William Kienzle - Chameleon

Mangiapane’s elated demeanor was tempered by doubt as he followed Tully into one of the interrogation rooms. Moore’s suspicion of she-knew-not-what deepened.

“Sit down, Manj,” Tully said.

Mangiapane sat. Tully remained standing, “Tell me about it.”

“What, Zoo?”

“When did you decide on the surveillance?”

“Hard to say, Zoo. It sort of bothered me from the start. The more we questioned the johns, and getting nothing on anybody, the more I was convinced that whoever killed Helen wasn’t trying to kill Helen: He was trying to kill Joan. It just made sense, Helen was wearing a nun’s habit. You couldn’t see it under the coat but you could see the nun’s veil on her head. Helen was entering Joan’s residence. It was dark, lots of shadows there. Plus the two women look a lot alike. I thought, what would I lose?” Mangiapane broke into a large grin. “I just froze my ass off, is all.”

“You didn’t have authorization.”

Mangiapane’s smile dissolved. “I know, Zoo. Actually, it came to me when I was driving home after work last night. It was just a hunch. And I played it.” Mangiapane’s voice took on a feisty tone. “And it worked, Zoo. It worked.”

“You didn’t get authorization.”

“You weren’t handy when I got the idea.”

“What if something had gone wrong? What if that kid had turned on you and fired? You were performing surveillance with no order. The department couldn’t have backed you. The insurance wouldn’t have covered you.”

“I know that, Zoo. There wasn’t any way anybody was going to get the drop on me.”

“It could have happened. And there’s another thing: When Inspector Koznicki hears about something like this, he doesn’t want to talk to you about it. He wants me to fill him in. And how in hell am I gonna do that when I don’t know what the hell is going on because you didn’t keep me informed-because you played your hunch!”

In a less assured voice, Mangiapane said, “It worked.”

“That’s another doing, Manj: Did it?”

“Huh?”

“I just checked with ballistics. It’s not the same gun. The lab guys said they had to get the slug from the medical examiner. That’s why it took so long this morning. Helen Donovan was shot with a.38. The kid last night had a nine millimeter.”

Some color left the sergeant’s face. He hesitated, then said, “Zoo, there’s guns everywhere out there. The guy probably ditched the gun he used on Helen ’cause he thought he got the job done. It happens all the time, Zoo.” Mangiapane’s tone became almost pleading. But it wasn’t Tully he was entreating. Fate? “Guys use a gun and then throw it. Somebody else uses it and dirows it, It happens all the time, Zoo.”

“I know. I know.”

“Besides, Zoo, the guy confessed. All by the book. I read him his rights and no sooner do I get done than he spills it about Helen. I mean, what do you want, Zoo? The guy confessed. ”

Tully was meditative. “Yeah, that kind of bothers me too.”

“Huh?”

“I talked to the kid a while ago.” Tully consulted notes he’d made earlier in the morning. “David Reading, white, male, five-feet-seven, 168 pounds, high school dropout, no previous record.” He looked at Mangiapane. “Not a very intelligent young man, but able to read a newspaper. That’s one way he could have known about Helen’s murder: He read about it.”

“Zoo, he confessed!”

“Uh-uh. He didn’t know what kind of gun was used in the killing.”

“That’s not all that unusual, Zoo. Like you said, the kid’s not sharp. Just because he found a gun or bought it or however he got it, doesn’t mean he’s a ballistics whiz. He knows if you load it, point it, and pull the trigger, you can kill somebody. All he needs to know.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And, Zoo, he confessed.”

“He’s also kind of happy.”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t notice that? How would you feel if you were spending your first day in jail accused of assault with intent, and murder one?” Considering the question rhetorical, Tully continued. “Little David Reading, on the contrary, is a pretty happy fella. For the first time in his life, he’s important. People want to talk to him. They’re interested in what he has to say. And we haven’t even released his name to the media. And we won’t till he’s arraigned. But, like I said, he does read the papers. At least some of them sometimes. He knows he’s gonna be the main attraction. He’s happy about it all, Manj. Does all this cast any doubt on the matter?”

“Wait a minute, Zoo!”

He didn’t wait. “This wouldn’t be the first time, Manj. We’ve had lots of nuts who confess to crimes as a matter of course for lots of different, sick reasons. And frankly, this guy strikes me as one of them.”

“Wait a minute, Zoo! I feel like you’re putting a full-court press on me. I admit it’s possible for it to be the way you tell it. The kid reads about the murder, or he sees the report on TV He sees the amount of press the killing gets. He knows the nun still lives in the same convent. He decides to pull a copycat killing. So he sneaks around the corner of the convent. He knows she’s usually out late. In any case she would have been out late last night at the wake service for her sister. She comes home, he pops out of the bushes, and I pop out from behind my cover and the thing is over.

“But here’s where your case breaks down, Zoo. According to your scenario, he wants publicity. He wants to be star of the show. The only way he can get that is to get caught. And he didn’t know I was there. He didn’t know he was gonna get caught. And if all he wanted to do was confess, he could’ve confessed the earlier killing without the second one.” Mangiapane leaned back, more content now.

“We’re dealing with hypothesis, Manj. He didn’t know he was gonna get caught, I’ll give you. Maybe he would have turned himself in if you hadn’t been there. Maybe he would have killed the nun and then come in to confess it this morning.

“All that we’re gonna have to figure out.

“This much is for certain: The next time you go off on your own without consulting with me, I’m gonna have your ass before Walt Koznicki has mine. Is that clear? I mean is that crystal clear?”.

“Yeah.” Mangiapane stood and, face impassive, was about to head for the door.

“One more thing, Manj.”

“Yeah?”

“You did a good piece of work.”

Mangiapane left smiling.

Tully began pacing in the small room. It was completely possible that this case had played out just the way Mangiapane figured it. Just the way Mangiapane wanted it to be. Guns could be found just about anywhere in this city. Adults had them for protection. Crooks had them for crime. Kids had them for toys.

David Reading could have found or bought a gun and used it to kill Helen Donovan. Having shot her, for a reason yet to be satisfactorily explained, he could have disposed of it. If one killing was all he intended, he more than likely would have gotten rid of it.

Then he finds out he’s killed the wrong person. Maybe goes back to where he ditched the gun, but it’s gone. Someone else has it now. Again, it’s not that hard to find or come by another one. He goes back to finish it off the way he’d originally planned it.

He wouldn’t expect Joan Donovan to have police protection. And in that assumption he was correct. Unless a targeted person agrees voluntarily to stay in an inaccessible and remote place, no police force could come close to guaranteeing safety. An enclosed, controllable space may be protected. A person out in the open is beyond protection.

It was very bad luck for David Reading and a stroke of extraordinarily good luck for Mangiapane-and for Sister Joan-that he happened to be on the scene to foil and apprehend the would-be killer.