“We figure the brother, ex-wife, current girlfriend, and relatives in Rhode Island are clear on this,” Rizzo said.
“Based on the squad interviews, alibis, and background stuff?”
“Yeah.”
D’Antonio nodded. “I agree. What about the ex-con?”
Ginsberg spoke. “Not sure, but he may be clear too. Alibied by his girlfriend, not the best witness, okay, but... he seemed legit to us.”
“What about her — what’s her name? Carla something. She legit too?”
“Best as we could tell over the phone.”
D’Antonio’s eyes flared. “The phone? What’re you guys, census takers? You never sized her face to face?”
“Not yet, Vince. We will,” Rizzo said. “First we have two neighbors to see.”
“The women Angie Paulson flagged?”
“Yeah. This isn’t our only open case, Vince,” Rizzo said forcefully. “I know you’re gettin’ phone calls, but—”
“Save it, Joe. You want a light work load, get a job at the library. You wanna be a lead detective on my squad, you do this job right. Go see the old ladies. And that con’s girlfriend. Today.”
Rita Sora was seventy-four years old but appeared closer to fifty. Her grey hair had a rich sheen and was obviously professionally tended. Despite it being only midmorning, Rizzo and Ginsberg found her dressed in a gold velour pantsuit, jewelry sparkling on her fingers and wrists, eyes made up. Rizzo felt as though he had stepped into a time warp of at least a few decades. He smiled from his seat in her somewhat garishly but expensively furnished living room.
“Nice place, Ms. Sora,” he said.
“Forget the Miz, honey, I’m old school. I’m a miss and damn happy about it. Call me Rita. I’ll call you two bulls Joe and Mark, and if you got any problem with that, you can get the hell outta my house.” She smiled sweetly. “But — I gotta say, I’d rather you stay. You guys ain’t bad looking. For cops, that is.”
“Okay, Rita,” Rizzo said, a slight chuckle in his tone. “Deal. Now, you know why we stopped by?”
“Sure. Lookin’ for whoever whacked poor Ben.” She shook her head. “Hell of a thing in a fancy joint like this.” She sighed. “Sometimes I think I’m a jinx.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
“Look, guys, I’ll be straight. How you figure a dame like me can cover the nut in this place? You ever hear of Tommy Pitangelo? Tommy Pits they called him.”
“Sure. Back-in-the-day Gambino crew. Ran the docks for the old man.”
“Yep, that was Tommy. Me and him, we were a longtime item. He never married, you know, and he held onto a nickel like it was a life jacket and he was on the Andrea Doria. When he died, he found out it was true: You can’t take it with you. So — I took it with me. Between that pile and my Social Security, I live high. Always did. I was arm candy to a bunch of the boys.”
“And the jinx part?” Ginsberg asked.
Rita gave a dry laugh. “Every hood I bedded wound up dead. Shot. Blown up. Throat cut, whatever. And now — this poor schmuck Ben Cornwal takes me out to dinner a time or two, and somebody carves him up.” She shook her head sadly. “A jinx.”
“About that,” Rizzo said. “What exactly was the relationship there?”
“Benny liked to hear my stories from the old days. In return, he kept me company now and then. Had respect, he did.” She smiled broadly. “And I know how cops think, so you can knock it off — I’m too old for men. Especially Benny. He was quite a hound. I’da met him forty years ago, it woulda been different. Good-looking guy. Had plenty of money, and he liked to spend it.” She shrugged. “That covers mostly everything I ever needed in a man.”
“Can you point us at anybody who maybe had it in for him?”
“Nope. We didn’t talk much about him, more about me.” Rita smiled again. “Another trait I like in a man.”
“His ex-wife told us he maybe stashed cash around his place. Unreported stuff from his businesses. He ever mention that?”
“Sure. See — I’d tell him about Tommy Pits or my other steady, Tony Temper — that was Tony Santorino, a real hothead lunatic — ever hear of him?”
“Sure.”
She nodded. “He’s dead too. They blew him up in his Caddy forty years ago. See — jinx.”
“About the money.”
“Yeah, well, Ben told me about it. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was forty, fifty Gs. See, he used it as spending money. Paid cash for everything. And he always liked a fat roll in his pocket, like the old mob guys.” She shrugged. “He was a wannabe, maybe. Probably why he liked me. I knew the real stories.”
“Did you ever mention that cash to anybody?”
“Naw. Benny made me swear not to. Wasn’t the first secret I ever had ta keep, you can imagine, right?” She paused for a moment. “But now that I think about it, I did tell Karen.”
“Karen?” Rizzo asked. “Who Karen?”
“The other old bat in Benny’s life, Karen Vanags. She lives across the hall. See, Ben and me, we had our thing — I’d tell him mob stories, he’d stop in now and then to watch a ball game, keep me company, take me out for dinner sometimes. Karen — well, she figured Benny was just nuts about her — she’d bake him cookies, sew his buttons, cook that crappy Latvian food they’d eat, stinkin’ up the whole hallway. So — I told her about the dough. Just to sort of let her know who Benny really trusted.”
Rita gave a wide, happy smile, looking first to Ginsberg, then to Rizzo. “See, Joe? I may be old, but I’m still a mean little bitch.” She laughed. “It’s in my blood, I guess.” After a pause, she stood. “Hey, you guys want a drink? I got some kick-ass bourbon I just treated myself to.”
Eighty-one-year-old Karen Vanags sat daintily on a piano bench, back to the keys and facing the two seated detectives.
“Such a shame,” she said, tears pooling in her clear green eyes. “Ben was a lovely, lovely man.”
“So we’re learning,” Rizzo said gently. “We’re sorry for your loss, Mrs. Vanags. We know you and Mr. Cornwal were close.”
“Yes. I told the nice lady detective about that. He was like a nephew to me.” The sadness in her face deepened. “More like... like a son, actually. I never... I never had children of my own.”
“Did he ever say anything to you about a problem he was having? Maybe someone had it in for him?”
“No, never. Everyone liked Ben. Everyone.”
“We understand he was a bit of a ladies’ man. We thought maybe there was a woman — a married woman or one with a steady boyfriend. And maybe Ben got himself involved, and this other man—”
She shook her head. “I knew all about his girlfriends over the years. He wasn’t some lothario, Detective. Ben was a one-woman man. One at a time, anyway. And none of them were married. I would have known. As I’ve said, he was like a son to me.”
“We have reason to believe that he kept large amounts of cash in his place,” Rizzo went on, “And according to Ms. Sora—”
“Oh,” Vanags said, rolling her eyes. “That one.”
“Yes, well, Ms. Sora said she told you about it. The money, I mean. Do you remember that?”
Vanags thought a moment. “Yes. Yes, I do. But you really can’t believe everything that woman says; she’s full of tales. Ben and I would laugh about her from time to time.”
“But it’s true — she did tell you about the money?”
“Yes. I believe so. But I never mentioned it to Ben. It would have embarrassed him. He was really a very genteel person.”