood in front of him. “And is that why you’ve been arrested a few times in the past year?”

“Yes,” replied Delvecchio with a resigned sigh. With a countenance that radiated a faint glimmer of hope, he continued, “After I got laid off, I looked for work like crazy, but all I could get was this delivery job. Pretty soon, I didn’t have enough money at the end of the month. Last fall, I got busted for shoplifting a jar of Peter Pan peanut butter. I didn’t have enough money for that and the bread. A few months ago, I got busted again for writing bad checks to Atlanta Gas three months in a row.

“Me and my ex divorced about two years ago. I had no trouble making child support payments at first, but once I got laid off, I didn’t have enough to go ‘round. If I miss too many support payments, I lose my visitation rights. I can’t let that happen.”

Alton nodded to Mallory, who handed him another manila folder. Alton removed a photo from it. The photo showed a faded picture of Delvecchio and two smiling children with a
Six Flags over Georgia
sign in the background. It was the object Watkins and Chen, the two agents previously trailing Delvecchio, had spotted and photographed on his dashboard late one night.

“These are your children, right?” asked Alton.

“Yeah. That’s Molly, and that’s Mark,” he said, pointing.

“Mr. Delvecchio,” said Alton, “explain what crime you were planning to commit as you’ve visited this apartment over the past few weeks. Remember, honesty is essential.”

Delvecchio produced another sigh of resignation. “A buddy of mine, Ron, works for this tech company in Alpharetta. He was telling me about these two chicks he works with, Chelsea and Pam, who live together. Ron said they must be loaded, judging from the fancy clothes they wear and the jobs they have. They’re programmers, I think.

“I got to thinking about these chicks. I found out a little more about them: their names…this address. I figured if I could hit this place when they weren’t home, I’d have a payday. They’d be sure to have lots of stuff I could sell easy: electronics and jewelry, stuff like that. I came once when they were gone but the place was bolted up solid. I used my pizza job to make a couple of ‘unscheduled’ deliveries to try to get a look inside—you know, case the place out a little, but they would never let me in.”

“And did you in fact break into this apartment in the early morning hours last week?”

“Yeah. By then, I knew what cars they drive. I saw the chicks leave in one of their cars. I waited a few hours, ‘til the middle of the night, so I wouldn’t be spotted by the neighbors. Once it was late, I crowbarred the front door open. I had just made it ten feet inside when I heard someone pull into the parking lot. I thought maybe the chicks had come back from some club. I didn’t want to get trapped inside, so I took off down the sidewalk, away from the parking lot, and circled back to my car. I never took anything. I still can’t believe my friggin’ luck.”

“Yet you came here with a revolver today,” said Alton, frowning. “Armed robbery is a much more serious crime.”

“It’s not loaded,” replied Delvecchio. The FBI agent who had first detained the pizza man nodded in confirmation.

“The good news for you, Mr. Delvecchio,” said Mallory, “is that we stopped you before you had a chance to use it.”

Alton turned and stood directly in front of Delvecchio. “For the record, do you know this man?” he asked, referring to Doug Mancini.

“No,” replied Delvecchio. “I’ve never seen him in my life until today.”

“And did anyone else hire you to carry out this burglary or commit a murder?”

Delvecchio hung his head again. “No.”

“How much of the suspect’s story can be confirmed?” asked Agent Wiggins, Mallory’s supervisor.

“Just about all of it,” replied Mallory. “Police records confirm the details of his larceny and theft-by-taking convictions. Court records show the date of his divorce and subsequent child support payments, and he first filed for unemployment benefits about a year ago, when he was laid off. Yesterday, the Alpharetta PD just wrapped up their crime scene report from last week’s break-in. They confirmed that the trace amount of paint found on the crowbar in Delvecchio’s trunk matches the fading pattern and specific paint type—Oxford white number seven—found on this apartment’s front door.”

“Like I said,” added Delvecchio, “I ain’t no saint, but I ain’t no murderer, either.”

Alton addressed Delvecchio again. “Do you know
this
man?” he asked, now referring to Victor Durov.

“No, I never saw him before, either,” replied Delvecchio.

“You may not know him, but we do. You have a great many secrets, don’t you, Mr. Durov?”

CHAPTER 59

Victor Durov managed to appear more miserable than ever.

“Early in this investigation,” said Alton, “Agent Wilson and I realized that whoever committed the first two homicides might not have been responsible for the death of Miles Worley. Those first two murders involved close-range, violent killings of people associated—either directly or indirectly—with  the mob, while the last murder entailed the poisoning of a man with no known connection to the Mancini family. The MO and potential motivation of Worley’s murderer appeared to be quite different.

