At the Lombardi's

CHAPTER 9-- at the Lombardi's

I needed to think. I'd not really slept in nearly a week, surviving mostly on coffee and fumes, whilst neglecting food of any kind. When I'm busy working, I don't bother eating. All right, its more like I forget to eat. Either way, I was heading to find a copy of Grimm's and a meal and knew where I could get both for free.

This may sound odd to you, but its rather common in the blue world of the police department. If you haven't guessed it, the Captain and I know each other very well. He adopted me when I was about sixteen and a royal pain in rear, but then most teens are that way. I was a bit worse, getting myself into far too much trouble far too often. When he first met me, I was in an orphanage just after I got the dragon scar on my arm. Well, at the time, it was a fresh burn that was only a few hours old and I was full of urine and vinegar. Months later, I was in trouble again, this time with whip marks on my back from some crazy nun who thought I had to be cleansed of the sin of being raped. It all goes to make a person, I suppose.

Anyway, to get back on point, I needed to think, so I opted to walk over to the Captain's house instead of drive. It was only about three miles, an easy walk for someone like me. The cool autumn chill did wonders to clear my head of all the muck that was filling it. Too many lines of evidence, too many bits of story and conjecture. A fast walk, brisk as some might call it, would get the blood pumping and the mental juices flowing. It would also give me the time I needed to calm myself a bit before walking in (uninvited) to dinner, though Cap's wife wouldn't mind, she never did.

The leaves crunched under my feet, a music that I never grow tired of. The smell of autumn is always crisp and clean, a pleasant difference from the usual mix bag of olfactory assaults. With China Town and Little Italy sharing borders, there was always a smell of spiced foods in the air. Coffee and tea perfumed the air nearly always, but once autumn rolled round, the feeling seemed to change. It was cleaner somehow, crisp. I don't know how to describe it, but autumn always feels crunchy to me. Pies, the air, the leaves, they all seem to be brittle and lovely. Some people miss the summer, I like the heat, but autumn will always have a special place in my heart.

I arrived at my location feeling lighter than I had in at least a week, maybe longer. This job can drag you down if you don't make sure you have a way to relieve the tension. Personally, I tend to go to the local mixed martial arts dojo and spar with one of the guys. None of the women are at my skill level so I have to work out with the men. They don't mind, not really. Sure one or two are angry when I beat them in three moves, they don't expect a slender, yet tall woman to be strong enough to knock them flat. Of course, the guys that do mind call me “Black Widow”. Doesn't bother me at all, I think she's pretty amazing myself. The MMA studio is good for me, burns energy and keeps me in shape. Remember, kiddos, just because you're cop doesn't mean you'll always have a gun on you. Cops have had guns ripped from their hands before with no way to fight back because they relied too heavily on people being afraid of a big loud gun.

Quinn likes to go to the cinema or theatre, slipping into an imaginary world for a few hours and forget the hells we see every day. Not that I blame him, I've gone a few times to plays and orchestras with him. Its not a bad outlet as they go. More expensive than booze, but not near so damaging to the liver. One of the many reasons I like Quinn, he never gave into alcohol or drugs as many detectives do.

By the time I finally arrived at Captain Lombardi's house, the sun had set and left the sky clear and cloudless with a bright ad full moon shining. I glanced up at the simple Craftsman home that protected me. Three simple floors with a kitchen that was always filled with food and kindness. As a kid, I never really cared for that kind of thing. I put on a tough face and pushed them away, though they never listened to the stupid girl making a pain out of herself. Stepping to the front door, I rapped on it three times and waited.

“Sammie!!” Amelia Lombardi, the Captain's wife, swung the door open and smiled as soon as she saw me, “You never have to knock, dear, you're family.” She pulled me in from the chill and wrapped me in a hug. “Such a surprise, Jon didn't say that you would be coming for supper.”

“I didn't tell him. Do you mind?” Even though they adopted me forever ago, I still found it hard to allow people to care about me. So I have trust issues, sue me.

“Of course, I don't mind. You can help me set the table, your sister is upstairs working on her thesis. Could you call her to help you? That girl needs to come up for air.”

Carmen is about five years younger than I am, currently studying English Literature at the university with a minor in Journalism. Her thesis is “Women in Literature: Dominance of the Female Role”. Personally, I thought she'd ace it. Carmen is a very good writer and it my first editor when it comes to these case studies I work on. Thanks, by the way. She was happy to see me, like her mum was, jumping up from her desk and leaping at me in a hug.

“I didn't think you'd be over until this weekend?” she said, smiling. I shrugged by way of response. “The case you're working on? Is it bothering you?”

“Its... confusing me. I'm stuck on this one, kid,” I said, running my fingers through my hair.

Carmen looked me up and down, the way her mother did, appraising me. “You look like you've not slept or even eaten in days!”

“That obvious?”

She shook her head, “not really, but I know what you look like when you're busy like this. Mum is going to want you stay over, you know?”

