Wrestling the Kraken

Mahone

 Mahone

Mahone sat in his garage, staring at the board he had set up. Copies of clippings, photos. Smoke trailed from his cigarette bud sitting in the ashtray. A bottle of whiskey half empty. Stavo entered through the side door.

"You keep that open?" What if somebody comes in?" Stavo pointed at the door he just came through.

"I knew it was you." Mahone kept his eyes on the board, arms crossed. "I could smell your cologne from the street." Wide eyed and tired, he began mumbling under his breath. His eyes darted from photo to photo.

"What are you saying? Come on, you're making me feel old. You gotta speak up." Stavo came up beside Mahone, concerned. He knew Mahone couldn't let this case go and he couldn't let him do it alone either. For better or for worse, they were partners.

"This." Mahone spoke clearer, getting up and pointing to a clipping on the board. "This is the start of the killings. Lillian Turner gets killed. Vivanne Cordova takes her place. Now we find out that Armand Rossini was dating Vivanne, but for how long?

"And the guys at the paper said that an envelope just happened to appear anonymously. No return address, no letter. Just the photos. They had the photos checked to make sure it wasn't a hoax and they're real alright."

"The drug used on the opening night turned out to be LSD. Only Armand and Marcello were affected. What if they were failed targets?"

"Using the drug to capture them? But wouldn't Angie find traces in the others, like the girl we found by the theatre or even the reporter?"

"Maybe just for the men, they needed some extra help."

"Then we're either looking at someone small, or a woman."

Mahone rubbed his face. "It doesn't add up. Why the photos? That wasn't used in any of the others? We have these two drugged opening night, the news of the affair comes the next morning. Someone wanted the circus's reputation to suffer."

"Or just Mr. Rossini's reputation."

"Five murders in between Lily and the opening night."

"FBI says eight."

Mahone looked up at him, "Sheesh, you kidding me? What else do you hear from the FBI?

"Not much. I stopped into the station earlier. Every time I walked in that back room they're using, they quiet down. I caught a glimpse of what they're working on when I dropped off food."

"So they got you running errands, huh?

"It's not like that. I feel like a spy, what's that guy's name, you know in the movies..."

"Yeah, yeah... " Mahone laughed. "You're no spy."

"I could be. The best spies are the ones you'd never expect. Mrs. Castaleto, eighty years old down the street, could be a spy."

"Come on, let's get back to it, secret agent Stavo. So, eight Rose Murders. Did you ever finish cross-checking the days when the bodies were found and disgruntled employee cases?"

"Yeah, checked it over several times. Either they're covering for one another, or they all have alibis."

"What about Mr. Rossini? If this is a personal attack... "

"The list of possible suspects is long." Stavo handed him a sheet of paper from a file he brought over. "He bumped heads along the way quite a bit in his dealings, but nothing major jumped out. Nothing worth killing for."

"Maybe nothing for a regular person, but you get someone who's on their last straw... " Mahone paused when he came across a name on the list.

"What? Mahone?" Stavo asked, taking note of the hesitation.

"Oh, no, it's nothing. I thought I, uh. I just thought I saw something, that's all. It's nothing though."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, of course." Mahone slapped Stavo on the back. "Hey listen, it's getting late. Let's pick this back up tomorrow. I'll call you."

"Alright. You sure everything's fine?" Stavo asked as Mahone led him to the door.

"Yeah, it's fine. Go on, go home, get some rest. I'll catch up with you in the morning." Mahone gave one last wave good-bye as Stavo made his way out and into his car.

He turned the key, igniting the engine, giving Mahone one last look. Driving off, he went to the end of the block, then made a u-turn. Still at the end of the block, but now facing Mahone's home, he parked. He shut off the engine- waiting.