“Putting aside the first two murders, what could be the reason for killing Miles Worley, an HR professional who had no known enemies and whose small life insurance policy would be paid to a sister in Nevada? Perhaps an entirely different person committed this crime for an entirely different reason. If that reason wasn’t a life insurance payday, what could it be?”

Alton swept the room with his gaze before fixing it on Durov once again. “One obvious explanation is that it was a crime of passion…of emotion. Even before Worley’s murder, Chelsea had told me and Agent Wilson that when she passes Mr. Durov in the breezeway and parking lot, he stares at her in a way that makes her uncomfortable. And as I’ve occupied this apartment over the last few weeks, I’ve personally witnessed Mr. Durov practically bolt out of his unit when he hears Miss Mancini’s door open, as if he’s waiting to see her. Furthermore, immediately after last week’s break-in, which Mr. Durov apparently foiled, he didn’t even wait for the police to leave before he asked Miss Mancini over to his place.

“All these signs point to someone obsessed with Miss Mancini. Now interestingly, Miles Worley was murdered just a few days after he went on a date with Chelsea Mancini. Agent Wilson and I were providing cover in a trailing vehicle on the night of the date, and we witnessed Victor Durov staring at the couple through his apartment window as they left.” Durov started at this revelation and squirmed in discomfort before resuming his downward gaze.

“Could it be that Mr. Durov wasn’t happy about Miss Mancini’s date? And does his history indicate a pattern of this type of obsession? The answer—at least to the second question—is ‘yes.’ He has a dark secret regarding this type of behavior. Nine years ago, Mr. Durov was convicted of stalking, sentenced to three years of probation, and served a restraining order which directed him to avoid any further contact with his victim.

“Has Mr. Durov acquired a new obsession in the form of Chelsea Mancini? Based on the evidence, it would seem so. And could he have tried to eliminate the competition for Miss Mancini’s affections? That seems to be a reasonable supposition.”

Durov’s eyes were wide with fear, and his countenance was reminiscent of a trapped game animal at the moment it recognizes the futility of flight.

“And yet,” continued Alton, “perhaps Mr. Durov’s background is not as damaging as it would first appear. Agent Wilson investigated the details of his conviction. She found that his ‘stalking’ occurred in high school when his girlfriend of several years left him. He camped out on the sidewalk in front of her house, playing love songs he had written himself on the guitar. After two days of this, the girl’s parents became fed up and called the police.

“We also know that Mr. Durov helped Miss Mancini on the night of the break-in and was probably the person who inadvertently chased off Mr. Delvecchio. That act speaks favorably for his character.”

“Wait a minute,” interjected Delvecchio. “She was here that night? I could have swore I saw their car leave.”

“Yes, she was here,” confirmed Alton. “Pam Edwards left, but Chelsea Mancini remained behind and was present when you broke in.”

Delvecchio appeared greatly troubled at this new piece of information, perhaps realizing that the indictment for his attempted robbery would be upgraded from burglary to the more serious charge of home invasion.

“Mr. Durov can be credited with chasing off Mr. Delvecchio that night, albeit unknowingly,” continued Alton. “Even if the assistance he rendered was fueled by an infatuation with Miss Mancini, he nonetheless helped during a situation in which not everyone would have intervened.

“So we know that Mr. Durov’s record isn’t as implicating as it would first appear. Yet that still doesn’t mean that he couldn’t have murdered Worley. Because of this lingering suspicion, Agent McElroy obtained a warrant to trace Mr. Durov’s internet activity and made an interesting discovery.

“Mr. Durov is an avid online gamer. Our records show he plays some type of game almost every night. On the night of Worley’s poisoning, he was playing
Modern Warfare
online from just before five o’clock that evening until one-thirty the next morning. We know that the window of opportunity for the poisoner to place the arsenic in Worley’s sweet tea was between five-thirty—the time Worley purchased his sweet tea—and eight or nine o’clock that night, the time the coroner estimates Worley consumed the tainted drink. Mr. Durov has a solid alibi for that entire the block of time. He couldn’t have been the one who poisoned Miles Worley.”

Durov breathed a visible sign of relief but still appeared shaken.

“A word of advice, Mr. Durov,” said Alton in a softer voice, “if you still aspire to win Miss Mancini’s affections, I wouldn’t dwell too much on video games. I know from personal experience that it’s not a great interest of hers.”

“Thanks,” said Durov. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Alton nodded and returned to his seat. His bad leg had grown progressively more uncomfortable as he had remained standing over the last few minutes, and the urge to rest it had grown from a quiet whisper to a steady roar.

“We’ve established that Eddie Delvecchio and Victor Durov weren’t involved in these recent deaths,” said Alton, “but the question remains: if they weren’t responsible, who was?

“Oddly enough, a recent e-mail and an attempt on my life provided a new line of investigation into this question.”