Gray Shades of Blue

As soon as I pushed the door opened, the smell of dead human flesh filled my nose. I went into a bedroom, expecting Mrs. Casey to be either on her bed or on the floor, figuring she died in her sleep or took a fatal fall. The room was empty. Lenny told me he found a small window in the guest bathroom open. The glass from the window was on the floor.

“Looks like a break-in,” he said.

The door leading to a second bedroom at the far end of the apartment was slightly open. I told Lenny I’d go in first. The room was empty. There was a second bathroom at the far end of the room. Pushing the door open, I could see the gas-bloated remains of Mrs. Casey. She was in the bathtub. I grabbed my handkerchief to cover my nose. The smell was overwhelming. I could see dried blood around the woman’s neck. As I looked closer, I could see where the skin was cut. She was naked, and there was no water in the tub.

“Better call for a boss, the squad and the Crime Scene Unit.” I said. “I think this could be our rapist trying something new.”

Lenny looked at me, “I’ll get the ME and a meat wagon.”

Detective Bartolini was assigned to the case. Vic Bartolini was an oldtimer who had spent many years in the old Homicide Division before asking to be re-assigned to the One-Ten to finish his last two years of a thirty-year career.

“Jesus fucking Christ, this motherfucker is really starting to lose it,” were the first words out of the detective’s mouth. “This guy is real sick. Not only did he rape this poor woman, but now he’s into slicing throats. He’s advanced his career from pistol-whipping his victims. Let’s hope someone catches this motherfucker real soon.”

I asked him, “How can you be sure this is the same guy and not a copycat? The other victims were left alive. Why change his MO and kill his victims?”

Bartolini said, “Because this fuck is crazy. He’s getting bored and needs to get off by doing something new. He’s probably dropping his load as he cuts them.”

As Lenny and I prepared to leave, George the super told Detective Bartolini that Mrs. Casey had a daughter living in Brooklyn. He said they didn’t get along, but the daughter had given George her number just in case something happened. Bartolini said he’d notify the daughter of her mother’s death. I asked the detective whether it would be all right if Lenny and I drove to Brooklyn and notified her in person.

Bartolini said, “It’s not necessary, fellas, but if you want to make the trip and the patrol sergeant gives you the okay, then be my guest.”

The patrol sergeant gave us the go-ahead. This was another police task I hated doing, but I always believed a death notification should be done in person, not over the telephone.