Richard Montanari: The Echo Man

Jessica had seen it a hundred times. And it never failed to warm her heart.

Gotcha.

Nicci Malone stepped forward, pulled the weapon from the suspect's waistband, handed it to Officer Keegan, who put it in an evidence bag. Nicci then swept the suspect's legs from beneath him. He hit the ground hard, face down. An instant later Nicci dropped a knee into the center of Thompson's back, cuffed him.

'It's almost impossible you're this fucking stupid,' Nicci said.

Jessica holstered her gun, stepped forward. Each grabbing an arm, the two detectives pulled the suspect roughly to his feet.

'You are under arrest for the murder of Marcia Jane Kimmelman,' Jessica said. She read him his Miranda rights. 'Do you understand these rights?'

Thompson nodded, still dazed.

'You have to answer out loud,' she said. 'You have to say "yes."'

'Yes.'

'Actually, I want you to say, "Yes, I understand, Detective Goddess Balzano.'"

Thompson didn't say it. He was still a bit stunned.

Ah, well, Jessica thought. Worth a shot. She reached into her pocket, pulled out the small digital recorder. She rewound the recording, clicked Play.

You know that other girl? She gave me a hard time. She didn't have to die.

Jessica clicked off the recorder. Thompson hung his head.

They had plenty with which to charge him. An eyewitness, a good sampling of DNA, ballistics. The recording was just icing on the cake. The DAs office loved recordings. Sometimes a recording made all the difference in the world.

As uniformed officers led Thompson away, Officer Stan Keegan leaned against the brick wall, crossed his arms over his kettle-drum chest, a Cheshire-cat grin on his face.

'What's so funny?' Jessica asked.

'You two,' he said, nodding at her and Nicci. 'I'm just trying to figure out which one of you is Batman and which one is Robin.'

'Batman? Dream on, mortal,' Jessica said. 'I'm Wonder Woman.'

'And I'm She Hulk,' Nicci added.

The two women bumped fists.

There was a young man standing next to the sector car, talking to one of the uniformed officers. He was tall, dark-haired, lanky, and had about him a nervous energy. He carried an expensive-looking digital video camera. Jessica soon realized who he was, and what he was doing there.

She had gotten the memo the week before, and had forgotten all about it. Somebody from Penn State was making a documentary about the homicide unit — a day-in-the-life sort of thing — and the directive from high on high was to cooperate. The memo said the filmmaker would be there for a week.

As Jessica approached, the young man noticed her. He smoothed his hair with his free hand, stood a little taller.

'Hi,' he said. 'I'm David Albrecht.'

'Jessica Balzano.'

They shook hands. David Albrecht wore a gold crucifix around his neck, along with a Nittany Lions long-sleeved T-shirt. He was cleanshaven, save for a sparse bleached-white soul patch beneath his lower lip. It was the only thing keeping his face from being feminine.

'I'd know you anywhere,' he said. He pumped her arm with a little too much enthusiasm.

'Really? And why is that?' Jessica asked, retrieving her limb before it was shaken off.

Albrecht smiled. 'I do my research. You were in that Philadelphia

Magazine feature a few years ago, the one about the "new breed" of female detective. Remember that?'

Jessica remembered the article well. She had fought against it but had lost the battle. She was not crazy about having details of her personal life made public. Police officers, especially detectives, were big enough targets for crazies as it was.

'I remember,' Jessica said.

'And I followed the Rosary Killer case pretty closely.'

'I see.'

'Of course, I was in high school then,' Albrecht said. 'I went to a Catholic school. We were all pretty mesmerized by the story.'

High school, Jessica thought. This kid was in high school then. It seemed like yesterday to her.

'By the way, that was a great photo of you on the cover of the mag,' he added. 'Real Lara Croft. You were kind of a pinup for a lot of the guys at my school for a while.'

'So, you're making a movie?' Jessica asked, hoping to get off the subject of the article.

'Gonna try. Making a feature is a lot different from making a short. I've done mainly webisodes so far.'

Jessica wasn't really sure what a webisode was.

'You should stop by my site and check some of them out,' Albrecht said. 'I think you'll like them.'

He handed her a card bearing his name and a website address.

Jessica did the polite thing, scanning the card before putting it into her pocket. 'Well,' she said. 'It was great meeting you, David. Anything you need.' She didn't mean it, of course. She pointed at the just-arrived police transport van. 'I've got to get this started.'

Albrecht held up a hand. 'No sweat. Just wanted to introduce myself.' He smoothed his hair again. 'I'll be around, but you won't even notice me. I promise not to get in your way. I'm a mouse.'

A mouse, Jessica thought. We'll see about that.

Two hours later, with paperwork completed, reports filed, and suspect delivered to the police administration building at Eighth and Race Streets — commonly known as the Roundhouse — the team met at a restaurant called the Hot Potato Cafe on Girard Avenue.

In addition to Jessica and Nicci Malone there was veteran detective Nick Palladino, as well as a relatively new detective in the unit, Dennis Stansfield. Stansfield was in his early forties and was God's gift to women, at least in his own mind. His clearance-rack suits never quite fit, he wore too much cologne and, among his many annoying habits, he seemed to be in constant motion, as if he always had somewhere else to be, something else to do that was far more important than talking to you.

He had only been with the unit for a few months and had yet to make a friend. No one wanted to work with him. His abrasive personality was only one of the reasons. His sloppy work habits, and his uncanny ability to get a witness to clam up immediately, were two others.

Jessica and Nicci held down one side of the table, while Stansfield and Nick Palladino sat on the other.

Nick Palladino — whom everyone called Dino — was a lifer, a South Philly boy with a knack for sniffing out con men and thieves, two categories of criminal of which the city of Philadelphia had no shortage.

They were all on duty for a few more hours, so it was coffee and Cokes for now. They lifted a glass to their day.

Lucas Anthony Thompson, 26, late of Port Richmond, currently a guest of Hotel Homicide, stood accused in the aggravated murder and sexual assault of a young woman named Marcia Jane Kimmelman. According to witnesses, the two had met at an AA meeting in West Philly but, because last names were never used, no one knew who Thompson was. They had a general description, but that was about it.

Marcia's body had been found in a vacant lot on Baltimore Avenue near 47th Street. She had been sexually assaulted, shot once in the head with a. 38 at close range. Three months later Thompson met and attacked a young woman after a meeting in Kingessing, but the woman, a secretary for Comcast named Bonnie Silvera, survived. DNA found in semen left behind by her attacker matched that of Marcia Kimmelman's killer. Bonnie Silvera gave police a highly detailed description of Thompson, and there began an undercover operation that ultimately involved a dozen detectives and brought them to more than six districts.

'So how'd you ID him?' Dino asked.

Nicci deferred to Jessica. 'Talk to the mastermind.'

'Well, we had a little help from the Audio Visual Unit on this one,' Jessica said. 'But when Thompson and I were sitting in that coffee shop I took his picture with my cellphone. Then I sent the photo via SMS to Nicci's phone. Nicci and two uniforms were out in the van, about half a block away, with Bonnie Silvera. A few seconds later Nicci got the photo, opened it, showed it to Bonnie. The witness made the positive ID, Nicci sent me a text, letting me know we were on, and we knew we had him.'