I nodded. I'd planned on staying the night, I needed to sleep some place where I knew I wouldn't have to worry or be on guard. I mean, I'm always on guard against something, bad habit you get into when people want you dead. Amy would probably have my old room sorted, I used to sleep in the attic before I moved out. Its not bad, I'm rather fond of it to be honest. I was allowed to set it up as a dojo when I was teenager. So long as I was at home where they could keep an eye on me and not worry were I was and who I was with, Jon and Amy were happy. They worried when I wasn't home. They had good reason to, I found lots of trouble, or it found me.

Carmen and I went down to the kitchen and helped Amy set the table. She had made Fettuccine Alfredo with a Tricolour Salad. Simple, sure, but did it ever hit the spot after nearly a week of eating whatever was around. The first bite was pure heaven and I couldn't help but smile. Amy was pleased, she loves to watch her family to satisfaction, its an Italian thing. I swear, Amelia Lombardi is the original “mother hen”, she loves to make sure her family is fed and cared for. Jon offered to pour the wine, which I refused. I'd love to tell you its because I was working or that I had problems with alcohol, something spicy for a story about a copper, but in all honesty, I just hate the stuff. I'd prefer a decent beer or Scotch to wine any day. The meal was divine as always, Amy sure does know how to make a spread. She even managed to had fresh rolls hot from the oven. It really is great to know that I can invite myself to dinner whenever I like.

“So, how's the case?” Jon asked me, receiving a scolding glance from Amy. She hates that kind of talk at the dinner table, says it ruins the appetite.

“I don't know. I think this guy is planning bad things before he's through. I did an FBI search before I left the precinct and there is no record of his MO anywhere on file, so I get my own personal psycho.” I tore off a chunk of bread and ran it through the sauce.

“So what is his modus operandi?”

“Carmen, please do not encourage her!” Amy said half heartedly. She knew she was going to loose this one.

I shook my head, not sure whether or not I agreed with Amy. It wasn't exactly the best of conversations to be held over the supper table. Besides, it touched on Carmen's favourite subject. She loved stories and I didn't want to tell her about the case, though I knew it was the whole reason I went that night. I told Carmen that we'd discuss it after supper.

“Right now, I just really want to eat. And you know how your mum feels about case files at dinner.”

Amy seemed to pleased to discuss something other than dead bodies and forensics, instead filling me in on the latest news from her volunteer groups. Now that her girls were grown and mostly flown, she needed someone to mother hen so she chose a charity or five. Her favourite was a support group for foster kids, kids that were a lot like me, damaged. Because she was a kind woman with a large heart that didn't judge, kids naturally gravitated toward her. She truly wanted to make sure these children found good homes where they wouldn't have to live in fear. Several run-aways seemed to find their way to her kitchen table. Warm coats would be wrapped around cold shoulders. Ratty shoes would be replaced with a better pair. I've come in for a cup of coffee on more than one occasion to see a teen in filthy clothes devouring a plate of something. Amy would ask either myself or Jon to help in any way we could. Technically, I wasn't supposed to, but I'd do a bit of a check on the foster parents just to make sure that they were good enough. Jon turned a blind eye so long as I didn't over do it or waste police time. The way I figured, it was a sort of pay back to the Universe for giving me the Lombardi's. Seriously, they saved my life.

Once the plates were washed and the left overs packed away for me to take later, we retired to the living room. Amy could tell that something was bothering me. She always could and told me to spill.

“I can't seem to find a connection to these women.” I ran my fingers through my hair, pacing around the room. “The only thing that Quinn and I can find is the story.”

“Story?” Jon asked me.

“Yeah.” I paused, I really didn't want Carmen to hear this, but she was literally the resident expert in fairy tales and literature. “First, we have a woman attacked by dogs wearing a cloak, a red cloak. The second victim was hanged by a rope made of human hair.”

Carmen got the connection faster than Amy did. “Little Red Riding Hood and Rapunzel? That is seriously messed up!”

I nodded, though 'messed up' was not exactly how I would have put it. “You got it. I can't figure out why. There has to be a reason to pick these women. He has to hunt them some how, find them, gather their trust maybe? There isn't enough forensically to go on!”

Carmen gave me the strangest of looks then bolted up the stairs. Great, I'd just scared her right out of the room. I have that effect, or at least I thought I had until I heard her stampeding down again. Clutched in her hands was a large tattered book. She plopped on the sofa and told me to sit next to her.

“See? Look here,” she flipped to a page and read the end of a story. “Red Riding Hood lives in the end. The same with Rapunzel, she marries the prince and lives happily ever after. It looks like he's killing them before they have the chance.”

“'Happily ever after shouldn't be stolen'. Kate Rockberry's husband... he said some guy told her that in the weeks before she died. It was a random guy at the time but he may be more than that.” I leaned over and gave Carmen a peck on the cheek, “thanks, kid. Can I borrow that book?”

She's possessive over her books, protects them like a momma bear. She let me borrow it, but only if I swore to either bring it back the way I received it or bought her a brand new copy. It was agreed.

I went to my parent's place to rest, but ended up staying up most of the night reading the Brothers Grimm. The next morning, with book and left overs in hand, I made my way back to the precinct, armed with the knowledge that who ever was behind this had one sick mind.